What he says to the Landgrave Philip of Hesse scarcely a month later, on looking back upon this matter, is less mystical and more diplomatic. The latter had expressed his “surprise” at the position which had been taken up at Augsburg towards the Catholics, and Luther was forced to seek an excuse. Here he represents the offers made as a mere pretence and thus comes, as a matter of fact, nearer to the truth than in the aforesaid letter to his zealous admirer Hausmann, which was anything but true to fact. We should assuredly have been guilty of a “fault,” he says, and have acted to the detriment of our party, had our advances been accepted, but of that there was little fear; now, however, we profit by our offer, for we can represent ourselves as having been badly treated and thus we get an advantage of the Papists. “I trust that Your Highness will not take offence,” so runs the passage, “that we offered to accept certain things, such as fasting, festivals, meats and chants, for we knew well that they could not accept any such offer, and it serves to raise our repute still further and enables me in my booklet to paint their disrepute still more forcibly. It would indeed have been a mistake on our part had the offer been accepted.”[1121] The Protestant author of the “Hessische Kirchengeschichte im Zeitalter der Reformation” thinks it necessary to make this extenuating remark: “The fact that Luther was here seeking to excuse himself will serve to explain the wording of this letter concerning his behaviour during the negotiations with the Catholics, which otherwise might be easily misunderstood.” He thinks there was no question of any original intention of taking advantage of his opponents’ good faith, but that Luther, merely as an afterthought, sought “to represent this as having been all along his intention.”[1122] But does this really suffice to establish Luther’s honesty and uprightness in the business?
In agreement with what he had said to Philip of Hesse, in his “Warnunge an seine lieben Deudschen” (below, p. 391), which he was then writing, or at least thinking of, Luther made every effort “to enhance our repute” by instancing the ostensibly so conciliatory attitude of the evangelicals at Augsburg. He there speaks of the “humility, patience and pleading” which they “exhibited”;[1123] “our prayers and pleas for peace” were, however, “lost upon these obstinate men.” “The Papists,” he declared further on, quite untruly, had refused to hear of peace, truth or reproof, but, “with their heads down,” insisted upon waging war or raising a revolt. “Our offers, our prayers, our cries for peace” were all wasted. He gives no details concerning the spirit in which these “offers” were made.
The Emperor’s attempts to bring about peace at the Diet of Augsburg, under the circumstances described above, were doomed to failure. It was impossible for the Reichstag to bridge over the chasm which was intentionally and artfully kept open by Luther and his party. The final resolutions which were drawn up in due form and proclaimed by the Emperor on November 19, declared that in matters of faith no innovations might be introduced; worship, in particular the ritual of the sacraments, the Mass and Veneration of the Saints, was to remain as before until a decision by an Œcumenical Council; any interference with or injury to churches and convents was forbidden; married priests were to be removed from their posts and punished; preachers were only to be appointed by the bishop; books were not to be printed without being submitted to the censors, etc. The enactment, that Church property which had been seized by the innovators should be returned without delay, was a source of particular displeasure to Luther’s friends.
According to Luther the devil had triumphed at the Reichstag. “The spectre-monks of Spires,” to use his own expression, i.e. the spirits of hell, according to him, threatened his enterprise with destruction.
The apparition of the phantom monks of Spires was one of the manifestations of diabolical animosity towards his teaching which troubled Luther greatly at that time, in his lonely retreat of Coburg. We here see the curious spirit-world in which he lived. A whole troop of fiends disguised as monks, so he had been reliably informed, had come to the Rhine at Spires at the beginning of the Diet of Augsburg and had been ferried across the river on the pretext that “they were from Cologne and wished to attend the Diet at Augsburg. But,” so the story ran, “when they had crossed over, they all suddenly vanished, so that they are believed to have been nothing but a band of evil spirits.”[1124] Melanchthon looked upon the apparition of the “monks of Spires” as the presage of a “terrible revolt.”[1125] His son-in-law, George Sabinus, wrote a description of the incident in verse. Luther himself was probably more inclined to look upon these spectres as devils, because he had personally seen an apparition of the devil at Coburg, where Satan had appeared in the garden below his window under the form of a serpentine streak of light (cp. vol. vi., xxxvi. 3).
He was at that time dominated by fear and dread, partly owing to the proceedings at the Reichstag, partly on account of the unfortunate termination of the religious conference with Zwingli at Marburg,[1126] where no understanding had been reached regarding the chief point under dispute, and partly also because in his solitude his old inward “temptations” and mental depression were again tormenting him. He was also suffering much from the result of overwork. A malady due to nervous exhaustion had, in 1527, so enfeebled him as to bring him to the verge of the grave. The malady now returned with similar, though less severe, symptoms. The spiritual desolation and fear, which were the consequence of his doubts, now again assailed him as they had done after his previous illness in 1527. Of this condition, Melanchthon, to whom it was familiar enough, wrote to Dietrich, that one could not hope to dispel it by human means, but only by recourse to prayer.[1127]
“Satan has sent me his emissaries,” Luther himself says of his sufferings; “I was alone, Veit and Cyriacus were absent, and Satan was so far successful as to drive me out of the room and force me to go amongst the people.” He compares his mental state to a land dried up by heat and wind and thirsting for water.[1128]
He observed to Melanchthon that as a rule he was weaker in such personal combats than when it was a question of the common weal, or of his public work.[1129] This may serve to correct those historians who have nothing but “praise for Luther’s assurance and cheerfulness” during the time when at Augsburg his cause stood in such imminent danger.
Luther’s letters, previous to the breaking off of his followers’ pretended negotiations at Augsburg, certainly do not breathe a spirit of interior peace. He says, for instance, to Jonas: “I am actually bursting with anger and indignation (‘pæne rumpor ira et indignatione’). I beseech you to cut the matter short and come back home. They have our Confession and the Gospel. If they wish they can accept them, if not let them depart.” Then there follows in the Latin epistle a characteristic exclamation in German: “If war is to come, let it come, we have prayed and done enough. The Lord has given them over to us as a holocaust in order ‘to reward them according to their works’ [2 Tim. iv. 14]; us, His people,” Luther concludes, “He will save even from the fiery furnace of Babylon. Forgive me, I pray, my Jonas, for spewing out all this annoyance of mine into your lap; but what I have written for you is meant for all.”[1130]