Catharine de Bora: Social and Domestic Scenes in the Home of Luther

by John G. Morris

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.