CHAPTER I.
Clerical Celibacy—Luther-Bernhardi’s Marriage—Treatment of Catharine de Bora—the Convent—Wealthy Nuns—Convent Life—the Escape—Treatment of the Nuns—Florentine de Oberweimer—Leonard Koppe—Luther’s Defence.
The celibacy of the clergy was one of the strongest pillars on which the proud edifice of Romish power rested. It was a stupendous partition-wall which separated the clergy from all other interests, and thus consolidated the wide-spread authority of the Pope. It cut off the secular clergy, as well as the monks, from all domestic ties. They forgot father, mother, and friends. Political obligations to their sovereign and country were disregarded, but the cord which bound them to the interests of Rome was only the more tightly drawn.
Superior purity was the presumed ground of the system, but a total surrender of all rights, and complete submission to the will of the Pope, were its legitimate results. He was regarded as the only parent of the clergy—the only sovereign to whom they owed allegiance—the only protector in whom they were to confide, and, as dutiful sons, obedient subjects, and grateful beneficiaries, they were obliged to exert themselves to the utmost to maintain his authority and extend his dominion. Clerical celibacy was regarded not only as a duty, but as the highest attainment in moral perfection. The system was introduced with caution and maintained with sleepless vigilance and zeal. There were some who saw its errors and disadvantages, and desired its abolition, but their remonstrances were unheeded and their clamors silenced.
That, however, which was considered impossible by the whole Christian world, was accomplished by a single man, who himself had been a monk, and whose first duty as such was a vow of celibacy! That man was Martin Luther, Augustinian Monk, Doctor of Theology at the University of Wittenberg, who, by his heroic conduct in relation to this subject, has only added to the other inappreciable services he has rendered the Church. It was he who was bold enough to abandon the monastic order, and, in spite of the principles of the Church as they prevailed in that age, to enter the married state. This adventurous step led to the deliverance of a large portion of the clergy from the chain of Papal power. From having been the slavish satellites of a foreign master in Italy, they became patriotic subjects and useful men at home.
Several years before, two friends of Luther, who were his noble assistants in the work of the Reformation, Melanchthon and Carlstadt, had written treatises against clerical celibacy. Their books on this subject were equally as unexpected, and created as much excitement among the clergy, as Luther’s Theses against Indulgences had done six years before.
Luther was not the first priest of those days who practically rejected celibacy. As early as 1521, one of his friends and fellow-laborers, Bernhardi, superintendent of the churches at Kemberg, had the boldness to marry. He was the first ecclesiastic in Saxony who took this step, and his wedding-day was long regarded as the Pastors’ Emancipation Day; but Caspar Aquila, a priest residing near Augsburg, was married as early as 1516, Jacob Knabe in 1518, and Nicolas Brunner in 1519.
Luther was free from all participation in Bernhardi’s marriage, for at that time he was a prisoner in Wartburg Castle, and the first intelligence came so unexpectedly, that whilst he admired the courage of his friend, he was very apprehensive it would occasion him and his cause many severe trials. Not long after, Bernhardi’s metropolitan, the Cardinal Archbishop Albert, of Mainz and Magdeburg, demanded of the Elector of Saxony, Frederick the Wise, to send Bernhardi to Halle, to answer for his presumptuous act. Frederick did not yield to the demand of the Archbishop, and the latter professed to be satisfied with an anonymous defence of Bernhardi.
Luther himself sent a petition to Albert in behalf of the clergy who had already married and of those who intended to marry. Subsequently, however, Bernhardi suffered severely. When, in 1547, more than twenty years after his nuptials, the Emperor Charles V. captured Wittenberg, his savage Spaniards seized Bernhardi, and bound him fast to a table. His wife rescued him from their murderous hands; but, soon after, others laid hold of him, and after cruelly beating him, tied him to a horse and dragged him to the camp at Torgau. A German officer, after much trouble, had him liberated, and he finally, after unexampled suffering, reached his family at Kemberg. A considerable number of priests followed the example of Bernhardi. They were not deterred by the ban of the bishops, nor by the fear of deposition and imprisonment. But all this would not have created such immense excitement if Luther himself, to whom all eyes were directed, had not resolved, by his own example, to strike a deadly blow at priestly celibacy.
Catharine de Bora, a nun of the celebrated Bernhardin or Cistercian convent at Nimtschen, in Saxony, was the person whom Luther chose as his wife. She was born on the 29th of January, 1499. There is no authentic record of the place of her birth, and the history of her childhood is wrapped in obscurity. It is only as the nun Catharine that we first became acquainted with her. Her Romish calumniators (and no innocent woman was ever more bitterly and cruelly defamed,) declare that her parents compelled her to become a nun against her will, because they were poor and could not support her, and particularly because her conduct was so objectionable that her seclusion was necessary. As regards the first, it is true; she was not wealthy when she became the wife of Luther; but, if she had been compelled to enter the nunnery, it is likely that Luther would have mentioned it as an additional justification of her flight. Her objectionable morality is based by her enemies on the fact of her escape, and hence the accusation has no ground whatever. There is not a particle of proof to establish the calumnious charge.
This Convent was designated by the name of The Throne of God. It was founded in 1250 by Henry the Illustrious. No trace of it remains at the present day. In 1810-12 its ruins were removed to make room for the erection of an edifice connected with a school for boys established at that place.
Most of the inmates of this Convent were of noble birth, for at that day, as well as at present, it was the policy and interest of the Romish clergy to induce as many ladies of high rank as possible to take the veil, thereby rendering the profession respectable, and securing large sums as entrance fees if they were wealthy, and all their patrimony after their decease.
It may seem strange that Catharine de Bora, who, according to her own confession, was devout, industrious in the discharge of conventual duties, and diligent in prayer, should have determined with eight other “sisters” to escape from their prison. But when it is considered that the convent was situated within the territory of the Elector Frederick the Wise, who was Luther’s friend and patron—that Luther himself visited a neighboring monastery at Grimma as Inspector—that in 1519, after the dispute with Eck at Leipzig, he spent a few days in the town of Nimtschen—that the principles of the Reformation had already made some progress in that vicinity, and that several monasteries not far distant had been abandoned—the circumstance is easily explained. It is scarcely credible that amid the excitement of the times, no word of Luther’s doctrine should have entered the convent halls, and that the stirring events occurring around them should have been entirely concealed from the unobtrusive occupants. Could not some of those courageous friends of Luther, who afterwards, at his suggestion, effected the escape of the nuns, have previously introduced some of Luther’s tracts into the convent? He had at that time already written several small books against the monastic life, and it is likely that some of these had been clandestinely introduced, the perusal of which convinced these “sisters” that their profession was not sanctioned by the Scriptures, and that it was dangerous to their morals. They became so thoroughly assured of the enormous error they had committed in thus secluding themselves from the world, and were so heartily weary of the unnatural restraint imposed upon them, that they earnestly besought their relatives to liberate them for their souls’ sake! But these appeals were unheard, and now probably the unhappy petitioners turned immediately to Luther. He not only favored their resolution to escape, but selected his courageous friend, Bernhard Koppe, a citizen of Torgau, to execute the project. Two other citizens of the same place accompanied him on the adventure.
George Spalatin, Court Chaplain and Secretary of the Elector, reports that they fled from the convent on the night before Easter, April 4, 1523. There were nine of them in all.
The accounts of the manner in which their rescue was effected, differ. Some historians report that prudence required them to preserve the strictest secrecy as long as they were traversing the territory of Duke George, who was violently opposed to the Reformation, and hence they were conveyed away in a covered wagon, and a few affirm, on the authority of reliable documents, that they were concealed in casks. The historians, however, agree that Koppe performed his part in the enterprise with consummate courage and skill. It is very likely that the nuns were aware of Koppe’s design, and held themselves in readiness at the appointed time. Tradition tells us that they escaped through the window of Catharine’s cell. To this day, they show at Nimtschen a slipper which they say Catharine lost in the hurry of the flight.
They arrived at Wittenberg on the 7th of April, under circumstances calculated to excite the sympathy of every feeling heart. As they deserted the convent against the will of their relatives, and most of them probably being orphans, they did not know where to find shelter or support. But Luther, who had advised their flight, and aided in effecting it, kindly received them, and spared no pains to render their condition comfortable. In a few but expressive words to Spalatin, he announced their arrival and depicted their destitution. He thus writes on the 10th of April: “These eloped nuns have come to me; they are in destitute circumstances, but as very respectable citizens of Torgau have brought them, there can be no suspicion entertained as to their moral character. I sincerely pity their forlorn state, and particularly that of the great number still confined in convents, who are going to ruin in that condition of constrained and unnatural celibacy. * * * How tyrannical and cruel,” continues Luther, “many parents and relatives of these oppressed women in Germany are! But ye popes and bishops! who can censure you with sufficient severity? who can sufficiently abominate your wickedness and blindness for upholding these accursed institutions? But this is not the place to speak at large on this subject. You ask, dear Spalatin, what I intend to do with these nuns? I shall report these facts to their relatives, so that they may provide for them. If they should refuse, I shall look to some other persons, for several have promised aid. Their names are Margaretta Staupitz, Elizabeth de Carnitz, Eva Grossin, Eva Schönfield and her Sister Margaret, Lunette de Golis, Margaret de Zeschau and her sister Catharine, and Catharine de Bora. They are, indeed, objects worthy of compassion, and Christ will be served by conferring favors on them.”
As he could not afford to support them himself, he begged his friend to solicit donations at court, that these fugitives might be supported for several weeks. By that time he hoped to send them to their friends or patrons. As Spalatin did not reply immediately, Luther wrote again, and begged not to be forgotten. He added, “Yea, I even exhort the Prince to send a contribution. I will keep it a profound secret, and tell no one that he gave anything to these apostate nuns who have been rescued from their prison.”
There is no doubt that the Elector, who esteemed Luther highly, sent him the desired relief. The pacific Prince only wished the fact of his contribution to be kept secret, that he might not give the Romish clergy, and particularly Duke George of Saxony, occasion for new complaint.
Luther’s intercessions in behalf of the nuns with their relatives seem to have been fruitless, but the people of Wittenberg were liberal beyond his expectations in their donations for their support. They were kindly received into various families, and hospitably entertained. In this way Philip Reichenbach, a magistrate of the city, became the protector or foster-father of Catharine de Bora, who, by her virtuous and dignified behavior, rendered herself worthy of his paternal benevolence. This is, of itself, a sufficient refutation of the slanders of Romish writers, who charge her with leading a dissolute life until her marriage with Luther; for no city official, such as Reichenbach, would have hazarded his own character by harboring a licentious woman. Neither would Dr. Glacius and other eminent divines have sought her hand in marriage, as they perseveringly did, nor would she have enjoyed the friendship and confidence of Amsdorff and other professors of the University if she had not sustained a character above suspicion. The epitaph on her tomb-stone at Torgau commemorates her virtues in most exalted terms of eulogy, from the time of her escape to her death.
The flight of the nuns was itself an unusual event, but it became immensely important, for extraordinary consequences resulted from it. Pains were taken to conceal the bold step they had assumed, especially from all other convents. But these exertions were useless; nuns at other places heard what their more adventurous sisters at Nimtschen had dared to do, and they also undertook to fly from their narrow, unwholesome cells to breathe the pure air of heaven. The abbess and four other nuns of the Benedictine convent at Zeitz; six at Sormitz; eight at Pentwitz, and sixteen at Wiedenstadt, escaped in a short time. Luther’s enemies now assailed him with ferocious malignity. They regarded him as the author of all this enormous mischief, and tried to show that his work was productive of nothing but unmitigated evil, because it occasioned such abominable results as the flight of poor nuns from their convent prisons. Luther replied to them very briefly; he represented the dark side of the picture of conventual life, and narrated some striking facts in illustration. He published the life of a nun, Florentine de Oberweimer, who had escaped from a convent at Eisleben. “I was but six years old,” she says, “when I was sent to the convent by my parents. When I was eleven, without knowing or being asked whether I could or would observe the rules, I was compelled to take the vow. When I was fourteen, and I began to find out that this mode of life was against my nature, and hence complained to the abbess, she told me that I must be contented and should continue to be a nun no matter what I thought or felt. I then wrote to the learned Dr. Luther and begged his advice: but my letter was intercepted by my superiors, who immediately put me in prison, where I remained four weeks and suffered much. The abbess then put me under the bans. (Florentine then minutely describes the severe treatment she received before the ban was dissolved.) After that, I wrote to my relative, Caspar de Watzdorf, who loved the gospel truth, and complained of my treatment. This also became known to the abbess, and I cannot tell to strangers how shamefully I was abused by her and others. I was so violently beaten by her and four other persons that they became completely exhausted. She put me in prison again and fastened my feet with iron chains,” &c., &c.
In the dedication of this little book to the Duke of Mansfeld, in whose dominions the convent was located, Luther wrote on the 2nd of March, 1524, “What are you about, ye princes and lords, that ye drive the people to God whether they will or not? It is not your office nor in your power. To outward obedience you may compel them, but God will regard no vow that is not cheerfully and voluntarily kept. Hence, my dear, gracious sirs, I have published this little narrative that all the world may know what conventual life is, and the devil’s folly thus be made known. There are princes and lords who are very indignant about this affair, and it is no wonder. If they knew what I know, they would perhaps honor me more for it, and contribute much more towards spreading it abroad than I am doing.”
But Luther was not the only one who was charged with being accessory to the flight of these nuns. Leonard Koppe, as the chief instrument in effecting their escape, was, perhaps, exposed to greater dangers and persecutions than Luther, who was powerfully protected by his prince. For although Koppe had formerly been a councillor and a government auditor, yet he had reason to fear the worst treatment from the clergy if his participation in the act should become generally known. Hence he sought to conceal it: but Luther, who was a stranger to the fear of man, and who, in all things, went to work openly and boldly, was of a different opinion. Fully convinced that Koppe had performed a meritorious act, of which he should not be ashamed, but rather boast, he mentioned his name in a letter to Spalatin a few days after the escape of the nuns; but he also deemed it prudent to write to Koppe and inspire him with courage. “Be assured,” he writes, “that God has so ordained it, and that it is not your work or counsel; never mind the clamor of those who denounce it as a most wicked undertaking, and who do not believe it was so ordered of God. Shame! shame! they will say; the fool, Leonard Koppe, has suffered himself to be led by that cursed heretical monk, and has aided nine nuns to fly from the convent at once and to violate their vows. To this you will reply: ‘This is indeed a strange way of keeping the thing secret. You are betraying me, and the whole convent of Nimtschen will be up against me, or they will now hear that I have been the robber.’ But my reasons for not keeping it secret are good: 1. That it may be known that I did not advise it to be concealed; for what we do, we do in and for God, and do not shun the light of day. Would to heaven I could in this or some other way rescue all troubled consciences and empty all convents! I would not be afraid to confess my own agency in the business, nor that of all my assistants. Confidence in Jesus, whose gospel is destroying the kingdom of Antichrist, would sustain me, even if it should cost me my life. 2. I do it for the sake of the poor nuns, and of their relatives, so that no one may be able to say they were involuntarily abducted by wicked fellows, and thus be robbed of their reputation. 3. To warn the nobility and pious gentry who have children in convents to take them away themselves, so that no worse thing befal them. You know that I advised and sanctioned the enterprise; that you executed it, and that the nuns consented and earnestly desired it, and I will here briefly give the reasons for it before God and the world. First, The nuns themselves had before most humbly solicited the help of their relatives and friends in effecting their release; they gave them satisfactory reasons why such a life could no longer be endured, for it interfered with their souls’ salvation, and they promised to be faithful and dutiful children when they should be released. All this was positively denied to them, and they were forsaken by all their relations. Hence they had the right, yea, were compelled to relieve their burdened consciences, and save their souls by seeking help from other quarters, and those who were in a position to afford counsel and aid, were bound by Christian love to bestow them. Secondly, It is not right that young girls should be locked up in convents where there is no daily use made of the word of God, and where the gospel is seldom or never heard, and where, of course, these girls are exposed to the severest temptations. Thirdly, It is plain that a person may be compelled to do before the world what is not cheerfully done; but before God and in his service no one has a right to use compulsion. Fourthly, Women were created for other purposes than to spend a lazy and useless life in a convent.”