Luther.—"I consent, with all my heart, that the emperor, the princes, and even the humblest Christian, shall examine and judge my books; but on one condition, and it is, that they take the Word of God for their standard. Men have nothing else to do but to obey. My conscience is dependent upon it, and I am captive under its authority."[558]
The Elector of Brandenburg.—"I understand you perfectly, doctor. You will not acknowledge any judge but the Holy Scripture?"
Luther.—"Yes, my lord, exactly. That is my last word."[559]
Then the princes and doctors withdrew, but the worthy Archbishop of Trêves could not resolve to abandon his undertaking. "Come," said he to Luther, as he passed into his private room, and, at the same time, ordered John Eck and Cochlœus, on the one side, and Schurff and Amsdorff, on the other, to follow them. "Why appeal incessantly to the Holy Scriptures?" said Eck keenly; "out of it all heresies have sprung." But Luther, says his friend Mathesius, remained immovable, like a rock resting on the true rock, the Word of the Lord. "The pope," replied he, "is no judge in things pertaining to the Word of God. Every Christian must see and understand for himself how he ought to live and die."[560] The parties separated. The partisans of the papacy felt Luther's superiority, and attributed it to there being nobody present who could answer him. "If the emperor," says Cochlœus, "had acted wisely in calling Luther to Worms, he would also have called theologians who might have refuted his errors."
The Archbishop of Trêves repaired to the Diet, and announced the ill success of his mediation. The surprise of the young emperor equalled his indignation. "It is time," said he, "to put an end to this affair." The archbishop asked two days more, and the whole Diet seconded him. Charles V yielded. Aleander, transported with rage, uttered the bitterest invectives.[561]
VISIT OF COCHLŒUS.
While these things were passing at the Diet, Cochlœus was burning with eagerness to gain a victory denied to prelates and kings. Though he had, from time to time, thrown in a few words at the archbishop's, the order which he had received from Aleander had laid him under restraint. He resolved to compensate himself, and had no sooner given an account of his mission to the papal nuncio, than he presented himself at Luther's lodging. He accosted him as a friend, and expressed the grief which he felt at the emperor's resolution. After dinner, the conversation grew animated.[562] Cochlœus pressed Luther to retract. He declined by a nod. Several nobles, who were at table, had difficulty in restraining themselves. They were indignant that the partisans of Rome should wish not to convince the Reformer by Scripture, but constrain him by force. Cochlœus, impatient under these reproaches, says to Luther, "Very well, I offer to dispute publicly with you, if you renounce the safe-conduct."[563] All that Luther demanded was a public debate. What ought he to do? To renounce the safe-conduct was to be his own destroyer; to refuse the challenge of Cochlœus was to appear doubtful of his cause. The guests regarded the offer as a perfidious scheme of Aleander, whom the Dean of Frankfort had just left. Vollrat of Watzdorff, one of the number, freed Luther from the embarrassment of this puzzling alternative. This baron, who was of a boiling temperament, indignant at a snare which aimed at nothing less than to give up Luther into the hands of the executioner,[564] started up, seized the terrified priest, and pushed him to the door. There would even have been bloodshed had not the other guests risen up from the table, and interposed their mediation between the furious baron and the trembling Cochlœus,[565] who withdrew in confusion from the hotel of the Knights of Rhodes.
The expression had no doubt escaped the dean in the heat of discussion, and was not a premeditated scheme between him and Aleander to make Luther fall into a perfidious snare. Cochlœus denies that it was, and we have pleasure in giving credit to his testimony, though it is true he had come to Luther's from a conference with the nuncio.
INCIDENT AT SUPPER WITH THE ARCHBISHOP.
In the evening, the Archbishop of Trêves entertained those who had been present at the morning conference. He thought it might be a means of calming down their minds, and bringing them nearer each other. Luther, who was so intrepid and immovable before arbiters or judges, had, in private society, a good humour and gayety which seemed to promise anything that might be asked of him. The archbishop's chancellor, who had shown so much sternness in his official capacity, joined in the attempt, and, towards the end of the repast, drank Luther's health. He was preparing to return the honour, the wine was poured out, and he was, according to his custom, making the sign of the cross on his glass, when suddenly the glass burst in his hands, and the wine was spilt upon the table. The guests were in consternation. "There must be poison in it,"[566] said some of Luther's friends, quite loud. But the doctor, without being moved, replied, with a smile, "Dear friends, either this wine was not destined for me, or it would have been hurtful to me." Then he calmly added, "The glass burst, no doubt, because in washing it had been too soon plunged in cold water." These simple words, in the circumstances in which they were uttered, have some degree of grandeur, and bespeak unalterable peace. We cannot suppose that the Roman Catholics could have wished to poison Luther, especially at the house of the Archbishop of Trêves. This répast neither estranged nor approximated the parties. The Reformer's resolution came from a higher source, and could not be influenced either by the hatred or the favour of men.