The monks had received him with joy. It was no small satisfaction to their self-love to see the university abandoned for a house of their order, and that by one of the most distinguished teachers. Nevertheless, they treated him harshly, and assigned him the meanest tasks. They wished to humble the doctor of philosophy, and teach him that his science did not raise him above his brethren. They thought, moreover, they would thus prevent him from spending his time in studies from which the convent could not reap any advantage. The ci-devant Master of Arts behoved to perform the functions of watchman, to open and shut the gates, wind up the clocks, sweep the church, and clean up the rooms.[151] Then when the poor monk, who was at once porter, sacristan, and house-hold servant to the cloister, had finished his task—"Cum sacco per civitatem"—"To the town with the bag," exclaimed the friars; and then, with his bread-bag on his shoulders, he walked up and down over all the streets of Erfurt, begging from house to house, obliged, perhaps, to present himself at the doors of those who had been his friends or inferiors. On his return, he had either to shut himself up in a low narrow cell, looking out on a plot only a few yards in extent, or to resume his menial offices. But he submitted to all. Disposed by temperament to give himself entirely to whatever he undertook, when he turned monk he did it with his whole soul. How, moreover, could he think of sparing his body, or of having regard to what might satisfy the flesh? That was not the way to acquire the humility and holiness in quest of which he had come within the walls of the cloister.
The poor monk, worn out with fatigue, was eager to seize any moment which he could steal from his servile occupations, and devote it to the acquisition of knowledge. Gladly did he retire into a corner, and give himself up to his beloved studies. But the friars soon found him out, gathered around him, grumbled at him, and pushed him away to his labours, saying, "Along! along! it is not by studying, but by begging bread, corn, eggs, fish, flesh, and money, that a friar makes himself useful to his convent."[152] Luther submitted, laid aside his books, and again took up his bag. Far from repenting of having subjected himself to such a yoke, his wish was to bring it to a successful result. At this period, the inflexible perseverance with which he ever after followed out the resolutions which he had once formed, began to be developed. The resistance which he made to rude assaults gave strong energy to his will. God exercised him in small things that he might be able to stand firm in great things. Besides, in preparing to deliver his age from the miserable superstitions under which it groaned, it was necessary that he should feel the weight of them. In order to empty the cup he behoved to drink it to the dregs.
This severe apprenticeship, however, did not last so long as Luther might have feared. The prior of the convent, on the intercession of the university of which Luther was a member, relieved him from the mean functions which had been imposed on him, and the young monk resumed his studies with new zeal. The writings of the Fathers, particularly those of Augustine, engaged his attention; the Commentary of this illustrious doctor on the Psalms, and his treatise "On the Letter and the Spirit," being his special favourites. Nothing struck him more than the sentiments of this Father on the corruption of the human will, and on Divine grace. His own experience convincing him of the reality of this corruption, and the necessity of this grace, the words of Augustine found a ready response in his heart; and could he have been of any other school than that of Jesus Christ, it had doubtless been the school of the doctor of Hippo. The works of Peter D'Ailly and Gabriel Biel he almost knew by heart. He was struck with a remark of the former—that had not the Church decided otherwise, it would have been much better to admit that in the Lord's Supper bread and wine are truly received, and not mere accidents.
He likewise carefully studied the theologians, Occam and Gerson, who both express themselves so freely on the authority of the popes. To this reading he joined other exercises. In public discussions he was heard unravelling the most complicated reasonings, and winding his way through labyrinths where others could find no outlet. All who heard him were filled with admiration.[153]
But he had entered the cloister, not to acquire the reputation of a great genius, but in quest of the food of piety.[154] These labours he accordingly regarded as supernumerary.
But the thing in which he delighted above all others was to draw wisdom at the pure fountain of the word of God. In the convent he found a Bible fastened to a chain, and was ever returning to this chained Bible. He had a very imperfect comprehension of the Word, but still it was his most pleasant reading. Sometimes he spent a whole day in meditating on a single passage; at other times he learned passages of the Prophets by heart. His great desire was, that the writings of the apostles and prophets might help to give him a knowledge of the will of God, increase the fear which he had for his name, and nourish his faith by the sure testimony of the Word.[155]
Apparently at this period he began to study the Scriptures in the original tongues, and thereby lay the foundation of the most perfect and the most useful of his labours, the translation of the Bible. He used a Hebrew Lexicon which Reuchlin had just published. His first guide was probably John Lange, a friar of the convent, versed in Greek and Hebrew, and with whom he always maintained a close intimacy.[156] He also made great use of the learned Commentaries of Nicolas Lyra, who died in 1340, and hence the saying of Pflug, afterwards Bishop of Naumbourg, "Had not Lyra played the lyre, Luther had never danced. Si Lyra non lyrasset, Lutherus non saltasset."
The young monk studied so closely and ardently that he often omitted to say his Hours during two or three weeks. Then becoming alarmed at the thought of having transgressed the rules of his order, he shut himself up to make amends for his negligence, and commenced conscientiously repeating all the omitted Hours, without thinking of meat or drink. On one occasion his sleep went from him for seven weeks.
Earnestly intent on acquiring the holiness in quest of which he had entered the cloister, Luther addicted himself to the ascetic life in its fullest rigour, seeking to crucify the flesh by fastings, macerations, and vigils.[157] Shut up in his cell as in a prison, he struggled without intermission against the evil thoughts and evil propensities of his heart. A little bread and a herring were often all his food. Indeed, he was naturally very temperate. Often when he had no thought of purchasing heaven by abstinence, have his friends seen him content himself with the coarsest provisions, and even remain four days in succession without eating or drinking.[158] We have this on the testimony of a very credible witness, Melancthon, and we may judge from it what opinion to form of the fables which ignorance and prejudice have circulated concerning Luther's intemperance. At the period of which we treat there is no sacrifice he would have declined to make, in order to become holy and purchase heaven.[159] When Luther, after he had become Reformer, says that heaven is not purchased, he well knew what he meant. "Truly," wrote he to George, Duke of Saxony, "truly I was a pious monk, and followed the rules of my order more strictly than I can tell. If ever monk had got to heaven by monkery, I had been that monk. In this all the monks of my acquaintance will bear me witness. Had the thing continued much longer I had become a martyr unto death, through vigils, prayer, reading, and other labours."[160]
We are touching on the period which made Luther a new man, and which, revealing to him the immensity of the Divine love, fitted him for proclaiming it to the world.