TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:

—Obvious print and punctuation errors were corrected.

—The transcriber of this project created the book cover image using the title page of the original book. The image is placed in the public domain.

LUTHER

Nihil Obstat

Sti. Ludovici, die 26 Jan., 1913.

F. G. Holweck,

Censor.

Imprimatur

Sti. Ludovici, die 30 Jan., 1913.

Johannes J. Glennon,

Archiepiscopus Sti. Ludovici.

LUTHER

BY

HARTMANN GRISAR, S. J.

PROFESSOR AT THE UNIVERSITY OF INNSBRUCK

AUTHORISED TRANSLATION FROM THE GERMAN BY

E. M. LAMOND

EDITED BY

LUIGI CAPPADELTA

Volume I

LONDON KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRÜBNER & CO., Ltd. BROADWAY HOUSE, 68-74 CARTER LANE, E.C. 1913

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

In Three Volumes. Royal 8vo, each 15s. net.

HISTORY OF ROME AND THE POPES IN THE MIDDLE AGES

Authorised English Translation, edited by Luigi Cappadelta. Profusely Illustrated. With maps, plans, and photographs of basilicas, mosaics, coins, and other memorials.

“The present work might be described as a history of the mediæval Popes, with the history of the City of Rome and of its civilization as a background, the author’s design being so to combine the two stories as to produce a true picture of what Rome was in the Middle Ages.”—Author’s Preface.

The three volumes now issued represent Volume I in the bulky German original. This portion of Father Grisar’s great enterprise is self-contained, and the history is brought down to the epoch of St. Gregory I.

“A valuable and interesting book, well translated ... will, we are sure, be welcomed by all students and lovers of Rome, whether Catholic or not.”—The Tablet.

“Dr. Grisar’s splendid history has long been the treasured possession of students of mediæval art and church history. We welcome its appearance in an English translation, which has been executed with scrupulous care and with every advantage of type, paper, and illustration.”—The Guardian.

The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved

EMENDATIONS AND ADDITIONS

P. 9, line 12 ff. On the habit, cp. Paulus, “Joh. Hoffmeister,” 1891, p. 4.

P. 13, note, read “Oergel.”

P. 14, line 4 from below. For “Augustinian,” read “colleague at the University of Wittenberg.”

P. 27, line 2 from below to p. 28, line 1. Elsewhere he does so quite clearly, cp. “Tischreden” (Veit Dietrich), Weim. ed., 1, p. 61.

P. 29, line 7 from below. It was not actually a papal Bull, but a document in the Pope’s name drawn up by Carvajal, the legate.

P. 30, line 12. Read: “Cochlæus, who knew something of the matter”; line 2 from below, after “told us” add: “In point of fact it is clear that Luther’s journey failed in its purpose, and that the dispute was finally settled only in May, 1512, at the Cologne Chapter”; note 1, last line, omit “his” and add after date “p. 97.”

P. 33, line 11. The account of the incident at the Scala Santa must be corrected in the light of new information. See vol. vi., xlii., 2.

P. 38, line 2 from below. Read: “October 18.”

P. 39, line 21. For “He himself admits, etc.,” read: “Yet he seems to have looked on his removal to Wittenberg as a ‘come down.’” See below, p. 127.

P. 59, line 9 f. For “amazed replies” read “silly letters” (“litteras stupidas”).

P. 72, line 18. Read: “captiosi et contentiosi.”

P. 148, note 1, line 3. For “Luther” read “Lang.”

P. 169, note 2, line 8. Read “longissime.”

P. 178, note 3, line 3. For “1826” read “1864.”

P. 184, line 14. For “Vogel” read “Vopel.”

P. 199, last paragraph. Correct according to vol. vi., xlii., 4.

P. 219, note 5. Add: “That, in the Commentary on Romans Justification is produced by humility, is admitted by Wilh. Braun (‘Evang. Kirchenzeitung,’ 1911, No. 32, col. 506).”

P. 297, note 1, line 6. After “conventualiter” add “per omnia.”

P. 312, line 20. For “97” read “99.”

P. 315, line 1. For “April 25” read “April 26.”

P. 332, note 1, line 1. For “February 13” read “May 22.”

P. 337, note 1. For “May” read “September.”

P. 396. See the various texts in greater detail in vol. vi., xlii., 6.

CONTENTS

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Note.—The following is an alphabetical list of the books, etc., referred to in an abbreviated form in the course of our work, the title under which they are quoted in each case figuring first.

For the Bibliography of Luther generally, we may refer to the following: E. G. Vogel, “Bibliographia Lutheri,” Halle, 1851; I. A. Fabricius, “Centifolium Lutheranum,” 2 parts, Hamburg, 1728-1730; Wm. Maurenbrecher, “Studien und Skizzen,” Leipzig, 1874, p. 205 ff. (a good list of the studies on Luther and his work). The articles on Luther in the “Deutsche Biographie,” in the Catholic “Kirchenlexikon” (2nd ed.), and the Protestant “Realenzyklopädie für Theologie,” etc., also provide more or less detailed bibliographies. So also do W. Möller, “Lehrbuch der Kirchengeschichte,” vol. 3, ed. by Kawerau (3rd ed., particularly p. 4 ff.); Hergenröther, “Lehrbuch der Kirchengeschichte,” vol. 3, 3rd ed., by J. P. Kirsch (particularly p. 4 ff.); Janssen-Pastor, “Geschichte des deutschen Volkes,” etc. (in the lists at the commencement of each vol., particularly vols. ii. and iii.). The bibliographical data added by various writers in the prefaces to the various works of Luther in the new Weimar complete edition are not only copious but also often quite reliable, for instance, those on the German Bible.

“Analecta Lutherana, Briefe und Aktenstücke zur Geschichte Luthers, Zugleich ein Supplement zu den bisherigen Sammlungen seines Briefwechsels,” ed. by Th. Kolde, Gotha, 1883.

“Analecta Lutherana et Melanchthoniana,” see Mathesius, “Aufzeichnungen.”

“Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte. Texte und Untersuchungen. In Verbindung mit dem Verein für Reformationsgeschichte,” ed. W. Friedensburg. Berlin, later Leipzig, 1903-1904 ff.

Balan, P., “Monumenta reformationis Lutheranæ ex tabulariis S. Sedis secretis, 1521-1525,” Ratisbonæ, 1883, 1884.

Barge, H., “Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt,” 2 vols., Leipzig, 1905.

Beatus Rhenanus, see Correspondence.

Berger, A., “Martin Luther in kulturgeschichtlicher Darstellung.” 2 vols., Berlin, 1895-1898.

Bezold, F. von, “Geschichte der deutschen Reformation,” Berlin, 1890.

“Bibliothek des Kgl. Preussischen Historischen Instituts in Rom,” Rome, 1905 ff.

Blaurer, see Correspondence.

Böhmer, H., “Luther im Lichte der neueren Forschung” (from “Natur und Geisteswelt,” No. 113), Leipzig, 1906, 2nd ed., 1910.

Brandenburg, E., “Luthers Anschauung von Staat und Gesellschaft” (Schriften des Vereins für Reformationsgeschichte), Hft. 70, Halle, 1901.

Braun, W., “Die Bedeutung der Concupiscenz in Luthers Leben und Lehre,” Berlin, 1908.

“Briefe,” see Letters.

“Briefwechsel,” see Correspondence.

Brieger, Th., “Aleander und Luther. Die vervollständigten Aleander-Depeschen nebst Untersuchungen über den Wormser Reichstag,” I, Gotha, 1884.

Burkhardt, C. A., “Geschichte der sächsischen Kirchen—und Schulvisitationen von 1524-1545,” Leipzig, 1879.

Calvini, I., “Opera quæ supersunt omnia, ediderunt G. Braun, E. Cunitz, E. Reuss,” 59 vol. (29-87 in the “Corpus Reformatorum”), Brunsvigæ, 1863-1900.

Cardauns, L., “Zur Geschichte der kirchlichen Unions—und Reformbestrebungen von 1538-1542” (“Bibliothek des Kgl. Preuss. Historischen Instituts in Rom,” vol. 5), Rome, 1910.

—see “Nuntiaturberichte.”

Cochlæus, I., “Commentaria de actis et scriptis M. Lutheri ... ab a. 1517 usque ad a. 1537 conscripta,” Moguntiæ, 1549.

(“Colloquia,” ed. Bindseil), Bindseil, H. E., “D. Martini Lutheri Colloquia, Meditationes, Consolationes, Iudicia, Sententiæ, Narrationes, Responsa, Facetiæ e codice ms. Bibliothecæ Orphanotrophei Halensis cum perpetua collatione editionis Rebenstockianæ edita et prolegomenis indicibusque instructa,” 3 voll., Lemgoviæ et Detmoldæ, 1863-1866.

(“Commentarius in Epist. ad Galat.”), “M. Lutheri Commentarius in Epistolam ad Galatas,” ed. I. A. Irmischer, 3 voll., Erlangæ, 1843 sq.

(Cordatus, “Tagebuch”), Wrampelmeyer, H., “Tagebuch über Dr. Martin Luther, geführt von Dr. Conrad Cordatus, 1537,” 1st ed., Halle, 1885.

“Corpus Reformatorum,” ed. Bretschneider, Halis Saxoniæ, 1834, sqq. voll. 1-28, “Melanchthonis opera”; voll. 29-87, “Calvini opera”; voll. 88-89, “Zwinglii opera.”

Correspondence: “Dr. Martin Luthers Briefwechsel,” edited with annotations by L. Enders, 11 vols., Frankfurt a/M., also Calw and Stuttgart, 1884-1907, 12 vols., ed. G. Kawerau, Leipzig, 1910; see also Letters.

—“Briefwechsel Luthers, mit vielen unbekannten Briefen und unter Berücksichtigung der De Wetteschen Ausgabe,” ed. C. A. Burkhardt, Leipzig, 1866.

—“Briefwechsel des Beatus Rhenanus,” etc., ed. A. Horawitz and K. Hartfelder, Leipzig, 1886.

—“Briefwechsel der Brüder Ambrosius und Thomas Blaurer, 1509-1548,” ed. Tr. Schiess, 1 vol., Freiburg i/Breisgau, 1908.

—“Briefwechsel des Justus Jonas,” etc., ed. G. Kawerau, 2 vols., Halle, 1884.

—“Briefwechsel Landgraf Philipps des Grossmütigen von Hessen mit Bucer,” ed. by M. Lenz (“Publikationen aus dem Kgl. Preuss. Staatsarchiv,”), 3 vols., Leipzig, 1880-1891.

Denifle, H., O.P., “Luther und Luthertum in der ersten Entwickelung quellenmässig dargestellt,” 1 vol., Mayence, 1904; 2nd ed., 1st part, 1904; 2nd part, ed. A. M. Weiss, O.P., 1906. Quellenbelege zu 1², 1-2, “Die Abendländische Schriftauslegung bis Luther über Iustitia Dei (Rom. i. 17) und Iustificatio. Beitrag zur Geschichte der Exegese, der Literatur und des Dogmas im Mittelalter,” 1905, 2nd vol. of the main work, ed. A. M. Weiss, O.P., 1909.

—“Luther in rationalistischer und christlicher Beleuchtung, Prinzipielle Auseinandersetzung mit A. Harnack und R. Seeberg,” Mayence, 1904.

“Deutsch-evangelische Blätter. Zeitschrift für den gesamten Bereich des deutschen Protestantismus,” Halle, 1891, sq.

(“Disputationen,” ed. Drews), Drews, P., “Disputationen Dr. Martin Luthers, in den Jahren, 1535-1545 an der Universität Wittenberg gehalten,” 1st ed., Göttingen, 1895.

(“Disputationen,” ed. Stange), Stange, C., “Die ältesten ethischen Disputationen Dr. Martin Luthers” (“Quellenschriften zur Geschichte des Protestantismus,” 1), Leipzig, 1904.

Döllinger, J. I. von, “Luther, eine Skizze,” Freiburg i/B., 1890 (also in Wetzer and Welte’s Kirchenlexikon, 1st and 2nd ed., Art. “Luther”).

—“Die Reformation, ihre innere Entwickelung und ihre Wirkungen im Umfange des lutherischen Bekenntnisses,” 3 vols., Ratisbon, 1846-1848 (l², 1851).

Ehses St., “Geschichte der Packschen Händel. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der deutschen Reformation,” Freiburg i/B., 1881.

Ellinger, G., “Philipp Melanchthon. Ein Lebensbild,” Berlin, 1902.

“Erasmi D. Roterodami Opera omnia emendatiora et auctiora,” ed. Clericus, 10 tom., Lugd. Batavorum, 1702-1706.

“Erläuterungen und Ergänzungen zu Janssens Geschichte des deutschen Volkes,” ed. L. von Pastor, Freiburg i/B., 1898, sq.

Evers, G., “Martin Luther. Lebens-und Charakterbild, von ihm selbst gezeichnet in seinen eigenen Schriften und Korrespondenzen,” Hft. 1-14, Mayence, 1883-1894.

Falk, F., “Die Bibel am Ausgang des Mittelalters,” Mayence, 1905,

—“Die Ehe am Ausgang des Mittelalters” (“Erläuterungen und Ergänzungen zu Janssens Geschichte des deutschen Volkes,” Vol. 6, Hft. 4), Freiburg i/B., 1908.

“Flugschriften aus den ersten Jahren der Reformation,” ed. O. Clemen, Leipzig and New York, 1907 ff.

Förstemann, C. E., “Neues Urkundenbuch zur Gesch. der evangelischen Kirchenreform” (one only vol. published), Hamburg, 1842.

Harnack, A., “Lehrbuch der Dogmengeschichte,” 3 vols.: “Die Entwickelung des kirchlichen Dogmas”; ii, iii, 4th ed., Tübingen, 1910.

Hausrath, A., “Luthers Leben,” 2 vols., Berlin, 1904 (2nd reimpression with amended preface).

Hergenröther, Card. J., “Handbuch der allgemeinen Kirchengeschichte,” 4th ed., ed. J. P. Kirsch, 3 vols., Freiburg i/B, 1909.

“Historisches Jahrbuch,” ed. the Görres-Gesellschaft, Münster, later Munich, 1880 ff.

“Historisch-politische Blätter für das katholische Deutschland,” Munich, 1838 ff.

“Hutteni Ulr. Opera,” 5 vol., ed. Böcking, Lipsiæ, 1859-1862.

(Janssen-Pastor) Janssen, J., “Geschichte des deutschen Volkes seit dem Ausgang des Mittelalters,” 17-18 ed. by L. von Pastor, vol. 1-2, Freiburg i/B., 1897; vol. 3, 1899. English Trans., “History of the German People at the Close of the Middle Ages,” 1-2², 1905; 3-4¹, 1900; 5-6¹, 1903 (see also “Erläuterungen und Ergänzungen”).

—“An meine Kritiker. Nebst Ergänzungen und Erläuterungen zu den drei ersten Bänden meiner Geschichte des deutschen Volkes,” Freiburg i/B., 1882.

—“Ein zweites Wort an meine Kritiker. Nebst Ergänzungen und Erläuterungen zu den drei ersten Bänden meiner Geschichte des deutschen Volkes,” Freiburg i/B., 1883.

Kahnis, C. F. A., “Die deutsche Reformation,” vol. 1, Leipzig, 1872 (no others published).

Kalkoff, P., “Forschungen zu Luthers römischem Prozess” (“Bibliothek des Kgl. Preuss. Histor. Instituts in Rom,” vol. 2), Rome, 1905.

“Kirchenordnungen, Die evangelischen des 16 Jahrhunderts,” ed. E. Sehling: 1, “Die Ordnungen Luthers für die ernestinischen und albertinischen Gebiete,” Leipzig, 1902; 2, “Die vier geistlichen Gebiete,” etc., 1904; 3, “Die Mark Brandenburg,” 1909.

Köhler, W., “Katholizismus und Reformation. Kritisches Referat üher die wissenschaftlichen Leistungen der neueren katholischen Theologie auf dem Gebiete der Reformationsgeschichte,” Giessen, 1905.

—“Luther und die Kirchengeschichte,” 1, vol. 1, Erlangen, 1900.

Köstlin, J., “Luthers Theologie in ihrer geschichtlichen Entwickelung und in ihrem Zusammenhang dargestellt,” 2nd ed., 2 vols., Stuttgart, 1901.

(Köstlin-Kawerau), Köstlin, J., “Martin Luther. Sein Leben und seine Schriften,” 5th ed., continued after the death of the author by G. Kawerau, 2 vols., Berlin, 1903.

Kolde, Th., see “Analecta Lutherana.”

—“Die deutsche Augustinerkongregation und Johann von Staupitz. Ein Beitrag zur Ordens-und Reformationsgeschichte nach meistens ungedruckten Quellen,” Gotha, 1879.

—“Martin Luther, Eine Biographie,” 2 vols., Gotha, 1884-1893.

Læmmer, H., “Monumenta Vaticana historiam ecclesiasticam sæculi XVI, illustrantia,” Friburgi Brisgoviæ, 1861.

(Lauterbach, “Tagebuch”), Seidemann, J. K., “A. Lauterbachs Tagebuch auf das Jahr 1538. Die Hauptquelle der Tischreden Luthers,” Dresden, 1872.

Letters, “M. Luthers Briefe, Sendschreiben und Bedenken,” ed. M. De Wette, 5 parts, Berlin, 1825-1828; 6th part, ed. J. K. Seidemann, Berlin, 1856.

Loesche, G., see Mathesius, “Aufzeichnungen”; Mathesius, “Historien.”

Löscher, V. E., “Vollständige Reformationsacta und Dokumenta,” 3 vols., Leipzig, 1720-1729.

Loofs, F., “Leitfaden zum Studium der Dogmengeschichte,” 4th ed., Halle a/S., 1906.

Luthardt, C. E., “Die Ethik Luthers in ihren Grundzügen,” 2nd ed., Leipzig, 1875.

Luther’s Works: 1, Complete editions of his works, see “Werke,” “Opera Lat. var.,” “Opera Lat. exeg.,” “Commentarius in Epist. ad Galatas,” Römerbriefkommentar; 2, Correspondence, see Letters, Correspondence, and “Analecta”; 3, Table-Talk, see “Tischreden,” ed. Aurifaber, ed. Förstemann, also “Werke,” Erl. ed. vol. 57-62, “Werke,” Halle, ed., vol. 22, “Colloquia,” Cordatus, Lauterbach, Mathesius, “Aufzeichnungen,” Mathesius, “Tischreden,” Schlaginhaufen; 4, on other matters see “Analecta,” “Disputationen,” “Symbolische Bücher.”

(Mathesius, “Aufzeichnungen”), Loesche, G., “Analecta Lutherana et Melanchthoniana, Tischreden Luthers und Aussprüche Melanchthons hauptsächlich nach den Aufzeichnungen des Johannes Mathesius, aus der Nürnberger Handschrift im Germanischen Museum mit Benützung von Seidemanns Vorarbeiten,” Gotha, 1892.

Mathesius, J., “Historien von des ehrwürdigen in Gott seligen thewren Manns Gottes Doctoris Martini Luther Anfang Lehr, Leben und Sterben,” Nürnberg, 1566, ed. G. Loesche, Prague, 1898 and 1906 (“Bibliothek deutscher Schriftsteller aus Böhmen,” vol. 9). Our quotations are from the Nuremberg ed.

(Mathesius, “Tischreden”), Kroker, E., “Luthers Tischreden in der Mathesischen Sammlung. Aus einer Handschrift der Leipziger Stadtbibliothek,” ed. Leipzig, 1903.

Maurenbrecher, W., “Studien und Skizzen zur Geschichte der Reformationszeit,” Leipzig, 1874.

—“Geschichte der katholischen Reformation,” 1 vol., Nördlingen, 1880.

Melanchthon, see “Analecta,” by Loesche.

Melanchthon, see “Vita Lutheri.”

“Melanchthonis opera omnia,” ed. Bretschneider (in “Corpus Reformatorum,” vol. 1-28), Halis Saxoniæ, 1834-1863.

Möhler, J. A., “Lehrbuch der Kirchengeschichte,” ed. Pius Gams, 3 vols., Ratisbon, 1868.

—“Symbolik oder Darstellung der dogmatischen Gegensätze der Katholiken und Protestanten nach ihren öffentlichen Bekenntnisschriften,” 1st ed., Ratisbon, 1832; 10th ed., with additions, by J. M. Raich, Mayence, 1889.

Möller, W., “Lehrbuch der Kirchengeschichte,” 3 vols., “Reformation und Gegenreformation,” ed. G. Kawerau, 3rd ed., Tübingen, 1907.

Müller, K., “Luther und Karlstadt. Stücke aus ihrem gegenseitigen Verhältnis untersucht,” Tübingen, 1909.

—“Kirche Gemeinde und Obrigkeit nach Luther,” Tübingen, 1910.

Münzer, Th., “Hochverursachte Schutzrede und Antwort wider das geistlose sanftlebende Fleisch zu Wittenberg,” ed. Enders (“Neudrucke deutscher Literaturwerke,” No. 118), Halle, 1893.

“Neudrucke deutscher Literaturwerke des 16 und 17 Jahrhunderts,” Halle, 1876 ff.

“Nuntiaturberichte aus Deutschland nebst ergänzenden Aktenstücken: 1, 1533-1559, ed. Kgl. Preuss. Institut in Rom, & Kgl. Preuss. Archivverwaltung; vols. 5-6, “Nuntiaturen Morones und Poggios,” “Legationen Farneses und Cervinis, 1539-1540,” ed. L. Cardauns; “Gesandtschaft Campeggios,” “Nuntiaturen Morones und Poggios, 1540-1541,” ed. L. Cardauns, Berlin, 1909.

(“Opp. Lat. exeg.”), “M. Lutheri Exegetica opera latina,” cur. C. Elsperger, 28 voll., Erlangæ, 1829 sqq. (also published apart), “D. M. Lutheri Commentarius in Epistolam ad Galatas,” ed. I. A. Irmischer, 3 voll., Erlangæ, 1843, sq.

(“Opp. Lat. var.”), “M. Lutheri Opera latina varii argumenti ad reformationis historiam imprimis pertinentia,” cur. H. Schmidt, voll. 1-7, Francofurti, 1865 sqq. (part of the Erlangen ed. of Luther’s works).

Oergel, G., “Vom jungen Luther. Beiträge zur Lutherforschung,” Erfurt, 1899.

Pastor, L. von, “Geschichte der Päpste seit dem Ausgang des Mittelalters. Mit Benützung des päpstlichen Geheimarchivs und vieler anderer Archive bearbeitet,” vols. 1-3 in 3rd-4th ed., Freiburg i/B., 1901, 1904, 1899; vol. 4 first half 1906, second half 1907; vol. 5 1909. English Trans., “History of the Popes from the close of the Middle Ages,” 1-2³, 1906; 3-4², 1900; 5-6², 1901; 7-8¹, 1908.

Paulsen, F., “Geschichte des gelehrten Unterrichts auf den deutschen Schulen und Universitäten vom Ausgang des Mittelalters bis zur Gegenwart. Mit besonderer Rücksicht auf den klassischen Unterricht,” Leipzig, 1885, 2nd ed., 2 vols. 1896-1897.

Paulus, N., “Die deutschen Dominikaner im Kampfe gegen Luther, 1518-1563” (“Erläuterungen und Ergänzungen zu Janssens Geschichte des deutschen Volkes,” vol. 4, 1-2). Freiburg i/B., 1903.

—“Hexenwahn und Hexenprozess vornehmlich im 16 Jahrhundert,” Freiburg i/B., 1910.

—“Luther und die Gewissensfreiheit” (“Glaube und Wissen,” Hft. 4), Munich, 1905.

—“Luthers Lebensende. Eine kritische Untersuchung” (“Erläuterungen und Ergänzungen zu Janssens Geschichte des deutschen Volkes,” vol. 1, P. 1), Freiburg i/B., 1898.

—“Kaspar Schatzgeyer, ein Vorkämpfer der katholischen Kirche gegen Luther in Süddeutschland” (“Strassburger theologische Studien,” vol. 3, 1), Freiburg i/B., 1898.

—“Johann Tetzel, der Ablassprediger,” Mayence, 1899.

—“Bartholomäus Arnoldi von Usingen” (“Strassburger theologische Studien,” vol. 1, 3), Freiburg i/B., 1893.

“Quellen und Forschungen aus dem Gebiete der Geschichte in Verbindung mit ihrem historischen Institut zu Rom,” ed. the Görres-Gesellschaft, Paderborn, 1892 ff.

“—aus den italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken,” ed. Kgl. Preuss. Histor. Institut in Rom, Rome, 1897 ff.

“Quellenschriften zur Geschichte des Protestantismus zum Gebrauch in akademischen Übungen,” in Verbindung mit anderen Fachgenossen ed. J. Kunze and C. Stange, Leipzig, 1904, ff.

(Oldecop), “Joh. Oldecops Chronik,” ed. K. Euling (“Bibl. des literarischen Vereins von Stuttgart,” vol. 190), Tübingen, 1891.

(Ratzeberger), “Ratzeberger M., Handschriftliche Geschichte über Luther und seine Zeit,” ed. Ch. G. Neudecker, Jena, 1850.

“Raynaldi Annales ecclesiastici. Accedunt notæ chronologicæ,” etc., auct. J. D. Mansi, Tom. 12-14, Lucæ, 1755.

“Reformationsgeschichtliche Studien und Texte,” ed. J. Greving, Münster i/W., 1906 ff.

“Reichstagsakten, Deutsche,” N.S., 2 vols.: “Deutsche Reichstagsakten unter Karl V,” ed. Adolf Wrede. At the command of H.M. the King of Bavaria, ed. by the Historical Commission of the Kgl. Akademie der Wissenschaften, Gotha, 1896.

Riffel, K., “Christliche Kirchengeschichte der neuesten Zeit, von dem Anfänge der grossen Glaubens-und Kirchenspaltung des 16 Jahrhunderts,” 3 vols. (vol. 1, 2nd ed.), Mayence, 1842-1846.

Ritschi, A., “Rechtfertigung und Versöhnung,” 3 vols., 2nd ed., Bonn, 1882 f.

—O., “Dogmengeschichte des Protestantismus,” vol. 1, Leipzig, 1908.

Romans, Commentary on, Ficker, J., “Luthers Vorlesung über den Römerbrief 1515-1516,” Glossen, 2, Scholien (“Anfänge, reformatorischer Bibelauslegung,” ed. J. Ficker, vol. 1), Leipzig, 1908.

“Sammlung gemeinverständlicher Vorträge und Schriften aus dem Gebiete der Theologie und Religionsgeschichte.” Tübingen and Leipzig, 1896 ff.

Scheel, O., “Luthers Stellung zur Heiligen Schrift” (“Sammlung gemeinverständlicher Vorträge und Schriften aus dem Gebiete der Theologie,” No. 29), Tübingen, 1902.

(Schlaginhaufen, “Aufzeichnungen”), “Tischreden Luthers aus den Jahren 1531 und 1532 nach den Aufzeichnungen von Johann Schlaginhaufen aus einer Münchener Handschrift,” ed. W. Preger, Leipzig, 1888.

“Scholia Rom,” see Romans, Commentary on.

“Schriften des Vereins für Reformationsgeschichte,” Halle, 1883 ff.

Seckendorf, V. L. a, “Commentarius historicus et apologeticus de Lutheranismo sive de reformatione religionis ductu D. Martini Lutheri ... recepta et stabilita,” Lipsiæ, 1694.

Spahn, M., “Johann Cochläus. Ein Lebensbild aus der Zeit der Kirchenspaltung,” Berlin, 1898.

“Studien und Darstellungen aus dem Gebiete der Geschichte. Im Auftrage der Görres-Gesellschaft und in Verbindung mit der Redaktion des Historischen Jahrbuches,” ed. H. Grauert, Freiburg i/B., 1900 ff.

“Studien und Kritiken, Theologische. Zeitschrift für das gesamte Gebiet der Theologie,” Hamburg, later, Gotha, 1835 ff.

(“Symbolische Bücher”), Müller H. T., “Die symbolischen Bücher der evangelisch-lutherischen Kirche deutsch und lateinisch. Mit einer neuen historischen Einleitung von Th. Kolde,” 10th ed., Gütersloh, 1907.

“Table-Talk,” see “Tischreden.”

“Tischreden oder Colloquia M. Luthers,” ed. Aurifaber, 2 vols., Eisleben, 1564-1565.

(Tischreden ed. Förstemann), Förstemann, K. E., “Dr. Martin Luthers Tischreden oder Colloquia. Nach Aurifabers erster Ausgabe mit sorgfältiger Vergleichung sowohl der Stangwaldischen als der Selneccerschen Redaktion,” 4 vols. (4th vol. ed. with assistance of H. E. Bindseil), Leipzig, 1844-1848.

Ulenberg, C., “Historia de Vita ... Lutheri, Melanchthonis, Matth. Flacii Illyrici, G. Maioris et Andr. Osiandri,” 2 voll., Coloniæ, 1622.

(“Vita Lutheri”), “Melanchthonis Philippi Vita Lutheri,” in “Vitæ, quatuor reformatorum,” Berolini, 1841. Also in “Corp. Ref.” 6, p. 155 sq. and previously as Preface to the 2nd vol. of the Wittenberg Latin edition of Luther’s works.

Walther, W., “Für Luther, Wider Rom. Handbuch der Apologetik Luthers und der Reformation den römischen Anklagen gegenüber,” Halle a/S., 1906.

Weiss, A. M., O.P., “Lutherpsychologie als Schlüssel zur Lutherlegende. Denifles Untersuchungen kritisch nachgeprüft,” Mayence, 1906; 2nd ed., 1906.

—“Luther und Luthertum,” 2, see Denifle.

(“Werke,” Erl. ed.), “M. Luthers sämtliche Werke,” 67 vols., ed. J. G. Plochmann and J. A. Irmischer, Erlangen, 1826-1868, vols. 1-20 and 24-26, 2nd ed., ed. L. Enders, Frankfurt a/M., 1862 ff. To the Erl. ed. belong also the Latin “Opp. Lat. exeg.,” the “Commentar. in Epist. ad. Galat.,” the “Opp. Lat. var.,” and the Correspondence (Briefwechsel) ed. by Enders (see under these four titles).

—Weim. ed., “Dr. Martin Luthers Werke. Kritische Gesamtausgabe,” Weimar, 1883 ff., ed. J. Knaake, G. Kawerau, P. Pietsch, N. Müller, K. Drescher and W. Walther. So far (Jan., 1911) there have appeared vols. 1-9; 10, 1, 2, 3; 11-16; 17, 1; 18-20; 23-29; 30, 2; 3; 32; 33; 34, 1, 2; 36; 37. “Deutsche Bibel (1522-1541),” 2 vols. with introductions.

—Altenburg ed., 1661-1664, 10 vols. (German); reprinted Leipzig, 1729-1740, 22 vols.

—Eisleben ed. (“Supplement zur Wittenberger und Jenaer Ausg.”), ed. J. Aurifaber, 2 vols., 1564-1565.

“Werke,” Halle ed., ed. J. G. Walch, 24 vols., 1740-1753 (German), “Neue Ausgabe im Auftrage des Ministeriums der deutschen evangelisch-lutherischen Synode von Missouri, Ohio und andern Staaten,” St. Louis, Mo., Zwickau, Schriftenverein, 22 vols., 1880-1904, 23 (index), 1910.

—Jena ed., 8 vols. of German and 4 vols. of Latin writings, 1555-1558; re-edited later.

—Wittenberg ed., 12 vols. of German (1539-1559) and 7 vols. of Latin writings (1545-1558).

—“Auswahl,” ed. Buchwald, Kawerau, Köstlin, etc., 8 vols., 3rd ed., Brunswick and Berlin, 1905 ff.; also 2 supplementary vols.

Wiedemann, Th., “Johann Eck, Professor der Theologie an der Universität Ingolstadt,” Ratisbon, 1865.

Works (Luther’s), see “Werke.”

“Zeitschrift für katholische Theologie,” Innsbruck, 1877 ff.

“—für Kirchengeschichte,” ed. Th. Brieger, Gotha, 1877 ff.

“—für Theologie und Kirche,” Tübingen, 1890 ff.

“Zwinglii H. Opera. Completa editio prima cur. M. Schulero et H. Schulthessio,” 8 voll. (voll. 7 et 8 “epistolæ”), Turici, 1828-1842. In “Corpus Reformatorum” (2 vols.), voll. 88-89, Berlin and Leipzig, 1905-1908.

INTRODUCTION

(PREFACE TO THE FIRST AND SECOND GERMAN EDITIONS)

The author’s purpose in the present work[1] has been to give an exact historical and psychological picture of Luther’s personality, which still remains an enigma from so many points of view. He would fain present an accurate delineation of Luther’s character as seen both from within and from outside throughout the history of his life and work from his earliest years till his death. He has, however, placed his hero’s interior life, his spiritual development and his psychic history well in the foreground of his sketch.

The external history of the originator of the great German schism has indeed been dealt with fully enough before this. Special historical studies on the various points of his career and times exist in great number and are being daily added to. Whenever necessary, the author has made use of such existing material, although these works are only rarely quoted, in order not to overload the book.

Everyone knows with what animation Luther’s life has recently been discussed, how his doctrines have been probed, and how they have been compared and contrasted with the theology of the Middle Ages. The Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, a work of Luther’s youth, which was first made use of by Denifle and which now exists in a printed form, has supplied very important new material for the study of the rise of his opinions. With the assistance of this work it has become possible to give an entirely new explanation of how the breach with Rome came about. With regard to the actual questions of dogma, it has been my endeavour to bestow upon them the attention necessary for a right comprehension of history; at the same time the theological element can only be considered as secondary, our intention being to supply an exact portrait of Luther as a whole, which should emphasise various aspects of his mind and character, and not to write a history of dogma, much less a controversial or theological tract. The investigation of his mind, of his intellectual and moral springs of action, and of the spiritual reaction which he himself experienced from his life’s work, is indispensably necessary if we wish to do justice to the man who so powerfully influenced the development of Europe, and to form a correct idea of the human sides, good as well as bad, of his character.

We have preferred, when sketching the psychological picture, to do so in Luther’s own words. This method was, however, the most suitable one, in spite of its apparent clumsiness; indeed it is the only one which does not merely put the truth before the eyes of the reader, but likewise the proofs that it is the truth, while at the same time giving an absolutely life-like picture. It has frequently been necessary to allow Luther to speak in his own words in order that in matters which have been diversely interpreted, or on which he was somewhat uncertain, he may be free to bring forward the pros and cons himself; we have thus given him the fullest opportunity to defend or accuse himself. If, for this reason, he is quoted more often than some readers may like, yet the originality of his mode of expression, which is always vivid, often drastic, and not infrequently eloquent, should suffice to prevent any impression of tiresomeness.

Luther’s personality with all its well-known outspokenness has, as a matter of course, been introduced, unvarnished and unexpurgated, just as it betrays itself in the printed pamphlets, which as a rule give so vivid a picture of the writer, in the confidential letters, and in the chatty talk with his friends and table-companions. In a book which, needless to say, is not destined for the edification of the young, but to describe, as an historical work should, the conditions of things as they really were, the author has not thought it permissible to suppress certain offensive passages, or to tone down expressions which, from the standpoint of modern taste, are often too outspoken. With regard to the Table-Talk it may at once be stated that, by preference, we have gone to the actual sources from whence it was taken, so far as these sources are known, i.e. to the first Notes made by Luther’s own pupils and recently edited from the actual MSS. by Protestant scholars such as Preger, Wrampelmeyer, Loesche, Kroker, and others.

In order to preserve the character of the old-time language, the original words and phrases employed by Luther, and also by his friends, have been, as far as possible, adhered to, though not the actual mode of spelling. A certain unequalness was, however, unavoidable owing to the fact that some of Luther’s Latin expressions which have been translated into modern German appear side by side with texts in old German, and that in the first written notes of the Table-Talk frequently only half the sentence is in German, the other half, owing to the use of Latin stenography, or because the speakers intermingled Latin and German haphazard, being given in Latin. Some difficulties presented by the German of that day have been made plain to the reader by words introduced in brackets.

In selecting and sifting the material, a watchful eye has been kept not only on Luther’s mental history, but also on the Luther-Legends, whether emanating from advocates of the Wittenberg Doctor or from his Catholic opponents. It is a remarkable phenomenon only to be explained by the ardent interest taken in the struggle which Luther called forth, how quickly and to what an extent legendary matter accumulated, and with what tenacity it was adhered to. The inventions which we already find flourishing luxuriantly in the earliest panegyrics on the Reformer and in the oldest controversial works written to confute him (we express no opinion on the good faith of either side), are many of them not yet exploded, but continue a sort of tradition, even to the present day. Much that was false in the tales dating from the outset, whether in Luther’s favour or to his disadvantage, is still quoted to-day, in favour of or against him. In the light of a dispassionate examination the cloud-banks of panegyrics and embellishments tend, however, to vanish into thin air, though, on the other hand, a number of dark spots which still clung to the memory of the man—owing to hasty acceptance of the statements of older anti-Lutheran writers, have also disappeared.

The Protestant historian, Wilhelm Maurenbrecher, declared in 1874 in his “Studien und Skizzen zur Geschichte der Reformationszeit” (p. 239), that a good life of Luther could not soon be written owing to the old misrepresentations having given birth to a fable convenue; “the rubbish and filth with which the current theological view of the Reformation period has been choked up, intentionally or unintentionally, is too great, and the utter nonsense which it has been the custom to present and to accept with readiness as Luther’s history, is still too strong.” Maurenbrecher, speaking of the Protestant tradition, felt himself justified in alluding to “a touching affection for stories which have become dear.” During the forty years or so which have elapsed since then, things have, however, improved considerably. Protestant scholars have taken on themselves the honourable task of clearing away the rubbish. Nevertheless, looking at the accounts in vogue of Luther’s development, one of the most recent historians of dogma, writing from Luther’s own camp, at the very commencement of a work dealing with the Reformer’s development, declares: “We still possess no reliable biography of Luther.” So says Wilhelm Braun in his work, “Die Bedeutung der Concupiscenz in Luthers Leben und Lehre” (Berlin, 1908).

The excrescences on the Catholic side have also been blamed by conscientious Catholic historians. I am not here speaking of the insulting treatment of Luther customary with some of the older polemical writers, with regard to which Erasmus said: “Si scribit adversus Lutherum, qui subinde vocat illum asinum, stipitem, bestiam, cacodæmonem, antichristum, nihil erat facilius quam in illum scribere” (“Opp.,” ed. Lugd., 3, col. 658); I am speaking rather of the great number of fables and false interpretations which have been accepted, mostly without verification. Concerning these Joseph Schmidlin says in his article, “Der Weg zum historischen Verständnis des Luthertums” (III., “Vereinsschrift der Görresgesellschaft für 1909,” p. 32 f.): “The Luther-problem has not yet found a solution.... To what an extent the apologetico-dogmatic method, as employed by Catholics, can deviate from historical truth is proved down to the present day by the numerous controversial pamphlets merely intended to serve the purposes of the moment.... The historical point of view, on the contrary, is splendidly adapted to bring into evidence the common ground on which Catholic and Protestant scholars can, to a certain extent, join hands.”

While confronting the fables which have grown up on either side with the simple facts as they are known, I was, naturally, unwilling to be constantly denouncing the authors who were responsible for their invention or who have since made them their own, and accordingly, on principle, I have avoided mentioning the names of those whose accounts I have rectified, and confined myself to the facts alone; in this wise I hope to have avoided giving offence or any reason for superfluous personal discussions. I trust that it is clear from the very form of the book, which deals with Luther and with him alone, that the history of the Wittenberg Doctor is my only concern and that I have no wish to quarrel with any writer of olden or more recent times. I have been able to profit by the liberty thus attained, to attack the various fables without the slightest scruple.

With regard to the other details of the work; my intention being to write a psychology of Luther based on his history, it necessarily followed that some parts which were of special importance for this purpose had to be treated at greater length, whereas others, more particularly historical events which had already been repeatedly described, could be passed over very lightly.

Owing to the psychological point of view adopted in this work the author has also been obliged to follow certain rules in the division and grouping. Some sections had to be devoted to the consideration of special points in Luther’s character and in the direction of his mind, manifestations of which frequently belong to entirely different periods of his life. Certain pervading tendencies of his life could be treated of only in the third volume, and then only by going back to elements already portrayed, but absolutely essential for a right comprehension of the subject. Without some such arrangement it seemed impossible to explain satisfactorily his development, and to produce a convincing picture of the man as a whole.

Although a complete and lengthy description has been devoted to Luther’s idea of his higher mission (vol. iii., ch. xvi.)—a subject rightly considered of the greatest interest—yet the growth of this idea, its justification, and its various phases, is really being dealt with throughout the work. The thoughtful reader will probably be able to arrive at a decision as to whether the idea was well founded or not, from the historical materials furnished by Luther himself. He will see that the result which shines out from the pages of this book is one gained purely by means of history, and that the mere scientific process is sufficient to smooth the way for a solution of the question; to discuss it from a sectarian standpoint never entered into my mind.

The writer’s unalterable principle on this point has been, that in historical studies the religious convictions of the author must never induce him to set aside the stubborn facts of the past, to refuse their full importance to the sources, or pusillanimously to deny the rightful deductions from history. This, however, does not mean that he has imposed on himself any denial of his religious convictions. Just as the convinced Protestant, when judging of historical facts, cannot avoid showing his personal standpoint, and just as the freethinking historian applies his own standard everywhere in criticising events both profane and religious, so the Catholic too must be free to express his opinion from the point of view of his own principles as soon as the facts have been established. The unreasonableness and impossibility of writing a history from which personal convictions are entirely absent has been recognised by all competent authorities, and, in a subject like that here treated, this is as plain as day. Such an artificial and unreal history of Luther would surely be dreary and dull enough to frighten anyone, apart from the fact that Luther himself, whose fiery nature certainly admitted nothing of indifference, would be the first to protest against it, if he could.

Is it really impossible for a Catholic historian to depict Luther as he really was without offending Protestant feelings in any way? Without any exaggerated optimism, I believe it to be quite possible, because honesty and historical justice must always be able to find a place somewhere under the sun and wherever light can be thrown, even in the most delicate historical questions. In the extracts from my studies on Luther (cp. for instance the article “Der ‘gute Trunk’ in den Lutheranklagen, eine Revision” in the “Historisches Jahrbuch,” 1905, pp. 479-507), Protestants themselves admitted that the matter was treated “with entire objectivity” and acknowledged the “moderate tone” which prevailed throughout. Such admissions were to me a source of real pleasure. Other critics, highly prejudiced in favour of Luther, actually went so far as to declare, that this impartiality and moderation was “all on the surface” and a mere “ingenious make-believe,” employed only in order the better to deceive the reader. They took it upon themselves to declare it impossible that certain charges made against Luther should have been minimised by me in real earnest, and various good aspects of his character admitted frankly and with conviction. Such discoveries, as far-fetched as they are wanting in courtesy, may be left to take care of themselves, though I shall not be surprised to be again made the object of similar personal insults on the appearance of this book.

I may, however, assure Protestant readers in general, whose esteem for Luther is great and who may be disagreeably affected by certain passages in this book which are new to them, that the idea of offending them by a single word was very far from my intention. I am well aware, and the many years I have passed at home in a country of which the population is partly Catholic and partly Protestant have made it still clearer to me, how Protestants carry out in all good faith and according to their lights the practice of their religion. Merely in view of these, and quite apart from the gravity of the subject itself, everything that could be looked on as a challenge or an insult should surely be avoided as a stupid blunder. I would therefore ask that the book be judged impartially, and without allowing feelings, in themselves quite natural, to interfere unduly; let the reader ask himself simply whether each assertion is, or is not, proved by the facts and witnesses. As regards the author, however, he would ask his readers to remember that we Catholics (to quote the words of a Swiss writer) “are not prevented by the view we hold of the Church, from rejoicing over all that our separated brethren throughout the world have preserved of the inheritance of Christ, and display in their lives, that, on the contrary, our best and sincerest esteem is for the bona fides of those who think otherwise than we” (“Schweizerische Kirchenzeitung,” 1910, No. 52, December 29).

With regard to “inconvenient facts,” Friedrich Paulsen wrote in his “Geschichte des gelehrten Unterrichts” (I², 1896, p. 196): “If Protestant historians had not yielded so much to the inclination to slur over inconvenient facts, Janssen’s ‘History of the German People’ [English trans., 1901-1909] would not have made the impression it did—surely an ‘inconvenient fact’ for many Protestants.” The same respected Protestant scholar also has a word to say to those who were scandalised at some disagreeable historical home-truths which he had published, “as though it were my fault that facts occurred in the history of the Reformation which a friendly biographer of Luther must regret.”

Even in the Protestant world of the present day there is a very general demand for a plain, unvarnished picture of Luther. “Amicus Lutherus magis amica veritas,” as Chr. Rogge said when voicing this demand; the same writer also admitted that there was “much to be learnt from the Catholics, even though they emphasised Luther’s less favourable qualities”; that, “we could not indeed expect them to look at Luther with our eyes, but nevertheless we have not lost all hope of again finding among them men who will fight the Monk of Wittenberg with weapons worthy of him.” And further, “the scholar given up to historical research can and ought to strive to bring the really essential element of these struggles to the knowledge and appreciation of his opponents, for, if anywhere, then surely in the two principal camps of Christendom, large-minded polemics should be possible” (“Zum Kampfe um Luther” in the “Türmer,” January, 1906, p. 490).

I have not only avoided theological polemics with Protestants, but have carefully refrained from considering Protestantism at all, whether that of to-day or of the two previous centuries. To show the effects of Luther’s work upon the history of the world was not my business. The object of my studies has not been Lutheranism, but Luther himself considered apart from later Protestantism, so far as this was possible; of course, we cannot separate Luther from the effects he produced, he foresaw the results of his work, and the acceptance of this responsibility was quite characteristic of him. I will only say, that the task I set myself in this work closes with the first struggles over his grave. I may remark further, that the Luther of theology, even in Protestant circles, is being considered more and more as an isolated fact. Are there not even many Protestant theologians who at the present day allow him no place whatever in the theological and philosophical doctrines which they hold? Indeed, is it not an understood thing with many of our Protestant contemporaries, to reject entirely or in part the doctrines most peculiar and most dear to Luther. Two years ago the cry was raised for “a further development of religion,” for “a return from Trinitarian to Unitarian Christianity, from the dogmatic to the historic Christ,” and at the same time the Allgemeine Evangelisch-Lutherische Konferenz at Hanover received a broad hint that, instead of wasting time in working for the Lutheran tenets, they would be better employed in devising a Christianity which should suit the needs of the day and unite all Protestants in one body. In these and similar symptoms we cannot fail to see a real renunciation of Luther as the founder of Protestant belief, for there are many who refuse to hold fast even to that rudimentary Christianity which he, in agreement with all preceding ages, continued to advocate. Only on account of his revolt against external authority in religious questions and his bitter opposition to the Papacy, is he still looked up to as a leader. There is therefore all the less reason for the historian, who subjects Luther to his scrutiny, to fear any reproach of having unwarrantably assailed the Protestantism of to-day.

As in these pages my only object has been to examine Luther’s person, his interior experiences and his opinions from the point of view of pure history, I think I have the right to refuse beforehand to be drawn into any religious controversy. On the other hand, historical criticism of facts will always be welcomed by me, whether it comes from the Catholic or from the Protestant camp, and will be particularly appreciated wherever it assists in elucidating those questions which still remain unsolved and to which I shall refer when occasion arises.

Finally, an historical reminiscence, which carries us back to the religious contradictions as they existed in Germany a hundred years ago, may not be out of place. At that time Gottlieb Jakob Planck of Württemberg, Professor of Theology at Göttingen, after the lengthy and unprofitable polemics of earlier ages, made a first attempt to pave the way for a more just treatment by the Protestant party of Luther’s history and theology. In his principal work, i.e. in the six volumes of his “Geschichte der Entstehung, der Veränderung und der Bildung unseres protestantischen Lehrbegriffs” (finished in 1800), he ventured, with all the honesty of a scholar and the frankness natural to a Swabian, to break through the time-honoured custom according to which, as he says, all “those who dared even to touch on the mistakes of our reformers were stigmatised as blasphemers.” “While engaged on this work,” he declares, “I never made any attempt to forget I was a Protestant, but I hope that my personal convictions have never led me to misrepresent other people’s doctrines, or to commit any injustice or even to pass an unkind judgment. Calm impartiality is all that can be demanded.” I should like, mutatis mutandis, to make his words my own, and to declare that, while I, too, have never forgotten that I am a Catholic, I stand in no fear of my impartiality being impugned.

I would likewise wish to appropriate the following words taken from Planck, substituting the word “Protestants” for “Catholics”: “The justice which I have thought it necessary to do to Catholics may perhaps excite some surprise, because some people can never understand one’s treating opponents with fairness.” But “I am convinced that, if my readers are scandalised, this will merely be on account of the novelty of the method. I really could not bring myself to sacrifice truth and justice to any fear of giving offence.” Planck admits, elsewhere, speaking of Lutheran history, that compliance with the demands of impartiality in respect of certain persons and events which he had to describe, was sometimes “incredibly hard,” and he proceeds: “There are circumstances where every investigator is apt to get annoyed unless indeed disinterestedness is to him a natural virtue.... It is exasperating [the present writer can vouch for this] to have to waste time and patience on certain things.” So speaks a theologian renowned among Protestants for his earnestness and kindliness.

With the best of intentions Planck spent part of his time and strength in the chimerical task of bringing about a “reunion of the principal Christian bodies.” He wrote a work, “Ueber die Trennung und Wiedervereinigung,” etc. (on Schism and Reunion, 1803), and another entitled “Worte des Friedens an die katholische Kirche” (Words of Peace to the Catholic Church, 1809). It was his desire “to seek out the good which surely exists everywhere.” The ideas he put forward were, it is true, unsuited for the realisation of his great plan. He was too unfamiliar with the organisation of the Catholic Church, and the limitations of his earlier education disqualified him for the undertaking he had in view. What really shattered the hopes of reunion held by many during that period of triumphant Rationalism was, not merely the shallowness of the views prevailing, but above all the spirit of animosity let loose among all fervent Lutherans by the celebration, in 1817, of the third centenary of the Reformation. Catholics soon perceived that reunion was unfortunately still very far distant, and that, in the interests of the public peace, all that could be expected was the retention of mutual esteem and Christian charity between the two great denominations.

It is also my most ardent desire that esteem and charity should increase, and this growth of appreciation between Catholics and Protestants will certainly not be hindered by the free and untrammelled discussion of matters of history.

On the contrary, as a Protestant critic of Walter Köhler’s “Katholizismus und Reformation” says, “it is to be hoped that historical investigation may lessen the contradictions, and if in this way it is possible to come closer together, not indeed perhaps to understand each other completely, yet at least to make some attempt to do so, then something deeper and more lasting will have been gained than at the time when Rationalism prevailed. The attempt then made to bring the parties together was the result of a levelling down of religious beliefs, now the same object is sought by penetrating more profoundly into the essentials of the different creeds” (“Theologische Literaturzeitung,” 1907, p. 250).

The quotations from Luther’s writings have been taken from the most recent Weimar edition so far as it at present reaches. What is not contained in the Weimar edition has been taken from the previous Erlangen edition (method of quotation: Weim. ed., Erl. ed.); the latter is, however, often quoted as well as the Weimar edition because it is more widely known and more readily available for reference.

Luther’s letters have been taken from the new edition of the “Briefwechsel” by Enders, which is also not yet quite complete. The epistles of Luther’s later years, which are still wanting in Enders’ work, and also some of earlier date, are given as in volumes lii.-liv. of the Erlangen edition, where a great number of German letters are collected, or else as in the old edition of “Briefe, Sendschreiben und Bedenken” by De Wette-Seidemann. (See above, p. xvii. ff., “Correspondence,” “Letters,” “Works.”)

With regard to the other sources of information we need only state, that until the whole of the “Tischreden” (Table-Talk) have been edited by Ernst Kroker in the Weimar series, we are compelled to have recourse to the older German and Latin collections of the same, together with the original notes mentioned above (p. xx.). Of the German collection, in addition to the work of Aurifaber, the “Tischreden” of Förstemann-Bindseil and of the Erlangen edition (vols. lvii.-lxii.) have been used, and, for the Latin collection, Bindseil’s careful edition (see p. xvi. f.).

From among the large number of lives of Luther which have been consulted I shall mention only the two latest, one by a Catholic, Denifle, and the other by two Protestants, Köstlin and Kawerau.

It is hardly necessary to say, that I brought to the study of the two last-mentioned works an absolutely independent judgment. The information—universally acknowledged as extremely valuable—- supplied by Denifle’s ponderous volumes on the relation between Luther’s theology and that of the Middle Ages, was of considerable service to me. To Köstlin’s biography of Luther, continued by Kawerau, I am indebted for some useful data with regard to the history and chronology of Luther’s writings.

This most detailed of the Protestant biographies, and the most frequently quoted by me, offers this further advantage that in its judgment of Luther, his life’s work, and his personal qualities, it occupies a middle line between two Protestant extremes. Köstlin having belonged to the so-called intermediary school of theology, the author, in his delineation of Luther, avoids alike certain excesses of the conservatives and the caustic, subtilising criticism of the rationalists. There is no such thing as a simple “Protestant opinion” on Luther; and Köstlin’s intermediary treatment is the one least likely to lead a Catholic to commit an injustice against either of the extreme parties in Protestantism.

Does a Catholic opinion exist with regard to Luther’s personal qualities and his fate? Does the much-discussed work of Denifle represent the “Catholic feeling”? That it does has frequently been asserted by those most strongly opposed to Denifle. Yet Denifle’s manner of regarding Luther was, on the whole, by no means simply “Catholic,” but largely biassed by his individual opinion, as indeed has ever been the appreciation by Catholic authors of the different points of Luther’s character. Only on those points could Denifle’s opinion strictly be styled “Catholic” where he makes the direct acknowledgment of dogmas and the essential organisation of the Church the standard for Luther’s views and reforms; and in this he certainly had on his side the repudiation of Luther by all Catholics. A “Catholic opinion,” in any other sense than the above, is the sheerest nonsense, and the learned Dominican would certainly have been the last to make such a claim on his own behalf. The present writer protests beforehand against any such interpretation being placed on his work. The following statements, whether they differ from or agree with those of Denifle, must be looked on as a mere attempt to express what appears to the author to be clearly contained in the sources whence his information comes. In all purely historical questions, in questions of fact and their inferences, the Catholic investigator is entirely free, and decides purely and simply to the best of his knowledge and conscience.

A list of Luther’s writings with the volumes in which they occur in the last two editions, as well as a detailed index of subjects and names at the end of the sixth volume, will facilitate the use of this work.

The author would like to take this opportunity of expressing his most cordial thanks to the Royal Bavarian Library of Munich, and also to the University Library in that city, for the friendly assistance rendered him. These rich sources of information have afforded him, during his frequent and lengthy visits to the Bavarian capital, what the libraries of Rome, which he had been in the habit of consulting for his History of Rome and the Popes of the Middle Ages (Eng. trans., 3 vols., 1911-12), could not supply on the subject here treated. The author will now return to the exploitation of the treasures of Rome and to the task he originally undertook and hopes to bring out, in the near future, a further volume of the History of Rome.

THE AUTHOR.

Munich, January 1, 1911.

VOL. I

LUTHER THE MONK

LUTHER

CHAPTER I

COURSE OF STUDIES AND FIRST YEARS IN THE MONASTERY

1. Luther’s Novitiate and Early Life

On July 16, 1505, Martin Luther, then a student at the University of Erfurt, invited his friends and acquaintances to a farewell supper. He wished to see them about him for the last time before his approaching retirement to the cloister. “The bright, cheerful young fellow,” as his later pupil, Mathesius,[2] calls him, was a favourite in his own circle. Those assembled to bid him farewell, amongst whom were also “honest, virtuous maidens and women,”[3] were doubtless somewhat taken aback at their friend’s sudden determination to leave the world; but Luther was outwardly “beyond measure cheerful” and showed himself so light of heart that he played the lute while the wine-cup circled round.[4]

On the following morning—it was the feast of St. Alexius, as Luther remembered when an old man[5]—some of his fellow-students accompanied him to the gate of the Augustinian monastery and then, with tears in their eyes, saw the doors close upon him. The Prior, who was already apprised of the matter, greeted the timid new-comer, embraced him, and then, in accordance with the Rule, confided him to the Master of Novices to be initiated into the customs of the community.

In the quiet monastic cell and amid the strange new surroundings the student was probably able little by little to master the excitement which, though hidden from outsiders, raged within his breast; for the determination to become a monk had been arrived at under strange, soul-stirring circumstances. He was on his way back to Erfurt, after a visit to his parents’ house, when, near Stotternheim, he was overtaken by a thunderstorm, and as a flash of lightning close beside him threatened him “like a heavenly vision,” he made the sudden vow: “Save me, dear St. Anne, and I will become a monk.”[6] He appears also at that very time to have been reduced to a state of great grief and alarm by the sudden death of a dear comrade, also a student, who had been stabbed, either in a quarrel or in a duel. Thus the thoughts which had perhaps for long been attracting his serious temperament towards the cloister ripened with overwhelming rapidity. Could we but take a much later assertion of his as correct, the reason of his resolve was to be found in a certain vexation with himself: because he “despaired” of himself, he once says, therefore did he retire into the monastery.[7]

It was his earnest resolution to renounce the freedom of his academic years and to seek peace of soul and reconciliation with God in the bosom of the pious community. He persisted in keeping the vow made in haste and terror in spite of dissuading voices which made themselves heard both within himself and around him, and the determined opposition of his father to his embracing the religious state. Some were full of admiration for the energetic transformation of the new postulant. Thus the respected Augustinian of Erfurt, Johann Nathin, compared the suddenness and decision of his step to the one-time conversion of Saul into the Apostle Paul.[8] Crotus Rubeanus, the Humanist, then stopping at Erfurt, in a later letter to Luther, expressed himself no less forcibly with regard to the heavenly flash which had made him a monk.[9] The brothers of the “German Congregation of the Order of Hermits of St. Augustine”—such was the full title of the Order—on their part rejoiced at the acquisition of the highly gifted and promising youth, who had already taken his degree as Master of Philosophy at the University of Erfurt.

If the novice, after gradually regaining peace of mind within the silent walls, permitted his thoughts to recur to his former way of life, this must have presented itself to him as full of trouble and care and very deficient in the homely joys of family life. Luther’s early career differed hardly at all from that of the poorest students of that time. He was born on November 10, 1483, in Eisleben in Saxony; his parents were Hans Luther, a miner of peasant extraction (he signed himself Luder) and Margaret Luther. They had originally settled in the town of Mansfeld, but had gone first to Möhra and then to Eisleben. Their gifted son spent his childhood in Mansfeld and first attended school there. His father was a stern, harsh man. His mother, too, though she meant well by him, once beat him till the blood came, all on account of a nut.[10] The boy was also intimidated by the stupid brutality of his teachers, and it does not appear that the customary religious teaching he received, raised his spirits or led to a freer, more hopeful development of his spiritual life. He was one day, as he relates later, “beaten fifteen times in succession during one morning” at school, to the best of his knowledge without any fault of his own, though, probably, not without having brought the punishment upon himself by insubordination and obstinacy. After that, in his fourteenth year, he received instruction in Magdeburg from the “Pious Brethren of the Common Life,” and begged his bread by singing from door to door. A year later he went to Eisenach, where his mother had some poor relatives, to continue his Latin studies. In this town he still pursued the same hard mode of earning his living, until a charitable woman, Ursula, the wife of Kunz (Konrad) Cotta, received him into her well-to-do and comfortable household, furnishing him with food and lodging. Luther, in his old age, recalled with great gratitude the memory of his noble benefactress.[11]

As a boy he had experienced but little of life’s pleasures and received small kindness from the world; but now life’s horizon brightened somewhat for the growing youth.

Full of enthusiasm for the career mapped out for him by his father, that, namely, of the Law, he went in the summer of 1501 to the University of Erfurt. His parents’ financial circumstances had meanwhile somewhat improved as the result of his father’s industry in the mines at Mansfeld. The assiduous student was therefore no longer dependent on the help of strangers. According to some writers he took up his abode in St. George’s Hostel.[12] He was entered in the Matriculation Register of the Erfurt High School as “Martinus Ludher ex Mansfelt,” and for some considerable time after he continued to spell his family name as Luder, a form which is also to be found up to the beginning of the seventeenth century in the case of others (Lüder, Luider, Leuder). From 1512 he began, however, to sign himself “Lutherus” or “Luther.”[13] The lectures on philosophy, understood in the widest sense of the term, which he first attended were delivered at the University of Erfurt by comparatively capable teachers, some of whom belonged to the Augustinian Order. The Catholic spirit of the Middle Ages still permeated the teaching and the whole life of the little republic of learning. As yet, learning was still cast in the mould of the traditional scholastic method, and the men, equally devoted to the Church and to their profession, who were Luther’s principal teachers, Jodocus Trutfetter of Eisenach and Bartholomew Arnoldi of Usingen,[14] later an Augustinian, were well versed in the scholastic spirit of the day.

Alongside the traditional teaching of the schools there already existed in Erfurt and the neighbourhood another, viz. that of the Humanists, or so-called poets, which, though largely at variance with Scholasticism, was cultivated by many of the best minds of the day. Luther, with his vivacity of thought and feeling, could not long remain a stranger to them. With their spiritual head Mutianus at Gotha, close by, they formed one of the more prominent groups of German Humanists, although, so far, they had not produced any work of great consequence. The contrast between Humanism and Scholasticism, which was to come out so strongly at a later period, was as yet hardly noticeable in the Erfurt schools. Crotus Rubeanus, at that time a University friend of Luther’s, became at a later date, however, the principal author of the “Epistolæ Obscurorum Virorum,” a clever and biting libel on monks and Scholastics, written from a Humanist standpoint. Crotus boasted subsequently of his intimate intercourse (“summa familiaritas”) with Luther.[15]

Another Humanist friend whose spiritual relationship with him dates from that time, was Johann Lang, afterwards an Augustinian monk, with whom Luther stood in active interchange of thought during the most critical time of his development, as may be seen from the letters quoted below, and who, caught up by the Lutheran movement, left his Order[16] to become the first preacher of the new faith in Erfurt. The third name which we find in connection with Luther is that of Kaspar Schalbe, a cousin, or possibly a brother of the lady already mentioned, Mistress Ursula Cotta of Eisenach. Schalbe did not turn out any better than the others. A few years later, on being charged before the Elector of Saxony with a crime against morality, he was glad to avail himself of Luther’s mediation with the Ruler of the land.[17] Finally, we also know that a later patron and supporter of Luther, the Humanist Spalatinus, was then carrying on his studies in Erfurt. George Burckhardt of Spalt—whence his name Spalatinus—was a student there from 1498 to 1502, and, from 1505 to 1508, was engaged as a clerical preceptor in the immediate vicinity of the town. Luther and Spalatinus always looked on themselves later as early friends whom fate had brought together.

As a student, Luther devoted himself with great zest to the various branches of philosophy, and, carried away by the spirit of the Humanists, in his private time he studied the Latin classics, more particularly Cicero, Virgil, Livy, Ovid, also Terence, Juvenal, Horace and Plautus. At a later date he was able to make skilful use of quotations from these authors when occasion demanded. Amongst others, he attended the lectures of Hieronymus Emser, a subsequent opponent well worth his metal. Of his life during those years, which, owing to the laxity of morals prevailing in the town, must have been full of danger for him, we learn little, owing to the silence of our sources. Luther himself in his later years coarsely described the town as a “beer house” and a “nest of immorality.”

Unlike his frivolous comrades, he was often beset with heavy thoughts, no doubt largely due to the after effects of his gloomy youth. Among his chums he was known as “Musicus,” on account of his learning to play the lute, and as the “Philosopher,” owing to his frequent fits of moodiness.

In the monastery, where the reader left him, he no doubt remained subject to such fits of depression, especially at the beginning when dwelling on his change of life. It is difficult to say how far the feeling of self-despair, which he mentions, had mastered him before his entry into conventual life. In later years, apart from the vow and the mysterious “heavenly terror,” he also says that in leaving the world he was seeking to escape the severity of his parents. His statements, however, do not always agree. As for the precipitate vow to enter a monastery, he must have been well aware that, even if valid when originally made, it was no longer binding on him from the day when, after conscientious self-examination, he became aware that, owing to his natural disposition, he had no vocation for a religious life. Not every character is fitted for carrying out the evangelical counsels, and to force oneself into a mould, however good, for which one is manifestly unsuited is certainly not in accordance with the will of a wise and beneficent Providence.

Luther, agreeably with the statutes of the Order, during the whole period of his novitiate and until the hour of his profession had arrived, was perfectly free to return to his fellow-students, the religious tie never having been intended to bring him misery in place of the happiness which it promises. Immediately after coming to the monastery, i.e. before his clothing, he was, according to the Rule, given considerable time in which to weigh earnestly, under the direction of an experienced brother of the Order, whether, as stated in the statutes of the Augustinians, “the spirit which was leading him was of God.” Only after this did he receive the habit of the Order, apparently, however, in the same year, 1505. The habit consisted of a white woollen tunic, a scapular, also white, falling over the breast and back, and a black mantle with a hood and wide sleeves to be worn over all.

After the clothing began the novitiate, which lasted a whole year. During this period the candidate had not only to undertake a series of exercises consisting in prayer, manual labour and penitential works, but had also to discharge certain humiliating offices, which might help him to acquire the virtue of humility as practised in the Order. Out of consideration for the University and his academic dignity Luther was, however, speedily exempted from some of the latter duties. It appears that during his noviceship he was attentive to the rules, and that the superiors treated him with fatherly kindness. Although some members of the community may have observed the Rule from routine, while others, as is often the case in large communities, may not have been conspicuous for their charity—Luther refers to something of this kind in his Table-Talk—yet the spirit of the Erfurt monastery was, like that of most of the other houses of the Congregation, on the whole quite blameless. The novice himself, as yet full of goodwill, was not only satisfied with his calling, but even looked on the state he had chosen as a “heavenly life.”[18]

From the very first, however, as he himself complains later, he was constantly “worried and depressed”[19] by thoughts connected with religion. He was sorely troubled by the fear of God’s judgment, by gloomy thoughts on predestination, and by the recollection of his own sins. Although he made a general confession in the monastery and renewed it again later, his confessions never gave him any satisfaction, so that his director laid on him the obligation not to hark back to things which caused him sadness of spirit nor to dwell on the details of his sins. “You are a fool,” he once said to him; “God is not angry with you, but it is you who are angry with Him.”

Those versed in the ways of the spiritual life are well aware that many a one aiming at perfection is exposed to the purifying fire of trials such as these. Traditional Catholic teaching and the experience of those skilled in the direction of conventual inmates had laid down the remedies most effectual for such a condition. What Luther himself relates later with regard to the encouragement he received from his superiors and brothers in the monastery, shows clearly that suitable direction, enlightenment and encouragement were not wanting to him either then or in the following years. He himself praises his “Præceptor” and “monastic pædagogue,” i.e. the Novice-Master, as “a dear old man,”[20] who “under the damned frock was without doubt a true Christian.”[21] It was probably he who said to him in an hour of trial that he should always recall the article of the Creed “I believe in the forgiveness of sins.”[22] “What are you doing, my son?” he said to him on another occasion; “do you not know that the Lord has Himself commanded us to hope?”[23] words which made a great and unforgettable impression on him. Later, in the year 1516, he pointed out another brother, Master Bartholomew (Usingen), as the “best paraclete and comforter”[24] in the Erfurt monastery, as he could testify from his own experience. The monks knew well and impressed it upon his troubled mind that, through the merits of the Redeemer, and after earnest preparation of the soul, true forgiveness may be obtained, and that through the cross of Christ, and through it alone, we can do all things necessary, even in the midst of the bitterest assaults.

Luther, however, too often responded to such admonitions only by cherishing his own views the more. He continued morbidly to torment himself. This self-torture, at any rate during the first enthusiastic days of his religious life, may have assumed the form of pious scruples, but later it gradually took on another character under the influence of bodily affections. He did not, like other scrupulous persons, regain his peace of mind, because, led away by his distorted and excited fancy, he liked, as he himself admits, to dwell on the doubts as to whether the counsels he received were not illusion and deception. Sad experience taught him into what devious paths and to “what a state of inward unrest, self-will and self-sufficiency are capable of leading a man.”[25]

The Superior or Vicar-General of the Saxon or German Augustinian Congregation to which Luther belonged was at that time Johann Staupitz, a man highly esteemed in the world of learning and culture.

He frequently visited Erfurt and had thus the opportunity of talking to the new brother whom the University had given him, and who may well have attracted his attention by his careworn look, his restless manner and his peculiar, bright, deep-set eyes. Staupitz soon began to have a great esteem for him. He had great influence over Luther, though unable to free him from the strange spirit, already too deeply rooted. To the sad doubts concerning his own salvation which Brother Martin laid before him, Staupitz replied by exhorting him as follows in the spirit of the Catholic Church: “Why torment yourself with such thoughts and broodings? Look at the wounds of Christ and His Blood shed for you. There you will see your predestination to heaven shining forth to your comfort.”[26] Quite rightly he impressed upon him, in the matter of confession and penance, that the principal thing was to arouse in himself the will to love God and righteousness, and that he must not pause before unhealthy imaginations of sin. The lines of thought, however, which the imaginative and emotional young man laid bare to him, were probably at times somewhat strange, and it is Luther himself who relates that Staupitz once said to him: “Master Martin, I fail to understand that.”

In spite of his inward fears Luther persevered, which goes to prove the strength of will which was always one of his characteristics. As the Order was satisfied with him, he was admitted at the end of the year of novitiate to profession by the taking of the three Vows of the Order. He received on this occasion the name of Augustine, but always preferred to it his baptismal name of Martin. The text of the Vows which he read aloud solemnly before the altar, according to custom, in the presence of the Prior Winand of Diedenhofen and all the brothers, was as follows: “I, Brother Augustine Luder, make profession and vow obedience to Almighty God, Blessed Mary ever Virgin and to thee Father Prior, in the name of, and as representing the Superior-General of the Hermits of St. Augustine, and his successors, likewise to live without property and in chastity until death, according to the Rule of our Holy Father Augustine.” The young monk, voluntarily and after due consideration, had thus taken upon himself the threefold yoke of Christ by the three Vows, i.e. by the most solemn and sacred promise which it is possible to make on earth. He had bound himself by a sacred oath to God to prepare himself for heaven by treading a path of life in which perfection is sought in the carrying out of the evangelical counsels of our Saviour, and throughout his life to combat the temptations of the world with the weapons of poverty, chastity and obedience.

Such was the solemn Vow, which, later on, he declared to have been absolutely worthless.

2. Fidelity to his new calling; his temptations

After making his profession the young religious was set by his Erfurt superiors to study theology, which was taught privately in the monastery.

The theological fare served up by the teachers of the Order was not very inviting, consisting as it largely did of the mere verbalism of a Scholasticism in decay. With the exception of the Sentences of Peter Lombard, the students at the Erfurt monastery did not study the theological works of the great masters of the thirteenth century; neither Thomas of Aquin, the prince of scholastic theology and philosophy, nor his true successors, not even Ægidius Romanus, himself a Hermit of St. Augustine, were well known to them. The whole of their time at Erfurt, as elsewhere also, was devoted to the study of the last of the schoolmen who, indeed, stood nearer in point of time, but who were far from teaching the true doctrine with the fulness and richness of the earlier doctors. They were too much given to speculation and logical word-play. The older schoolmen were no longer appreciated and nominalistic errors, such as were fostered in the school of William of Occam, held the field. One of the better schoolmen of the day was Gabriel Biel. His works, which have a certain value, together with some of the writings of the Fathers of the Church, formed the principal arsenal from which Luther drew his theological knowledge, and upon which he exercised his dialectics. In addition to this, he also studied the theological tractates of John Gerson and Cardinal Peter d’Ailly, works which, apart from other theological defects, contain various errors concerning the authority of the Church and her Head; that these particular errors had any deeper influence on the direction of Luther’s mind cannot, however, be proved. What we do find is that the one-sidedness of this school, with its tendency to hairsplitting, had a negative effect upon him. At an early date he was repelled by the scholastic subtleties, for which, according to him, Aristotle alone was responsible, and preferred to turn to the reading and study of the Bible. He nevertheless made the prevalent school methods so much his own as to apply them often, in a quite surprising fashion, in his earliest sermons and writings.

The man who exercised the greatest influence on the theological study in the Erfurt monastery was the learned Augustinian, Johann Paltz, who was teaching there when Luther entered. He was a good Churchman and a fair scholar, and was also much esteemed as a preacher. By his side worked Johann Nathin, who has already been mentioned, likewise one of the respected theologians of the Order.[27] Luther’s teachers, full of veneration for the Holy Scriptures as the revealed Word of God, were not at all displeased to see their pupil having frequent recourse to the Bible, in order to seek in the well of the Divine Word instruction and enlightenment, by which to supplement the teachings of the schoolmen and the Fathers.

Luther had, moreover, already become acquainted with the Bible in the library of the Erfurt University, whilst still engaged in studying philosophy. He had, however, not prosecuted his reading of the Bible, though the same library would doubtless have supplied him with numerous well-thumbed commentaries on Holy Writ. In the monastery a copy of the Bible was given him at the beginning of his theological course. It was, as we learn from him incidentally, a Latin translation bound in red leather, and remained in his hands until he left Erfurt. The statutes of the Order enjoined on all its members “assiduous reading, devout hearing and industrious study of the Holy Scriptures.”

The young monk immersed himself more and more in the study of his beloved Bible when Staupitz, the Vicar, advised him to select the same as his special subject in order to render himself a capable “localis and textualis” in the Holy Scriptures.

The Superior seems to have had even then the intention of making use later of Luther as a public professor of biblical lore. So ardently was the Vicar’s advice followed by Luther that, in his preference for reading the Bible and studying its interpretation, he neglected the rest of his theological education, and his teacher Usingen was obliged to protest against his one-sided study of the sacred text. So full was Luther of the most sacred of books, that he was able (at least this is what he says later) to show the wondering brothers the exact spot in his ponderous red volume where every subject, nay even every quotation, was to be found. It was with great regret that, on leaving this community, he found himself prohibited by the Rule from taking the copy away with him. Later, as an opponent of the religious life, he states that no one but himself read the Bible in the monastery at Erfurt, whilst of his foe Carlstadt, a former Augustinian, he bluntly says that he had never seen a Bible until he was promoted to the dignity of Doctor. Of course, neither assertion can be taken literally.

When the day drew nigh for him to celebrate his first Mass as newly ordained priest, he invited not only his father but several other guests to be present at a ceremony which meant so much both to him and to his friends. Thus, in a letter of invitation to Johann Braun, Vicar in Eisenach, who had shown him much kindness and help during his early years in that town, he says that: “God had chosen him, an unworthy sinner, for the unspeakable dignity of His service at the altar,” and begged his fatherly friend to come, and by his prayers to assist him “so that his sacrifice might be pleasing in the sight of God.” He also expressed to him his great indebtedness to Schalbe’s College at Eisenach, which he would also have gladly seen represented at the ceremony. This is the first letter of Luther’s which has been preserved and with which the critical edition of his “Correspondence,” now being published, commences.[28] The first Mass took place on Cantate Sunday, May 2, 1507. Luther relates later, with regard to his state of mind during the sacred ceremony, that he could hardly contain himself for excitement and fear. The words “Te igitur clementissime Pater,” at the commencement of the Canon of the Mass, and “Offero tibi Deo meo vivo et vero,” at the oblation, brought so vividly to his mind the Awful, Eternal Majesty, that he was hardly able to go on (“totus stupebam et cohorrescebam”); he would have rushed down from the altar had he not been held back; the fear of making some mistake in the ceremonies and so committing a mortal sin, so he says, quite bewildered him.[29] Yet he must have known, with regard to the ceremonies, that any unintentional infringement of them was no sin, and least of all a mortal sin, although he attributes the contrary opinion to the “Papists” after his apostasy.

His father Hans assisted at the celebration. His presence in the church and in the refectory was the first sign of his acquiescence in his son’s vocation. But when the latter, during dinner, praised the religious calling and the monastic life as something high and great,[30] and went on to recall the vow he had made at the time of the thunderstorm, asserting that he had been called by “terrors from Heaven” (“de cœlo terrores”), this was too much for his level-headed father, who, to the astonishment of the guests, sharply interposed with the words: “Oh, that it may not have been a delusion and a diabolical vision.” He could not overcome his dislike for his son’s resolve. “I sit here and eat and drink,” he cried, “and would much rather be far away.” Luther retorted he had better be content, and that “to be a monk was a peaceful and heavenly life.”[31] The statement with regard to the elder Luther agrees with the character of the man and with the severity which he had displayed long before to Martin.

Here an assertion must be mentioned made by George Wicel, a well-informed contemporary; once a Lutheran, he was, from 1533-8, Catholic priest at Eisleben. Two or three times he repeats in print, that Hans Luther had once slain a man in a fit of anger at his home at Möhra. Luther and his friends never denied this public statement. In recent years attempts have been made to support the same by local tradition, and the fact of the father changing his abode from Möhra to Mansfeld has thus been accounted for.[32] According to Karl Seidemann, an expert on Luther (1859), the testimony of Wicel may be taken as settling definitively the constantly recurring dispute on the subject.[33]

The following facts which have been handed down throw some light on the inward state of the young man at this time and shortly after.

At a procession of the Blessed Sacrament he had to accompany Staupitz, the Vicar, as his deacon. Such was the terror which suddenly seized him that he almost fled. On speaking afterwards of this to his superior, who was also his friend, he received the following instructive reply: “This fear is not from Christ; Christ does not affright, He comforts.”[34]

One day that Luther was present at High Mass in the monks’ choir, he had a fit during the Gospel, which, as it happened, told the story of the man possessed. He fell to the ground and in his paroxysms behaved like one mad. At the same time he cried out, as his brother monks affirmed: “It is not I, it is not I,” meaning that he was not the man possessed.[35] It might seem to have been an epileptic fit, but there is no other instance of Luther having such attacks, though he did suffer from ordinary fits of fainting. Strange to say, some of his companions in the monastery had an idea that he had dealings with the devil, while others, mainly on account of the above-mentioned attack, actually declared him an epileptic. We learn both these facts from his opponent and contemporary, Johann Cochlæus, who was on good terms with Luther’s former associates. He asserts positively that a “certain singularity of manner” had been remarked upon by his fellows in the monastery.[36] Later on his brother monk, Johann Nathin, went so far as to assert that “an apostate spirit had mastered him,” i.e. that he stood under the influence of the devil.[37]

Melanchthon was afterwards to hear from Luther’s own lips something of the dark states of terror from which he had suffered since his youth. When he speaks of them at the commencement of his biographical eulogy on his late friend[38] he connects Luther’s strange excitement in the days before his entrance into religion with a certain event in his later history at a time when he was engaged in public controversy. “As he himself related, and as many are aware,” says Melanchthon, “when considering attentively examples of God’s anger, or any notable accounts of His punishments, such terror possessed him (‘tanti terrores concutiebant’) as almost to cause him to give up the ghost.” He describes how, as a full-grown man, when such fears overcame him, he would actually writhe on his bed. He suffered from these terrors (terrores) either for the first time, or most severely, in the year in which he lost his friend by death in an accident, i.e. before his admission to the monastery. “It was not poverty,” Melanchthon continues, “but his love of piety which led him to choose the religious life, and, while pursuing his theological and scholastic studies, he drank with glowing fervour from the springs of heavenly doctrine, namely, the writings of the prophets and apostles (i.e. the Old and New Testament) in order to instruct his spirit in the Divine Will and to nourish fear and love with strong testimony. Overwhelmed with these pains and terrors (‘dolores et pavores’), he plunged only the more zealously into the study of the Bible.”

According to Melanchthon’s account, the same old Augustinian who once had directed Luther’s attention in an attack of faint-heartedness to the Christian’s duty of recalling the article of the forgiveness of sins, also quoted him a saying of St. Bernard: “Only believe that thy sins are forgiven thee through Christ. That is the testimony which the Holy Ghost gives in thy heart: ‘Thy sins are forgiven.’ Such is the teaching of the apostle, that man is justified by faith.”[39]

Such words of Catholic faith and joyful trust in God might well have sufficed to reassure an obedient and humble spirit. Luther began to read more and more the mystic writings of the saint of Clairvaux, but as to how far they served to bring him peace of conscience no one can now say; certain it is that, at a later date, he placed a foreign interpretation upon the above-mentioned text and upon many other similar sayings of St. Bernard, which, taken in a Catholic sense, might have been of comfort to him, in order to render them favourable to the methods by which he proposed to make his new teaching a source of consolation. He accustomed himself more and more to follow “his own way,” as he calls it, in mind and sentiment. Though in later times he speaks often and at length of his spiritual trials in the monastery, we never hear of his humbling himself before God with childlike, trustful prayer in order to find a way out of his difficulties.

If we consider the temptations of which he speaks, we might be tempted to think that he, with his promising disposition and proneness to extremes, had been singled out in a quite special manner by the tempter. During the term of novitiate, writes Luther when more advanced in years, the evil spirit of darkness, so he has learned, does not usually assail so bitterly the monk who is striving after perfection. Satan generally tempts him but slightly, and, more especially as regards temptations of the flesh, the novice is left in comparative peace, “indeed, nothing appears to him more agreeable than chastity.”[40] But, after that time, so he tells us, he himself had to bewail not only fears and doubts, but also numberless temptations which “his age brought along with it.”[41] He felt himself at the same time troubled with doubts as to his vocation and by “violent movements of hatred, envy, quarrelsomeness and pride.”[42]

“I was unable to rid myself of the weight; horrible and terrifying thoughts (‘horrendæ et terrificæ cogitationes’), stormed in upon me.”[43] Temptations to despair of his salvation and to blaspheme God tormented him more especially.

He had often wondered, he says on one occasion to his father Hans, whether he was the only man whom the devil thus attacked and persecuted,[44] and later he comforted one who was in great anxiety with the words: “When beset with the greatest temptations I could scarcely retain my bodily powers, hardly keep my breath, and no one was able to comfort me. All those to whom I complained answered ‘I know nothing about it,’ so that I used to sigh ‘Is it I alone who am plagued with the spirit of sorrow!’”[45]

He thinks that he learned the nature of these temptations from the Psalms, and that he had by experience made close acquaintance with the verse of the Bible: “Every night I will wash my bed: I will water my couch with my tears” (Ps. vi. 7). Satan with his temptations was the murderer of mankind; but, notwithstanding, one must not despair. Luther here speaks of visions granted him, and of angels who after ten years brought him consolation in his solitude; these statements we shall examine later.

Elsewhere he again recounts how Staupitz encouraged him and the manner in which he interpreted his advice reveals a singular self-esteem. Staupitz had pointed out to him the interior trials endured by holy men, who had been purified by temptation, and, after having been humbled, had risen to be powerful instruments in God’s hand. Perhaps, said Staupitz, God has great designs also for you, for the greater good of His Church. This well-meant encouragement remained vividly impressed upon Luther’s memory, not least because it seemed to predict a great future for him. “And so it has actually come to pass,” he himself says later, “I have become a great doctor though in the time of my temptations I could never have believed it.”[46] Speaking later of a reference made by Staupitz to the temptations which humbled St. Paul, he says: “I accepted the words which St. Paul uses: ‘A sting of my flesh was given me lest the greatness of the revelation should exalt me’ (2 Cor. xii. 7), wherefore I receive it as the word and voice of the Holy Spirit.” Such reflections as these, to which Luther gave himself up, certainly did not tend to help him to rid himself completely of the temptations, and to vanquish his melancholy thoughts of predestination. As a result of following “his own way” and cultivating his morbid fears, he never succeeded in shaking himself free from the thought of predestination. This will appear quite clearly in his recently published Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, written in 1515-16. In fact, the whole of the theology which he set up against that of the Catholic Church was in some sense dominated by his ideas on predestination.

We must, however, pay him this tribute, that during the whole of his stay in the Erfurt monastery he strove to live as a true monk and to keep the Rule. Such was the testimony borne by an old brother monk, as Flacius Illyricus relates, who had lived with him at Erfurt and who always remained true to the Church.

Though such may well have been the case, we cannot all the same accept as reliable the accounts, exaggerated and distorted as they clearly are, which, long after his falling away, he gives of his extraordinary holiness when in the monastery. He there attributes to himself, from controversial motives, a piety far above the ordinary, and speaks of the tremendous labours and penances which he imposed upon himself in his blindness. Led away by his imagination and by party animus, he exalts his one-time “holiness by works,” as he terms it, to be the better able to assure his hearers—ostensibly from his own experience and from the bitter disappointment he says he underwent—that all works of the Papists, even those of the most pious, holy and mortified, were absolutely worthless for procuring true peace for the soul thirsting after salvation, and that the Catholic Church was quite unable by her teaching to reconcile a soul with God. History merely tells us that he was an observant monk who kept the Rule, and, for that reason, enjoyed the confidence of his superiors.[47]

Relying upon his ability and his achievements, Staupitz, the Vicar, summoned him in the autumn of 1508, to Wittenberg, in order that he might there continue his studies and at the same time commence his work as a teacher on a humble scale.

As Master of Philosophy Luther gave lectures on the Ethics of Aristotle and probably also on Dialectics, though, as he himself says, he would have preferred to mount the chair of Theology, for which he already esteemed himself fitted, and which, with its higher tasks, attracted him much more than philosophy. In March, 1509, he was already the recipient of a theological degree and entered the Faculty as a “Baccalaureus Biblicus.” This authorised him to deliver lectures on the Holy Scriptures at the University.

In the same year, however, probably in the late autumn, Luther’s career at Wittenberg was interrupted for a time by his being sent back to Erfurt. With regard to the reasons for this nothing is known with certainty, but a movement which was going forward in the Congregation may have been the cause. In the question of the stricter observance which had recently been raised among the Augustinians, and which will be treated of below, Luther had not sided with the Wittenberg monastery but with his older friends at Erfurt. He was opposed to certain administrative regulations promoted by Staupitz, which, in the opinion of many, threatened the future discipline of the Order. At any rate, he had to return to Erfurt just as he was about to become “Sententiarius,” i.e. to be promoted to the office of lecturing on the “Magister Sententiarium.” For these lectures, too, he had already qualified himself. His second stay at Erfurt and the part—so important for the understanding of his later life—which he played in the disputes of the Order, are new data in his history which have as yet received little attention.

He was made very welcome by his brothers at Erfurt, at once took up his work as “Sententiarius” and, for about a year and a half, held forth on that celebrated textbook of theology, the Book of Sentences.

He was also employed in important business for the monastery and accompanied Dr. Nathin on a mission in connection with the question of the statutes of the Congregation and the above-mentioned dispute. Both went to Halle to Adolf of Anhalt, Provost of Magdeburg Cathedral, for the purpose of defending the “observance in the vicariate.” The monk made an excellent impression on the Provost of the Cathedral.[48] The esteem which Luther enjoyed while he was at Erfurt exposes the futility of those old fables, once widely circulated and generally believed, that whilst there he had entered into a liaison with a girl and had declared that he intended to go as far as he could until the times permitted of his marrying in due form.[49]

Of Luther’s lectures at that time some traces are to be found in a book in the Ratsschul-Library at Zwickau, these being the oldest specimens of his handwriting which we possess. They were made public in 1893 in volume ix. of the “Kritische Gesamtausgabe” of Luther’s works now appearing, and consist of detailed marginal notes to the Sentences of the Lombard of which the book in question is a printed copy.[50] The notes consist chiefly of subtle dialectic explanations or corrections of Peter Lombard and are quite in the theological style of the day. The vanity and audacity of the language used is frequently surprising; for instance, when the young master takes upon himself to speak of the “buffoonery” of contemporary theologians and philosophers, or of an ostensibly “almost heretical opinion” which he discovers in Venerable Duns Scotus; still more is this the case when he expresses his dislike of the traditional scholastic speculation and logic, alluding to the “rancid rules of the logicians,” to “those grubs, the philosophers,” to the “dregs of philosophy” and to that “putrid philosopher Aristotle.”

It is worthy of note in connection with his mental growth that, on the very cover of the book, he, most independently, declares war on the “Sophists,” though we do not mean to imply that such a war was not justifiable from many points of view. As a torch, however, for the illuminating of theological truth he is not unwilling to use philosophy. Very strong, nay emphatic, is his appeal to the Word of God on a trivial and purely speculative question relating to the inner life of the Trinity. He says: “Though many highly esteemed teachers assert this, yet the fact remains that on their side they have not Holy Scripture, but merely human reasons: but I say that on my side I have the Written Word that the soul is the image of God, and therefore I say with the Apostle ‘Though an angel from Heaven, i.e. a Doctor of the Church, preach to you otherwise, let him be anathema.’”

In these glosses we may, however, seek in vain for any trace, even the faintest, of Luther’s future teaching. The young theologian still maintains the Church’s standpoint, particularly with regard to the doctrines which he was afterwards to call into question.

He still speaks correctly of “faith which works through charity and by which we are justified.” Equally blameless are his statements regarding concupiscence in fallen man and the exercise of free will in the choice of good under the influence of Divine Grace. Once, it is true, he casually speaks of Christ as “our righteousness and sanctification,” but, in spite of the weight which has been laid on this expression, it is in no wise remarkable, and merely voices the Catholic view of St. Augustine, or better still, of St. Paul. To Romans i. 16 f., to which he was later to attach so much importance in his new system, he refers once, interpreting it correctly and agreeably with the Glossa ordinaria; clearly enough it had not yet begun to interest him and his harmless words afford no proof of the statement which has been made, that already at the time he wrote “the birth-hour of the reformation had rung.”

That Luther also studied at that time some of the writings of St. Augustine we see from three old volumes of the works of this Father in the Zwickau Library, which contain notes made in Luther’s handwriting on the De Trinitate, on the De Civitate Dei, and other similar writings. These notes, made about the same time, are correct in their doctrine. According to Melanchthon, already at Erfurt he had begun a “very thorough study” of the African Father of the Church.

In the latter notes, which were also published in the Weimar edition of Luther’s works,[51] he once flies into a violent fit of indignation with the celebrated Wimpfeling, who was mixed up in a literary dispute with the Augustinian Order. He calls the worthy man “a garrulous barker and an envious critic of the fame of the Augustinians, who had lost his reason through obstinacy and hate, and who requires a cut of the knife to open his mole’s eyes”; he, “with his brazen front, should be ashamed of himself.”[52] Glibness of tongue, combined with intelligence and fancy, and, in addition to unusual talents, great perseverance in study, these were the qualities which many admired in the new teacher. Whoever had to dispute with so sharp and fiery an opponent, was sure to get the worst of the encounter. The fame of the new teacher soon spread throughout the Augustinian province, but his originality and want of restraint naturally raised him up some enemies.

Alongside of his readiness in controversy which some admired, many remarked in him quarrelsomeness and disputatiousness. He never learnt how to live “at peace” with his brothers,[53] as some of the old monks afterwards told the Humanist Cochlæus. His Catholic pupil Johann Oldecop, says of his leaving Erfurt for Wittenberg, that the separation was not altogether displeasing to the Augustinians of Erfurt, because Luther was always desirous of coming off victor in differences of opinion, and liked to stir up strife.[54] Hieronymus Dungersheim, a subsequent Catholic opponent who watched him very narrowly, writes that he “had always been a quarrelsome man in his ways and habits,” and that he had acquired that reputation even before ever he came to the monastery.[55] Dungersheim questioned those who had known him as a secular student at Erfurt. The above statements come, it is true, from the camp of his adversaries, but they are not only uncontradicted by any further testimony, but entirely agree with other data regarding his character.

Luther, in his own account of himself which he gave later, tells us that he was then and during the first part of his career as a monk, so full of zeal for the truth handed down by the Church that he would have given over to death any denier of the same, and have been ready to carry the wood for burning him at the stake. He also says in his queer, exaggerated fashion, that in those days he worshipped the Pope. At the same time he announces that his study of the Bible at Erfurt had already shown him many errors in the Papist Church, but that he had sought to soothe his conscience with the question: “Art thou the only wise man?” though by so doing he had retarded his understanding of the Holy Scriptures.[56] He also asserts later that his father’s words spoken at the banquet which followed his first Mass, viz. that his religious vocation was probably a delusion, had pierced ever deeper into his mind and appeared to him more and more true. Yet he likewise tells us elsewhere of his persevering zeal in his profession, and of his excessive fastings and disciplines.

It is hard to find the real clue in this tangle of later statements, all of them influenced by polemical considerations.

He says quite seriously, and this may very well be true, that what he was wont to hear at times outside the monastery from unbelieving “grammarians,” i.e. humanists, regarding the great difference between the teaching of Holy Scripture and that of the existing Church, made a deep impression on him.[57] He had, however, calmed himself, so he says, with the thought that this was other people’s business. In the monastic library he once came across some sermons of John Hus. Their contents appeared to him excellent, nevertheless, so he writes, from aversion for the author’s name, he laid aside the book without reading any further, though not without surprise that such a man should have written in many ways so well and so correctly. Johann Grefenstein, his master at Erfurt, had once let fall the remark in his presence that Hus had been put to death without any previous attempt being made to instruct or convert him.

At that time, Hus failed to make any impression on him. Doubts, however, assaulted him in the shape of temptations. Those he repulsed, well aware of the danger. In June, 1521, writing at the Wartburg, he says that more than ten years before, much that was taught by Popes, Councils and Universities had appeared to him absurd and in contradiction with Christ, but that he had put a bridle on his thoughts in accordance with the Proverb of Solomon: “Lean not upon thy own prudence.”[58] Certain it is that his clear mind must early have perceived that the Church of that day fell far short of the ideal, and it is possible that even in those early years, such a perception may have awakened in him doubts and discontent and have led him to take a too gloomy view of the state of the Church.

In any case, Luther’s own testimony as given above leads us to suspect the presence in his mind at an early date of a deep-seated dissatisfaction which foreboded ill to the monk’s future fidelity to the Church.[59]

A strong moral foundation would have been necessary to save a mind so singularly constituted from wavering, and if we may believe the statement of his contemporary, Hieronymus Dungersheim of Leipzig, this was just what Luther had always lacked. Dungersheim, in a pamphlet against Luther the heretic, harks back to the years he spent at Erfurt as a secular student and accuses him of evil habits, probably contracted then, but the after effects of which made themselves felt when he had entered into religion and caused him to rebel against his profession. If Luther, so he says, was now persuaded that no religious could keep the vow of chastity, in his case the inability could only be due to a certain “former bad habit,” of which stories were told, and to his neglect of prayer.[60] In another writing the same opponent accuses him openly of having indulged in the grossest vice during his academic years, and mentions as his informant one of the comrades who had, later on, accompanied Luther to the gates of the monastery.[61] He says nothing, perhaps, indeed, he knew nothing more definite, and with regard to Luther’s life in religion, he is unable to adduce anything to his discredit.

But yet another of Luther’s later adversaries has strong words for our hero’s early life. His testimony, which has not so far been dealt with, must be treated of here because such charges, if well founded, doubtless contribute much to the psychological explanation of the processes going forward in Luther. This testimony is given by Hieronymus Emser of Dresden, who, it is true, was himself by no means spotless, and who, on that account, was roundly reprimanded by the man he had attacked. In his rejoinder to Luther, a pamphlet published in 1520, and the only one preserved, he says: “Was it necessary on account of my letter that you should hold up to public execration my former deviations which are indeed, for the most part, mere inventions? What do you think has come to my ears concerning your own criminal deeds (‘flagitia’)?” He will be silent about them, he says, because he does not wish to return evil for evil, but he continues: “That you also fell, I must attribute to the same cause which brought about my own fall, namely, the want of public discipline in our days, so that young men live as they please without fear of punishment and do just what they like.”[62] We must remember that at Erfurt Emser and Luther had stood in the relation of teacher and disciple. His words, like those of Dungersheim written from Leipzig, voice the opinion on Luther later on current in the hostile University circles of Erfurt.

When Luther in his later years speaks of the “sins of his youth,” this, in his grotesquely anti-catholic vocabulary, means the good works of his monastic life, even the celebration of Holy Mass. Once, however, at the end of his tract on the Last Supper (1528),[63] speaking of the sins of his youth, he seems to distinguish between the Catholic works above referred to and other faults of which he accuses himself in the same general terms.

In the young Augustinian’s Erfurt days he was prevented by the Rule from cultivating any intimate and distracting friendship with persons in the world. We only know that he, and likewise his brother monk Johann Lang, had some friendly intercourse with the Humanist Petreius (Peter Eberbach), who not long after, in a letter dated May 8, 1512, greets Lang—then already with Luther at Wittenberg—in these words: “Sancte Lange et Sancte Martine orate pro me.” Mutianus, the Gotha canon and chief of the Humanists, who was very unorthodox in his views, in a letter to Lang of the beginning of May, 1515, seems to remember Luther, for he sends greetings to the “pious Dr. Martin.”

His intercourse with the Humanists led Luther to make use of philology in the interpretation of the Holy Scriptures. He thus entered upon a useful, we may even say indispensable, course, in which he might have done great service. At Erfurt he continued constantly to study his copy of the Bible, which had become an inseparable companion. “As no one in the monastery read the Bible” (at any rate not with his zeal) he was able to flatter himself with being first in the house in the matter of biblical knowledge; indeed in this field he was probably the greatest expert in the whole Congregation.

In addition to this, he began to turn his busy mind to the study of Hebrew, and contrived to provide himself with a dictionary, which at that time was considered a treasure. Lang, with his humanistic culture, was able to assist him with the Greek.

Meanwhile the dispute in the Order with regard to the observance had reached a point when it seemed right to the party to which Luther belonged to seek the intervention of Rome in their favour, or to anticipate an appeal on the part of their opponents. The choice of seven houses “of the observance” resulted in Luther being chosen as the delegate to represent them in Rome. So little opposed to the Church was Luther’s theology and Bible interpretation in his Erfurt days, and so considerable was the number of brethren, even in other Observantine houses who held him to be a faithful monk, that they deemed him best suited for so difficult a mission. What Cochlæus, according to information drawn from Augustinian sources, relates later sounds, however, quite reasonable, viz. that he was selected on account of his “cleverness and his forceful spirit of contradiction,” which promised a complete victory over the other faction.[64]

Luther’s journey to Rome, according to Oldecop, was undertaken from Erfurt.

3. The Journey to Rome

The Saxon, or more correctly German, Congregation of Augustinians, at the time of Luther’s journey to Rome, had reached a crisis in its history.

Founded on the old Order of Hermits of St. Augustine, by the pious and zealous Andreas Proles (1503), and provided by him with excellent statutes intended to promote a reform of discipline, the Congregation had, since its foundation, been withdrawn from the control of the Provincial of the unreformed Augustinian Province of Saxony in order the better to preserve its stricter observance.[65] It stood directly under the General of the Order at Rome, whose German representative was a Vicar-General—in Luther’s time, Staupitz. He was simply styled Vicar, or sometimes Provincial. The monasteries under him numbered about thirty, and were distributed throughout several so-called districts, each headed by a Rural Vicar.

Staupitz’s aim was to bring about a reunion of the German Congregation with the numerous non-observant monasteries in Germany, an amalgamation which would probably have led indirectly to his becoming the head of all these communities. He had already, September 30, 1510, after sounding the Pope, published a papal Bull approving such a union, and, by virtue of the same, begun to style himself Provincial of Thuringia and Saxony. His efforts were, however, met by decided opposition within the Congregation. Certain houses which were in favour of the old state of things and feared that union would lead to a relaxation of discipline, vehemently opposed Staupitz and his plans. To this party belonged also the Erfurt monastery, and Luther himself took an active part in the position assumed by his house. The object of his visit to Halle with Dr. Nathin to see Prince Adolf of Anhalt, the Cathedral Provost, had been to obtain a “petition” in favour of the “observance.” The opposition became acute when the Bull above referred to was published by Staupitz, and we may consider the protest of the seven Observantine monasteries against the Bull as the direct cause of Luther’s despatch to Rome.

The monk, then seven-and-twenty years of age, with his written authority to act as procurator in the case (“litis procurator” is what Cochlæus, who was well informed on these matters, styles him), set out forthwith on his journey. It was in the autumn 1510,[66] and Luther was then lecturing on the third book of the Sentences. His absence lasted four or five months, i.e. until the spring 1511, when we again find him at Erfurt. Luther, and those who felt with him, found no difficulty in reconciling their efforts for the preservation of the observance against the will of Staupitz, with due submission to him as their Superior.

Another monk of the Order accompanied Luther to the capital of Christendom as the Rule enjoined in the case of journeys. The joy at such an opportunity of seeing the Eternal City, of quenching his ardent thirst for knowledge by the acquisition of new experiences and of gaining the graces attached to so holy a pilgrimage, may well have hurried his steps during the wearisome journey, which in those days had to be undertaken on foot. He had even, according to a later statement, made the resolution to cleanse his conscience—so frequently tortured by fears—by a general confession, indeed he once says that this was his main object, passing over the real reason.

With regard to the effect of the journey on the question concerning the Order, according to Cochlæus a certain compromise was reached, the details of which are, however, not told us. At any rate Staupitz was unable to carry out his plan and eventually gave it up. The dispute between “Observants” and “non-Observants” thus started, as we may gather from statements made by Luther to which we refer later, far from being at an end became more and more acute. It appears to have done untold harm to the Congregation and to have largely contributed to its fall.

What effect had the visit to Italy and Rome upon the development of the young monk?

Thousands have been cheered in spirit by the visit to the tombs of the Apostles; prayer at the holy places of Rome, the immediate proximity of the Vicar of Christ and of the world-embracing government of the Church made them feel what they had never felt before, the pulse-beat of the heart of Christendom, and they returned full of enthusiasm, strengthened and inspirited, and with the desire of working for souls in accordance with the mind of the Church.

With Luther this was not the case.

He was much less impressed by the Rome of the Saints than by the corruption then rampant in ecclesiastical circles.

On first perceiving Rome from the heights of Monte Mario, he devoutly greeted the city, as all pilgrims were wont to do, overjoyed at having reached the goal of their long pilgrimage.[67] After that, he untiringly occupied himself, so far as his chief business permitted, in seeing all that Rome had to show. He assures us that he believed everything that was told him of the real or legendary reminiscences of the holy places both above and under ground. He does not, however, appear to have been very careful in his choice of guides and acquaintances, for the anecdotes concerning the condition of things at Rome which he brought back with him to his own country were, if not untrue, at least exceedingly spiteful. The Augustinians whom he there met had not the spirit of the reform inaugurated by Proles. Their southern freedom and lack of restraint found all too strong an echo in Luther’s character. The general confession he had projected was probably never made,[68] for, as he asserts later, he had not found among the clergy a single suitable, worthy man. During his distracting stay in the Eternal City he said Mass, so he tells us, perhaps once, perhaps ten times, i.e. occasionally, not regularly.[69] He was greatly scandalised at much he heard and saw, partly owing to his looking at things with the critical eye of a northerner, partly owing to the really existing moral disorders.

The Rome of that day was the Rome of Julius II, the then Pope, and of his predecessor Alexander VI; it was the Rome of the Popes of the height of the Renaissance, glorified by art, but inwardly deeply debased. The capital of Christendom, under the influence of the frivolity which had seized the occupants of the Papal throne and invaded the ranks of the higher clergy, had proved false to her dignity and forgetful of the fact that the eyes of the Faithful who visited Rome from every quarter of the globe were jealously fixed upon her in their anxiety lest the godless spirit of the world should poison the very heart of the Church.

Instead of being edified by the good which he undoubtedly encountered and by the great ideal of the Church which no shadow can ever darken, Luther, with his critically disposed mind, proved all too receptive to the contrary impressions and allowed himself to be unduly influenced by the dark side of things, i.e. the corruption of morals. Subsequently, in his public controversies and private Table-Talk, he tells quite a number of disreputable tales,[70] which, whether based on fact or not, were all too favourable to his anti-Roman tendencies. He was in the habit of saying, in his usual tone, that whoever looked about him a little in Rome, would find abominations compared to which those of Sodom were mere child’s play. He declares that he heard from the mouth of Papal courtiers the statement: “It cannot go on much longer, it must break up.” In the company in which he mixed he heard these words let fall: “If there be a Hell, then Rome is built over it.” He says that he had heard it said of one, who expressed his grief at such a state of things, that he was a “buon cristiano” which meant much the same as a good-natured simpleton. In his proneness to accept evil tales he believed, at least so he asserts later, the statement made in his presence, that many priests were in the habit of repeating jokes at Mass in place of the words of consecration. He relates that he even questioned whether the bishops and priests at Rome, the prelates of the Curia, aye, the Pope himself, had any Christian belief left. It is not worth while to go into the details of the scandals he records, because, as Hausrath justly remarks, “it is questionable how much weight is due to statements which, in part, date from the later years of his life, when he had so completely altered.”[71]

In his accounts the share which he himself actually took in the pious pilgrim-exercises of the time is kept very much in the background.

He came to the so-called Scala Santa at the Lateran, and saw the Faithful, from motives of penance, ascending the holy steps on their knees. He turned away from this touching popular veneration of the sufferings of the Redeemer, and preferred not to follow the example of the other pilgrims. An account given by his son Paul in 1582 says that he then quoted the Bible verse: “The just man liveth by faith.” If it be a fact that he made use of these words which were to assume so great importance and to be so sadly misinterpreted in his subsequent theology, it was certainly not in their later sense. In reality we have here in all probability an instance of a later opinion being gratuitously anticipated, for Luther himself declares that he discovered his gospel only after he had taken his Doctor’s degree, and this we shall show abundantly further on. Older Protestant writers have frequently represented the scene at the steps of the Lateran in unhistorical colours owing to their desire to furnish a graphic historical beginning of the change in Luther’s mind. Mylius of Jena was one of the first to do this.[72] Mylius, in 1595, quite falsely asserts that Luther had already commented on the Epistle to the Romans previous to his journey to Rome, and adds that he had already then noted the later interpretation of the Bible text in question. It is true that his son Paul, where he speaks of Luther’s exclamation as having been communicated to him by his father, expressly states that “he had then, through the spirit of Jesus, come to the knowledge of the truth of the holy gospel.” But Köstlin’s Biography of Luther rightly denies this, and describes it as an “exaggeration”[73]—“error” would have been better—for the assumption to which Luther’s friends still cling with such affection, namely, that from the very commencement of his journey to Rome he had been “haunted by the Bible text concerning justification by faith,” at a time “when he still was striving to serve God by his own works,” must be struck out of history as a mere fiction.[74]

At Rome Luther’s conviction of the authority of the Holy See was in no wise shaken, in spite of what some people have thought. All the scandals had not been able to achieve this. As late as 1516 he was still preaching in entire accordance with the traditional doctrine of the Church on the power of the Papacy, and it is worth while to quote his words in order to show the Catholic thoughts which engaged him while wandering through the streets of Rome. “If Christ had not entrusted all power to one man, the Church would not have been perfect because there would have been no order and each one would have been able to say he was led by the Holy Spirit. This is what the heretics did, each one setting up his own principle. In this way as many Churches arose as there were heads. Christ therefore wills, in order that all may be assembled in one unity, that His Power be exercised by one man to whom also He commits it. He has, however, made this Power so strong that He looses all the powers of Hell (without injury) against it. He says: ‘The gates of Hell shall not prevail against it,’ as though He said: ‘They will fight against it but never overcome it,’ so that in this way it is made manifest that this power is in reality from God and not from man. Wherefore whoever breaks away from this unity and order of the Power, let him not boast of great enlightenment and wonderful works, as our Picards and other heretics do, ‘for much better is obedience than the victims of fools who know not what evil they do’ (Eccles. iv. 17).”[75] That, when in Rome, he was still full of reverence for the Pope, Luther shows in his Table-Talk, though his language on this occasion can only be described as filthy.[76]

His ideas with regard to the Church’s means of Grace, the Mass, Indulgences and Prayer had not, at the time of his return to Germany, undergone any theoretical change, though it is highly probable that his practical observance of the Church’s law suffered considerably. The fact is, his character was not yet sufficiently formed when he started on his journey; he was, as Oldecop says, “a wild young fellow.”[77]

Luther later on relates it as a joke, that, when at Rome, he had been so zealous in gaining Indulgences that he had wished his parents were already dead so that he might apply to their souls the great Indulgences obtainable there.[78] Of the Masses which he celebrated in the Holy City he assures us—again more by way of a joke than as an exact statement of fact—that he said them so piously and slowly that three, or even six, Italian priests or monks had finished all their Masses in succession before he had come to the end of one. He even declares that in Rome Mass is said so rapidly that ten, one after another, occupied only one hour, and that he himself had been urged on with the cry: “Hurry up, Brother, hurry up.” Whoever is familiar with the older Luther’s manner of speech, will be on his guard against taking such jests seriously or as proof of scrupulosity; he is, in reality, merely laying stress on the blatant contrast between his own habit and the precipitation of the Italians.

In 1519, i.e. not yet ten years after Luther’s visit, his pupil Oldecop came to Rome and set to work to make diligent enquiries concerning the stay there of his already famous master, with whose teaching, however, he did not agree. As he says in his “Chronik,” published not long since, he learned that Luther had taken lessons in Hebrew from a Jew called Jakob, who gave himself out to be a physician. He sought out the Jew, probably a German, and heard from him that “Martinus had begged the Pope to be allowed to study in Italy for ten years in secular dress,” but that, owing to the absence of any authorisation from his Superiors, his request had been refused, and Martinus, instead of being privileged to dress as a secular priest, had been obliged to retain his “cowl,” i.e. the habit of his Order. Oldecop then betook himself to the official who, as he learnt, had drafted the monk’s petition, and who fully confirmed the Jew’s statement. There is no reason for doubting these new tales,[79] notwithstanding the fact that in some of the other statements made by Oldecop, especially those in which he had no personal concern, some unintentional errors occur. According to the character given him by his editor Carl Euling, he was “an educated and honourable man, with good judgment.”[80] Notice deserves to be taken of a minor detail of the incident which confirms the truth of this account, namely, that the official, affrighted at the mention of Luther’s name, was at first unwilling to speak, and then begged that the fact of his having had dealings with him should not be betrayed. The man, who is here portrayed to the life, after he became more loquacious, also expressed the opinion that had Luther been allowed to take off the cowl he would never have put it on again; a view, of course, merely based on the later course of events. Luther’s desire for learning was so great, and his impulsive character so marked, that it is quite possible that he cherished such a project. Nor was there anything so very singular in the plan, for about that time other monks had been secularised at their own request. In a Brief dated January 26, 1517, Erasmus, who was an Augustinian canon, received permission to wear the dress of a secular priest, a fact to which Luther, on occasion, makes allusion. As such a privilege, even though restricted as to duration, would without doubt have appealed to the freedom of thought which at that time Luther was beginning to cultivate, the fact that it was refused owing to the lack of authorisation by his German Superiors assuredly cannot have sweetened his recollection of the Roman Curia; its only effect was probably to wound his vanity. He himself never speaks of this petition; he had no cause to do so, and indeed it ill agreed with the legend which, with advancing years, he began to weave about his life in the monastery. On the other hand, we have probably a distorted version of the incident in an assertion, circulated later by his opponents, viz. that during his stay at Rome he had sought secularisation in order to be able to marry.[81]

Regarding the morals of the Italians and not the Romans only, he makes many unfavourable and even unfair statements in his later reminiscences of his wanderings through their country. The only things which found favour in his eyes were, in fact, their charity and benevolence as displayed in some of the hospitals, particularly in Florence, the sobriety of the people and, at Rome, the careful carrying out of ecclesiastical business. An evil breath of moral laxity was passing over the whole country, more especially, however, over the rich and opulent towns and the higher classes, infected as they were with the indifferentism of the Humanists. Those travelling alone found themselves exposed in the inns to the worst moral dangers. We must also call to mind that, in those very years the Neapolitan, or French disease, as syphilis was then called, infested a wide area of this otherwise delightful country, having been introduced by the troops who came to southern Italy. The places where strangers from other lands were obliged to spend the night on their travels were hotbeds of infection for both body and soul.

Luther returned to Germany towards the month of February, 1511, though he was no longer the same man as when he set out. He said, after his apostasy: “I, like a fool, carried onions to Italy and brought garlic (i.e. worse stuff) back with me.” As a controversialist he declared that he would not take 100,000 gulden to have missed seeing Rome, as otherwise he would feel that he was doing the Papacy an injustice; he only wished that everyone who was about to become a priest would visit Rome.

A notable result of his stay in Italy was, that Luther, after his return to the monastery, immediately changed his standpoint regarding the “observance.” Sent to Rome for the defence of the “observance,” he now unexpectedly veered round and became its opponent. “He deserted to Staupitz” as Cochlæus puts it, evidently using the very words of the Observantines, and soon Luther was seen passionately assailing the Observantines, whose spokesman he had been shortly before. In all likelihood his changed view stood in some connection with a change in his domicile. No sooner had he returned to the Observantine monastery of Erfurt, than he left it for Wittenberg, where he was to take his degree of Doctor of Divinity and then ascend the professorial chair. Doubtless under Staupitz’s influence the fulfilment of those great hopes which he had formerly cherished now arose on the horizon of his mind. To continue to withstand Staupitz in the matter of the observance could but prove a hindrance to his advance, especially as the Wittenberg community was for the most part opposed to the observance. Nothing further is, however, known with regard to this strange change of front. It was of the greatest importance for his future development, as will appear in the sequel; the history of his warfare against the Observantines, to which as yet little attention has been paid, may also be considered as a new and determining factor in his mental career.

4. The Little World of Wittenberg and the Great World in Church and State

Since the spring 1511, Luther had been qualifying, by diligent study in his cell in the great Augustinian monastery at Wittenberg, to take his degree of Doctor in Divinity in the University of that city.

In his later statements he says that he had small hopes of success in his new career on account of his weak health; that he had in vain opposed Staupitz’s invitation to take his doctorate, and that he had been compelled by obedience to comply with his Superior’s orders. After passing brilliantly the requisite tests, the University bestowed upon him the theological degree on October 1, 1512. Luther at once commenced his lectures on Holy Scripture, the subject of this, his first course, being the Psalms (1513-16). His audience consisted mainly of young Augustinians, to whom a correct understanding of the Psalms was a practical need for their services in choir.

He displayed already in these early lectures, no less than in those of the later period, the whole force of his fancy and eloquence, his great ability in the choice of quotations from the Bible, his extraordinary subjectivity, and, however out of place in such a quarter, the vehemence of his passion; in our own day the sustained rhetorical tone of his lectures would scarcely appeal to the hearer.

The fiery and stimulating teacher was in his true element at Wittenberg. The animation that pervaded students and teachers, the distinction which he enjoyed amongst his friends, his unlimited influence over the numerous young men gathered there, more especially over the students of his own Order, no less than the favour of the Elector of Saxony for the University, the Order, and, subsequently, for his own person, all this, in spite of his alleged unwillingness to embrace the profession, made his stay at Wittenberg, and his work there, very agreeable to him. He himself admits that his Superiors had done well in placing him there. Wittenberg became in the sequel the citadel of his teaching. There he remained until the evening of his days as Professor of Holy Scripture, and quitted the town only when forced by urgent reasons to do so.

As with all men of great gifts, who make a deep impression on their day, but are, all the same, children of their time, so was it with Luther. In his case, however, the influence from without was all the deeper because his lively and receptive temperament lent itself to a stronger external stimulus, and also because the position of so young a man in a professorial chair in the very heart of Germany did much to foster such influences.

Martin Pollich of Mellerstadt, formerly Professor at Leipzig, a physician, a jurist and a man of humanistic tendencies who had helped Staupitz to organise the new University, enjoyed a great reputation in the Wittenberg schools. Alongside him were the theologians Amsdorf, Carlstadt, Link, Lang and Staupitz. Nicholas von Amsdorf, who was subsequently said to be “more Luther than Luther himself,” had been since 1511 licentiate of theology, and had at the same time filled, as a secular priest, the office of Canon at the Castle Church. Andreas Bodenstein von Carlstadt, usually known as Carlstadt, occupied a position amongst the Augustinians engaged in teaching. He had taken his degree at Wittenberg in 1510, and was at the outset a zealous representative of Scholasticism, though he speedily attached himself to Luther’s new teaching. He was the first to proclaim the solubility of religious vows. Wenceslaus Link worked at the University from 1509 to about 1516, eventually succeeding Staupitz as Augustinian Vicar-General, and, later, by his marriage in 1523, gave the last Augustinians of the unfortunate Congregation the signal for forsaking the Order. Another Augustinian, Johann Lang, who had been Luther’s friend since the days of his first studies at Erfurt, had come to Wittenberg about 1512 as teacher at the “Studium” of the Order, though he soon left it to return to Erfurt. Johann Staupitz, the Superior of the Congregation, resigned in 1512 his Professorship of Holy Scripture at Wittenberg, being unable to attend to it sufficiently owing to his frequent absence, and made over the post to Luther, whom, as he says in his eulogistic speech to the Elector of Saxony, he had been at pains to form into a “very special Doctor of Holy Scripture.”

The teaching in the University at that time was, of course, from the religious standpoint, Catholic. Its scholarship was, however, infected with the humanistic views of the Italian naturalism, and this new school had already stamped some of the professors with its freethinking spirit.[82]

The influence of Humanism on Luther’s development must be admitted, though it is frequently overrated, the subsequent open alliance of the German Humanists with the new gospel being set back, without due cause, to Luther’s early days. As a student he had plunged into the study of the ancient classics which he loved, but there was a great difference between this and the being in complete intellectual communion with the later Humanists, whose aims were in many respects opposed to the Church’s. Thanks to the practical turn of his mind, the study of the classics, which he occasionally continued later, never engaged his attention or fascinated him to the extent it did certain Humanists of the Renaissance, who saw in the revival of classic Paganism the salvation of mankind. As a young professor at the University he was not, however, able to escape entirely the influence of the liberalism of the age, with its one-sided and ill-considered opposition to so many of the older elements of culture, an opposition which might easily prove as detrimental as a blind and biassed defence of the older order.

It is not necessary to demonstrate here how dangerous a spirit of change and libertinism was being imported in the books of the Italian Humanists, or by the German students who had attended their lectures.

With regard to Luther personally, we know that he not only had some connection with Mutian, the leader of a movement which at that time was still chiefly literary, but also that Johann Lang at once forwarded to Mutian a lecture against the morals of the “little Saints” of his Order delivered by Luther at Gotha in 1515.[83] Luther also excused himself in a very respectful letter to this leader of the Humanists for not having called on him when passing through Gotha in 1516.[84] Luther’s most intimate friend, Lang, through whom he seems to have entered into a certain exchange of ideas with Humanism, was an enthusiastic Humanist and possessed of great literary connections. Lang, for his part, speaks highly to Mutian of the assistance rendered him in his studies by Luther.[85] There can therefore be no doubt that Luther was no stranger to the efforts of the Humanists, to their bold and incisive criticism of the traditional methods, to their new idealism and their spirit of independence. Many of the ideas which filled the air in those days had doubtless an attraction for and exerted an influence on the open-hearted, receptive disposition of the talented monk.

Luther’s friendship with Spalatin, which dated from his Erfurt days, must also be taken into account in this regard. For Spalatin, who came as tutor and preacher in 1508 to the Court of the Elector of Saxony, was very closely allied in spirit with the Humanists of Erfurt and Gotha. It was he who asked Luther for his opinion respecting the famous dispute of the Cologne Faculty with the Humanist Reuchlin, a quarrel which engaged the sympathy of scholars and men of education throughout the length and breadth of Germany. Luther, in his reply, which dates from January or February, 1514, had at that time no hesitation in emphatically taking the side of Reuchlin, who, he declared, possessed his love and esteem. God, he says, would carry on His work in spite of the determined opposition of one thousand times one thousand Cologne burghers, and he adds meaningly that there were much more important matters with the Church which needed reform; they were “straining at gnats and swallowing camels.”[86] The conservative attitude of the authorities at Cologne was at that time not at all to his taste. Not long after Luther writes very strongly to Spalatin, again in favour of Reuchlin, against Ortwin de Graes of Cologne, and says among other things that he had hitherto thought the latter an ass, but that he must now call him a dog, a wolf and a crocodile, in spite of his wanting to play the lion,[87] expressions which are quite characteristic of Luther’s style.

On the appearance of the “Letters of Obscure Men,” and a similar satirical writing which followed them, and which also found its way into Luther’s hands, the young Wittenberg professor, instead of taking the field against the evil tendency of these attacks of the Humanist party on the “bigots of Scholasticism and the cloister” as such diatribes deserved, and as he in his character of monk and theologian should have done, sought to take a middle course: he approved of the purpose of the attacks, but not of the satire itself, which mended nothing and contained too much invective. Both productions, he says, must have come out of the same pot; they had as their author, if not the same, at least a very similar comedian. It is now known that the real author of the letters which caused such an uproar was his former University friend, Crotus Rubeanus.[88]

On what terms did Luther stand with respect to Erasmus, the leader of the Humanists, before their great and final estrangement? As he speaks of Erasmus in a letter of 1517 to Lang as “our Erasmus,” we may infer that until then he was, to a certain extent, favourably disposed towards him. He rejoiced on reading his humanistic writings to find that “he belaboured the monks and clergy so manfully and so learnedly and had torn the veil off their out-of-date rubbish.”[89] Yet, on the same occasion, he confesses that his liking for Erasmus is becoming weaker. It was not the attitude of Erasmus to the Church in general which even then separated Luther from him, but his new teaching on Grace, the origin of which will be treated of later. It is true Luther conveyed to him through Spalatin his good wishes for his renown and progress, but in the same message he admonished him not to follow the example of nearly every commentator in interpreting certain passages where Paul condemns “righteousness by works” as referring only to the Mosaic ceremonial law, and not rather to all the works of the Decalogue. If such are performed “outside the Faith in Christ,” then though they should make of a man a Fabricius, a Regulus, or a paragon of perfection, yet they have as little in common with righteousness as blackberries have with figs”; it is not the works which justify a man, but rather our righteousness which sanctifies the works. Abel was more pleasing to God than his works.[90] The exclusive sense in which Luther interprets these words, according to which he does not even admit that works of righteousness are of any value for the increase of righteousness, is a consequence of his new standpoint, to which he is anxious to convert Erasmus and all the Humanists.

He had the Humanists in his mind when he wrote as follows to Johann Lang: “The times are perilous, and a man may be a great Greek, or Hebrew [scholar] without being a wise Christian.... He who makes concessions to human freewill judges differently from him who knows nothing save Grace alone.”[91] But this is to forestall a development of his error, which will be described later. At the time that his new doctrine originated he was far more in sympathy with the theories of certain groups of late mediæval mystics than with the views of the Humanists, because, as will appear later, he found in them the expression of that annihilation of the human by means of Grace, of which the idea was floating before his mind, and because he also discovered in them an “inwardness” which agreed with his own feelings at that time.

From Erasmus and his compeers he undoubtedly borrowed, in addition to a spirit of justifiable criticism, an exaggerated sentiment of independence towards ecclesiastical antiquity. The contact with their humanistic views assuredly strengthened in him the modern tendency to individualism. Not long after a change in the nature of his friendship necessarily took place. His antagonism to Erasmus in the matter of his doctrine of Grace led to a bitter dispute between the two, to which Luther’s contribution was his work on “The Servitude of the Will” (De servo arbitrio); at the same time his alliance with the Humanists remained of value to him in the subversive movement which he had inaugurated.

Mighty indeed were the forces, heralds of a spiritual upheaval, which, since the fifteenth century, had streamed through the Western world in closer or more distant connection with the great revival of the study of classical antiquity. They proclaimed the advent of a new cycle in the history of mankind. This excited world could not fail to impart its impulse to the youthful Luther.

The recently discovered art of printing had, as it were at one blow, created a world-wide community of intellectual productions and literary ideas such as the Middle Ages had never dreamed of. The nations were drawn closer together at that period by the interchange of the most varied and far-reaching discoveries. The spirit of worldly enterprise awoke as from a long slumber as a result of the astonishing discovery of great and wealthy countries overseas.

With the greater facilities for intellectual intercourse and the increase of means of study, criticism set to work on all branches of learning with greater results than ever before. The greater States now did what they had been willing but unable to do before; they freed themselves more and more from the former tutelage of the Church; they aimed at securing freedom and shaking off that priestly influence to which, in part at least, they owed their stability and their growth; nor was this movement confined to the greater States, for, in Germany, at any rate, the wealthy cities, the great landed proprietors and princes were all alike intent on ridding themselves of the oppression under which they had hitherto laboured and on securing for themselves an increase of power. In brief, everywhere the old restraints were breaking down, everywhere a forward movement of individualism was in progress at the expense of the commonweal and the traditional order of the Middle Ages; but, above all, at the expense of the Church’s religious authority, which, alone till then, had kept individualism in check to the profit of humanity.

It would indeed have been well had at least the Catholic Church at that critical period been free from weakness and abuse. Her Divine power of blessing the nations, it is true, still survived, her preaching of the truth, her treasure of the Sacraments, in short, her soul, was unchanged; but, because she was suffering from many lamentable imperfections, the disruptive forces were able to come into play with fatal results. The complaints of eloquent men full of zeal for souls, both at that time and during the preceding decades, particularly in Germany, over the decline of religious life among the Faithful and the corruption in the clergy, were only too well founded, and deserved to have met with a much more effectual reception than they did. What the monk of Wittenberg, with unbridled passion and glaring exaggeration, was about to thunder forth over the world in his mighty call for reform, had already for the most part been urged by others, yea, by great Saints of the Church who attacked the abuses with the high-minded zeal of ripe experience. Strict, earnest and experienced men had set to work on a Catholic reform in many parts of the Church, not excepting Germany, in the only profitable way, viz. not by doctrinal innovation, but by raising the standard of morality among both people and clergy. But progress was slow, very slow, for reasons which cannot be dealt with here. The life-work of the pious founder of his own Congregation might well have served Luther as an admirable example of moral regeneration and efficiency; for the aim of Andreas Proles was, as a Protestant writer remarks: “A strong and mighty Reformation”; he lived in hopes that God would shortly raise up a hero capable of bringing it about with strength and determination, though the Reformation he had in his mind, as our historian allows, could only have been a Reformation in the Catholic sense.[92] Another attractive example of reforming zeal was also given under Luther’s very eyes by the Windesheim Congregation of the Brethren of the Common Life, with whom he had been in friendly intercourse from his boyish days.

The disorders in Germany had an all too powerful stronghold in the higher ranks of ecclesiastical authority. Not until after the Council of Trent did it become apparent how much the breaking down of this bulwark of corruption would cost. The bishops were for the most part incapable or worldly. Abbots, provosts, wealthy canons and dignitaries vied with and even excelled the episcopate in their neglect of the duties of their clerical state. In the filling of Church offices worldly influence was paramount, and in its wake followed forced nominations, selfishness, incompetence and a general retrograde movement; the moral disorders among the clergy and the people accumulated under lazy and incompetent superiors. The system of indulgences, pilgrimages, sodalities and numerous practices connected with the veneration of the Saints, as well as many other details of worship, showed lamentable excesses.

Of the above-mentioned evils within the German Church, two will be examined more closely: the interference of the Government and the worldly-minded nobility in Church matters, and the evil ways of the higher and lower grades of the clergy.

Not merely were the clerical dues frequently seized by the princes and lesser authorities, but positions in the Cathedral chapters and episcopal sees were, in many cases, handed over arbitrarily to members of the nobility or ruling houses, so that in many places the most important posts were held by men without a vocation and utterly unworthy of the office. “When the ecclesiastical storm broke out at the end of the second decade of the sixteenth century the following archbishoprics and bishoprics were filled by the sons of princes: Bremen, Freising, Halberstadt, Hildesheim, Magdeburg, Mayence, Merseburg, Metz, Minden, Münster, Naumburg, Osnabrück, Paderborn, Passau, Ratisbon, Spires, Verden and Verdun.”[93] The bishops drawn from the princely houses were, as a rule, involved in worldly business or in Court intrigues, even where, as was the case, for instance, with the powerful Archbishop of Mayence, Albrecht of Brandenburg, their early education had not been entirely anti-ecclesiastical.

Another evil was the uniting of several important bishoprics in the hands of one individual. “The Archbishop of Bremen was at the same time Bishop of Verden, the Bishop of Osnabrück also Bishop of Paderborn, the Archbishop of Mayence also Archbishop of Magdeburg and Bishop of Halberstadt. George, Palsgrave of the Rhine and Duke of Bavaria, had already in his thirteenth year been made Cathedral Provost of Mayence and afterwards became a Canon of Cologne and Treves, Provost of St. Donatian’s at Bruges, patron of the livings of Hochheim and Lorch on the Rhine and finally, in 1513, Bishop of Spires. By special privilege of Pope Leo X, granted June 22, 1513, he, an otherwise earnest and pious man, was permitted to hold all these benefices in addition to his bishopric of Spires.”[94] A contemporary, reviewing the condition of the worldly-minded bishops, complains “that the higher clergy are chiefly to blame for the careless way in which the cure of souls is exercised. They place unsuitable shepherds over the people, while they themselves draw the tithes. Many seek to unite in their grasp the greatest possible number of livings without fulfilling the duties they entail and waste the revenues of the Church in luxury, on servants, pages, dogs and horses. One seeks to outvie the other in ostentation and luxury.”[95] One of the most important explanations of the fact, that, at the very outset of the religious innovation, the falling away from the Church took place with such astonishing celerity, is to be found in the corruption and apathy of the episcopate.[96]

Bertold Pirstinger, Bishop of Chiemsee and author of the lament “Onus ecclesiæ,” wrote sadly in 1519: “Where does the choice fall upon a good, capable and learned bishop, where on one who is not inexperienced, sensual and ignorant of spiritual things?... I know of some bishops who prefer to wear a sword and armour rather than their clerical garb. It has come to this, that the episcopate is now given up to worldly possessions, sordid cares, stormy wars, worldly sovereignty.... The prescribed provincial and diocesan synods are not held. Hence many Church matters which ought to be reformed are neglected. Besides this, the bishops do not visit their parishes at fixed times, and yet they exact from them heavy taxes. Thus the lives of the clergy and laity have sunk to a low level and the churches are unadorned and falling to pieces.” The zealous bishop closes his gloomy description, in which perhaps he is too inclined to generalise, with a touching prayer to God for a true reformation from within: “Therefore grant that the Church may be reformed, which has been redeemed by Thy Blood and is now, through our fault, near to destruction.”[97] He considers, however, that a reform of the Church undertaken from within and preserving her faith and institutions is what is needed. The deterioration was in his eyes, and in those of the best men of the day, undoubtedly very great, but not irreparable.

A glance at the work of many excellent men, such as Trithemius, Wimpfeling, Geiler of Kaysersberg and others, may serve as a warning against an excessive generalisation with regard to the deterioration in the ranks of the higher and lower clergy. Weaknesses, disorders and morbid growths are far more apparent to the eyes of contemporaries than goodness, which usually fails to attract attention. Even Johann Nider, the Dominican, who, as a rule, is unsparing in lashing the weaknesses of the clergy of his day, is compelled to speak a word of warning: “Take heed never to pass a universal judgment when speaking only of many, otherwise you will never, or hardly ever, escape passing an unjust one.”[98]

That there was, however, the most pressing need of a reform in the lives of both higher and lower clergy is proved by a glance at the state of the priesthood. The position of the lower clergy, in comparison with that of their betters “who rolled in riches and luxury,” was one not in keeping with the dignity of their state. “Apart from the often very precarious tithes and stole-fees they had no stipend, so that their poverty, and sometimes also their avarice, obliged them to turn to other means of livelihood, which ... necessarily exposed them to the contempt of the people. There can be no doubt that ‘a very large portion of the lower clergy had fallen so far from the ideal of their calling, that one may speak of the priestly proletariat of that day, using the word in both its ordinary and its literal sense.’ This clerical proletariat was ready to join any movement which promised to promote its own low aims.”[99]

The number of clergy, largely owing to the excessive multiplication of small foundations without any cure of souls, had increased to such an extent that among so many there must necessarily have been a very large number who had no real vocation, while their lack of employment must have spelt a real danger to their morals. Attached to two churches at Breslau at the end of the fifteenth century were 236 clerics, all of them mere Mass-priests, i.e. ordained simply to say Mass in the chantry chapels founded with very small endowments. Besides the daily celebration, these Mass-priests had as their only obligation the recital of the Breviary. In the Cathedral at Meissen there were, in 1480, besides 14 canons, 14 Mass-priests and 60 curates. In Strasburg the Cathedral foundation comprised 36 canonries, that of St. Thomas 20, Old St. Peter’s 17, New St. Peter’s 15 and All Saints’ 12. In addition to these were also numerous deputies who were prepared to officiate at High Mass in place of the actual beneficiaries. Of such deputies there were no fewer than 63 attached to the Cathedral, where there were also 38 chaplaincies. In Cologne Johann Agricola gives the number of “priests and monks” (though he adds “so it is said”) as 5000; on another occasion he estimates the number of monks and nuns only, at 5000. What is certain is that the “German Rome” on the Rhine numbered at that time 11 collegiate foundations, 19 parish churches, over 100 chapels, 22 monasteries, 12 hospitals and 76 religious houses.[100]

The above-mentioned Bishop of Chiemsee attributes the corruption of the priesthood principally to the misuse by clergy and laity of their right of patronage both in nominations and by arbitrary interference. Geiler of Kaysersberg is of the same opinion; he attributes to the laity, more particularly to the patrons among the nobility, the sad condition of the parishes. Uneducated, bad, immoral men were now presented, he says, not the good and virtuous.[101] Cardinal Nicholas of Cusa, who did so much service to Germany, had declared quite openly the cause of the deformation of the clerical system to be the admission to Holy Orders of unworthy candidates, the concubinage of the clergy, plurality of benefices, and simony. Towards the end of the fifteenth century the complaints increased, more especially with regard to the immorality of the clergy. “The numerous regulations of bishops and synods leave no doubt about the fact that a large portion of the German clergy transgressed the law of celibacy in the most flagrant manner.”[102] A statement which was presented to the Dukes of Bavaria in 1477 declared that in the opinion of many friends and advocates of a healthy reform, an improvement in the morals of the clergy, where the real cause of all the Church’s evils lay, must be taken in hand. It is true there were districts where a blameless and praiseworthy clergy worked, as, for example, the Rhine-Lands, Schleswig-Holstein and the Algäu. On the other hand, in Saxony, Luther’s home, and in Franconia and Bavaria great disorders were reported in this respect. The “De ruina ecclesiæ,” an earlier work, attributed to Nicholas of Clémanges, tells us of bishops in the commencement of the fifteenth century who, in consideration of a money payment, permitted concubinage to their clergy, and Hefele’s “History of the Councils” gives numerous synodical decrees of that date forbidding the bishops to accept money or presents in return for permitting or conniving at concubinage.[103]

Along with concubinage many of the higher clergy displayed a luxury and a spirit of haughty pride which repelled the people, especially the more independent burghers. Members of the less fortunate clergy gave themselves up to striving after gain by pressing for their tithes and fees and rents, a tendency which was encouraged both in high and low by the excessive demands made by Rome. Worthless so-called courtisans, i.e. clerks furnished with briefs from the Papal Court (corte), seized upon the best benefices and gave an infectious example of greed, while at the same time their action helped to add fuel to the prejudice and hatred already existing for the Curia.[104]

Innumerable were the causes of friction in the domain of worldly interests which gave rise to strife and enmity between laity and clergy. Laymen saw with displeasure how the most influential and laborious posts were filled, not by the beneficiaries themselves, but by incapable representatives, while the actual incumbents resided elsewhere in comfortable ease and leisure at the expense of the old foundations endowed by the laity. On the other hand, the churches and monasteries complained of the rights appropriated or misused by the princes and nobility, an abuse which often led to the monasteries serving as homes for worn-out officials, or to the vexatious seizure and retention of the estates of deceased priests or abbots. It is clear that such a self-seeking policy on the part of the powerful naturally resulted in the most serious evils and abuses in Church matters, quite apart from the bad feeling thus aroused between the clerical and lay elements of the State.

The richer monasteries in particular had to submit to becoming the preserves of the nobles, who made it their practice to provide in this way for the younger scions of their family, and for that reason sought to prevent members of the middle classes being admitted to profession. The efforts to reform lax monasteries, which are often met with about the close of the Middle Ages, were frequently stifled by these and similar worldly influences.

In the disintegration of ecclesiastical order, the power and influence of the rulers of the land with regard to Church matters was, as might be expected, constantly on the increase.

Many German princes, influenced by the ideas with regard to the dignity of the State which came into such vogue in the fifteenth century, and dissatisfied with the concessions already made to them by the Church, arrogated still further privileges, for example, the taxation of Church lands, the restriction of ecclesiastical jurisdiction, the so-called Government Placet and an oppressive right of visiting and supervising the parishes within their territories. There had thus grown up in many districts a system of secular interference in Church matters long before the religious apostasy of the sixteenth century resulted in the total submission of the Church to the Protestant princes of the land. The Catholic ruler recognised in principle the doctrines and rights of the Church. What, however, was to happen if rulers, equipped with such twofold authority, altered their attitude to the Church on the outbreak of the schism? Their fidelity was in many cases already put to a severe test by the disorders of the clergy, which were doing harm to their country and which Rome made no attempt to suppress. The ecclesiastico-political complaints of the princes (the famous Gravamina) against Rome are proofs of their annoyance; for these charges, as Dr. Eck pointed out, were for the most part well founded; Eck’s opinion was shared by other authorities, such as Bertold von Henneberg, Wimpfeling, Duke George of Saxony, and Aleander the Papal Nuncio, who all express themselves in the same manner regarding the financial grievances against Rome, which were felt in Germany throughout all ranks and classes down to the meanest individual.[105]

“On account of these and other causes the irritation and opposition to the Holy See had, on the eve of the great German schism, reached boiling point; this vexation is explained, as the ’Gravamina nationis Germanicæ’ clearly prove, by the disorders of the Curia, and still more by its unceasing demands.” “That the smouldering discontent broke into open flame was the doing of those scoffers without faith or conscience, such as the Humanists, who persisted in pouring on the fire the oil of their sophistries.”[106] The Catholic historian from whom these words are borrowed rightly draws attention to the “mistaken policy” entered on by Luther’s followers when they attacked the hierarchical order on account of the disorders rampant in the life and administration of the Church. The success of their “mistaken policy” was a “speaking proof of the coarseness, blindness and passion of the German people at that time,” but in its practical results their policy helped to bring about an ever-to-be-regretted alteration and to open a yawning chasm which still exists to-day. “That the vexation was not altogether without cause no honest historian can deny, whatever his enthusiasm for the Catholic Church,” for “the action of Churchmen, whether belonging to the hierarchy or to the regular or secular clergy, cannot be misunderstood. Throughout the whole of Christendom, and particularly in Germany, the general state of things was deplorable.... Even though the evils of the waning Middle Ages may have been, and still continue to be, grossly exaggerated by Protestants, and though in the fifteenth century we see many cheering examples and some partially successful attempts at reform, yet there still remains enough foulness to account psychologically for the falling away.”[107]

And yet the disorders in matters ecclesiastical in Germany would not have entailed the sad consequences they did had they not been accompanied by a great number of social evils, especially the intense discontent of the lower classes with their position and a hostile jealousy of the laity against the privileges and possessions of the clergy. Savage outbreaks of rebellion against the old traditional order of things were of frequent occurrence. In many localities the peasants were in arms against their princes and masters for the improvement of their conditions; the knights and the nobility, to say nothing of the cities, gave themselves up to the spirit of aggrandisement referred to above. It was just this spirit of unrest and discontent of which the coming mighty movement of intellectual and religious reform was to avail itself.

If we look more closely at Italy and Rome we find that in Italy, which comprised within its limits the seat of the supreme authority in the Church and of which the influence on civilisation everywhere was so important, complete religious indifference had taken root among many of the most highly cultured. The Renaissance, the famed classic regeneration, had undergone a change for the worse, and, in the name of education, was promoting the most questionable tendencies. After having been welcomed and encouraged by the Papacy with over-great confidence it disappointed both the Popes and the Church with its poisonous fruits.

At the time that the Holy See was lavishing princely gifts on art and learning, the pernicious system of Church taxation so often complained of by the nations was becoming more and more firmly established. This taxation, which had started at the time of the residence of the Popes at Avignon in consequence of the real state of need in which the central government of the Church then stood, became more and more an oppressive burden, especially in Germany. It was exploited by Luther in one of his earliest controversial writings where, voicing the popular discontent in that spiteful language of which he was a master, he joined his protest to that of the German Estates of the realm. Combining truth and fancy, the administration of the Papal finances became in his hands a popular and terribly effective weapon. It has frequently been pointed out how much the authority of the Holy See suffered in the preceding age, not only on account of the Western Schism when three rival claimants simultaneously strove for the tiara, but also through the so-called reforming councils and their opposition to the constitution of the Church, through the political mistakes of the Popes since they established their headquarters in France, through the struggle they waged to assert their power in Italy, that apple of discord of rising nations, and also, in the case of the Avignon Popes, through their lack, or, at any rate, suspected lack, of independence. To this we must add the shocking behaviour of the Curial officials and of several of the cardinals in the Eternal City, especially at the turn of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, also the disgraceful example of Alexander VI and the Borgia family, the bearing of his successor Julius II, more befitting a soldier than an ecclesiastic, and the very worldly spirit of Leo X and his Court. Ostentation and the abuse of worldly possessions and Church revenues which Alvarez Pelayo, the Spanish Franciscan, had already bewailed in his “De planctu ecclesiæ” had risen to still greater heights at Rome. The work of this severe critic, who, in spite of his fault-finding, was nevertheless well disposed to the Curia, was in general circulation just previous to Luther’s appearance on the field; it was several times reprinted, for instance, at Ulm in 1474, and again at Lyons in 1517, with a dedication to the later Pope Hadrian VI. It is there we find the indignant assertion, that those who bear the dignity of the primacy are God’s worst persecutors.[108] In the work “De squaloribus Romanæ curiæ” various well-founded complaints were adduced, together with much that was incorrect and exaggerated. The book “De ruina ecclesiæ” (see above, p. 50) contained accusations against the Popes and the government of the Church couched in rude and violent language, and these too gained new and stronger significance at the end of the fifteenth and commencement of the sixteenth century. We actually read therein that the number of the righteous in the Church is diminutive compared with that of the wicked.[109]

There is no doubt that the state of things, so far as it was known from the above-mentioned books, or from observation or rumour, was busily and impatiently discussed in the company frequented by Luther at the University of Wittenberg. What Luther had himself seen at Rome must have still further contributed to increase the bitterness among his friends.

When the Monk of Wittenberg openly commenced his attacks on the Papacy, it became apparent how far the disorders just alluded to had prepared the way for his plans. It was clear that all the currents adverse to the Papacy were, so to speak, waiting for the coming of one man, who should unchain them with his powerful hand. Amongst those who hitherto had been faithful adherents of the Church, Luther found combustible material—social, moral and political—heaped up so high that a stunning result was not surprising. Had there arisen a saint like St. Bernard, on whose words the world of the Middle Ages had hung, with the Divine gift of teaching and writing as the times demanded, who can say what course events would have taken? But Luther arrived on the scene with his terrible, mighty voice, pressed all the elements of the storm into his service, and, launching a defiance of which the world had never before heard the like, succeeded in winning an immense success for the standard he had raised.[110]

Luther from the very outset of his career was too liberal in his blame of the customs and conditions in the Church which happened to meet with his disapproval.

Scarcely had he finished his course of studies as a learner than he already began to wax eloquent against various abuses. In his characteristic love of exaggeration of language he did not fear to use the sharpest epithets, nor to magnify the evil, whether in his academic lectures or in the pulpit, or in his letters and writings. He wrote, for instance, to Spalatin in 1516 to dissuade the Elector of Saxony, Frederick the Wise, from promoting Staupitz to a bishopric: he who becomes a bishop in these days falls into the most evil of company, all the wickedness of Greece, Rome and Sodom were to be found in the bishops; Spalatin should compare the carryings-on of the present bishops with those of the bishops of Christian antiquity; now a pastor of souls was considered quite exemplary if he merely pursued his worldly business and built up for himself with his riches an insatiable hell.[111]

In his first lectures at Wittenberg he complains that “neither monasteries nor colleges, nor Cathedral churches will in any sort accept discipline.”[112] The clergy, he says, in another place, generalising after the fashion common among preachers, should be the eyes of the Church, but to-day they do not direct the body, i.e. the Faithful, for they are blinded: they are the soul, but they do not give life, but rather kill by their deadly example; about nothing do they trouble less than about souls.[113] In similar language he, in these lectures, represents the bishops and priests as simply “full of the most abominable unchastity”; according to him, they bring to the pulpit nothing but “their views and fables, nothing but masquerading and buffoonery,” so that the Church can do nothing but cry aloud over the misery in which it is sunk. “The strength of her youth has forsaken her.”[114]

One of the earliest portions of Luther’s correspondence which has been preserved and which takes us back to his little world at Wittenberg, throws a clearer light on his character at that time. It deals with an unpleasant dispute with his brother monks at Erfurt, which he became involved in owing to his having taken his doctorate at Wittenberg instead of at Erfurt. The Erfurt monastery reproached him with a serious infringement of the rules and disrespect for the Theological Faculty there; he had, they said, entered the teaching Corporation of Erfurt in virtue of the oath which he had taken in the customary manner on his appointment as Sententiarius, and was therefore under strict obligation to take his degree of Doctor in this Faculty and not elsewhere. Other unknown charges were also made against him, but were speedily withdrawn. It is highly probable that the tension between Observantines and Conventuals increased the misunderstanding.

Nathin, the Erfurt Augustinian, first wrote a rather tactless letter to Luther about it all, as it would appear in the name of the council of the monastery. Luther was extremely angry and allowed his excitement free play. He first expresses his surprise in two letters to the Prior and the council, and was about to despatch a third when he learnt that the accusations against him, with the exception of that regarding his doctorate, had been withdrawn. While Nathin’s letter and also the two passionate replies of the young Doctor have been lost, two other letters of the latter regarding the matter exist, and are professedly letters of excuse. The first is in reality nothing of the kind, but rather the opposite. In this letter, dated June 16, 1514, and addressed to the Prior and the council, Luther to begin with complains vehemently of the evil reports against his person which, according to his information, some of those he was addressing at Erfurt had circulated previously. Nathin’s letter had, however, been the last straw. “This letter,” he says, which was written in the name of all, angered him so much with its lies and its provoking, poisonous scorn, that “I had almost poured out the vials of my wrath and indignation on his head and the whole monastery, as Master Paltz did.” They had probably received the two “amazed replies”; as however the other charges had been withdrawn, he would hold the majority of those he was addressing as excused; they must now, on their part, forget any hurt they had felt at his previous replies; “Lay all that I have done,” these are his words, “to the account of the furious epistle of Master Nathin, for my anger was only too well justified. Now, however, I hear still worse things of this man, viz. that he accuses me everywhere of being a dishonourable perjurer on account of the oath to the Faculty which I am supposed to have taken and not kept.” He goes on to explain that he had been guilty of no such crime, for the Biblical lectures at the commencement of which he was supposed to have taken the oath, and at which, it is true, in accordance with the customs of the University, such an oath was generally taken, had not been begun by him at Erfurt; at his opening lecture on the Sentences in that town he had, so far as he remembers, taken no oath, nor could he recall having ever taken any oath in the Faculty at Erfurt. He closes with an expression of respect and gratitude to the Erfurt Faculty. Though he was the injured party, he was calm and contented and joyful, for he had deserved much worse of God: they too should lay their bitterness aside, “as God has clearly willed my departure (excorporatio) from Erfurt, and we must not withstand God.”[115] This letter and Luther’s previous steps cannot be regarded as giving proof of a harmoniously attuned disposition. He may have been in the right in the matter of the oath, a question of which it is difficult to judge. It was not, however, very surprising that the Erfurt monks took steps to force Luther to make more satisfactory amends to the Faculty than the strange letter of excuse given above. It is plain that under pressure of some higher authority invoked by them, a second letter, this time of more correct character, was despatched by the Wittenberg Doctor. In judging of this academic dispute, we must bear in mind the store that was set in those days on University traditions.

The second letter in question, dated December 21, 1514, is addressed to the “excellent Fathers and Gentlemen, the Dean and other Doctors of the Theological Faculty of Studies at Erfurt” and in the very first words shows itself to be a humble apology and request for pardon. It contains further information regarding the affair. He begs them at least not to deem him guilty of a fault committed knowingly and out of malice; if he had done anything unseemly, at least it was unintentionally (“extra dolum et conscientiam”); he begs them to dispense and ratify, to supply what is wanting and to remit, if not the penalty, at least the fault.[116]

We learn nothing further about the dispute. The negotiations did not lead to the renewal of the good relations with Erfurt, which had been interrupted by his brusque departure. The people of Erfurt were amongst the first to object to the new, so-called Augustinism and Paulinism of the Wittenberg Professor.

CHAPTER II

HARBINGERS OF CHANGE

1. Sources, Old and New

The history of Luther’s inward development during his first years at Wittenberg up to 1517, is, to a certain extent, rather obscure. The study of deep psychological processes must always be reckoned amongst the most complex of problems, and in our case the difficulty is increased by the nature of Luther’s own statements with regard to himself. These belong without exception to his later years, are uncertain and contradictory in character, and in nearly every instance represent views influenced by his controversies and such as he was wont to advocate in his old age. Thanks to more recent discoveries, however, we are now possessed of works written by Luther in his youth which supply us with better information. By a proper use of these, we are able to obtain a much clearer picture of his development than was formerly possible.

Many false ideas which were once current have now been dispelled; more especially there can no longer be any question of the customary Protestant view, namely, that the Monk of Wittenberg was first led to his new doctrine through some unusual inward religious experience by which he attained the joyful assurance of salvation by faith alone, and not by means of the good works of Popery and monasticism. This so-called inner experience, which used to be placed in the forefront of his change of opinions, as a “Divine Experience,” as shown below, must disappear altogether from history.[117] Objection must equally be taken to some of the views with which Catholics have been wont to explain Luther’s apostasy. The path Luther followed, though subject to numerous and varied influences, is now seen to be much less complicated than was hitherto supposed.

Two results already brought to light by other authors are now confirmed. First, the process of his falling away from the Church’s teaching was already accomplished in Luther’s mind before he began the dispute about Indulgences with Tetzel; secondly, a certain moral change, the outlines of which are clearly marked, went hand in hand with his theological views, indeed, if anything, preceded them; the signs of such an ethical change are apparent in his growing indifference to good works, and to the aims and rules of conventual life, and in the quite extraordinary self-confidence he displayed, more especially when disputes arose.

Characteristic of the ethical side of his nature are the remarks and marginal annotations we have of his, which were published by Buchwald in 1893; these notes were written by Luther in many of the books he made use of in his early days as theological lecturer at Erfurt (1509-10). These books are the oldest available sources for a correct estimation of his intellectual activity. They were found in the Ratsschul-Library at Zwickau. Of special interest is a volume containing various writings of St. Augustine, and a copy of the Sentences of Peter Lombard, which is of great importance on account of the notes. The running commentary in Luther’s early handwriting shows his great industry, enables us to see what especially impressed him, and betrays also his marvellous belief in himself as well as his stormy, unbridled temper.

Of Luther’s letters written previous to 1514 only five remain, and are of comparatively little historical interest. Of the year 1515 there is only one, of 1516 there are nineteen, of 1517 already twenty-one, and they increase in importance as well as in number.

In 1513 he began, at Wittenberg University, his Commentary on the Psalms, which has been known since 1876, and continued those lectures up to 1515 or 1516. Following his lively and practical bent, he refers therein to the most varied questions of theology and the religious life, and occasionally even introduces contemporary matters, so that these lectures afford many opportunities by which to judge of his development and mode of thought. First the scholia, which till then had been known only in part, were edited in a somewhat cumbersome form by Seidemann, then a better edition by Kawerau, containing both the scholia and the glosses, followed in 1885.[118] In dividing this exegetical work into scholia and glosses, Luther was following the traditional method of the Middle Ages. The glosses are very short, as was customary; they were written by Luther between the lines of the text itself or in the margin and explained the words and grammatical construction; on the sense they touch only in the most meagre fashion. On the other hand, the detailed scholia seek to unfold the meaning of the verses and often expand into free digressions. In addition to the glosses and the scholia on the Psalms, Kawerau’s edition also includes the preparatory notes, written by Luther in a copy of the first edition of the “Psalterium quincuplex” of Faber Stapulensis (Paris, 1509), which, like the glosses and scholia, attest both the learning of their author and the peculiar tendency of his mind. Luther used for his text the Latin Vulgate, making a very sparing use of his rudimentary Hebrew. The glosses and the scholia were, however, intended chiefly for the professor himself; to the students who attended his biblical lectures Luther was in the habit of giving a short dictation comprising a summary of what he had prepared, and then, with the assistance of his glosses and scholia, dilating more fully on the subject. Scholars’ notebooks containing such dictations given by Luther in early days together with his fuller explanation are in existence, but have never been printed.

After the Psalms, the lectures of our Wittenberg “Doctor of the Bible” dealt with St. Paul’s Epistle to the Romans. This work—of such supreme importance for the comprehension of Luther’s spiritual development—with its glosses and scholia complete, was published only in 1908 in Ficker’s edition.[119] The lectures on the Book of Judges, edited in 1884 by Buchwald and then again by Kawerau as a work of Luther supposed to have been delivered in 1516, are, according to Denifle, not Luther’s at all; they are largely borrowed from St. Augustine, and, at the very most, are a redaction by another hand of the notes of one of Luther’s pupils.[120] Transcripts of Luther’s lectures on the Epistle to Titus, and Epistle to the Hebrews, delivered in 1516 and 1517 respectively, are still lying unedited in the Vatican Library.[121] On the other hand, his lectures on the Epistle to the Galatians (1516-17) were brought out by himself in 1519.

Further light may be shed on them by the publication of a hitherto unedited student’s notebook, discovered at Cologne in 1877.

To the years 1514-20 belongs a rich mine of information in the sermons preached by Luther in the monastery church of the Augustinians, or in the parish church of the town. They consist of more or less detailed notes, written in Latin, on the Gospels and Epistles of the Sundays and Feast days; some are the merest sketches, but all, as we may assume, were written down by himself for his own use, or to be handed to others.[122] Chronologically, they are headed by three sermons for Christmas time, probably dating from 1515. The exact dating of these older sermons is sometimes rather difficult, and will have to be undertaken in the future, the Weimar edition of Luther’s works having made no attempt at this. The sermons were all of them printed in 1720, with the exception of two printed only in 1886. A complete discourse held at a synodal meeting at Leitzkau, near Zerbst, and printed in 1708, stands apart, and probably belongs to 1515, a year of the greatest consequence in Luther’s development. To the same year belongs, without a doubt, the lecture delivered at a chapter of the Order, which may aptly be entitled: “Against the little Saints.” (See below, p. 69.)

The first of the works written and published by Luther himself was of a homiletic nature; this was his Commentary on the Seven Penitential Psalms, published in 1517. To the same year, or the next, belong his expositions of the Lord’s Prayer and Ten Commandments, consisting of excerpts from his sermons sent by him to the press. The celebrated ninety-five Theses, which led directly to the dispute on Indulgences, followed next in point of time.

Just as the Theses referred to throw light upon his development,[123] so also, and to an even greater extent, do the Disputations which took place at academic festivals about that same period. In these Disputations propositions drawn up either by himself or by his colleagues, were defended by his pupils under his own direction. They display his theological views as he was wont to vent them at home, and are therefore all the more natural and reliable. Of such Disputations we have that of Bartholomew Bernhardi in 1516 “On the Powers and the Will of Man without Grace”; that of Francis Günther in 1517 “Concerning Grace and Nature,” also entitled “Against the Theology of the Schoolmen,” and the Heidelberg Disputation of 1518, with Leonard Beyer as defendant of twenty-eight philosophical and twelve theological theses. In the latter theses there are also various notes in Luther’s handwriting.

Of Luther’s writings, dating from the strenuous year 1518, some of which are in Latin and others in German and which throw some light on his previous development, we may mention in their chronological order: the sermon on “Indulgence and Grace,” the detailed “Resolutions” on the Indulgence Theses, the discourse on Penance, the “Asterisci” against Eck, the pamphlet “Freedom of the Sermon on Indulgence and Grace,” an exposition of Psalm cx., the reply to Prierias, the sermon on the power of excommunication, then the report of his trial at Augsburg and the sermon on the “Threefold Righteousness.” To these we must add his complete edition of “Theologia Deutsch,” an anonymous mystical pamphlet of the fourteenth century a portion of which he had brought out in 1516 with a preface of his own.[124]

These are the sources which Luther himself has left behind him and from which the inner history of his apostasy and of his new theology must principally be taken. The further evidence derivable from his later works, his sermons, letters and Table-Talk, will be dealt with in due course.

Only at the end of 1518 was his new teaching practically complete. At that time a new and final element had been added, the doctrine of absolute individual certainty of salvation by “Fiducial Faith.” This was regarded by Luther and his followers as the corner-stone of evangelical Christianity now once again recovered. At the commencement of 1519, we find it expressed in the new Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians (a new and enlarged edition of the earlier lectures), and in the new Commentary on the Psalms, which was printed simultaneously. Hence Luther’s whole process of development up to that time may be divided into two stages by the doctrine of the assurance of salvation; in the first, up to 1517, this essential element was still wanting: the doctrine of the necessity of belief in personal justification and future salvation does not appear, and for this reason Luther himself, later on, speaks of this time as a period of unstable, and in part despairing, search.[125] The second stage covers the years 1517-18, and commences with the Resolutions and the Augsburg trial, where we find the Professor gradually acquiring that absolute certainty of salvation to which he finally attained through an illumination which he was wont to regard as God’s own work.[126]

In the next section we deal merely with the first stage, which we shall seek to elucidate from the psychological, theological and ethical standpoint.

2. Luther’s Commentary on the Psalms (1513-15). Dispute with the Observantines and the “Self-righteous”

Presages of the storm which Luther was about to raise were visible in his first course of lectures on the Psalms given at Wittenberg. With regard to several particularly important parts of his work on the Psalms, it would be desirable to determine to what precise time during the period 1513-15 they belong; but this is a matter of considerable difficulty. The polemics they contain against the so-called “Saints by works,” the “Self-righteous” and the Observantines, the last of which must here be considered first, seem to belong to the earlier part of the period. In particular his animus against the Observantines, traces of which are plentiful, seems to have been of early growth. It also deserves more attention than has hitherto been bestowed on it, on account of its psychological and theological influence on Luther.[127]

Under the Observantines Luther in his Commentary on the Psalms refers, openly or covertly, to the members of the German Augustinian Congregation, i.e. to those who adhered to that party to which, since his return from Rome, he had been opposed.

No sooner had Luther, as Cochlæus remarked (p. 38), “deserted to Staupitz” and begun to defend his opinions, the aim of which was to surrender the privileged position of the Congregation and the stringency of the Rule, than his fiery temper led him to constitute himself the champion of the monasteries with whose cause he had allied himself, particularly that of Wittenberg; indeed, he was, if not actually the first, one of the earliest to take up the cudgels on their behalf. The mission to Rome with which he had previously been entrusted lent him special authority, and his expert knowledge of the case seemed to entitle him to a voice on the subject. To this was added the importance of his position at the University, his reputation as a talented and eloquent lecturer, and his power as a preacher. His sociability drew many to him, especially among the young, and his readiness of tongue marked him out as a real party man.

In his lectures on the Psalms his fiery nature led him to attack sharply the Observantines, whom he frequently mentions by name; even in the lecture-room his aim was to prejudice the young Augustinians who were his audience against the defenders of the traditional constitution; instead of encouraging the rising generation of monks to strive after perfection on the tried and proved lines of their Congregation, he broke out into declamatory attacks against those monks who took their vocation seriously as they received it from their predecessors, and abused them as Pharisees and hypocrites; according to him, they were puffed up by their carnal mind because they esteemed “fasting and lengthy prayers.”

There are Pharisees, he cries, even now who extol fasting and long-drawn prayer; “they make rules,” but “their zeal is directed against the Lord.” There are many in the Church who “dispute about ceremonies and are enthusiastic for the hollowness of exterior observances.” “I am acquainted with still more obstinate hypocrites.”[128] “It is to be feared that all Observantines, all exempted, and privileged religious, must be reckoned among those puffed up in their carnal mind. How harmful they are to the Church has not yet become clear, but the fact remains and will make itself apparent in time. If we ask why they insist upon isolation, they reply: On account of the protection of the cloistral discipline. But that is the light of an angel of Satan.”[129]

The following attack on the Observantines in the lectures on the Psalms is on the same lines: There are plenty of “men proud of their holiness and observance, hypocrites and false brothers.”[130] “But the fate of a Divine condemnation” will fall upon “all the proud and stiff-necked, all the superstitious, rebellious, disobedient, also, as I fear, on our Observantines, who under a show of strict discipline are only loading themselves with insubordination and rebellion.”[131]

The Observantines were plainly in his opinion demonstrating their unruliness by seeking to stand by the old foundation principles of the Congregation. He is angered by their exemption from the General and their isolation from the other German Augustinians, and still less does he like their severities; they ought to fall into line with the Conventuals and join them. We know nothing further of the matter nor anything of the rights of the case; it may be noted, however, that the after history of the party with which Luther sided and the eventual dissolution of the Congregation, appear rather to justify the Observantines.

On the occasion of a convention of the Order at Gotha in 1515—at which the Conventuals must have had a decided majority, seeing that Luther was chosen as Rural Vicar—he delivered, on May 1, the strange address on slander, which has been preserved. He represents this fault as prevalent amongst the opposite party and lashes in unmeasured terms those in the Order “who wish to appear holy,” “who see no fault in themselves,” but who unearth the hidden sins and faults of others, and hinder them in doing good and “in teaching.” Thus the estrangement had proceeded very far. Perhaps, even allowing for Luther’s exaggeration, the other side may have had its weaknesses, and been guilty of precipitancy and sins of the tongue, though it is unlikely that the faults were all on one side. It is noticeable, however, that Luther’s discourse is not directed against calumniators who invent and disseminate untruths against their opponents, but only against those who bring to light the real faults of their brethren. Scattered through the Latin text of the sermon are highly opprobrious epithets in German. The preacher, for their want of charity, calls his opponents “poisonous serpents, traitors, vagabonds, murderers, tyrants, devils, and all that is evil, desperate, incredulous, envious, and haters.” He speaks in detail of their devil’s filth and of the human excrement which they busy themselves in sorting, anxious to discover the faults of their adversaries.[132] The wealth of biblical passages quoted in this strange address cannot make up for the lack of clear ideas and of any discrimination and judgment as to the limits to be observed by a preacher in commenting on the faults of his time. Luther’s fondness for the use of filthy and repulsive figures of speech also makes a very disagreeable impression. It is true that there we must take into account the manners of the time, and his Saxon surroundings, but even Julius Köstlin, Luther’s biographer, was shocked at the indecency of the expressions which Luther uses.[133]

The real reason of this discourse was probably that Luther wished to enter on his office as Rural Vicar by striking a deadly blow at the Observant faction and at their habit of crying down his own party. It was this address which his friend Lang, fully alive to its range, sent at once to Mutian, the frivolous leader of the Humanists at Gotha, describing it as a sermon “Against the little Saints.”

Returning to the Commentary on the Psalms, we find that therein Luther sometimes makes characteristic statements about himself. On one occasion, doubtless in a fit of depression, he pours out the following effusion: “If Ezechiel says the eyes wax feeble, this prophecy is largely fulfilled at the present time, as I perceive in myself and in many others. They know very well all that must be believed, but their faith and assent is so dull that they are oppressed as by sleep, are heavy of heart, and unable to raise themselves up to God.” Such states of lukewarmness were to be banished by means of fear, but woe to him who permits the feeling of self-righteousness to take the place of the weariness, for “there is no greater unrighteousness than excessive righteousness.”[134] In the latter words he seems to be again alluding to the “little Saints” and the ostensibly self-righteous members of his Order.

His ill-humour is partly a result of his dissatisfaction with the disorders which he knew or believed to exist in his immediate surroundings, in the Order, and in ecclesiastical life generally. He frequently speaks of them with indignation, though from the new standpoint which he was gradually taking. “We live in a false peace,” he cries, and fancy we can draw on the “Treasure of the merits of Christ and the Saints.” “Popes and bishops are flinging about graces and indulgences.”[135] Unmindful of the consequences, he diminished the respect of his youthful hearers for the authority of the Church. As to the religious life, he was wont to speak as follows: “Here come men of religion and vaunt their confraternities and indulgences at every street corner only to get money for food and clothing. Oh! those begging friars! those begging friars! those begging friars! Perhaps you are to be excused because you receive alms in God’s name, and preach the word and perform the other services gratis. That may be, but see you look to it.”[136] These words in the mouth of one who was himself a member of a mendicant Order, for this the Augustinian Hermits undoubtedly were, amounted to an attack on the constitution of his own Congregation.

In his Commentary on the Psalms he frequently at one and the same time rails at the “self-righteous” and “holy by works” and at the opposition party in his Order, so that it is not easy to distinguish against whom his attacks are directed. Already at this period he shows a certain tendency to under-estimate the value of Christian good works and to insist one-sidedly on the power and efficacy of faith and on the application of the merits of Christ.

Most emphatically, as opposed to trust in good works and merits, does he insist on the grace of Christ, the “nuda et sola misericordia Dei et benignitas gratuita” which must be our support and stay.[137] His exhortations against works and human efforts sound as though intended to dissuade from any such, whether inward or outward, as though the merits of Christ and the righteousness which God gives us might thereby suffer.[138] Man’s interior efforts towards repentance by means of the contemplation of the misery and the consequences of sin, do not appeal to him. He is well aware that repentance consists in sorrow for and hatred of sin,[139] but he says that he himself has no personal experience of this kind of compunction.[140] He complains that so many turn to exterior works, they “follow their own inventions and make rules of their own at their choice; their ceremonies and the works they have devised are everything to them”: but to act thus is to set up “a new standard of righteousness instead of cultivating the spiritual things which God prescribes, namely, the Word of God, Grace and Salvation. These persons are in so much the greater error because it is a fine spiritual by-path, they are obstinate and stiff-necked, full of hidden pride in spite of the wonderful humility of which they make a show.” At last, carried away by his anger with what is mostly a phantom of his own creation, he exclaims: “Yes, they are given up to spiritual idolatry, a sin against the Holy Ghost for which there is no forgiveness.”[141]

With such-like harsh accusations of presumptuous zeal for good works he frequently attacks the “capitosi et ostentiosi monachi et sacerdotes.” Let us go for them, he cries, since they are proud of despising others.[142] Obedience and humility they have none, for they are seduced by the angel of darkness, who assumes the garb of an angel of light. They wish to do great works and they set themselves above the small and insignificant things demanded by obedience. These devotees in religious dress (“religiosi devotarii”) should beware of putting their trust in the pious exercises peculiar to them, while they remain lazy, languid, careless, and disobedient in the common life of the Order.[143] The last words “si in iis quæ sunt conventualia et communia” are, in the MS., pointed to by a hand drawn in the margin. The term “conventualia” seems reminiscent of the Conventuals, but not much further on, in the Commentary on the same Psalm (cxviii.), we find the word “observance.” The Psalmist, he says, implicitly condemns “those who are proud of their holiness, and observance, who destroy humility and obedience.”[144] He goes on to advocate something akin to Quietism, saying we should do, not our own works, but God’s works, i.e. “those which God works in us”: everything we do of ourselves belongs only to outward or carnal righteousness.[145] It is quite possible that he did not wish to deny the correct sense these words might convey, for, elsewhere in his controversies, he appears unaware of the exaggeration of his language. But the skirmish with the so-called self-righteous had a deeper explanation. Luther was so fascinated with the righteousness which God gives through faith, that man’s share in securing the same is already relegated too much to the background.

Thus he explains the verse of Psalm cxlii. where the words occur “Give ear to my supplication in Thy truth and hear me in Thy righteousness” as follows: “Hear me by Thy mercy and truth, i.e. through the truth of Thy promises of mercy to the penitent and those who beseech Thee, not for my merits’ sake; hear me in Thy righteousness, not in my righteousness, but in that which Thou givest and wilt give me through faith.”[146] With words of remarkable forcefulness he declares that, to be in sin, only makes more evident the value of the “iustitia” which comes through Christ. “It is therefore fitting that we become unrighteous and sinners”; what he really means to say is, that we should feel ourselves to be such.[147] Elsewhere he dwells, not incorrectly, but with startling emphasis, on the fact that justification comes only from God and without any effort on our part (gratis),[148] and that it is not due to works;[149] sanctification must proceed not from our own righteousness and according to the letter, but from the heart, and with grace, spirit and truth.[150] The desire for justification is to him the same as the desire for “a lively and strong faith in which I live and am justified.” “Enliven me,” he says, “i.e. penetrate me with faith, because the just man lives by faith; faith is our life.”[151]

Even at that time he was not averse to dwelling on the strength of concupiscence and, in his usual hyperbolical style, he lays stress on the weakness and wickedness of human nature. “We are all a lost lump”;[152] “whoever is without God sins necessarily, i.e. he is in sin”;[153] “unconquerable” or “necessary” are terms he is fond of applying to concupiscence in his discourses.[154] From other passages it would almost appear as if, even then, he admitted the persistence of original sin, even after baptism; for instance, he says that the whole world is “in peccatis originalibus,” though unaware of it, and must therefore cry “mea culpa”;[155] our righteousness is nothing but sin;[156] understanding, will, and memory, even in the baptised, are all fallen, and, like the wounded Jew, await the coming of the Samaritan.[157] He also speaks of the imputation of righteousness by God who, instead of attributing to us our sins, “imputes [the merits of Christ] unto our righteousness.”[158]

Still, taken in their context, none of these passages furnish any decisive proof of a deviation from the Church’s faith. They forebode, indeed, Luther’s later errors, but contain as yet no explicit denial of Catholic doctrine. In this we must subscribe to Denifle’s view, and admit that no teaching actually heretical is found in the Commentary on the Psalms.[159]

With reference to man’s natural powers, that cardinal point of Luther’s later teaching, neither the ability to be good and pleasing to God, nor the freedom of choosing what is right and good in spite of concupiscence, is denied.[160] Concupiscence, as he frequently admonishes us, must be driven back, “it must not be allowed the mastery,” though it will always make itself felt; it is like a Red Sea through the midst of which we must pass, refusing our consent to the temptations which press upon us like an advancing tide.[161] Luther lays great weight on the so-called Syntheresis, the inner voice which, according to the explanation of the schoolmen, he believes cries longingly to God, by whom also it is heard; it is the ineradicable precious remnant of good left in us,[162] and upon which grace acts. Man’s salvation is in his own hands inasmuch as he is able either to accept or to reject the law of God.[163] Luther also speaks of a preparation for grace (“dispositio et præparatio”) which God’s preventing, supernatural grace assists.[164] He expressly invokes the traditional theological axiom that “God’s grace is vouchsafed to everyone who does his part.”[165] He even teaches, following Occam’s school, that such self-preparation constitutes a merit “de congruo.”[166] He speaks as a Catholic of the doctrine of merit, admits the so-called thesaurus meritorum from which indulgences derive their efficacy, and, without taking offence, alludes to satisfaction (satisfactio operis),”[167] to works of supererogation,[168] as also to the place of purification in the next world (purgatorium).[169]

Regarding God’s imputing of righteousness he follows, it is true, the Occamist doctrine, and on this subject the following words are the most interesting: faith and grace by which we to-day (i.e. in the present order of things) are justified, would not justify without the intervention of the pactum Dei; i.e. of God’s mercy, who has so ordained it, but who might have ordained otherwise.[170] Friedrich Loofs rightly says regarding imputation in the Commentary on the Psalms: “It must be noted that the reputari iustum, i.e. the being-declared-justified, is not considered by Luther as the reverse of making righteous; on the contrary, the sine merito iustificari in the sense of absolvi is at the same time the beginning of a new life.”[171] “The faith,” so A. Hunzinger opines of the passages in question in the same work, “is as yet no imputative faith,” i.e. not in the later Lutheran sense.[172]

The Protestant scholar last mentioned has dissected the Commentary on the Psalms in detail; particularly did he examine its connection with the philosophical and mystical system sometimes designated as Augustinian Neo-Platonism.[173] It may be left an open question whether his complicated researches have succeeded in proving that in the Commentary—interpreted in the light of some of the older sermons and the marginal glosses in the Zwickau books—Luther’s teaching resolves itself into a “somewhat loose and contradictory mixture of four elements,” namely, Augustinian Neo-Platonism, an Augustinian doctrine on sin and grace, a trace of scholastic theology, and some of the mysticism of St. Bernard.[174] His researches and his comparison of many passages in the Commentary on the Psalms with the works of Augustine, especially with the “Soliloquia” and the book “De vera religione,” have certainly shown that Luther was indebted for his expressions and to a certain extent for his line of thought, to those works of Augustine with which he was then acquainted. He had probably been attracted by the mystical tendency of these writings, by that reflection of Platonism, which, however, neither in St. Augustine’s nor in Luther’s case, as Hunzinger himself admits, involved any real acceptance of the erroneous ideas of the heathen Neo-Platonism. Luther was weary of the dry Scholasticism he had learned at the schools and greedily absorbed the theology of the Bishop of Hippo, which appealed far more to him, though his previous studies had been insufficient to equip him for its proper understanding. His own words in 1532 express his case fairly accurately. He says: “In the beginning I devoured rather than read Augustine.”[175] In a marginal note on the Sentences of Peter Lombard he speaks, in 1509, of this Doctor as “numquam satis laudatus,” like him, he, too, would fain send the “moderni” and that “fabulator Aristoteles” about their business.[176]

The obscure and tangled mysticism which the young author of the Commentary on the Psalms built up on Augustine—whose spirit was far more profound than Luther’s—the smattering of Augustinian theology, altered to suit his controversial purposes, with which he supplemented his own scholastic, or rather Occamistic, theology, and the needless length of the work, make his Commentary into an unattractive congeries of moral, philosophical and theological thoughts, undigested, disconnected and sometimes unintelligible. Various causes contributed to this tangle, not the least being the nature of the subject itself. Most of the Psalms present all sorts of ideas and figures, and give the theological and practical commentator opportunity to introduce whatever he pleases from the stores of his knowledge. With some truth Luther himself said of his work in a letter to Spalatin, dated December 26, 1515, that it was not worth printing, that it contained too much superficial matter, and deserved rather to be effaced with a sponge than to be perpetuated by the press.[177] There is something unfinished about the work, because the author himself was still feeling his way towards that great alteration which he had at heart; as yet he has no wish to seek for a reform from without the Church, he not only values the authority of the Church and the belief she expounds, but also, on the whole, the learned tradition of previous ages with which his rather scanty knowledge of Scholasticism made him conversant. This, however, did not prevent him attacking the real or imaginary abuses of the Schoolmen, nor was his esteem for the Church and his Order great enough to hinder him from criticising, rightly or wrongly, the condition and institutions of the Church and of monasticism.

The statement made by him in 1537, that he discovered his new doctrine at the time he took his degree as Doctor, i.e. in 1512, cannot therefore be taken as chronologically accurate. His words, in a sermon preached on May 21, were: “Now we have again reached the light, but I reached it when I became a Doctor ... you should know that Christ is not sent as a judge.”[178]

3. Excerpts from the Oldest Sermons. His Adversaries

In the sermons which Luther, during his professorship, preached at Wittenberg in 1515-16, we notice the cutting, and at times ironical, censure with which he speaks to the people of the abuses and excesses which pervaded the exercise of the priestly office, particularly preaching. He is displeased with certain excesses in the veneration of the Saints, and reproves what he considers wrong in the popular celebration of the festivals of the Church and in other matters. These religious discourses contain many beautiful thoughts and give proof, as do the lectures also, of a rich imagination and great knowledge of the Bible. But even apart from the harsh denunciation of the conditions in the Church, the prevailing tone is one of too great hastiness and self-sufficiency, nor are the Faithful treated justly. It was not surprising that remarks were made, and that he was jeered at as a “greenhorn” by the listeners, who told him that he could not “convert old rogues” with that sort of thing.[179]

He complains bitterly, and with some show of reason, that at that time preaching had fallen to a very low ebb in Germany. The preachers too often treated of trivial and useless subjects, enlarged, with distinctions and sub-distinctions, on subjects belonging to the province of philosophy and theology, and lost themselves in artificial allegorical interpretations of the Bible. In their recommendation of popular devotions they sometimes went to extremes and sometimes lapsed into platitude. There was too little of the wealth of thought, power and inward unction of Brother Bertold of Regensburg and his school to be found in the pulpits of that day. Even in Luther’s own sermons during these years we meet with numerous defects of the time, barren speculations in the style of the nominalistic school through which he had passed, too much forcing and allegorising of the Bible text, and too much coarse and exaggerated declamation. To be pert and provoking was then more usual than now, and owing to his natural tendency he was very prone to assume that tone. The shyness which more recent biographers and admirers frequently ascribe to the young professor is not recognisable in his sermons. That he ever was shy can only be established by remarks dropped by Luther in later life, and, as is well known, such remarks cannot be taken as reliable sources of information concerning his early years. Were Luther’s later account correct, then we should be forced to ascribe to the young preacher and professor a burning desire to live in the solitude of his cell and to spend his days quite apart from the world and the debates and struggles going forward in the Church outside. Yet, in reality, there was nothing to which he was more inclined in his sermons than to allow his personal opinions to carry him to violent polemics against people and things displeasing to him; he was also in the habit of crediting opponents more friendly to the Church than he, or even the Church itself, with views which they certainly did not hold. Johann Mensing, one of his then pupils at the University of Wittenberg, speaks of this in words to which little attention has hitherto been paid: “I may say,” he writes, “and have often heard it myself, that when Luther had something especially good or new to say in a sermon he was wont to attribute to other theologians the opposite opinion, and in spite of their having written and taught just the same, and of his very likely taking it from them himself, to represent it as a precious thing he had just discovered and of which others were ignorant; all this in order to make a name for himself, like Herostratus, who set fire to the temple of Diana.”[180] We may also mention here a remark of Hieronymus Emser. After saying that Luther’s sermons were not those of a cleric, he adds: “I may say with truth that I have never in all my life heard such an audacious preacher.”[181] These, it is true, are testimonies from the camp of Luther’s opponents, but some passages from his early sermons will show the tone which frequently prevails in them.

Already in the Christmas sermons of 1515 Luther does not scruple to place himself, as it were, on the same footing with the prophets, wise men and those learned in the Scriptures, whose persecution Christ foretold, more particularly among the last of the three groups. Even then his view was unorthodox.

“There are some,” he says, “who by the study of Holy Scripture form themselves into teachers and who are taught neither by men nor directly by God alone.” These are the learned in the Scriptures. “They exercise themselves in the knowledge of the truth by meditation and research. Thus they become able to interpret the Bible and to write for the instruction of others.” But such men are persecuted, he continues, and, as the Lord prophesied of the prophets and wise men and scribes that they would not be received, but attacked, so is it also with me. They murmur against my teaching, as I am aware, and oppose it. They reproach me with being in error because “I preach always of Christ as the hen under whose wings all who wish to be righteous must gather.” Thus his ideas with regard to righteousness must have been looked upon as importunate or exaggerated, and, by some, in all probability, as erroneous. He immediately launches out into an apology: “What I have said is this: We are not saved by all our righteousness, but it is the wings of the hen which protect us against the birds of prey, i.e. against the devil ... but, as it was with the Jews, who persecuted righteousness, so it is to-day. My adversaries do not know what righteousness is, they call their own fancies grace. They become birds of prey and pounce upon the chicks who hope for salvation through the mercy of our hen.”[182]

Such rude treatment meted out to those who found fault with him (and one naturally thinks of clergy and religious, perhaps even of his very brethren, as the culprits), the denouncing them from the pulpit as “birds of prey,” and his claim to lay down the law, this, and similar passages in the sermons, throw a strong light on his disputatious temper.

In a well-ordered condition of things the Superiors of the Augustinians or the diocesan authorities would have intervened to put a stop to sermons so scandalously offensive; at Wittenberg, however, the evil was left unchecked and allowed to take deeper root. The students, the younger monks and some of the burghers, became loud and enthusiastic followers of the bold preacher. Staupitz was altogether on his side, and, owing to him, also the Elector of Saxony. The Prince was, however, so little of an authority on matters theological that Luther once writes of him that he was “in things concerning God and the salvation of the soul almost seven times blind.”[183]

Luther’s notes on his Sunday sermons during the summer of 1516—a time when he had already expressed his errors quite plainly in his lectures on the Epistle to the Romans—afford us a glimpse of an acute controversy. At this time his sermons dealt with the first Commandment.

The Gospel for the 7th Sunday after Pentecost with the words: “Beware of false prophets” gives him an all too tempting opportunity for a brush with his adversaries, and, on July 6, he attacks them from the standpoint of his new ideas on righteousness. “Much fasting, and long prayers,” he cries, “study, preaching, watching, and poor clothing, these are the pious lambskins under which ravening wolves hide themselves.” In their case these are only “works done for show.” These Observantines, for all their great outward display of holiness, are “heretics and schismatics.” Thus does he storm, evidently applying his words to his brother monks of the Observantine party, who probably had been among the first to criticise him. The following remarks on rebellion and defamation make this application all the clearer.[184] “The true works by which we may recognise the prophets are done in the inner and hidden man. But these proud men are wanting above all in patience and the charity which is forgetful of self, but concerned for others.” “When they have to do works which are not to their liking they are slow, rebellious, obstinate, but they well know how to take away the name of others and to pass judgment on them.... There is no greater plague in the Church to-day than these men with the words: ‘Good works are necessary’ in their mouths; men who refuse to distinguish between what is good and evil because they are enemies of the Cross, i.e. of the good things of God.”[185]

Such a daring challenge on Luther’s part did not fail in its effect. Within as well as outside the Order united preparations were being made for a strong resistance, his foes working both openly and in secret.

Luther’s adversaries were again made the object of his public vituperation in two sermons preached on the same day a little later. This was on July 27, the 10th Sunday after Pentecost. In one sermon the passionate orator attempted to show the danger of the times; he describes how powerful the devil had become and how under the appearance of good works he was making certain persons “fine breakers” of the first Commandment. “And these venture,” he says, “to shoot arrows secretly against those who are right of heart.”[186] In the other sermon his opponents had to submit to being called—in allusion to the Sunday’s Gospel of the Pharisee and the Publican—real “Pharisees, who by reason of their assumed holiness and merits seek the praise of men,” whereas in reality, with their self-righteousness, they have merely erected an idol in their hearts.[187]

Even this was not enough however. The continuous complaints of those who thought differently from himself called Luther into the field again the very next Sunday (August 3).[188] They heard what they might have anticipated, as soon as the fiery preacher, whose appearance was doubtless greeted by his pupils and adherents with looks of joy, got to work on his thesis: To place our hope in anything but God, even in the merit of our good works, is to have false idols before God. Then the stream of words flowed apace against the “proud saints,” against the presumptuous assurance of salvation on the part of the servitors of works, against the fools who make the narrow way to heaven still narrower, against the A B C pupils, who know nothing outside their own works. “These are old stagers,” he cries, because, like certain horses who only go along one track, they know only the one path of their own works. As though he recollected his own short-lived zeal for the work of the Order, he adds: “At the commencement, when a man first enters on the path of the religious life he has to exercise himself in many good works, fasts, vigils, prayers, works of mercy, submission, obedience and other such-like.” But to remain permanently stuck fast in these, that is what makes a man a Pharisee. “The truly pious who are led by the Spirit,” he continues, in a vein of peculiar mysticism, “once initiated into these things, do not trouble much more about them. Rather they offer themselves to God, ready for any work to which He may call them, and are led through many sufferings and humiliations without knowing whither they are going.”[189]

Luther frequently spoke at that time in the language of a certain school of mysticism with which he was much enamoured. The following extract from the sermon under consideration, together with some thoughts on similar lines, from his synodal address at Leitzau, belong here.

“The man of God leaves himself entirely in God’s hands and does not attach himself to any works. His works are nameless at the commencement, though not at the end, because he does not act, but remains passive; he does not calculate with his own cleverness, or make projects, but allows himself to be led and does differently from what he had intended; thus he is calm and at rest in God. Whereas the self-righteous who abound in their own sense (‘sensuales iustitiarii’) are apt to despair of their own works—for they want to determine and name every word beforehand, and with them the name is the first thing and this they follow up with their works—the man of God on the contrary hurries forward in advance of every name.”

In the discourse which Luther wrote, probably in the autumn or winter months of 1515, for Georg Mascov, provost of Leitzau (see above, p. 65), and which was intended for a synodal meeting of the clergy, he says, in his most exaggerated fashion: “The whole world lies as it were under a deluge of false and filthy teaching.” The Word of God like a tiny flame is barely kept alive. Egoism, worldliness and vice are predominant. And the remedy? He will cry it aloud over the whole world: the only remedy is to preach “the word of truth” with much greater zeal. The greatest, “nay almost the only sin of the priests” is the neglect of the “word of truth” and it is much to be deplored, according to him, “that priests who fall into sins of the flesh make more account of them than of the neglect of the preaching of the word of truth.”[190]

The address deals further at great length with the holy regeneration of man in God. This is something which God works in us while we remain altogether passive: a man’s seeking, praying, knocking has nothing to do with it because mercy alone effects it. Man does nothing (“ipso nihil agente, petente, merente”); in this mystical regeneration by God, it is as with the natural generation of man: “he who is generated in both cases does not count, and can do nothing by his work or merits towards his begetting, but lies wholly in the will of the Father.”

As sons of God we must bear fruit—here the discourse becomes quite practical—and the purpose of this meeting is to demand it of the clergy. “We must not expose our Synod to the scorn of our enemies.” It is more important that chastity and every virtue should dwell in the priests than that statutes should be made with regard to readings, prayers, festivals, and ceremonies.

The vague, obscure mysticism which played a part in Luther’s spiritual development at that time, as well as his wrong, one-sided interpretation of the Epistle to the Romans, had, as already stated, led him into a heterodox by-way.

A cursory glance at the influence of Scholasticism and Mysticism on his mental progress, may perhaps be here in place.

4. Preliminary Remarks on Young Luther’s Relations to Scholasticism and Mysticism

In the years of Luther’s development the two great intellectual forces of the Middle Ages, Scholasticism and Mysticism, no longer exercised quite so powerful an influence as of yore, when they ruled over the world of intellect. Their influence on Luther’s views and his career was diverse. Scholasticism in its then state of decay, with its endless subtilties and disputatiousness, which, moreover, he knew only under the form of Occam’s nominalism, repelled him, to his own great loss. As a result he never acquired those elements of knowledge of true and lasting value to be found in the better schools, of which the traditions embodied the work of centuries of intellectual effort on the part of some of the world’s greatest minds. Mysticism, on the other hand, attracted him on account of his natural disposition, so full of feeling and imagination. He had been initiated into it at the monastery by the works of Bernard of Clairvaux, Bonaventure and Gerson, and, later, by the sermons of Tauler and the so-called German Theology. This study had been recommended him by Staupitz and also by his brother monks, especially by Johann Lang. It was, however, the more obscure and ambiguous writings and extracts from mystic works which appealed to him most, owing to his being able to read into them his own ideas.

As regards Scholasticism, his character predisposed him against it. Scholastic learning is founded on conceptual operations of reason; it aims at clear definitions, logical proofs and a systematic linking together of propositions. Luther’s mind, on the other hand, inclined more to a free treatment of the subject, one which allowed for feeling and imagination, and to such descriptions as offered a field for his eloquence. One of the chief reasons, however, for his lifelong dislike of Scholasticism was his very partial acquaintance with the same. He had, as we shall see, never studied its great representatives in the thirteenth century; he had made acquaintance only with its later exponents, viz. the Nominalists of Occam’s school, who gave the tone to his theological instructions and whose teachings were very prevalent in the schools in that day. He speaks repeatedly of William of Occam as his teacher. Of Luther’s relations to his doctrines we shall have to speak later: some of Occam’s views he opposed, others, which happened to be at variance with those of St. Thomas of Aquin, he approved. He would not have attributed to the latter and to other exponents of the better school of Scholasticism such foolish theses as he did—theses of which they never even dreamt—had he possessed any clear notion of their teaching. There can be no doubt that he also imbibed during his first years as a student at Erfurt, the spirit of antagonism against Scholasticism which Humanism with its craving for novelty displayed, an antagonism based ostensibly on disgust at the unclassic form of the former.

Already during the earliest period of his career at Wittenberg, as soon, indeed, as he began to preach and lecture, he commenced his attacks against Scholasticism.

He considers that Aristotle, on whom in the Middle Ages both theologians and philosophers had set such store, had been grossly misunderstood by most of the scholastics; all the good there is in Aristotle, he says, he has stolen from others; whatever in him is right, others must understand and make use of better than he himself.[191]

He often passes judgment on the theology of the Middle Ages from the point of view of the narrow, one-sided school of Occam, and then, with his lively imagination, he grossly exaggerates the opposition between it and St. Thomas of Aquin and the more classic schoolmen. The whole herd of theologians, he says, has been led astray by Aristotle; nor have they understood him in the least; according to him, Thomas of Aquin—the Doctor whom the Church has so greatly honoured and placed at the head of all theologians—did not expound a single chapter of Aristotle aright; “all the Thomists together” have not understood one chapter. Aristotle has only led them all to lay too much stress upon the importance and merit of human effort and human works to the disadvantage of God’s grace. Here lay Aristotle’s chief crime discovered by Luther, thanks to his own new theology.[192]

In his lectures on the Psalms Luther already tells his hearers that the bold loquacity of theology was due to Aristotle;[193] he makes highly exaggerated remarks regarding the disputes between the Scotists and Occam and between Occam and Scotus.[194] Peter Lombard, no less than Scotus and St. Thomas, comes in for some harsh criticism. But Luther ever reverts to Aristotle. He wishes, so he writes to his friend Lang in February, 1516, to tear off “the Greek mask which this comedian has assumed to pass himself off in the Church as a philosopher; his shame should be laid bare to all.”[195]

Such audacious language had probably never before been used against the greatest minds in the history of human thought by a theological professor, who himself had as yet given no proof whatever of his capacity.

His attacks on Scholasticism and the philosophical and theological schools up to that day, were soon employed to cover his attacks on dogma and the laws of the Church. In 1518 he places Scholasticism and Canon Law on the same footing, both needing reform.[196]

The learned Martin Pollich, who was teaching law at the University of Wittenberg, looked at the young assailant with forebodings as to the future. He frequently said that this monk would overthrow the teaching which yet prevailed at all the universities. “This brother has deep-set eyes,” he once remarked, “he must have strange fancies.”[197] His strange eyes, with their pensive gleam, ever ready to smile on a friend, and, in fact, his whole presence, made an impression upon all who were brought into close contact with him. It is an undoubted fact, true even of his later days, that intercourse with him was pleasant, especially to those whom he honoured with his friendship or whom he wished to influence. Not only were his pupils at Wittenberg devoted admirers of the brave critic of the Schoolmen, but, little by little, he also gained an unquestioned authority over the other professors, the more so as there was no one at the University able or willing to take the risks of a challenge.

The psychological reaction on himself of so high a position at the University must not be under-estimated as a factor in his development. He felt himself to be a pioneer in the struggle against Scholasticism, and one called to reinstate a new theology.

His attitude to mysticism was absolutely different from that which he assumed with regard to Aristotle and Scholasticism.

Luther speaks in praise of Tauler for the first time in 1516, though he had probably become acquainted with him earlier. At about that same time a little booklet, “Theologia Deutsch,” exercised a great influence upon him.

In a letter to Lang—who was also inclined to look with favour on Tauler, the master of German mystic theology—Luther betrays how greatly he was attracted by this writer. In his sonorous, expansive language, he speaks of him as a teacher whose enlightenment was such, that, though utterly unknown in the theological schools, he contains more real theology than all the scholastic theologians of all the universities put together. He also repeatedly assured his hearers that Tauler’s book of sermons had “led him to the spirit.”[198]

At that time Luther showed great preference for the exhortations of the German mystics on self-abasement, apathy and abnegation of self. “Theologia Deutsch,” that little work of an unknown Frankfort priest of the fourteenth century, which he came across in a MS., so fascinated him that, adding to it a preface and his own name, “Martinus Luder,” he published it in 1516 at Wittenberg. It was the first occasion of his making use of the press; this first edition was, however, incomplete, owing to the state of the MS.; the work was finally reissued complete and under the title which Luther himself had selected, viz. “A German Theologia,” in 1518. In the sub-title of the first edition he had called it a “noble spiritual booklet,” and in the preface had praised it, saying that it did not float like foam on the top of the water, but that it had been brought up from the bottom of the Jordan by a true Israelite.[199] In the first edition he had erroneously attributed the booklet to Tauler; in the second he says it is equal in merit to Tauler’s own writings. Yet, to tell the truth, it is far from reaching Tauler’s high standard of thought. Luther, however, assures us that, next to the Bible and St. Augustine, he can mention no book from which he has learned more of the nature of God, Christ, man and all other things, than from this work. When he forwarded a printed copy of the first edition to Spalatin (December 14, 1516), he wrote, that Tauler offered a solid theology which was quite similar to the old; that he was acquainted with no theology more wholesome and evangelical. Spalatin should saturate himself with Tauler’s sermons; “taste and see how sweet the Lord is, after you have first tasted and seen how bitter is everything that is ourselves.”[200]

In addition to the authors mentioned, the mysticism of Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite and of Gerard Groot, the founder of the Community of the Brethren of the Common Life, were known to him. That he was, or had been, fond of reading the writings of St. Bernard, we may guess from his many—often misunderstood—quotations from the same.

Luther was also well able, whilst under the influence of that inwardness which he loved so much in the mystics, to make his own their truly devotional and often moving language.

In a friendly letter he comforts, as follows, an Augustinian at Erfurt, Georg Leiffer, regarding his spiritual troubles: “The Cross of Christ is distributed throughout the whole world and each one gets a small piece of it. Do not throw yours away, but lay it, like a sacred relic, in a golden shrine, i.e. in a heart filled with gentle charity. For even the wrongs which we suffer from men, persecutions, passion and hatred, which are caused us either by the wicked or by those who mean well, are priceless relics, which have not indeed, like the wood of the cross, been hallowed by contact with our Lord’s body, but which have been blessed by His most loving heart, encompassed by His friendly, Divine Will, kissed and sanctified. The curse becomes a blessing, insult becomes righteousness, suffering becomes an aureole, and the cross a joy. Farewell, sweet father and brother, and pray for me.”

5. Excerpts from the Earliest Letters

The above letter of Luther’s is one of the few remaining which belong to that transition period in his life. His letters are naturally not devoid of traces of the theological change which was going forward within him, and they may therefore be considered among the precursors of his future doctrine.

His new theological standpoint is already apparent in the charitable and sympathetic letter of encouragement which, as Rural Vicar, he sent to one of his brother monks about that time. “Learn, my sweet brother,” he writes to George Spenlein, an Augustinian of the monastery of Memmingen, “learn Christ and Him Crucified, learn to sing to Him, and, despairing of your own self, say to Him: Thou, Lord Jesus, art my righteousness, but I am Thy sin; Thou hast accepted what I am and given me what Thou art; Thou hast thus become what Thou wast not, and what I was not I have received.... Never desire,” he exhorts him, “a purity so great as to make you cease thinking yourself, nay being, a sinner; for Christ dwells only in sinners; He came down from heaven where He dwells in the righteous in order to live also in sinners. If you ponder upon His love, then you will become conscious of His most sweet consolation. What were the use of His death had we to attain to peace of conscience by our own trouble and labour? Therefore only in Him will you find peace through a trustful despair of yourself and your works.”[201]

A similar mystical tone (we are not here concerned with the theology it implied) shows itself also here and there in Luther’s later correspondence. The life of public controversy in which he was soon to engage was certainly not conducive to the peaceful, mystical tone of thought and to the cultivation of the interior spirit; as might have been expected, the result of the struggle was to cast his feeling and his mode of thought in a very different mould. It was impossible for him to become the mystic some people have made him out to be owing to the distractions and excitement of his life of struggle.[202]

In the above letter to Spenlein, Luther speaks of this monk’s relations to his brethren. Spenlein had previously been in the monastery at Wittenberg, where Luther had known him as a zealous monk, much troubled about the details of the Rule, and who even found it difficult to have to live with monks who were less exact in their observance. “When you were with us,” says the writer, “you were under the impression, or rather in the error in which I also was at one time held captive, and of which I have not even now completely rid myself (‘nondum expugnavi’), that it is necessary to perform good works until one is confident of being able to appear before God decked out, as it were, in deeds and merits, a thing which is utterly impossible.” Luther is desirous of hearing what Spenlein now thinks, “whether he has not at last grown sick of self-righteousness and learnt to breathe freely and trust in the righteousness of Christ.” “If, however, you believe firmly in the righteousness of Christ—and cursed be he who does not—then you will be able to bear with careless and erring brothers patiently and charitably; you will make their sins your own,” as Christ does with ours, “and in whatever good you do, in that you will allow them to participate ... be as one of them and bear with them. To think of flight and solitude, and to wish to be far away from those who we think are worse than ourselves, that is an unhappy righteousness.... On the contrary, if you are a lily and a rose of Christ, then remember that you must be among thorns, and beware of becoming yourself a thorn by impatience, rash judgment and secret pride.... If Christ had willed to live only amongst the good or to die only for His friends, for whom, pray, would He ever have died, or with whom would He have lived?”

Spenlein was then no longer living in a monastery subject to the Rural Vicar. It is even probable that he had left Wittenberg and the new Vicar’s district on account of differences of opinion on the matter of Observance. He betook himself to the imperial city of Memmingen, presumably because a different spirit prevailed in the monastery there. This would seem to explain how Luther came to speak to this doubtless most worthy religious of “unhappy righteousness,” interpreting the state of the case in his own perverse fashion.

Among the other letters despatched in 1516 that to Lang at Erfurt deserves special attention; in it Luther expresses himself in confidence, quite openly, on the disapproval of his work and of his theological standpoint which was showing itself at Wittenberg and at Erfurt.[203]

His study of St. Augustine had put him in a position to recognise, on internal grounds, that a work, “On true and false penance,” generally attributed to this African Father, was not really his. He tells his friend that his opinion of the book had “given great offence to all”; though the insipid contents of the same were so far removed from the spirit of Augustine, yet it was esteemed because it had been quoted and employed by Gratian and Peter Lombard as one of Augustine’s works. That he had been aware of this and nevertheless had stood up for the truth, that was his crime, which had aroused the enmity particularly of Dr. Carlstadt; not, however, that he cared very much; both Lombard and Gratian had done much harm to consciences by means of this stupid book.

His opinion regarding the spuriousness of the work was in the end generally accepted, even, for instance, by Bellarmine; Trithemius, moreover, had been of the same opinion before Luther’s time; in his attacks on its contents, however, Luther, led astray by his false ideas of penance, exceeded all bounds, and thus vexed, beyond measure, his colleagues who at that time still held the opposite view.

According to this letter, he had also challenged all the critics of his new ideas in a disputation held by one of his pupils under his direction. “They barked and screeched at me on account of my lectures, but their mouths were to be stopped and the opinions of others heard.” It was a question of defending his erroneous doctrine, regarding the absolute helplessness of nature, which he had meantime formulated, and to which we shall return immediately. In consequence, he says, all the “Gabrielists” (i.e. followers of the scholastic Gabriel Biel) here, as well as in the Faculty at Erfurt, were nonplussed. But I know my Gabriel quite as well as his own wonderful, wonderstruck worshippers; “he writes well, but as soon as he touches on grace, charity, hope, and faith, then, like Scotus his leader, he treads in the footprints of Pelagius.” Luther was quite free to dissent from the view, even of so good a professor as Biel, in this question of grace and virtue, but, already at that time, he had denounced as Pelagian several doctrines of the Church. Among those who were angered was the theologian Nicholas von Amsdorf, who took his licentiate at the same time as Luther, and became later on his close friend. Amsdorf secretly sent one of Luther’s theses, of which he disapproved, to Erfurt, but afterwards allowed himself to be pacified.

The humanistic tendency which was at that time beginning to make its way had, as we see from the letters, little part in the rise of the Lutheran movement at Wittenberg.

The view that Luther’s new teaching was due to the direct influence of the mode of thought of such men as Hutten, Crotus and Mutian is incorrect. On the contrary, Luther, full as he was of his one-sided supra-naturalism, was bound to disapprove of the Humanist ideal and made no secret of his disapproval. In his letters in 1516 he also found fault with the satirical and frivolous attacks of the Humanists on the state of the Church and the theological learning of the day. He considered the “Epistolæ obscurorum virorum” impudent, and called the author a clown.[204] A similar work by the same group of Humanists against the “Theologasters,” entitled “Tenor supplicationis Pasquillianæ”—as he informs Spalatin, himself a Humanist—he had held up to the ridicule of his colleagues, as it richly deserved on account of the invective and slanders which it contained.[205]

He appealed to Spalatin to draw the attention of Erasmus to his misapprehension of righteousness as it appears in the Epistle to the Romans; he says that Erasmus overrates the virtues of heathen heroes, whereas even the most blameless of men, even Fabricius and Regulus, were miles away from righteousness; outside of faith in Christ there is, according to him, no righteousness whatever; Aristotle, whom everybody follows, likewise knew nothing of this righteousness; but Paul and Augustine teach it; what Paul calls self-righteousness is not merely, as Erasmus says, a righteousness founded on the observances of the Mosaic Law, but any righteousness whatever which springs out of works, or out of the observance of any law; Paul also teaches original sin in the fifth chapter of the Epistle to the Romans, a fact which Erasmus wrongly denies. With regard to Augustine, he could unfold to him (Erasmus) St. Paul’s meaning better than he thinks, but he should diligently read the writings against the Pelagians, above all the De Spiritu et littera. Augustine there takes a firm stand on the foundation of the earlier Fathers (Luther’s quotations from his authorities show how much the study had fascinated him). But after Augustine’s day, dead literalism became the general rule. Lyra’s Bible Commentary, for instance, is full of it; the right interpretation of Holy Scripture is also wanting in Faber Stapulensis, notwithstanding his many excellencies. Hence, he writes, we must fall back on Augustine, on Augustine rather than on Jerome to whom Erasmus gives the preference in Bible matters, for Jerome keeps too much to the historical side; he recommends Augustine not merely because he is an Augustinian monk, for formerly he himself did not think him worthy of consideration until he “fell in” (incidissem) with his books.[206]

Augustine’s “On the Spirit and the Letter,” a work dedicated to Marcellinus, and dating from the end of 412, with which Luther had become acquainted in 1515, had a lasting influence on him. In this book the great Doctor of the Church strikes at the very root of Pelagianism and shows the necessity, for the accomplishment of supernatural good works (“facere et perficere bonum”), of inward grace which he calls “spiritus” in contradistinction to outward grace which he terms “littera.” Luther, however, referred this necessity more and more to everything good, even to what is purely natural, hence his loud accusations soon after against the theology of the Church as savouring of Pelagianism.

Humanism at that time stood for a Pelagian view of life and therefore could not be altogether sympathetic to Luther. Its influence on him, especially in his youth, cannot, however, be altogether disregarded; he had been brought into too close contact with it in his student days and also during his theological course at Erfurt, and his mind was too lively and too open to the currents of the time for him not to have felt something of its effects. The very extravagance of his criticism of things theological may, in part, be traced back to the example of the Humanists.

From Luther’s lectures on the Psalms, as well as from his sermons and letters till 1516 inclusive, we have adduced various elements which may be considered to forebode the greater and more important change yet to come. They are, indeed, not exactly precursors of what one designates usually as the Reformation, but rather of the new Lutheran theology which was responsible for that upheaval in the ecclesiastical, ethical and social sphere which became known as the Reformation.

6. The Theological Goal

Before continuing in a more systematic form the examination of the origin of Luther’s new theology, of which we have just seen some of the antecedents, we must cast a glance at the erroneous theological result which Luther had already reached in 1515-16, and which must be considered as the goal of his actual development.

Several of the above passages, from sermons and letters of the years 1515-16, have already in part betrayed the result. It appears, however, in full in the lectures on the Epistle to the Romans delivered between the autumn, 1515, and the summer, 1516, already several times referred to.[207] Everyone who has followed the course of Luther research during the last decade will recall the commotion aroused when Denifle announced the discovery in the Vatican Library of a copy hitherto unknown of Luther’s youthful work (Palat. 1826). Much labour has since been expended in connection with the numerous passages quoted from it by this scholar. A popular Protestant history of dogma even attempted to arrange Denifle’s quotations so as to form with them a complete picture.[208] Meanwhile a complete edition of the lectures on the Epistle to the Romans has been brought out by Johann Ficker which will serve as the foundation for a proper treatment of the new material. It may, however, be of interest, and serve to recall the literary movement of the last few years, if we here sum up Luther’s errors of 1516 according to the extracts from the lectures on the Epistle to the Romans adduced by Denifle. The present writer, on the ground of his study of the Vatican copy undertaken previous to the appearance of Ficker’s edition, can assure the reader that the extracts really give the kernel of the lectures. Some additions which he then noted as elucidating Denifle’s excerpts are given in the notes according to the MS. and alongside of the quotations from Denifle; everywhere, however, Ficker’s new edition has also been quoted, reference being made to the scholia, or to the glosses, on the Epistle to the Romans, according as the passages are taken from the one or the other part of Luther’s Commentary.

The Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans really represents the first taking shape of Luther’s heretical views. From the very beginning he expresses some of them without concealment. It is clear that during his preparation for these lectures in the summer and early autumn of 1515 things within him had reached a climax, and, overcoming all scruples, he determined to take the decisive step of laying the result of his new and quite peculiar views before his audience at the University. At the very commencement his confident theses declare that the commentator will deduce everything from Paul, and as we proceed we see more and more clearly how his immersion in his mistaken interpretation of the Epistle to the Romans—that deep well of apostolic teaching—led him to propound the false doctrines born of his earlier antipathy for Scholasticism and liking for pseudo-mysticism.

In the very first pages Luther endeavours to show how imputed righteousness is the principal doctrine advocated by St. Paul in the Epistle to the Romans. Justification by faith alone and the new appreciation of works is expressed quite openly.

“God has willed to save us,” this he represents as the sum total of the Epistle, “not by our own but by extraneous righteousness and wisdom, not by such as is in us or produced by our inner self, but by that which comes to us from elsewhere.” “We must rest altogether on an extraneous and foreign righteousness,” he repeats, “and therefore destroy our own, i.e. our homely righteousness” (“non per domesticam sed per extraneam iustitiam,” etc.).[209] So fascinated is he by the terrifying picture of self-righteousness and holiness by works, that he is more than inclined to weaken the inclination for good works, though he indeed declares them necessary: according to him they produce in man a self-consciousness which prevents him regarding himself as unrighteous and as needing the justification of Christ. The truly righteous, such are his actual words, always believe “that they are sinners ... they sigh until they are completely cured of concupiscence, a release which takes place at death.” Everyone must be distrustful even of his good intentions, he tells his adversaries, i.e. “those who trust in themselves, who, thinking they are in possession of God’s grace, cease to prove themselves, and sink daily into greater lukewarmness.” He asks ironically whether “they acted from the pure love of God,” for now, erroneously, he will allow only the purest love of God as a motive.[210] He writes: “he who thinks, that the greater his works, the more sure he is of salvation shows himself to be an unbeliever, a proud man and a contemner of the word. It does not depend at all on the multitude of works [in the right sense this was admitted by the old theologians]; it is nothing but temptation to pay any attention to this.” It is mere “wisdom of the flesh,” he thinks, for anyone to pay attention to the “difference of works” rather than to the word, particularly the inward word and its impulses.[211]

Here in his mystical language he states the following paradoxical thesis: “the wisdom of the spiritually minded knows neither good nor evil (“prudentia spiritualium neque bonum neque malum scit”); it keeps its eyes fixed always on the word, not on the work.”[212] He concludes: “let us only close our eyes, listen in simplicity to the word, and do what it commands whether it be foolish or evil or great or small” (“sive stultum sive malum, sive magnum sive parvum præcipiat, hoc faciamus”).[213] As righteousness does not proceed from works we must so much the more cling to imputation. “Our works are nothing, we find in ourselves nothing but thoughts which accuse us ... where shall we find defenders? Nowhere but in Christ ... the heart, it is true, reproves a man for his evil works, it accuses him and witnesses against him. But he who believes in Christ turns at once [from himself] to Christ and says: He has done enough, He is righteous, He is my defence, He died for me, He has made His righteousness mine and my sin His. But if He has made my sin His, then it is no longer mine and I am free. If He has made His righteousness mine, then I am righteous through the same righteousness as He.”[214]

Here then the sinner, as Luther teaches in his letter to Spenlein (see above, p. 88 ff.), simply casts himself upon Christ and hides himself just as he is “under the wings of the hen” (p. 80), comforting himself with the doctrine of imputation. The old Church, on the contrary, not only pointed to the merits of Christ (see above, pp. 10, 18) but also to the exhortations of St. Paul where he calls for zealous, active co-operation with the Divine grace, for inward conversion in the spirit, for works of penance and for purification from sin by contrition in order that our reconciliation with God and real pardon may become possible. Hence, while the Catholic doctrine conceives of justification as an interior, organic process, Luther is beginning to take it as something exterior and mechanical, as a process which results from the pushing forward of a foreign righteousness, as if it were a curtain. He turns away from the Catholic doctrine according to which a man justified by a living and active faith is really incorporated in Christ as the shoot is grafted into the olive tree, or the branch on the vine, i.e. to a new life, to an interior ennobling through sanctifying grace and the infused supernatural virtues of faith, hope and charity.

Nevertheless Luther himself was affrighted at the theory of faith alone, and imputation. He feared lest he should be reproached with setting good works aside with his doctrine of imputed merit. He therefore explains in self-defence that he did not desire a bare faith; “the hypocrites and the lawyers” thought they would be saved by such a faith, but according to Paul’s words a faith was requisite by which we “approach Christ” (“per quem habemus accessum per fidem,” Rom. v. 2). Those are therefore in error who go forward in Christ with over-great certainty, but not by faith; as though they would be saved by Christ, for not doing anything themselves and giving no sign of faith. These possess too much faith, or, better still, none at all. Both must exist: “by faith” and “by Christ”; we must do and suffer gladly all that we can in the faith of Christ, and yet account ourselves in all things unprofitable servants, and only through Christ alone think ourselves able to go to God. For the object of works of faith is to make us worthy of Christ and of the refuge and protection of His righteousness.”[215] With this is connected Luther’s insistence on the necessity of invoking God’s grace in order that we may be able to fight against our passions and to bring forth good works, and in order that the passions, which in themselves are sin, may not be imputed by God.[216] Thus can “the body of sin be destroyed” and the “old man overcome.”[217] Luther admits, though with hesitation and in contradiction with himself, works which prepare us for justification.[218]

In spite of everything, in this first stage of his development, justification appears to him uncertain. He declares in so many words: “We cannot know whether we are justified and whether we believe”; and he can only add rather lamely: “we must look upon our works as works of the Law and be, in humility, sinners, hoping only to be justified through the mercy of Christ.”[219] He has no “joyful assurance of salvation”—which, in fact, had no place whatever in the new teaching as expounded by Luther himself—and its name is always drowned by the loud cry of sin. Even saints, on account of the sin which still clings to them, do not know whether they are pleasing to God. If they are well advised, they beg solely for the forgiveness of their sin which lies like lead on their conscience. “That is,” the mystic explains, “the wisdom which is hidden in secret” (“abscondita in mysterio”), because our righteousness “being entirely dependent on God’s decree remains unknown to us.”[220]

Luther cannot assure us sufficiently often that man is nothing but sin, and sins in everything. His reason is that concupiscence remains in man after baptism. This concupiscence he looks upon as real sin, in fact it is the original sin, enduring original sin, so that original sin is not removed by baptism, remains obdurate to all subsequent justifying grace,[221] and, until death, can, at the utmost, only be diminished. He says expressly, quite against the Church’s teaching, that original sin is only covered over in baptism, and he tries to support this by a misunderstood text from Augustine and by misrepresenting Scholasticism.[222]

Augustine teaches with clearness and precision in many passages that original sin is blotted out by baptism and entirely remitted;[223] Luther, however, quotes him to the opposite effect. The passage in question occurs in De nuptiis et concupiscentia (l., c. xxv., n. 28) where Luther makes this Father say: sin (peccatum) is forgiven in baptism, not so that it no longer remains, but that it is no longer imputed.[224] Whereas what Augustine actually says is: the concupiscence of the flesh is forgiven, etc. (“dimitti concupiscentiam carnis non ut non sit, sed ut in peccatum non imputetur”). And yet Luther was acquainted with the true reading of the passage—which is really opposed to his view—as he had annotated it in the margin of the Sentences of Peter Lombard, where it is correctly given.[225] Luther, after having thus twisted the passage as above, employs it frequently later.[226] In the original lecture on the Epistle to the Romans he has, it is true, added to the text, after the word “peccatum,” the word “concupiscentia,” as the new editor points out, in excuse of Luther.[227] But on the preceding page Luther adds in exactly the same way in two passages of his own text where he speaks of “peccatum,” the word “concupiscentia,” so that his addition to Augustine cannot be regarded as a mere correction of a false citation, all the less since the incorrect form is found unaltered elsewhere in his writings.[228]

As regards Scholasticism, Luther holds that its teaching on original sin was very faulty, because it “dreamt” that original sin, like actual sin, was entirely removed (by baptism).[229] This is one of his first attacks on a particular doctrine of Scholasticism, his earlier opposition having been to Scholasticism in general. The blame he here administers presupposes the truth of his view that concupiscence and original sin come under the same category, and that the former is culpable. Almost all the Scholastics had made the essence of original sin to consist in the loss of original justice, whilst allowing that its “materiale,” as they called it, lay in concupiscence, so that without any “dream” it was quite easy to conceive of original sin as blotted out, while the “materiale” or “fomes peccati” or concupiscence remained.[230] Other examples of how Luther, partly owing to his ignorance of true Scholasticism, came to bring the most glaring charges against that school, will be given later.

Actual sins remain, according to Luther, even after forgiveness, for they too are only covered over. Formerly, it is true, he admits having believed that repentance and the sacrament of penance removed everything (“omnia ablata putabam et evacuata, etiam intrinsece”), and therefore in his madness he had thought himself better after confession than those who had not confessed.[231] “Thus I struggled with myself, not knowing that whilst forgiveness is certainly true, yet there is no removal of sin.”

Not only does real sin continue to dwell in man through concupiscence, but, according to a further statement of Luther, the keeping of God’s law is impossible to man. “As we cannot keep God’s commandments we are really always in unrighteousness, and therefore there remains nothing for us but to fear and to beg for remission of the unrighteousness, or rather that it may not be imputed, for it is never altogether remitted, but remains and requires the act of non-imputation.[232]

But how, then, he must have asked himself in following out the train of thought of his new system, if, owing to the depravity of human nature as the result of original sin there remains in man no freedom in the choice of good? “Where does the freedom of the will come in?” he asks, as it follows from the Apostle’s teaching that “the keeping of the law is simply impossible” (“sæpius dixi, simpliciter esse impossibile legem implere?”).[233] He hesitates, it is true, to deny free will, but only for a moment, and then tells us boldly that the will has been robbed of its freedom (of choosing) good. “Had I said this, people would curse me,” but, according to him, it is St. Paul who advocates the doctrine that without grace there is no freedom of the will in the choice of good which can please God.[234] Here we have a foretaste of the doctrine Luther was to express at the Leipzig disputation and elsewhere, viz. that the freedom of the will for good is merely a name (“res de solo titulo”),[235] and of that later terrible thesis of his that free will in general is dead (“liberum arbitrium est mortuum”),[236] a thesis he defended more particularly against Erasmus.

The young Monk was thus prepared to admit all the consequences of his new ideas, whereas the Apostle Paul, more particularly in his Epistle to the Romans, recognises the ability of man for natural goodness, and speaks of the law of nature in the heathen world and the possibility and actuality of its observance. “They do by nature the things of the law” (Rom. ii. 14). Luther will only allow that they do such things by means of grace, and the word grace again he uses merely for the grace of justification. His opinion with regard to the virtues of the heathen sages is noteworthy. He says that the philosophers of olden time had to be damned, although they may have been virtuous from their very inmost soul (“ex animo et medullis”), because they had at least experienced some self-satisfaction in their virtue, and, in consequence of the sinfulness of nature, must necessarily have succumbed to sinful love of self.[237] Not long after, i.e. as early as 1517, he declares in his MS. Commentary on the Epistle to the Hebrews their virtues to be merely vices (“revera sunt vitia”).[238]

But what place is given to the virtues of the righteous in Christianity? “As even the righteous man is depraved by sin he cannot be inwardly righteous without the mercy of God.... In the believers and in those who sigh unrighteousness is absent only because Christ comes to their assistance with the fulness of His sinlessness, and covers over their imperfections.”[239] Even when we “do good, we sin” (“bene operando peccamus”), so runs his paradoxical thesis; “but Christ covers over what is wanting and does not impute it.” And why do we always sin in doing good? “Because owing to concupiscence and sensuality we do not perform the good with the intensity and purity of intention which the law demands, i.e. not with all our might (‘ex omnibus viribus,’ Luke x. 27), the desires of the flesh being too strong.”[240] The Church, on the other hand, teaches that good works done in the state of sanctifying grace are pleasing to God in spite of concupiscence, which, it is true, remains after baptism and after the blotting out of original sin which ensued, but which is not sinful so long as there is no consent to its enticements.

As regards the distinction between mortal and venial sin, we find Luther’s doctrine has already reached its later standpoint, according to which there is no difference between them. In the same way he already denies the merit of good works. “It is clear,” he writes, “that according to substance and nature venial sin does not exist, and that there is no such thing as merit.”[241] All sins, in his opinion, are mortal, because even the smallest contains the deadly poison of concupiscence. With regard to merit, according to him, even “the saints have no merit of their own, but only Christ’s merits.”[242] Even in their actions the motive of perfect love was not sufficiently lively. “If it might be done unpunished and there were no expectation of reward, then even the good man would omit the good and do evil like the bad.”[243]

With this pessimistic view of Luther’s we conclude our preliminary glance at the theological goal to which his development had led him. We will not at present pursue further the theme of pessimism which might be brought out more clearly in the light of the doctrine contained in his Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans regarding absolute predestination to hell, and resignation to hell as the highest act of virtue.[244] All the new doctrines we have passed in review may be regarded as forerunners of the great revolution soon to come; we see here in these questions of doctrine the utter lack of respect and the boldness which the originator of this revolutionary theology will, later on, manifest against the Church, when it became clear that, without being untrue to herself, she could not approve his teaching. Meanwhile the connection of these doctrines among themselves and with the coming world-historic movement calls for further elucidation. We need offer no excuse for attempting this in detail in the following pages. The history of Luther’s development has passed into the foreground of literary interest by reason of the works which have appeared within the last few years, and, owing to the numerous sources and particular studies recently published, the historian is now in the fortunate position of being able to offer a sure solution of much that has hitherto been doubtful on a subject which has always exercised, and doubtless will continue to exercise, people’s minds.

CHAPTER III

THE STARTING-POINT

1. Former Inaccurate Views

The views formerly current with regard to the origin of Luther’s struggle against the old Church were due to an insufficient knowledge of history, and might be ignored were it not that their after effects still remain in literature.

It will be sufficient to mention three of these views. It was said that the Church’s teaching on Indulgences, and the practices of the Quæstors or Indulgence-preachers, first brought Luther into antagonism with the Church authorities and then gradually entangled him more and more in the great struggle regarding other erroneous teachings and usages. As a matter of fact, the question of Indulgences was raised only subsequent to Luther’s first great departures from the Church’s doctrine.

Then it was said that the far-seeing teacher of Wittenberg had from the very first directed his attention to the reformation of the whole Church, which he found sunk in abuses, and had therefore commenced with a doctrinal reform as a necessary preliminary. As though Luther—this is what this childish view presupposes—had before him from the beginning the plan of his whole momentous work, or sat down to draw up a general programme for the reformation of doctrine, commencing with the fall of Adam. We are to believe that the Monk at once severed all connecting ties with the whole of the past, in faith as well as in the practical conception of the Church’s life; that he went through no previous long inward process, attended for him by a weary conflict of soul; that, in fact, such a world-stirring revolution had been dependent on the will of one man, and was not the result of the simultaneous action of many factors which had, at the outset, been ignored and not taken into consideration. The whole struggle for the “betterment of the Church” was a gradual development, and the co-operating elements led their originator, both in his teaching and his practical changes, far beyond what he had originally aimed at. When Luther, brooding over original sin, grace and justification, first began to set up his new ideas against the so-called self-righteous and “little Saints” of his immediate surroundings, he did, it is true, now and again speak excitedly of the reforms necessary to meet certain phases of the great decline in the public life of the Church; but the Doctor of Holy Scripture was, as a matter of fact, far more preoccupied with the question of the theology of Paul and Augustine than with the abuses in the Church and outer world, which were, to tell the truth, very remote from the Monk’s cell and lecture-room.

The third view is also incorrect which has it that it was rivalry between two Orders, viz. dissatisfaction and envy on the part of the Augustinians against the Dominicans, which set the Monk on his career. The Augustinians, it was said,[245] were annoyed with the rival Order because the preaching of the Indulgence had been entrusted to its members and not rather to so capable a man as Luther. Notwithstanding the early date at which this charge was made, even by Luther’s own contemporaries, the fact remains, that not only were there Augustinian Indulgence-preachers, as, for instance, Johann Paltz, but that Luther’s erroneous teaching had already made its appearance before he had as yet commenced his struggle with Tetzel, and before he had even thought of the Dominicans Prierias and Cardinal Cajetan. Jealousy against his adversaries, the Dominicans, afterwards added fuel to the flame, but it was not the starting-point.

Moreover, in treating here of Luther’s starting-point, we are not seeking to determine, as was the case with the three views mentioned above, the origin and points of contact of the whole movement comprised under the name of the Reformation, but only of the first rise of Luther’s new opinions on doctrine. These originated quite apart from any attempt at external reform of the Church, and were equally remote from the idea of breaking away from the Pope or of proclaiming freedom of belief or unbelief, though many have fancied that these were Luther’s first aims.

Points of contact have been sought for not only in Humanism and its criticism of Church doctrine, but more particularly in the teaching and tenets of Hus, Luther’s starting-point being traced back to his deep study of the writings of John Hus, which had ultimately led him to revive his errors; most of Luther’s theses, so we are told, were merely a revival of Hus’s teaching. This view calls for a closer examination than the others.

A priori we might easily fancy that he had been led to his teaching on the Church by means of the writings of Wiclif and Hus, for here we do find a great similarity. But it is precisely this teaching on the Church which is not to be found amongst his earlier errors; he reached his views on this subject only as a result of the conflict he had to wage, and, moreover, even then he brought them forward under varying aspects. Erasmus, it is true, thought it fair to say, not merely of his teaching on the Church, but of his teaching in general, that if “what he has in common with Wiclif and Hus be removed, there would not be much left.”[246] Erasmus does not analyse Luther’s assertions, otherwise he would certainly have experienced some difficulty in bringing out in detail his supposed dependence. We do not, however, deny that there may be some connection on certain points.

Luther himself is absolutely silent as regards having arrived at his ideas through Wiclif and Hus. He evidently considers himself quite independent. In his earlier years he even speaks very strongly against the Bohemian heretics and the Picards, as he frequently calls the Husites. In his Commentary on the Psalms he regards them simply as heretics,[247] and in his lectures on the Epistle to the Romans he once instances the “hæresis Pighardorum” as an example of the wilful destruction of what is holy.[248] Later, however, at and after his public apostasy, and even shortly after the Leipzig Disputation, he defends some of Hus’s doctrines, and the result of his perusal of Hus’s work, “De ecclesia,” was to make him more audacious in upholding the views it contains.[249] This quite explains the great sympathy with which he afterwards speaks of Hus and his writings in general, and the passionate way in which he blames the Catholic Church for having condemned him. He says in 1520: “In many parts of the German land there still survives the memory of John Hus, and, as it did not fade, I also took it up, and discovered that he was a worthy, highly enlightened man.... See, all ye Papists and Romanists,” he cries, “whether you are able to undo one page of John Hus with all your writings.”[250] That book of Hus’s sermons which he found as a young student of theology in the monastery library at Erfurt (p. 25), he declares that he laid aside because it was by an arch-heretic, though he had found much good in it, and had been horrified that such a man had suffered death as a heretic; as he had at that time convinced himself, Hus interpreted Scripture powerfully and in a Christian manner.[251] We also know that Luther relates that Staupitz had told him of Proles, his predecessor, how he disapproved of Johann Zachariæ, one of the most capable opponents of Hus, and that Staupitz had agreed: the latter also held that “Zachariæ had gone to the devil, but that Hus had been unfairly treated.”[252] This opinion reinforces that of Grefenstein, mentioned above.[253] Nor does Luther, when speaking of his later development, ever admit having read Hus and other heretical books, or being in any way indebted to them. On the other hand, he tries always to place himself above Hus. What Hus, according to him, discovered was quite insignificant (“minora et pauciora”); he only commenced bringing the light which had in reality to come from him (Luther).[254] He only “reproved the abuses and the life of the Pope,” he says on a later occasion, “but I put the knife to his throat, I oppose his existence and his teaching and make him merely equal to other bishops; that I did not do at first,”[255] i.e. I did not commence that way. It is certainly true that at the beginning he made no attempt to oppose the Papacy and the power of the Church.

At any rate, and this is what is most true in the above statements regarding Luther’s connection with Hus, the feeling against Rome which Hus had stirred up, and the memory of the latter, proved of assistance to Luther when he came forward and brought him a speedier success; he himself says on one occasion: “It is a tradition among honest people that Hus suffered violence and injustice,” and calls the belief that Hus was condemned by false judges “robustissima,” so that no Pope, or Kaiser or University can shake it.[256]

Protestant biographers, as is well known, are fond of representing the inward process through which Luther went in the monastery, agreeably with his own descriptions in later years.[257] Unable to find peace of conscience and assurance of salvation in the “works” of his monastery life or of the Papacy, his one aim had been to arrive at the knowledge of a “merciful God,” and for this purpose he had been obliged to unearth in Holy Scripture the long-forgotten doctrine of justification by faith. Some Protestant writers dwell not so much upon his longing for certainty of salvation as upon his desire for virtue and true righteousness. “Oh, when wilt thou become pious and do enough?”[258] Others again complete the picture by laying stress upon his recognition of the concupiscence which is always reigning in man and which is sin, and of man’s inability to keep the commandments; it was his recognition of this which “produced Luther’s theology; his whole doctrine of justification culminated in the warfare against sin.” All these descriptions are, however, based on an uncritical acceptance of Luther’s later accounts of his life in religion, accounts plainly inspired by his polemic against the old Church, and intended to illustrate his false assertion that, in the cloister and in the Papacy, the way to obtain grace from God was utterly unknown.

Here we will mention only cursorily some of Luther’s later statements, purporting to give a picture of his life as a monk.

To these belong the assertion that in the monastery he had not prayed with faith in Christ, because “no one knew anything” about Christ: that there the Saviour was known only as a strict Judge, and that he had therefore wished there were no Saviour: “I wished there had been no God.” “None of us” believed at all that Christ was our Saviour, and, by dint of works, we “lost our baptism.” We were always told: “Torment yourself in the monastery ... whip yourself until you destroy your own sin; that was the teaching and faith of the Pope.”[259] “It was a cursed life, full of malignity, was the life of that monkery.”[260]

The apostate monk’s object in all those statements regarding his interior or exterior experiences in the monastery was to strike at the Catholic Church.

We certainly cannot accept as historic the picture of religious practice, or malpractice, given in the following: whenever his eyes fell upon a figure of Christ, owing to his popish upbringing, he “would have preferred to see the devil rather than Christ”; he had thought “that he had been raised to the company of angels,” but found he had really been “among devils”; he had “raged” in his search for comfort in Holy Scripture; he had also continuously suffered “a very great martyrdom and the task-mastership” of his conscience. “Self-righteousness” only had counted for anything; so great was it that he had been taught not to thank God for the Sacrament, but that God should thank him; but, notwithstanding all these errors, he had always sought after a “merciful God” and had at last found Him by coming to understand His gospel.

The birth and growth of this fable in the mind of Luther as he advanced in years will occupy us later. The present writer may point out, that no convincing answer has been given to the objections against the legend which he made public even prior to the appearance of Denifle’s first volume,[261] and which were repeated therein independently, and at considerably greater length. On the Protestant side, too, much more caution is now being observed in the use of Luther’s later descriptions of his own development, the tendency being to use contemporary sources instead. This is seen, for instance, in the studies by Braun on Luther’s theory of concupiscence and by Hunzinger on Luther’s mysticism, which will be quoted later.

In explanation of the inner process through which Luther went, the primary reason for his turning away from Catholic doctrine has been attributed by some Catholics to scrupulosity combined with an unhealthy self-righteousness, which by an inward reaction grew into carelessness and despair. How far this view is correct, and how far it requires to be supplemented by other important factors, will be shown further on.

Meanwhile another altogether too summary theory, a theory which overshoots the mark, must first be considered.

2. Whether Evil Concupiscence is Irresistible?

Formerly, and even in recent times, many writers on the Catholic side have endeavoured to prove that the principal motive for Luther’s new opinions lay in worldliness, sensuality, and more especially sins of the flesh. In order to explain his teaching attempts were made to establish the closest connection between Luther’s views with regard to the survival of sin in man without his consent, the covering over of man’s guilt by the merits of Christ and the worthlessness of good works on the one hand, and on the other a nature ravaged by sinful habits, such as was attributed to the originator of these doctrines. The principal argument in favour of this view was found in the not unusual experience that intellectual errors frequently arise from moral faults. When, however, we come to examine Luther’s character more narrowly, we at once perceive that other factors must be taken into consideration in his inward change, so that, in his case, it is not easy to decide how far his new ideas were produced under the pressure of his own sensuality. It was taken for granted that, owing to habitual moral faults, and through constant indulgence in the concupiscence of the flesh, he had been reduced to a state of utter inward degradation. Now, in point of fact, beyond what has been already quoted nothing can be found regarding his moral conduct previous to his change of view. No other circumstances are known concerning Luther than those already mentioned and those to be given later. It is true that history does not possess the all-seeing eye of Him who searches the heart and the reins; the sources containing information concerning the youth of Luther, before and after his profession, are also very inadequate; nevertheless, we must admit that the only arguments upon which the assertion of his great inward corruption could historically be based, namely, actual texts and facts capable of convincing anyone, are not forthcoming in the material at our command.[262]

If Luther did actually teach the fatal invincibility of concupiscence (of this we shall have more to say later), yet he might well have arrived at this view by some other way than that of constant falls and the abiding experience of his own weakness and sinfulness. It is at least certain that sad personal experience is not the only thing which gives rise to grave errors of judgment.

Nor does the manner in which Luther represents concupiscence prove his own inward corruption. He does not make it to consist merely in the concupiscence of the flesh, and when he says that it is impossible to conquer concupiscence he is not thinking merely of this. When he speaks of concupiscence, and of a “fomes peccati” in man, he usually means concupiscence in the wide theological sense, i.e. as the attraction to every transgression which flatters our imperfect and evil nature, in particular to selfishness, as the centre around which clusters all that is sinful—pride, hatred, sensuality, etc.

Luther certainly teaches, even at the outset, as we shall point out later, that the will of man, by Adam’s Fall, has lost in our ruined nature even the power to work anything that is good or pleasing to God, and therefore that it is impossible for man, in his own strength, to withstand sin and its lusts.

But he does not bring forward this doctrine under circumstances and in words which give us to understand that he was guided by the intention of showing any indulgence to concupiscence; on the contrary, he would like to encourage everyone to oppose concupiscence by means of grace and faith. Numerous texts might be quoted which clearly show this to have been the case.

In what sense then does he allow the irresistibility of concupiscence? We shall find the answer in what follows.

He frequently expresses the truth, taught by faith and experience alike, regarding the continuance of concupiscence in man, even in the most perfect, and he does so in terms so strong that he seems to make concupiscence invincible. We can also see that he has a lively sense of the burden of concupiscence, that he cherishes a certain gloomy distrust of God’s readiness to come to man’s assistance—a distrust connected with his temptations on predestination—and that he undervalues the helps which the Church offers against evil desires. Finally, he sees in the very existence of concupiscence a culpable offence against the Almighty, and declares that, without grace, man is an unhappy prisoner, who in consequence of original sin is in the fullest sense incapable of doing what is good.

In his Commentary on the Psalms (1512-15-16) he still, it is true, upholds the natural freedom of man as opposed to his passions. In the Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans (1515-16), and frequently in the sermons of that period, he indeed sacrifices this freedom, but even there he insists that the grace of God will in the end secure the victory to those who seek aid and pray humbly, and he also instances some of the means which, with the efficacious assistance of God, may help to victory in the religious life. To this later standpoint of the possibility of resistance with the assistance of grace he adhered to his end. Exhortations to struggle not only against actual sins, but also against the smouldering fire of concupiscence—which must be extinguished more and more in the righteous until at length death sets him free—occupy many pages of his writings. The jarring notes present in the above teaching do not seem to have troubled him at any time; he seeks to conceal them and to pass them over. Never once does he enter upon a real theological discussion of the most difficult point of all, the relation of grace to free will.

Luther also speaks of our freedom and our responsibility for our personal salvation in his Commentary on the Psalms: “My soul is in my own keeping; by the freedom of my will I can make it eternally happy or eternally unhappy by choosing or rejecting Thy law.” Therefore Psalm cxviii. 109 says, “My soul is always in my hands,” and although I am free to do either, yet I have not “forgotten Thy law.”[263] He defends the principle of the theologians, that God does not refuse His grace to him who does his best (“facienti quod est in se, Deus non denegat gratiam”).[264] He teaches also that it is possible to prepare for grace which is always at hand.[265]

“Whoever keeps the law,” he writes in the lectures on the Epistle to the Romans, at a time when he had already denied the freedom of the will for good, “is in Christ, and grace is given him according as he has prepared himself for it to the best of his power.”[266] Without grace man is, it is true, unable to do anything that is good in God’s sight, but “the law of nature is known to everyone, and therefore no one is excusable” who does not follow it and fight against evil.[267] Grace, according to him, sets the enslaved will in the righteous free again to work for his salvation. “After he has received grace, he has been set free, at least to work for his eternal salvation.”[268] This remarkable passage together with its continuation will be considered later when we deal more fully with the Commentary on Romans. We may also draw attention to the fact, that in his Notes on Tauler’s sermons, written about the same time as the Commentary, quite against the supposed utter inability of the will for good, he acknowledges the natural inclination in man towards good—the so-called Syntheresis, or moral good conscience.[269]

In his lectures on Romans he insists that, “by means of works of penance and the cross,” concupiscence must be fought against without intermission, forced back and diminished; “the body of sin” must, according to the Apostle, be destroyed.[270] Luther must therefore certainly have regarded man as capable of resisting his evil passions, at any rate with assistance from above.

Of his later statements it will suffice to mention the following: “If I will not leave sin and become pious,” he says of the struggle against evil, “I may indeed strive to become the master, and God’s property, and to be free, but nothing will come of it.”[271] Or again: “As long as we live here, evil desires and passions remain in us which draw us to sin, against which we must strive and fight, as St. Peter says (1 Peter ii. 11 f.). We must therefore always exercise ourselves and pray always and fight against sin ... as often as you feel yourself tempted to impatience, pride, unchastity or other sins ... you must forthwith think how best to withstand these arrows, and beg the Lord Jesus that your sin may not gain the upper hand and overcome you, but that it may be conquered by His grace.”[272] “Do you wish to keep all the commandments,” he says later, “to be free from your evil desires and from sin, as the commandments require and demand, then see you believe in Christ.”[273]

Further, if we consider those passages in Luther’s earlier writings alleged as proofs of his belief in the irresistibility of concupiscence, we find that in every case they merely emphasise the inevitable continuance of concupiscence in man, without in any way implying the necessity of our acquiescing in the same, and without excluding grace. In the Heidelberg Disputation of 1518 he says for instance, “Why do we hold concupiscence to be irresistible? Well, try and do something without the interference of concupiscence. Naturally you cannot. So then your nature is incapable of fulfilling the law.”[274] Elsewhere also Luther lays much stress upon the indestructibility and the impossibility of rooting out of man the smouldering fire of evil, the “fomes peccati,” though he is wrong in making this condition equivalent to a culpable non-fulfilling of the law by man; he is mistaken not only in his common statement that man’s evil inclination, even though involuntary, is sinful in God’s sight, that it is in fact original sin, and that it would carry man to damnation were God not to impute to him Christ’s righteousness; he also errs by unduly magnifying the power of concupiscence, as though the practice of virtue, prayer and the reception of the Sacraments did not weaken it much more than he is willing to admit.

In 1515 he declares that evil concupiscence or sin “cannot be removed from us by any counsel or work,” and that “we all recognise it to be quite invincible (“invincibilem esse concupiscentiam penitus”);[275] invincible, i.e. in the sense of ineradicable, for which reason, as he again repeats here, it must at least be rendered innocuous by humble prayer for God’s help. In spite of the strong expression “invincibilis,” and in spite of the comparison he makes elsewhere between the evil inclination and Cerberus or Antæus,[276] he does not go further here than in another assertion in the Commentary on the Psalms which has also been urged against him: “the passion of anger, pride, sensuality, when it is aroused, is strong, yea invincible (‘immo invincibilis’), as experience teaches,” i.e. it appears so to the person attacked by it. He had just remarked that in such a case we must hope in God and despair of ourselves. He describes in the strongest terms, in the Commentary on the Psalms, the strength of concupiscence in habitual sinners who are not accustomed to turn to God’s grace: “the sinner who is oppressed by vice, and feels the devil and his body of sin forcing him to evil, allows the inner voice to speak constantly against sin, and severely blames himself in his conscience ... reason and the moral sense, remnants left over from the ruin of original sin, awaken in him and cry without ceasing to the Lord, even though the will sins, forced thereto by sin.”[277] We repeat, that in his Commentary on the Psalms he does not yet actually deny natural freedom in the doing of what is good.

The view that man, without God’s grace, is entirely lacking in freedom with regard to his passions—a view which, it is true, permeates Luther’s Commentary on Romans—was not the starting-point of Luther’s theological development. It was the end of the first stage through which he had passed. This doctrine reached later on its culminating point in his book, “De servo arbitrio,” against Erasmus. Here, at the head of his proofs, he openly confesses himself a determinist, admitting that God has decreed beforehand all man’s actions; any such determinism is, however, wanting in his earlier life, nor is it to be found in his Commentary on Romans; Luther does not yet show himself to be led by determinist ideas. Even in his work against Erasmus there are no forcible grounds for attributing the origin of his new teaching to his inward corruption. Therein he merely denies the freedom of the will for good without grace, though he allows it to be free in indifferent matters, a somewhat inconsistent theory owing to the difficulty of determining exactly the limitations of these indifferent things.

Neither the Commentary on the Psalms nor that on Romans gives us the impression of being the work of an immoral man, a fact which should also carry some weight. An author who at the first assault had capitulated to his evil desires would hardly have been able to conceal his low moral standard; he would rather have been tempted to join the Epicureans or the Sceptics, or the unbelieving ranks of the Humanists. Of anything of the kind there is no trace in the books last mentioned.

Their characteristic is rather—there is no harm in mentioning it now—a certain false spiritualism, a mysticism, which, especially in the interpretation of the Epistle to the Romans, frequently follows quite devious paths. In consequence of his unceasing opposition to self-righteousness, of his poor idea of God and of human strength, and of his false mystical train of thought, Luther came to dismiss human freedom and to set up the power of sin on the throne. Aristotle’s teaching regarding the natural righteousness which arises from good actions is particularly distasteful to Luther, and equally distasteful to the nominalistic critic is the doctrine of supernatural righteousness through infused sanctifying grace, which he prefers to replace by the imputation of the merits of Christ.

3. The Real Starting-point and the Co-operating Factors

The real origin of Luther’s teaching must be sought in a fundamental principle which governed him, which was fostered by the decline in his life as a religious and a priest, and more particularly by his inordinate love of his own opinion and by the uncharitable criticisms he passed upon others. This was his unfavourable estimate of good works, and of any effort, natural or supernatural, on the part of man.

This opposition to a principle, common to the Church and to monasticism, as to the necessity in which men generally and religious in particular stand of performing good works if they wish to please God, is the first deviation from the right path which we notice in him. He called it a fight against “holiness by works” and self-righteousness, and in this fight he went still further. He made his own the deadly error that man by his natural powers is unable to do anything but sin. To this he added that the man who, by God’s grace, is raised to justification through divinely infused faith and trust must, it is true, perform good works, but that the latter are not to be accounted meritorious. All works avail nothing as means for arriving at righteousness and eternal salvation; faith alone effects both. Not at the outset, but gradually, did he make his antagonism to good works the foundation of a doctrine built up under the influence of a lively imagination, a powerful and undisciplined self-confidence and other factors which will be mentioned below. In his controversy with the “holy by works” he had exclaimed (p. 81) “there is no greater pest in the Church to-day than those men who go about saying ‘we must do good works.’” His real enemies were soon the traditional Catholic belief and practice regarding good works and personal activity in general; he did not confine himself to expressing his dissatisfaction with the Observantines in his own Order or the possible excesses of other supporters of outward works.

It is easy to recognise how this opposition to works runs like a dark thread through the first beginnings of his teaching of the new doctrine and onward through the whole course of his life. We may here, starting at the commencement, anticipate his history somewhat.

“At the first,” so he says himself in later years, “my struggle was against trust in works,”[278] and this is confirmed by the MS. Commentary on Romans which he commenced in 1515 (see below, chap. vi. 3). The first occasion in his correspondence in which he allows his new views to appear is in 1516, in a recommendation to a friend that “he should cultivate disgust with his own righteousness and despair of himself,” that this was better than to do as “those who plague themselves with their works until they think they are fit to stand in God’s sight.”[279] He expresses himself in a similar strain on self-righteousness in sermons preached at this time.[280]

The same line of thought also appears in a paradoxical form, as the basis of a disputation held at Wittenberg in 1516 under his presidency. Man sins, so we find it said, “when he does what is in him” (“quod est in se”), and those who are “righteous in their own eyes” by reason of their good works, i.e. all who do not simply “despair of themselves,” are condemned. This ruling thought also pervades another disputation of one of his pupils in 1517, where we read: “every good work must needs at once make nature proud and puffed up,” and “hope is not given us by our merits, but by suffering [painful interior struggles], which root out merit,”[281] i.e. which destroy every feeling of self-satisfaction grounded on merit. He tells one of his confidants in the same year that his great aim was “to grant nothing to human works, but to know only God’s grace.”[282]

In his first German work, printed in 1517, the Commentary on the Seven Penitential Psalms, he opposes “all proud living and work and righteousness” and bewails the “spiritual pride, the last and deepest of all vices,”[283] with which, according to him, those are filled who seek for “safety and false consolation” in their works instead of simply embracing the “word of grace.” He places works so much in the background in his teaching at that time, that he brings forward this objection against himself, whether, instead of always speaking of grace, he should not speak more of “human righteousness, wisdom and strength.” Instead of defending himself he declares “a good life does not consist in many works”; to feel oneself “a miserable, damned, forsaken sinner” is better, even when God sends trouble of soul, which is “a drop or foretaste of the pains of hell,” and which renders the human corpse quite ill and weak; such suffering makes a man like Christ who also bore the same.[284]

When in 1518 he published his Latin sermon on Penance, its chief thesis was that man’s part in his reconciliation with God counted for nought; we must despair in order to attain contrition, at least from the motive of fear of God; we must merely submit with faith to the action of grace. “Whoever trusts to his contrition when receiving absolution, builds on the sand of his works and is guilty of shameless presumption.”[285]

He writes in the same year that blinded adversaries accuse him of condemning good works, more especially that he dared to declare war against rosaries, the Little Office, and other prayers, and yet the sum of his sermon was only this: “that we must not place our confidence in our own work.”[286]

Thus the depreciation of works is the prevailing note, even in his first public utterances; this it also remains.

When he began his attack on religious vows, he supported his campaign by preference on the ostensible worthlessness of human works for obtaining merit in heaven; vows were to be rejected because the heart must not seek its stay in works,[287] and in his attacks on the celibacy of the clergy and religious, he again declared that he was attacking the “false saints” who intrench themselves behind the holiness of the works accomplished by them in a state superior to that of family life, but that faith makes all outward things free.[288] This prejudice against works is the principal feature in his polemics; for instance, he explains to King Henry VIII in a rejoinder directed against him that the enemy he was called upon to overcome was the pestilential doctrine of the necessity of appearing before God with works (“velle per opera coram Deo agere”), whereas works were good only in the eyes of man.[289] In season and out of season, he pours forth his rage against the works in the Papacy with such words as these: Away with masses, pilgrimages, Office in Choir, saint-worship, cowls, virginity, confraternities, rules, and such-like, away with “the lousy works”;[290] and so he preached to his very end in 1546.[291]

It is not, however, sufficient to take as Luther’s starting-point his opposition to good works, though this always remains the chief feature in his doctrine. Further fresh light may be thrown on the enigmatical process of his inner change if we consider various influences which contributed to lead him to his new doctrine and to develop the same.

A preliminary glance at the case shows us, first of all, that Luther in his youth was trained in the theological school of Occam, i.e. in a form of theology showing great signs of decadence. The nominalistic, and more particularly the false anthropological speculations of Occam, d’Ailly and Biel, which did not allow its full rights to grace, called forth his opposition, and he soon lost all confidence in the old theology; in his exaggeration he went to the theological extreme contrary to Occamism and declared war against the ability of nature to do good. This was a negative effect of Occamism. This view encouraged him in his opposition to the “self-righteousness” which he fancied he saw everywhere, even in the zeal of the Observantines for their rule, especially when he had already fallen away from the ideals of his profession, from monastic piety and the spirit of the priesthood. A boundless self-reliance began to possess him, and led him forward regardless of all. This was the “wisdom of his own mind” of which he accuses himself in 1516 in a letter to a friend in the Order, speaking of it as the “foundation and root” of much unrest; bitterly he exclaims: “Oh, how much pain has the evil eye [this self-conceit] already caused me, and how much does it continue to plague me.”[292] We may take these words more seriously than they were probably meant. His egotism and pride were flattered to such an extent by his imagination that he seemed to find everywhere confirmation of his own preconceived notions. Having read Tauler he at once considered him as the greatest of writers, because he was able to credit him with some of his own sentiments. Then again in Augustine, the Doctor of the Church, he found, as he imagined, a true reflection of his new doctrine. Devoid of the necessary intellectual and moral discipline, he allowed himself to be blinded by a fanatic attachment to his own opinion.

Carried away by his own judgment and regardless of the teaching of all the schools, yea, even of the Church herself, he passed into the camp of the enemy, perhaps without at first being aware of it; he came to deny entirely the merit of good works as though they were of no importance for our salvation as compared with the power of faith, an idea in which he fortified himself by his one-sided study of Holy Scripture and by his misinterpretation of the Epistles of St. Paul, that preacher of the power of faith and of the grace of Christ. He was always accustomed to consider the Bible as his special province, and, given his character, it was not difficult for him to identify himself with it, and to ascribe to himself the discovery of great Scriptural truths till then misunderstood or forgotten; for instance, the destruction of man’s powers by original sin and their renewal by faith and grace. The false doctrine of the outward imputation of the merits of Christ came next. The school of Occam here prepared the way for him by its views on sanctifying grace and “acceptation” (imputation). Luther found in Occam’s views on this subject no obstacle, but rather a support. This positive influence on him of Occam will be dealt with below (chap. iv. 3), together with other positive effects which decadent Scholasticism exercised upon him. Just as it suited his violent character to declare in no gentle words the renunciation of personal merit of every kind for the imputation of the merits of Christ, so the tendency of his own religious life, which had become alienated from the ideals of his Order, encouraged him to make the whole moral task consist in a simple, trustful appropriation of the saving merits of Christ, in confidence, comfort and safety, notwithstanding the dissentient inner voices.

Further, his study of false mysticism (see below, chap. v.) helped to clothe his new ideas in the deceptive dress of piety. To himself he seemed to be fulfilling perfectly the precepts of the mystics to seek everywhere the spirit and make small account of outward things: he imagined that Christ would be truly honoured, and the importance of Divine grace effectually made manifest, by despair of our own works, yea, even of ourself. The power which a mysticism gone astray exercised in those early stages upon a mind so full of imagination and feeling cannot be overestimated.

The oldest letter we have of Luther to Staupitz is in itself a witness to its writer’s self-deception; to his fatherly friend he speaks quite openly and even appeals to his sermons “on the Love of God” in support of his own errors. Staupitz had warned him in a friendly manner that in many places his name stood in very bad repute. Luther admits in this letter, written four months after he had affixed the well-known Wittenberg Theses, that his doctrine of justification, his sermons on the worthlessness of works, and his opposition to the theology in vogue in the schools had raised a storm against him. People said that he rejected pious practices and all good works. And yet he was merely a disciple of Tauler’s theology, and, like Staupitz, had taught nothing else but that “we should place our confidence in none other than Jesus Christ, not in any prayers and merits and good works, because we are saved not by our works, but by God’s mercy.” If God were working in him, so he concludes enthusiastically, then no one can turn him aside; but if it was not God’s work, then, indeed, no one can advance his cause.[293]

We must assume that at the beginning of his alienation from the Church among other motives he was largely deceived by the appearance of good; there is, in any case, nothing decisive to show the process as purely material, as a result of his efforts to relieve himself from his moral obligations, or as due to a worldly spirit. His responsibility, of course, became much greater when, as he advanced and was able to review things more calmly, he obstinately adhered to his new views, and, as his sermons and writings prove, defended them, even against the best-meant criticism, with bitterness, hate and passion. Self-love, which, even in his earlier life, had held too great a place, now took complete control of him, and the spirit of contradiction closed the gates for ever against his return. Luther’s character was one which contradiction only served to stimulate and to drive to extremes.

Thus his spiritual pride was his real misfortune.[294]

In his case we find a sad confirmation of what is frequently observed in the falling away from truth of highly gifted minds; self-esteem and self-conceit suggest the first thoughts of a turning away from the truth, hitherto held in honour, and then, with fatal strength, condemn the wanderer to keep to the path he has chosen. Further concessions to the spirit of the world then follow as a consequence of the apostate’s continued enmity to the Church. Of the last moral decline so noticeable in Luther’s later life there is also no lack of similar instances, for it is the rule that after a man has been led astray by pride there should follow further moral deviations from the right path. The Monk’s subsequent breach of his vows and his marriage with a former nun was a sacrilege, which to Catholic eyes showed plainly how he who begins in the spirit of pride, even though his purposes be good, may end in the flesh.

At the earliest inception of Luther’s theological errors other elements may however be perceived which help to explain more easily his growing antipathy to so-called holiness by works. First, there was the real abuse then prevalent in the practice of works. Here we find a weak spot in the religious life of the time, nor is it unlikely that grave faults and repulsive excesses were to be found even in the Augustinian monasteries with which Luther was acquainted. We have already drawn attention to the formalism which in many cases had affected the clergy and the monastic houses. The often one-sided cultivation of exterior works, which, for instance, by the Indulgence-preachers, were proclaimed unfailing in their effects; the popular excesses in saint-worship; far-fetched legends and exhortations to imitate the extraordinary practices of saintly heroes; the stepmotherly treatment meted out in the pulpit to the regular and ordinary duties of a Christian; the self-interest, avarice and jealousy rampant in confraternities, pilgrimages and other public expressions of worship, faults which had slipped in partly owing to the petty egotism of the corporations and Orders, partly to the greed of their members, partly to a mania for false piety; all this may well have made a painful impression on the Wittenberg Professor, and have called forth his eloquent reproof. His tendency to look at the worst side of things doubtless contributed, together with the above reasons, to fill him with distaste for good works in general.

The extraordinary exaggerations of which he was guilty must, however, be imputed to himself alone. It has been said to his excuse that, as Rural Vicar, he had been able to acquire correct information regarding the state of things. But, as it happens, his frequent and unrestrained outbursts against abuses belong, at least in great part, to the time when he was a simple monk, who, apart from his journeys to Rome and Cologne and his stay at Erfurt, had seen little outside his cell beyond the adjoining walls of Wittenberg. His lectures on the Psalms and the Epistle to the Romans both offer strange examples of such exaggerations, though both were delivered before he had had any experience as Rural Vicar.

Finally his own morbid personal condition must be taken into account; the after-effects of his passing fit of scrupulosity, and the lasting feeling of fear which sometimes quite overmastered him. His inclination to doubts concerning his election remained, and therewith also the moral results which the fear of being predestined to hell would naturally exercise upon his peculiar temperament. He remained an outspoken predestinarian of the most violent type. (See chap. vi. 2.) He had to come to terms with this fear of hell, and his system shows the result; in many respects it appears as a reaction against the oppressive burden of the thought of eternal rejection.

His state of fear, however, as already indicated, proceeded not merely from the numerous temptations of which he himself speaks, but also from his own inward depression, from an affection, partly psychical and partly physical, which often prostrated him in terror. Only later, with the help of other facts of his inner life, will it be possible to deal with this darker side of Luther (vol. vi. xxxvi.). He imagined that during these fits, in which troubles of conscience also intervened, and which, according to his description, were akin to the pains of hell, he was forsaken by God, and sunk in the eerie night of the soul of which the mystics treat. He also considered them at an early period as a trial sent by God and intended to prepare him for higher things. In trying to escape from this feeling of terror, at the time of his change he embraced all the more readily ideas of false security which seemed to be offered by the appropriation of the merits of Christ, and the rejection of all attempt to acquire merit on one’s own account. Psychologically, it is comprehensible that this solution seemed to him to let a beam of sunlight into the darkness of his terror. Anxious to escape from fear he threw himself frantically into the opposite extreme, into a system of self-pacification hitherto unknown to theology. But even this new system did not serve to calm him in the first stage of his error. There was still something lacking, so he felt, in his doctrine, and to this he attained only in the second stage of the process by his discovery that the seal is set on inward peace by the doctrine of the absolute assurance of salvation imparted by Faith. (See chap. x.)

Morbid fears prevented any childlike trust in God taking root in a mind so inexplicably agitated as his. With what great fervour he prepared himself for his priestly ordination, and for celebrating his first Mass, may here be illustrated by his own statement, that he then read Gabriel Biel’s book on the Mass (“Sacri canonis missæ expositio literalis ac mystica”) “with a bleeding heart.” So he himself says later, when he also speaks of the work, then widely used, as “an excellent book, as I then thought.”[295] From the tone of his letter of invitation to his first Mass we can judge of his state of commotion. The confusion and trouble which he experienced at his first Mass, and the fear which seized him during the procession of the Blessed Sacrament, lead us to conclude that he was readily overcome by vain apprehensions combined with physical excitement. Here also belongs Luther’s later statement concerning the fears which he (and others too) experienced when in the monastery at the smallest ritual blunders, as though they had been great sins; such an assertion, though exaggerated and untrue, is probably an echo of his own troubled state during the liturgical ceremonies.

It is possible that those fears may have been the cause of his great pessimism with regard to human works. They may have contributed to make him see sin in what was merely the result of fallen nature with its involuntary concupiscences, without any consent of the will. Such fears may have pursued him when he began to brood over the doctrine of man’s powers, original sin and grace; we speak of his “brooding,” for his inclinations at that time were to a melancholy contemplation of things unseen. The timidity which he had acquired in the early days of his boyhood and at school doubtless had its effect in keeping him in such moods, apart from his own temperament.

On close examination of Luther’s theological studies we find that his preparation for the office of professor—so far as a knowledge of the positive doctrine of the Church, of the Fathers and of good Scholasticism is concerned—was all too meagre.

He had not at his command the time necessary for penetrating deeply into dogma or into its presentment by earlier exponents. What was said above of his course of studies must, however, be supplemented by some further details.

After his ordination in Erfurt, at Easter, 1507, he began the two-year course of theology to which alone the privileges of the Augustinians obliged him. In addition to the lectures, which, as was usual, were based on the Sentences of Peter Lombard, there was also the Office in Choir; the pupils of the Order were indeed on lecture days not obliged to attend Matins, Sext and Compline, but the latter had to be said by Luther privately, as he was a priest. While the lectures on the Sentences were still in progress, Luther was pursuing his scriptural studies. Before the full time had expired however, after about eighteen months of theological study, he was, as mentioned before, called to the University of Wittenberg at the commencement of the winter term, 1508, in order to deliver “Lectiones publicæ” on moral philosophy, i.e. on the Nicomachean Ethics of Aristotle. He was, it is true, expected to prosecute his theological studies at the same time by attending lectures, but for this he can scarcely have found much time, seeing that he had himself to give a daily lecture of one hour on so difficult a subject as the Ethics in the Faculty of Philosophy. A capable young man was needed by Staupitz to supply the requirements of the University, which was largely under his care, for the former lecturer on Ethics, Wolfgang Ostermayr, had, so it appears, suddenly left, and dire necessity caused the incompleteness of Luther’s philosophical training to be overlooked. Staupitz was the more willing to shut his eyes to what was wanting, as he was personally much attached to the highly promising lecturer, about whom moreover he had already his plans. That Luther was not particularly pleased at the way in which he was employed, we learn from his Table-Talk: “At Erfurt I was reading nothing but the Bible, when God, in a wonderful manner, and contrary to everyone’s expectations, sent me from Erfurt to Wittenberg; that was a nice come down for me.”[296] The word actually made use of in the last sentence was a slang expression of the students and implied that his new position was not to his liking. It was less the overwork than his antipathy to philosophy and Aristotle that made him feel uncomfortable; he himself complains: “violentum est studium, maxime philosophiæ” in his letter from Wittenberg to Johann Braun in Eisenach (March 17, 1509). In this letter he also confesses that he is longing to exchange philosophy for theology.[297] After a single term his professors thought him worthy of the degree of “Bacularius (Baccalaureus) Biblicus.” This was the lowest theological degree, and was conferred on him by Staupitz the Dean on March 9, 1509, according to the Dean’s Register of the Theological Faculty. Thus did he pass the two years of his course of theology.

Besides the lecture on philosophy he had now also to discourse daily for one hour on portions of Holy Scripture, teaching being then considered a part of the course of studies. In addition to this he was obliged to attend the theological lectures and disputations. “Indeed a colossal task,” says a Protestant Luther-scholar, “which shows what great demands Staupitz made on the powers of his pupils.”[298]

The next degree in theology, that of “Sententiarius” was to have been conferred on Luther, as we know, in the autumn of 1509, when suddenly, owing to internal disputes, he was recalled from Wittenberg to his monastery at Erfurt. What prospect of quiet theological study opened out before him there? At Erfurt his preparation again consisted principally in teaching and in disputing in his own peculiar way. As soon as the University had accepted him as “Sententiarius,” he had at once to give theological lectures on the Sentences. He was also employed in the monastery, together with Dr. Nathin, as sub-regent of house studies, i.e. in the instruction of the novices in the duties of their profession. At the same time he not only continued his accustomed biblical reading, but, in order to be able to prosecute it more thoroughly, began to study Greek and Hebrew, in which Johann Lang, an Augustinian who has been frequently mentioned and who was a trained Humanist, rendered him appreciable service. The eighteen months he spent in the Erfurt monastery were distracted by the dissensions within the Order, by his journeys to Halle and then to Rome and his intercourse with Erfurt Humanists, such as Petrejus (Peter Eberbach). After his return from five months’ absence in Rome, the dispute in the Order continued to hinder his studies and finally drove him to the friends of Staupitz at Wittenberg, as soon as he had declared himself against the Erfurt Observantines. Thence the affairs of the Order carried him in May, 1512, to the Chapter at Cologne, where the degree of Doctor of Divinity was conferred upon him. During his preparation for his doctorate he already began, urged on by Staupitz, to preach in the monastery church at Wittenberg, where the Elector once heard him and was filled with admiration. He was also always ready to assist others with their work, as for instance when he prepared for the Provost the address to be delivered before the Synod at Leitzkau. And when at thirty years of age, in October, 1515, he undertook, as Doctor, to deliver the lectura in biblia at the University of Wittenberg, this was not in his case the commencement of a career of learned leisure, but the filling of a position encumbered with the cure of souls, with preaching and much monastic business.

In view of his defective education in theology properly so called, we may well raise the question how, without any thorough knowledge of the subject, he could feel himself summoned to undertake such far-reaching theological changes.

“At the parting of the ways,” says Denifle, regarding Luther’s knowledge of theology, “and even when he had already set up his first momentous theses and declared war on Scholasticism, he was still but half-educated.... He knew nothing of the golden age of Scholasticism, and was even unacquainted with the doctor of his own Order [who followed the greater Schoolmen] Ægydius of Rome.” “He was a self-taught, not a methodically trained, man.”[299] In spite of his self-reliance, a feeling of the insufficiency of his education seems to have tormented him at the outset. We should not perhaps be justified in accepting what he said in later years, that he had at first “been greatly afraid of the pulpit” even when (in his second stay at Wittenberg) it was only a question of preaching “in the Refectory before the brethren.”[300] But according to his own statement, he expressed very strongly to Staupitz his fear of taking the degree of Doctor of Divinity, and two years later he declared that he had only yielded to pressure.[301] But Staupitz, who urged him forward with excessive zeal, had said in his presence when Luther preached before the Elector: “I will prepare for Your Highness in this man a very special Doctor, who will please you well,” words which the Elector did not forget and of which he reminded Staupitz in 1518.[302]

The fact that Staupitz made such slight demands in Luther’s case regarding theological preparation may be explained from his own course of studies. His previous history shows his studies to have been anything but deep, and this is a matter worth noting, because it is an example of how a solid study of theology was at that time often wanting even in eminent men in the Church. After he had been entered at Tübingen in 1497 as Master of Arts, he commenced (October 29, 1498), the biblical course, and, a little more than two months later (January 10, 1499), began to deliver theological lectures on the Sentences. Half a year of this qualified him for the Licentiate, and, a day after, he became Doctor of Divinity. “These untrained theologians,” says Denifle, after giving the dates just mentioned, “wanted to reform theology, and looked with contempt on the theology of the Middle Ages, of which they were utterly ignorant.”[303]

CHAPTER IV

“I AM OF OCCAM’S PARTY”

1. A closer examination of Luther’s Theological Training

It was not time only which was wanting in Luther’s case for a deep course of theological study, he was even denied what was equally essential, namely, a really scholarly presentment of theology such as is to be found in the best period of Scholasticism.

The great Schoolmen of the Middle Ages, with their finished system, combining a pious veneration for the traditions of the Fathers with high flights of thought, were almost unknown to him; at least, he never esteemed or made any attempt to penetrate himself with the learning of Albertus Magnus, Thomas of Aquin or Bonaventure, notwithstanding the fact that in the Church their teaching, particularly that of Aquinas, already took the first place, owing to the approval of the Holy See. Luther frequently displayed his utter ignorance of Thomism, as we shall show later.[304]

The nominalistic philosophy and theology offered him by the schools he attended has, with reason, been described as a crippled parody of true Scholasticism. In this, its latest development, Scholasticism had fallen from its height, and, abandoning itself to speculative subtleties, had opened a wide field to Nominalism and its disintegrating criticism. The critical acumen demonstrated by John Duns Scotus, the famous Franciscan Doctor (Doctor Subtilis), who died at Cologne in 1308, the late-comers would fain have further emphasised. Incapable as they were of producing anything great themselves, they exercised their wits in criticising every insignificant proposition which could possibly be questioned in philosophy and theology. The Franciscan, William of Occam (Ockham, Surrey), called Doctor Singularis, or Invincibilis, also Venerabilis Inceptor Nominalium, was one of the boldest and most prolific geniuses of the Middle Ages in the domain of philosophy and theology. His great works, composed during his professorship, especially his Commentary on the Sentences, his “Centifolium” and his “Quodlibeta,” are proofs of this. On theological questions concerning poverty he came into conflict with the Pope, his Sentences were condemned by the University of Paris, he appealed from the Holy See to a General Council, was excommunicated in 1328, protested against the decisions of the General Chapter of the Order, and then took refuge with Lewis of Bavaria, the schismatic, whose literary defender he became. He wrote for him, among other things, his ecclesiastico-political “Dialogus,” and even after his protector’s death continued to resist Clement VI. Occam died at Munich in 1349, reconciled with his Order, though whether the excommunication had already been removed or not is doubtful.

He revived Nominalism in philosophy and theology. His teaching was so much that of the schools through which Luther had been that the latter could declare: “sum occamicæ factionis,”[305] and speak quite simply of Occam as “magister meus.”[306] It cannot, however, be said, as it recently has been, that Luther “prided himself on being Occam’s disciple,” and that he “would not give a refusal to his beloved master”; for it was more in irony than in earnest that he spoke when he said: “I also am of Occam’s party”; and when, as late as 1530, he still speaks of “Occam, my beloved master,”[307] this is said in jest only in order to be able to accuse him more forcibly as an expert with the greatest of errors; nevertheless, he places Occam in point of learning far above Thomas of Aquin, the “so-called Doctor of Doctors,” whom he despised. Regarding, however, the esteem in which Occam was held in his youth, he afterwards said: “We had to give him the title Venerabilis huius sectæ [scholæ] primus repertor,” but adds: “Happy are you [my table-companions] in not having to learn the dung which was offered me.”[308] He felt compelled, nevertheless, to praise Occam’s dialectic skill and his inexhaustible acuteness, and for his part considered him the most gifted of the Schoolmen (“summus dialecticus, scholasticorum doctorum sine dubio princeps et ingeniosissimus”).[309] It was not only at a later period that he was ready to admit his weaknesses, for even at the beginning of his course, in the Commentary on Romans (1515-16), he attacks certain essential errors of Occam and his school.

His acquaintance with the master he owed, moreover, more to Occam’s disciples, i.e. to the later theologians of the Occamist school, more especially Gabriel Biel, than to his own reading of the voluminous and unwieldy works of Occam himself. We are already aware that, of the disciples and intellectual heirs of Occam, he studied more particularly the two well-known writers d’Ailly, Cardinal of Cambrai—whom Luther usually calls quite simply the Cardinal—whose ideas were very daring, and the humble Gabriel Biel, Professor at Tübingen, whose writings, clear, and rich in thought, possessed many good qualities.

Their one-sided Nominalism unfortunately led these Occamists to an excessive estimate of the powers of nature and an undervaluing of grace, and also to a certain incorrect view of the supernatural. We must add that they were disposed to neglect Holy Scripture and to set too much store on their speculations, and that, with regard to the relations between reason and faith, they did not abide by the approved principles and practice of the earlier Schoolmen.

The Occamist theology strongly influenced the talented and critical pupil, though diversely. Most of the elements of which it was made up repelled him, and as he regarded them as essential parts of Scholasticism, they filled him with a distaste for Scholasticism generally. Other of its elements attracted him, namely, those more in conformity with his ideas and feeling. These he enrolled in the service of his theological views, which—again following Occam’s example—he developed with excessive independence. Thus the tendency to a false separation of natural and supernatural commended itself to him; he greedily seized upon the ideas of Nominalism with regard to imputation after he had commenced groping about for a new system of theology. His greatest objection was for the views of his teachers regarding the powers of man and grace. This it was, more especially, which raised in him the spirit of contradiction and set him on a path of his own. To one in his timorous state such views were unsympathetic; he himself scented sin and imperfection everywhere; also he preferred to see the powers of the will depreciated and everything placed to the account of grace and Divine election. Thus, what he read into Holy Scripture concerning faith and Christ seemed to him to speak a language entirely different from that of the subtleties of the Occamists.

His unfettered acceptance or rejection of the doctrinal views submitted to him was quite in accordance with his character. He was not one to surrender himself simply to authority. His unusual ability incited him to independent criticism of opinions commonly received, and to voice his opposition in the public disputations against his not overbrilliant Nominalist professors; the strong appeal which he made to the Bible, with which the others were less well acquainted, and to the rights of faith and the grace of Christ, was in his favour.

2. Negative Influence of the Occamist School on Luther

Besides the recently published Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans various statements in his sermons, disputations and letters prove the opposition that existed between Luther and his own school. In the Disputation of 1517 entitled “Contra scholasticam theologiam,” for instance, he expressly names, as the opponents against whom his various theses are aimed, Scotus, Occam, the Cardinal, Gabriel, and, generally, “omnes scholastici” or “communis sententia,” “dictum commune,” “usus multorum,” “philosophi” or “morales.”[310]

Before we proceed to examine the individual points of Luther’s conflict with Occamism and with what he considered the teaching of Scholasticism as a whole, two general points of this opposition must be mentioned. His first grievance is the neglect of Holy Scripture.

A sensible want in the Divinity studies of that time lay, as a matter of fact, in the insufficient use of the positive foundations of theology, i.e. above all of Holy Scripture, and also of the tradition of the Fathers of the Church and the decisions of the Church in her office as teacher. “Luther had rightly recognised,” says Albert Weiss, “what harm resulted from the regrettable neglect of Holy Scripture on the part of so many theologians, and therefore he chose as his watchword the cry for the improvement of theology by a return to the Bible.”[311] “That Luther was moved to great anger by the Nominalists’ neglect of the Bible is not to be wondered at.”[312] “He would not have been Luther,” the same author rightly says, “had he not soon veered round to the other extreme, i.e. to the battle-cry: Scripture only, and nothing but the Scripture, away with all Scholasticism.”

This abuse, however, had already been reproved and bewailed by the Church before Luther’s time; there is no dearth of statements by the very highest authorities urging a remedy, though it is true more should have been done. Pope Clement VI wrote reprovingly to the University of Paris, on May 20, 1346: “Most theologians do not trouble themselves about the text of Holy Scripture, about the actual words of their principal witnesses, about the expositions of the Saints and Doctors, i.e. concerning the sources from which real theology is taken, a fact which is bitterly to be deplored.... In place of this they entangle themselves in philosophical questions and in disputes which merely pander to their cleverness, in doubtful interpretations, dangerous doctrines and the rest.”[313] But “with the prevalent spirit of formalism and disorder, embodied chiefly in Nominalism,” “a healthy and at the same time fruitful treatment of Holy Scripture had become impossible.... These were abuses which had long been calling for the reintroduction of a positive and more scriptural treatment of theology.”[314] Though the judgment passed by Luther in his later years on the neglect of Holy Scripture was somewhat too general (for it was historically untrue to say that Scripture had ever been altogether given up by the Church),[315] yet contemporaries agree with him in blaming the too extensive use of Aristotle’s philosophy in the schools to the detriment of the Bible-text. Long before, Gerson, whose books were in Luther’s hands, had laid stress on the importance of Holy Scripture for theology. “Holy Scripture,” he says, “is a Rule of Faith, which it is only necessary to understand aright; against it there is no appeal to authority or to the decisions of human reason: nor can custom, law or practice have any weight if proved to be contrary to Holy Scripture.”[316]

Luther, with palpable exaggeration, lays the charge at the door of theology as a whole, even of the earlier school, and would have us believe that the abuse was inseparable from ecclesiastical science. He speaks to this effect more and more forcibly during the course of his controversies. Thus in 1530 he says of the Scholastics, that they “despised Holy Scripture.” “What! they exclaimed, the Bible? Why, the Bible is a heretic’s book, and you need only read the Doctors to find that out. I know that I am not lying in saying this, for I grew up amongst them and saw and heard all about them.” And so they had arrived at doctrines about which one must ask: “Is this the way to honour Christ’s blood and death?” Everything was full of “idle doctrines which did not agree among themselves, and strange new opinions.”[317] Occam, he declares in his Table-Talk in 1540, “excelled them all in genius and has confuted all the other schools, but even he said and wrote in so many words that it could not be proved from Scripture that the Holy Ghost is necessary for a good work.”[318] “These people had intelligence, had time for work and had grown grey in study, but about Christ they understood nothing, because they esteemed Holy Scripture lightly. No one read the Bible so as to steep himself in its contents with reflection, it was only treated like a history book.[319]

It is true that the scholastic treatment of the doctrines of faith, as advocated by Occam against the more positive school, disregarded Holy Scripture to such an extent that, in the master’s subtle Commentaries, it hardly finds any place; even in the treatment of the supernatural virtues—faith, hope and charity—Scripture scarcely intervenes.[320] But it was unjust of Luther, on this account, to speak of the Schoolmen’s contempt for the Bible, or to say, for instance in his Table-Talk, about his master, Gabriel Biel, whose Commentary on the Sentences had become, so to speak, a hand-book: “The authority of the Bible counted for nothing with Gabriel.”[321] Biel esteemed and utilised the Bible as the true Word of God, but he did not satisfy young Luther, who desiderated in him much more of the Bible and a little less of philosophy. The “word,” he declares, was not cherished by the priests, and this he had already shown in his Leitzkau discourse to be the reason of all the corruption.[322]

The preponderance of philosophy, and more particularly the excessive authority of Aristotle, in the theological method of his circle offered Luther a second point of attack. Here also it was a question of a rather widely spread abuse which the better class of Schoolmen had prudently avoided. The Nominalistic schools, generally speaking, showed a tendency to a rationalistic treatment of the truths of faith, which affrighted Luther considerably. General ideas, according to the Nominalists, were merely “nomina,” i.e. empty words; Nominalists concerned themselves only with what was actual and tangible. Nominalism was fond of displaying its dialectic and even its insolence at the expense of theology on the despised Universal ideas. We can understand the invective with which Luther gives expression to his hatred of Scholasticism, though his right to do so arose only from his limited acquaintance with those few Scholastics whom he had chosen,[323] or, rather, who had been allotted to him, as his masters; the schools he attended were at that time all following the method of the Nominalists, then usually known as “modern.”

Already, in 1509 (see above, p. 22), a severe criticism of Aristotle appears in Luther’s marginal notes. This is in a gloss on Augustine’s work “On the City of God” which he was then devouring as a sort of antidote: “Far more apparent is the error of our theologians when they impudently chatter (‘impudentissime garriunt’) and affirm of Aristotle that he does not deviate from Catholic truth.”[324]

Luther’s later exaggerations need not be refuted, in which he complains so loudly of the idolatrous Aristotelian worship of reason on the part of all the Scholastics. It was in general perfectly well known regarding Aristotle that he had erred, and also where he erred; books had even been written dealing with his deviations from the faith. This, however, did not prevent many from over-estimating him. We must set against this, however, the fact that Luther’s own professor of philosophy in the University of Erfurt, Bartholomew Arnoldi of Usingen, had declared, like others before him, that those who represented the Stagirite as without errors were “not worthy of the name of philosophers, for they were not lovers of the truth but mocked at philosophy; they should just read their hero more carefully and they would find that, for instance, he made out the world to be without any beginning, a view which Moses, the prophet of truth, had shown to be an error; Scotus, too, wrote in the first book of his Commentary on the Sentences, that the works of Aristotle were more in agreement with the law of Mohammed than with that of Christ.”[325] Usingen was an earnest and moderate man, who did not shrink, even in his philosophical writings, from preferring Divine Revelation to the exaggeration of the rights of reason. “The inadequacy of philosophers is as apparent as the great value of the Sacred Books. The latter rise far above the knowledge attained by mere human reason and natural light.”[326] Owing to the fact that he had made no secret of his views in his intercourse with Luther, especially when they became more intimate on Luther’s entering the Order to which he himself belonged,[327] we can understand and explain the sympathy and respect with which Luther long after cherished his memory, though the path he followed was no longer that of his old teacher. Usingen was a Nominalist, but his example shows that there were some enlightened men who belonged to this school, and who did it honour.

In the course of time, regardless of the numerous examples giving him the lie, Luther came ruthlessly to condemn all the Schoolmen and the whole Middle Ages ostensibly on the ground of the pretended poisoning of the faith by Aristotle, but really because he himself had set up a contradiction between faith and reason.[328] He says in 1521 that the Scholastics, headed by Aquinas, “solus aristotelicissimus ac plane Aristoteles ipse,” had smuggled philosophy into the world, though the Apostle had condemned it; thus it became too powerful, made Aristotle equal to Christ in dignity and trustworthiness, and darkened for us the Sun of righteousness and truth, the Son of God.[329] Three years before he had declared in writing to his other professor of philosophy at the University of Erfurt, Jodocus Trutfetter, who was vexed with his theses Contra scholasticam theologiam, that he daily prayed to God that in place of the perverse studies in vogue, the wholesome study of the Bible and the Fathers might again be introduced (“ut rursum bibliæ et s. patrum purissima studia revocentur”).[330] Yet three years earlier, in his first lectures on the Epistle to the Romans, he had said to his pupils: “let us learn to know Jesus Christ, and him crucified,” and urged them not to waste their time in the study of the foolish whims of metaphysicians, but at most, to treat philosophy as a subject which one must be acquainted with in order to be able to refute it, and on the other hand to throw themselves with all their might into the study of Holy Scripture.[331]

There can therefore be no question, as we have seen, that his idea that philosophy was the ruin of the Church, an idea present in his mind even in his earliest public life, was founded on the many actually existing abuses, though his own ultra-spiritualism and his gloomy mistrust of man’s nature led him to feel the evil more than others, so that, in reacting against it, he lost his balance instead of calmly lending his assistance towards improving matters.

Luther’s reaction was not only against Occamism in general, but also against various particular doctrines of that school, especially, as stated before, against such doctrines as exalted the powers of nature at the expense of grace.

Here again he committed his first fault, the indefensible injustice of blindly charging Scholasticism and theology generally with what he found faulty in his own narrow circle, though these errors had been avoided by St. Thomas and the best of the Schoolmen. It has been pointed out that he was not acquainted with this real Scholasticism, nevertheless, in 1519, he had the assurance to say: “No one shall teach me scholastic theology, I know it.”[332] “I was brought up amongst them (Thomas, Bonaventure, etc.), I am also acquainted with the minds of the most learned contemporaries and have saturated myself in the best writings of this sort.”[333]

He, all too often, gives us the means to judge the value of this assertion of his. In the same year, for instance, he sums up the chief points of the theology which alone he had learnt, and calls it in all good faith the scholastic theology of the Church, though it was merely the meagre theology of his own Occamist professors.

In order to show all he had had to struggle with he says: “I had formerly learned among the monstrous things (‘monstra’) which are almost accounted axioms of scholastic theology ... that man can do his part in the acquiring of grace; that he can remove obstacles to grace; that he is able to oppose no hindrance to grace; that he can keep the commandments of God according to the letter, though not according to the intention of the lawgiver; that he has freedom of choice [personal freedom in the work of salvation] between this and that, between both contradictories and contraries; that his will is able to love God above all things through its purely natural powers and that there is such a thing as an act of charity, of friendship, by merely natural powers.”[334]

We are to believe that these were the “axioms of scholastic theology!”

Such was not the case. For all acts necessary for salvation true Scholasticism demanded the supernatural “preventing” grace of God.[335] Yet as early as 1516 Luther had elegantly described all the scholastic theologians as “Sow theologians,” on account of their pretended “Deliria” against grace.[336] His first fault, that of unwarranted generalisation, comes out clearly.

The second, more momentous, fault which Luther committed was to fly to the extreme even in doctrine, abolishing all that displeased him and setting up as his main thesis, that man can do nothing, absolutely nothing, good. Not only did he say: “I learnt nothing in scholastic theology worth remembering; I only learnt what must be unlearnt, what is absolutely opposed to Holy Scripture” (“omnino contraria divinis litteris”).[337] He also asserted at a very early period that Holy Scripture teaches that God’s grace does everything in man of itself alone without his vital participation, without liberty, without resolve, without merit. Such a statement does not indeed appear in the Commentary on the Psalms, but it will be found in his academic lectures on the Pauline Epistles, more especially in the Commentary on Romans. For a moment he thought he had discovered in St. Augustine the necessary weapons against the formalism of his school of theology, but now St. Paul appeared to him to give the loudest testimony against it; the Apostle is so determined in his denunciation of the pride of human reason and human will, and in presenting the Gospel of the Son of God, faith and grace, as the only salvation of mankind. Luther imagined he had found in Paul the doctrines which appealed to him: that all human works were equally useless, whether for eternal salvation or for natural goodness; that man’s powers are good for nothing but sin; if grace, which the Apostle extols, is to come to its rights, then we must say of original sin that it has utterly ruined man’s powers of thinking and willing so far as what is good in God’s sight is concerned; original sin still lives, even in the baptised, as a real sin, being an invincible attraction to selfishness and all evil, more particularly to that of the flesh; by it the will is so enslaved that only in those who are justified by grace can there be any question of freedom for good.

As regards Occam’s teaching concerning man, his Fall and his powers, so far as this affects the question of a correct understanding of Luther’s development: in the matter of original sin it agreed with that of Aquinas and Scotus, according to which its essence was a carentia iustitiæ debitæ, i.e. originalis; likewise it asserted the existence of concupiscence in man, the fomes or tinder of sin, as Occam is fond of calling it, as the consequence of original sin; on the other hand it minimised too much the evil effects of original sin on the reason and on the will, by assuming that these powers still remain in man almost unimpaired. This was due to the nominalistic identification of the soul with its faculties; as the soul remained the same as before, so, they said, the powers as a whole also remained the same.[338] The “disabling” of these powers of which St. Thomas and the other Scholastics speak, i.e. the weakening which the Council of Trent also teaches (“liberum arbitrium viribus attenuatum et inclinatum”),[339] was not sufficiently emphasised.

Gabriel Biel, whose views are of some weight on account of his connection with Luther, finds the rectitude of the natural will (rectitudo) in its liberty, and this, he says, has remained intact because it is, as a matter of fact, the will itself, from which it does not differ.[340] In other passages, it is true, he speaks of “wounds”; for owing to concupiscence the will is “inconstant and changeable”; but he nevertheless reverts to “rectitudo,” erroneously relegating the results of original sin to the lower powers alone. Following Occam, and against St. Thomas and Scotus, he makes of concupiscence a “qualitas,” viz. a “qualitas corporalis.”[341] Again, following his master and d’Ailly, Biel asserts—and this is real Occamism—that the will is able without grace to follow the dictates of right reason (“dictamen rectæ rationis”) in everything, and is therefore able of itself to keep the whole law of nature, even to love God purely and above all things.[342] An example of how inaccurate Biel is in the details of his theological discussions has been pointed out by Denifle, who shows that in quoting three various opinions of the greater Scholastics on a question of the doctrine of original sin (“utrum peccatum originale sit aliquid positivum in anima vel in carne”) “not one of the opinions is correctly given,” and yet this “superficial and wordy author was one of Luther’s principal sources of information regarding the best period of Scholasticism.”[343]

The Nominalists doubtless recognised the supernatural order as distinct from the natural, and Occam as well as Biel, d’Ailly and Gerson do not here differ materially from the rest of the Scholastics; but the limits of natural ability, more particularly in respect of keeping the commandments and loving God above all, are carried too far. Luther’s masters had here insisted with great emphasis on the argument of Scotus which they frequently and erroneously made to prove even more than was intended, viz. that as reason is capable of realising that man is able to fulfil the law and to render such love, and as the will is in a position to carry out all that reason puts before it, therefore man is able to fulfil both requirements.[344] In this argument insufficient attention has been paid to the difficulties which interior and exterior circumstances place in the way of fallen man. Theologians generally were very much divided in opinion concerning the possibility of fulfilling these requirements, and the better class of Scholastics denied it, declaring that the assistance of actual grace was requisite, which, however, they held, was given to all men of good will. Against the doctrine which Biel made his own, that man is able, without grace, to avoid all mortal sin,[345] keep all the commandments and love God above all things, not only Thomists, but even some of the Nominalists protested.[346]

Here again, according to Denifle, a serious error, committed by Biel regarding St. Thomas, must be pointed out, one, too, which may have had its effect upon Luther. Biel erroneously makes the holy Doctor say the opposite of what he really teaches when he ascribes to him the proposition: “Homo potest cavere peccata mortalia [omnia] sine gratia.” As Denifle reminds us again, it was “from this author that Luther drew in great part his knowledge of the earlier Scholastics.”[347] Biel, however, in his sermons and instructions to preachers restricts the thesis of the possibility of loving God above all things through our natural powers. This, man is able to do, he says, “according to some writers, more especially in the state of paradisiacal innocence, but the act is not so perfect and not so easy as with God’s grace and is without supernatural merit. God has so ordained that He will not accept any act as meritorious for heaven excepting only that which is elicited by grace” (“ex gratia elicitum”).[348]

The views of the Occamists or “Moderns” exhibited yet other weak points. Man, so they taught, is able to merit grace “de congruo.” They admitted, it is true, that grace was a supernatural gift, “donata” and “gratuita,” as they termed it, but they saw in man’s natural love of God, and in his efforts, an adequate disposition for arriving at the state of saving grace.[349] The great Schoolmen on the contrary taught with St. Thomas, that the preparation and disposition for saving grace, i.e. all those good works which precede justification, do not originate in us but are due to the grace of Christ.

As for the teaching regarding natural and supernatural love of God, the keeping of the commandments and the predisposition for grace, Luther, in 1516, appears to have scarcely been acquainted with the opinion of any of the better representatives of Scholasticism, to whom he had access. It was only in 1518 that his attention was directed to Gregory of Rimini (General of the Augustinian Hermits in 1357), an eclectic whose views were somewhat unusual, and in this case, Luther, instead of making use of the good which was to be found in him in abundance, preferred to disregard his real opinion and to set him up as opposed to the teaching of the Schoolmen.[350] In 1519, labouring under a total misapprehension of the truth as regards both Gregory and the Schoolmen, he wrote: “the ‘Moderns’ agree with the Scotists and Thomists concerning free will and grace, with the one exception of Gregory of Rimini, whom they all condemn, but who rightly and effectively proves them to be worse than the Pelagians. He alone among all the Scholastics agrees with Augustine and the Apostle Paul, against Carlstadt and all the new Schoolmen.”[351] As though all Scholastics, old and new, had taught what Luther here attributes to them, viz. that “it is possible to gain heaven without grace,” because, according to them, “a good though not meritorious work can be done” without grace. On the contrary, not the Thomists only, but also many other theologians were opposed to the thesis that the will could, of itself, always and everywhere, conform itself to the dictates of right reason and thus arrive at grace, but Gregory of Rimini, whom Luther favours so much as a Doctor of his own Order, declares that the keeping of the whole law was only possible through grace, and that therefore God had, with His law, imposed nothing impossible on man.[352] According to Luther, however, God had demanded of human nature what was impossible.

Occam and his school deviate somewhat from the rest of the Scholastics in the application of the well-known axiom: “Facienti quod est in se Deus non denegat gratiam.”[353]

While the better class of Scholastics understood it as meaning that God allows the man to arrive at saving grace and justification, who does his part with the help of actual grace, the schools of the decline interpreted the principle as implying that God would always give saving grace where there was adequate human and natural preparation; they thus came to make this grace a mere complement of man’s natural effort; the effect of grace was accordingly purely formal; man’s effort remained the same as before, but, by an act of favour, it was made conformable with God’s “intention”; for it was God’s will that no man should enjoy the Beatific Vision, without such grace, which, however, He never failed to bestow in response to human efforts. Some modern writers have described this view of grace to which the Nominalists were inclined, as a stamp imprinting on purely human effort a higher value. At any rate, according to the Occamists, man prepares for grace by natural acts performed under the ordinary concurrence of God (concursus generalis),[354] whereas, according to the better Scholastics, this preparation demanded, not only the ordinary, but also the particular concurrence of God, namely, actual grace; they maintained that ordinary concurrence was inadequate because it belonged to the natural order.

Actual grace was entirely neglected by the Occamists; the special help of God is, according to most of them, saving grace itself; actual grace, i.e. the divinely infused intermediary between man’s natural and supernatural life, finds no place in their system. This explains, if we may anticipate a little, how it is that Luther pays so little attention to actual grace;[355] he has no need of it, because man, according to him, cannot keep the law at all without the (imputed) state of grace. It is unfortunate that Biel, in whom Luther trusted, should have misrepresented the actual teaching of true Scholasticism concerning the necessity and nature of grace, whether of actual or saving grace.

As early as 1515 Luther, with the insufficient knowledge he possessed, accused the Scholastics generally of teaching that “man by his natural powers is able to love God above all things, and substantially to do the works commanded, though not, indeed, according to the ‘intention’ of the lawgiver, i.e. not in the state of grace.” “Therefore, according to them,” he says, “grace was not necessary save by a new imposition demanding more than the law (‘per novam exactionem ultra legem’); for, as they teach, the law is fulfilled by our own strength. Thus grace is not necessary to fulfil the law, save by reason of God’s new exaction which goes beyond the law. Who will put up with these sacrilegious views?” Assuredly his indignation against Scholasticism would have been righteous had its teaching really been what he imagined. In the same way, and with similarly strong expressions, he generalises what he had learnt in his narrow world at Erfurt and Wittenberg, and ascribes to the whole of Christendom, to the Popes and all the schools, exactly what the Occamists said of the results of original sin being solely confined to the lower powers. Here, and in other connections too, he exclaims: “the whole Papacy has taught this, and all the schools of Sophists [Scholastics].” “Have they not denied that nature was ruined by sin when they assert that they are able to choose what is good according to the dictates of right reason?”[356]

From his antagonism to such views, an antagonism we find already in 1515, when he was preparing for his lectures on the Epistle to the Romans, sprang his own gloomy doctrine of the death of free will for good, and the poisoning of human nature by original sin. With its first appearance in the lectures mentioned we shall deal later.

Here a more general question must first receive an answer. How came the youthful Luther to absorb into his life the views above described without apparently shrinking in the least from the opposition to the Church’s teaching manifest in them?

Various answers are forthcoming. In the first place, in consequence of his training which consisted too exclusively in the discussion of speculative controversies, he had come to see in the theological doctrines merely opinions of the schools, on which it was permissible to sit in judgment. He had forgotten that there existed a positive body of unassailable doctrine. Even when engaged in mercilessly attacking this body of doctrine he still appears to have been unaware of having outstepped the lines of permissible disputation. We cannot, however, altogether exonerate him from being in some degree conscious that in his attack on the Church he was treading dangerous ground. In the lectures on the Epistle to the Romans he goes so far as to declare, that the Church was almost destroyed (“pene subversa”) by the teaching of the Scholastics, and that everything was full of Pelagian errors, because grace for the support of the will had been abolished. Things such as these and others of a like nature he could assuredly not have uttered without, in his calmer hours, asking himself how he could reconcile such a standpoint with his duty to the Church. It is true, however, that such quiet hours were exceptional in his case. There can be no doubt also that his idea of the Church and of the binding character of her doctrine was confused. In 1519 he had no hesitation in pointing to the action of other Doctors, who, before that date, had engaged in controversy with each other, in vindication of the tremendous struggle he had just commenced. I am only doing what they did; “Scotus, single-handed, opposed the opinions of all the schools and Doctors and gained the victory (?). Occam did the same, many others have done and are doing likewise up to the present day (?). If then these are at liberty to withstand all, why not I?”[357]

The second answer to the above question lies in the outward circumstances existing in his monastic home at the time of the beginning of his struggle. The members of his Congregation, most of whom were of Occam’s school, were still greatly excited and divided by the quarrel going on in their midst regarding organisation and discipline. The Observantines with their praise of the old order and exercises were a thorn in the flesh of the other Augustinians, more lax and modern in their views, especially for Luther, who was at their head. A spirit of antagonism existed not merely between the different houses of the Order, but even in the houses themselves a struggle seems to have been carried on. On the one side there was a tenacious adherence to the older practices of the Order, on the other suspicion and reproaches were levelled against the innovations of the Observantines. The result was that the fiery young Professor, while inveighing against the Occamist theory of self-righteousness, thundered at the same time against the Observantines as living instances of the self-righteous and holy-by-works. Some of the reasons for this supposition have already been given, and more will be forthcoming when we consider the Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans.[358]

War was to the Wittenberg Doctor even then an element of life. He found it going on, and encouraged it amongst the wearers of the Augustinian habit. The first and second “factions” in the Order, as Usingen calls them, i.e. the first division caused by the question of observance, and the second by the great controversy concerning faith, were, we may be sure, closely allied in Luther’s mind; the controversy concerning observance may assuredly be reckoned amongst the outward causes which carried him along with them into the greater struggle and contributed for a time to hide from him the danger of his position. Though details are lacking of the resistance to Luther’s first challenge to the theologians of his Order, to Scholasticism and the Church’s doctrine, yet, as already said, we can see from the Commentary on Romans, from other unprinted early lectures, and also from the disputations and sermons, that the Order continued in a state of commotion, and that, as a matter of fact, the second “faction” was an outgrowth of the first.[359] The Observantines had to put up with hearing themselves styled by Luther “iustitiarii” and Pharisees; but probably there were others, even members of the Wittenberg University, perhaps some of those jurists and philosophers[360] to whom he refers in his Commentary on Romans, and whom he so cordially detested, who also were counted amongst the “iustitiarii,” in fact all whom the outrageous assertions of their young colleague regarding the observance of precepts and regulations and against human freedom, roused to opposition.

To these two answers a third must be added, which turns upon the character of Luther in his youth. His extreme self-sufficiency blinded him, and his discovery of real errors in the theology in which he had been trained drove him in his impetuosity to imagine that he was called, and had the right, to introduce an entirely new theology. His searching glance had spied out real mistakes; his strength and boldness had resulted in the bringing to light of actual abuses; his want of consideration in the pointing out of blemishes in the Church had, in some degree, been successful and earned for him the applause of many; his criticism of theology was greeted as triumphant by his pupils, the more so as the Doctors he attacked were but feeble men unable to reply to so strong an indictment, or else living at a distance (in Erfurt). The growing self-consciousness, which expresses itself even in the form of his controversial language, must not be disregarded as a psychological fact in the problem, one, too, which also helped to blind him to the real outcome of his work.

Only the most extreme spirit of antagonism could have led the Monk to make, in addition to his other harsh exaggerated charges against Scholasticism, the following assertion, to which, as it is important for the origin of Lutheranism, some attention must be paid. He says the doctrine is false that righteousness which can be acquired by means of good works (of the natural order) is even conceivable; this was invented by Aristotle; this righteousness of the philosophers and jurists has penetrated into the Church, while, as a matter of fact, owing to the naughtiness, nay, corruption of mankind, resulting from original sin, it was a monstrosity and an abomination in God’s sight; the scholastic distinctions of distributive and commutative justice, etc., “were also due to blindness of spirit and mere human wisdom”; the Scholastics have put this infamous, purely human righteousness in the place of righteousness by grace, which is of value in God’s sight; they have said there is no original sin, and have acted as though all men did not feel concupiscence within themselves very strongly; they have represented righteousness as the fruit of our natural efforts, and in consequence of this people now believe that righteousness may be had through Indulgences costing two pence, i.e. through works of the very slightest worth! But “the Apostle teaches,” he says, “Corde creditur ad iustitiam, i.e. not by works, or wisdom, or study, not by riches and honours can man attain to righteousness.... That is a new way to righteousness, against, and far above, Aristotle ... and his political, God-forsaken righteousness.”[361] Yet, according to him, the Scholastics knew no better. “They speak like Aristotle in his ‘Ethics,’ who makes ... righteousness consist in works, as also its attainment and its loss.”[362]

Is it possible that the writer of the above sentences was really incapable of distinguishing between the natural and the supernatural in moral good according to the fundamental principle of true Scholasticism? Was Luther really ignorant of the theses which run through the whole of Scholasticism such as this of St. Thomas: “Donum gratiæ excedit omnem præparationem virtutis humanæ”?[363] The great lack of discrimination which underlies the above attack is characteristic of Luther in his youth and of his want of consideration in the standpoint he assumed. He starts from some justifiable objection to the nominalistic theology—which really was inadequate on the subject of the preparation for supernatural righteousness—sets up against it his own doctrine of fallen man and his salvation, and, then, without further ado, ascribes an absolutely fanciful idea of righteousness to the Church and the whole of Scholasticism. What he failed to distinguish, St. Thomas, Thomism, and all true Scholastics distinguished with very great clearness. Aquinas draws a sharp line of demarcation between the civil virtue of righteousness and the so-called infused righteousness of the act of justification. He anticipates, so to speak, Luther’s objection and his confusion of one idea with another, and teaches that by the repeated performance of exterior works an inward habit is without doubt formed in consequence of which man is better disposed to act rightly, as Aristotle teaches in his “Ethics”; “but,” he says, “this only holds good of human righteousness, by which man is disposed to what is humanly good (‘iustitia humana ad bonum humanum’); by human works the habit of such righteousness can be acquired. But the righteousness which counts in the eyes of God (i.e. supernatural righteousness) is ordained to the Divine good, namely, to future glory, which exceeds human strength (‘iustitia quæ habet gloriam apud Deum; ordinata ad bonum divinum’) ... wherefore man’s works are of no value for producing the habit of this righteousness, but the heart of man must first of all be inwardly justified by God, so that he may do the works which are of worth for eternal glory.”[364]

So speaks the most eminent of the Schoolmen in the name of the true theology of the Middle Ages.

For Luther, who brings forward the above arbitrary objection in his Commentary on Romans, it would have been very easy to have made use of the explanation just given, for it is found in St. Thomas’s Commentary on this very Epistle. Luther, one would have thought, would certainly have consulted this work for his interpretation of the Epistle, were it only on account of its historical interest, and even if it had not been the best work on the subject which had so far appeared. But no, it seems that he never looked into this Commentary, nor even into the older glosses of Peter Lombard on the Epistle to the Romans, then much in use; in the latter he would at once have found the refutation of the charge he brought against the Scholastics of advocating the doctrine of Aristotle on righteousness by works, as the gloss to the classic passage (Romans iii. 27) runs as follows: “For righteousness is not by works (‘non ex operibus est iustitia’), but works are the result of righteousness, and therefore we do not say: ‘the righteousness of works, but the works of righteousness.’”[365]

He does not even trouble to uphold the frivolous accusation that the Schoolmen had been acquainted only with Aristotelian righteousness, but actually refutes it by another objection. He finds fault with the “scholastic theologians” for having, as he says in the Commentary on Romans, “held the doctrine of the expulsion of sin and the infusion of grace” to be a single change.[366] He hereby admits that they were familiar with something more than mere Aristotelian righteousness, for in Aristotle there is certainly no question of any infusion of grace. But Luther frequently speaks in this way of the distinction which the Scholastics made between acquired and infused righteousness.

The changeableness and inconstancy of his assertions regarding the doctrines of the Scholastics is quite remarkable. He makes no difficulty about admitting later, against his previous statements, that the Scholastics did not teach that man was able to love God above all things merely by his own strength; this was the teaching only of the Scotists and the “Moderns” (i.e. Nominalists or Occamists).[367] At that time he was perhaps better acquainted with Biel, who instances Thomas and Bonaventure in opposition to this doctrine.[368] Luther was also careless in the accounts he gave even of the theology of his own circle, viz. that of the Occamists, and the injustice he does Scholasticism as a whole, he repeats against his own school by exaggerating its faults or suppressing the necessary distinctions in order to be the better able to refute its theses by the Bible and St. Augustine. As therefore it is impossible to form an opinion on Scholasticism as a whole from Luther’s assertions, so we cannot trust his account even of his own masters, in whose works he thinks himself so well versed.

He is, for instance, neglecting a distinction when he repeatedly asserts that Occam, his “Master,” denied the biblical truth that the Holy Ghost is necessary for the performance of a good work. As a matter of fact, the Occamists, like the Scotists, did not here differ essentially from the Thomists, although differences are apparent in their teaching on the supernatural habit, and on the preparation for the attainment of this supernatural righteousness, i.e. for justification.[369] He is wronging his own “factio occamica” when, from its teaching that man could, by his natural powers, acquire a love of God beyond all things, he at once infers that it declared infused grace to be superfluous,[370] and further, when, for instance, he asserted that the axiom quoted above, and peculiarly beloved of the Occamists, “Facienti quod est in se Deus non denegat gratiam,” was erroneous, as though it placed a “wall of iron” between man and the grace of God.[371] No Occamist understood the axiom in the way he wishes to make out.

Luther went so far in his gainsaying of the Occamist doctrine of the almost unimpaired ability of man for purely natural good, that he arrived at the opposite pole and began to maintain that there was no such thing as vitally good acts on man’s part; that man as man does not act in doing what is good, but that grace alone does everything. The oldest statements of this sort are reserved for the quotations to be given below from his Commentary on Romans. We give, however, a few of his later utterances to this effect. They prove that the crass denial of man’s doing anything good continued to characterise him in later life as much as earlier.

In the Gospel-homilies contained in his “Postils,” he teaches the people that it was a “shameful doctrine of the Popes, universities, and monasteries” to say “we ought by the strength of our free will to begin [exclusive of God’s help?] by seeking God, coming to Him, running after Him and earning His grace.” “Beware, beware,” he cries, “of this poison; it is the merest devil’s doctrine by which the whole world is led astray.... You ask: How then must we begin to become pious, and what must we do that God may begin in us? Reply: What, don’t you hear that in you there is no doing, no beginning to be pious, as little as there is any continuing and ending? God only is the beginning, furthering and ending. All that you begin is sin and remains sin, let it look as pretty as it will; you can do nothing but sin, do how you will ... you must remain in sin, do what you will, and all is sin whatever you do alone of your free will; for if you were able of your own free will not to sin, or to do what is pleasing to God, of what use would Christ be to you?”[372]

Elsewhere, on account of the supposed inability of man, he teaches a sort of Quietism: “Is anyone to become converted, pious and a Christian, we don’t set about it; no praying, no fasting assists it; it must come from heaven and from grace alone.... Whoever wants to become pious, let him not say: ‘I will set about doing good works in order to obtain grace,’ but, ‘I will wait to see whether God by His word will give me His grace and His spirit.’”[373]

And on another occasion his words are still stronger: “The gospel tells us only to open our bosom and take, and says: ‘Behold what God has done for you, He made His Son become flesh for you.’ Believe this and accept it and you will be saved.”[374]

Seen in the light of such passages, it becomes clear that the following must not be taken as a mere expression of humility, but as a deprecation of good deeds. Already, in 1519, Luther says: “Man, like a cripple with disabled hands and feet, must invoke grace as the artisan of works (‘operum artificem’).”[375] The difficulty is that this very invocation is itself a vital, though surely not a sinful, action. Would not a man have been justified in saying even of this preliminary act: I will wait, I may not begin? “Luther was scarcely acquainted with the doctrine of a wholesome Scholasticism and with that of the Church concerning the mysterious reciprocal action of grace and free will in man. He was qualified to oppose the Occamist teaching, but was incapable of replacing it by the true doctrine.”[376]

Against the prevalent doctrine on the powers of man, Luther, among other verses from the Bible, brought forward John xv. 5: “Without me ye can do nothing.” A remark on his use of this supposed scriptural proof may serve to conclude what we have said of the far-reaching negative influence of Occamism on the youthful Luther.

The decisive words of the Redeemer: “Without me ye can do nothing,” so Luther says to his friend Spalatin, had hitherto been understood quite wrongly. And, in proof of this, he adduces the interpretation which he must have heard in his school, or read in the authors who were there in repute: “Our masters,” he says, “have made a distinction between the general and the particular concurrence of God” (concursus generalis and concursus specialis or gratia); with the general concurrence man was able, so they taught, to do what is naturally good, i.e. what they considered to be good; with the particular, however, that which is beyond nature (“quæ gratiæ sunt et supra naturam”), and meritorious for heaven. To this statement of the perfectly correct teaching of his masters he adds, however, the following: they taught that “with our powers we are able, under the general Divine concurrence, to prepare ourselves for the obtaining of grace, i.e. for the obtaining of the particular concurrence, hence that we can ‘inchoative’ do something, to gain merit and the vision of God, notwithstanding the express teaching of Christ, though we are indeed unable to do this ‘perfective,’ without the particular assistance of grace.”[377]

What Luther says here applies at most to the Nominalists; according to Occam’s school the preparation for sanctifying grace takes place by purely natural acts,[378] and accordingly this school was not disposed to take Christ’s words about eternal life too literally. Although healthy Scholasticism knows nothing of this and holds fast to the literal meaning of the words “Without me ye can do nothing,” viz. nothing for eternal life (the absolute necessity of the general concurrence is taken for granted), yet Luther, in all simplicity, assures his friend that the whole past had taken the words of Christ in the sense he mentions (“Sic est hucusque autoritas ista exposita et intellecta.”)[379] This doctrine he detests so heartily, that he sets up the very extreme opposite in his new system. The general Divine concursus, he says in his letter to Spalatin quoted above, certainly leads nature on to work of itself, but it cannot do otherwise than “seek its own and misuse the gifts of God.” Nature merely provides stuff for the “punishing fire,” however “good and moral its works may appear outwardly.” Hence, according to him, there is no distinction between general and particular concurrence, between the inchoative and the perfective act; without Christ, and “before we have been healed by His grace,” there is absolutely nothing but mischief and sin.

By “grace,” here and elsewhere, he means the state of justifying grace. Whereas true Scholasticism recognises actual grace, which assists man even before justification, this is as good as excluded by Luther already in the beginning of his theological change. Why? Partly because he cannot make use of it as he refers everything to justifying faith, partly because the Occamists, his masters, erroneously reduced the particular influence of God almost entirely to sanctifying grace, and neglected or denied actual grace.

In the latter respect we perceive one of the positive effects of Occamism on Luther. This leads us to another aspect of the present theme.

3. Positive Influence of Occamism

We have so far been considering the precipitate and excessive antagonism shown at an early date by Luther towards the school of Occam, especially towards its anthropological doctrines; we have also noted its influence on his new heretical principles, particularly on his denial of man’s natural ability for good. Now we must turn our attention to the positive influence of the Occamist teaching upon his new line of thought, for Luther’s errors are to be ascribed not only to the negative, but also to the positive effects of his school.

His principal dogma, that of justification, must first be taken into consideration.

This he drew up entirely on the lines of a scheme handed down to him by his school. It is no uncommon thing to see even the most independent and active minds tearing themselves away from a traditional train of thought in one particular, and yet continuing in another to pursue the accustomed course, so great is the power which a custom acquired at school possesses over the intellect. The similarity existing between Luther’s and Occam’s doctrine of the imputation of righteousness is quite remarkable. Occam had held it, at least as possible, that a righteousness existed which was merely imputed; at any rate, it was only because God so willed it that sanctifying grace was necessary in the present order of things. He and his school had, as a matter of fact, no clear perception of the supernatural habit as a supernatural principle of life in the soul. According to the Occamist Peter d’Ailly, whom Luther repeatedly quotes in his notes on Peter Lombard, reason cannot be convinced of the necessity of the supernatural habit; all that this is supposed to do can be done equally well by a naturally acquired habit; an unworthy man might be found worthy of eternal life without any actual change taking place in him; only owing to an acceptation on God’s part (“a sola divina acceptatione”) does the soul become worthy of eternal life, not on account of any created cause (therefore not on account of love and grace).[380] “The whole work of salvation here becomes external; it is mechanical, not organic.”[381]

If Luther, in consequence of his study of these Occamist doctrines, fell into error regarding the supernatural, the consequences were even worse when, with his head full of such Occamistic ideas, he proceeded to expound the most difficult of the Pauline Epistles, with their dim and mysterious handling of grace, and, at the same time, to ponder on the writings of St. Augustine,[382] that deep-thinking Doctor of grace. Such studies could only breed fresh confusion in his mind.

The result was as follows: regarding imputation, i.e. one of the foundations of his theology, Luther quotes Occam in such a way as to represent him as teaching as a fact what he merely held to be possible. He declares sanctifying grace to be not merely superfluous, but also non-existent, and erects the theory of Divine acceptation into a dogma. This alone would be sufficient to demonstrate his positive dependence on Occamism.

The theories of acceptation, which were peculiar to the Occamists and which Luther took over—though what they called by this name he prefers to call imputation—had not only met with approval, but had also been widely applied by this school.

According to d’Ailly, evil is not evil on account of its special nature, but only because God forbids it (“præcise, quia lege prohibitum”); a law or rule of conduct does not exist by nature, for God might have willed otherwise (“potest non esse lex”); He has, however, decreed it in the present order of things. Similar views appear in Luther’s Commentary on Romans, where little regard is paid to the objective foundation of the moral law.[383]

According to Occam, God acts according to whim. D’Ailly actually discovers in him the view that it is not impossible to suppose that the created will might deserve well by hating God, because God might conceivably command this. In Luther we at least find the opinion that God knows of no grounds for His action and might therefore work what is evil in man, which then, of course, would not be evil in God in consequence of His not imputing it to Himself as such.

The Divine imputation or pactum plays its part in the Occamistic sense in Luther’s earliest theological lectures on the Psalms. “Faith and Grace,” he there says, “by which we are justified to-day, would not justify us of themselves save as a consequence of the ‘pactum Dei.’” In the same place he teaches that, as a result of such an “agreement and promise,” those who, before Christ, fulfilled the law according to the letter, acquired a supernatural merit de congruo.[384]

Luther’s dependence on Occamism caused him, as Denifle expresses it, to be always “on bad terms with the supernatural”;[385] we must not, however, take this as meaning that Luther did not do his best, according to his own lights, to support and to encourage faith in revelation, both in himself and in others.

We shall see how in the case of justification he regards faith, and then his particular “faith only” as the one factor, not, however, the faith which is animated by charity, and this because, with the Occamists, he rejects all supernatural habits. He extols the value of faith on every occasion at the expense of the other virtues.[386]

The positive influence of Occam on Luther is also to be traced in the domain of faith and knowledge. Luther imagines he is fortifying faith by laying stress on its supposed opposition to reason, a tendency which is manifest already in his Commentary on Romans. In this Occam and his school were his models.

The saying that there is much in faith which is “plainly against reason and the contrary of which is established by faith”[387] comes from d’Ailly. Occam found the arguments for the existence of one God inadequate.[388] Biel has not so much to say against these proofs, but he does hold that the fact that one only God exists is a matter of faith not capable of being absolutely proved by reason.[389]

Occam, whom Biel praises as “multum clarus et latus,” made faith to know almost everything, but the results achieved by reason to be few and unreliable.[390] He employed the function of reason, of a caustic reason to boot, in order to raise doubts, or to exercise the mind at the expense of the truths of revelation; yet in the positive recognition of articles of faith he allowed reason to recede into the background. In any case he prepared the way for the saying, that a thing may be false in theology and yet true in philosophy, and vice versa, a proposition condemned at the 5th Lateran Council by the Constitution Apostolici Regiminis of Leo X.[391]

Luther came to state clearly that “it was quite false to say the same thing was true in philosophy and also in theology”; whoever taught this was fettering the articles of faith “as prisoners to the judgment of reason.”[392] We shall have to speak later of many examples of the violent and hateful language with which he disparages reason in favour of faith. His love for the Bible at an early period strengthened in him the idea—one which the Occamists often advanced in the course of the dialectic criticism to which they subjected the truths of religion—that after all, the decisions of faith are not the same as those of the mind, and that we must make the best of this fact. Luther even in his Commentary on Romans is ever ready to decry the “wisdom of the flesh,” which is there described as constantly interfering with faith.

The union of faith and knowledge, of which true Scholasticism was proud, never appealed to Luther.

The Occamists had also been before him in attacking Aristotle. The fact that many esteemed this philosopher too highly gave rise in their camp to bitter and exaggerated criticism, and to excessive abuse of the Stagirite. Against the blind Aristotelians d’Ailly had already written somewhat unkindly: “In philosophy, i.e. in the teaching of Aristotle, there are no, or but few, convincing proofs ... we must call the philosophy or teaching of Aristotle an opinion rather than a science.”[393] Gregory of Rimini, whom Luther made use of and who was not ignorant of Occamism, says that Aristotle had shockingly gone astray (“turpissime erravit”) on many points, and, in some, had contradicted himself.

Such were the minds that inspired Luther at the time when he was already making for a theological goal different from that of the “rationalists,” wise ones of this world, and loquacious wiseacres, as he calls all the Scholastics indiscriminately in his Commentary on Romans. Wherever theology has made a right and moderate use of philosophical proofs, philosophy has always shown itself as the ancilla theologiæ, and has been of assistance in theological development. After expelling reason from the domain of supernatural knowledge Luther was forced to fall back on feeling and inward experience, i.e. on elements, which, owing to their inconstancy and variability, did not deserve the place he gave them. This was as harmful to faith as the denial of the rights of reason.

Gerson had lamented, concerning the misuse of philosophical criticism in religious matters, that the methods of the Nominalists made faith grow cold,[394] and it may be that Luther had experienced these effects in himself, since, in his lectures on the Psalms, he acknowledges and regrets the cooling of his life of faith.[395] But, surely, in the same way the predominance of feeling and so-called religious experience was also to be regretted, as it crippled faith and deprived it of a sure guide.

Staupitz spoke from feeling and not from a clear perception of facts when, in his admiration, he praised Luther as exalting Christ and His grace. He applauded Luther, as the latter says “at the outset of his career”: “This pleases me in your teaching, that it gives honour and all to God alone and nothing to man. We cannot ascribe to God sufficient honour and goodness, etc.”[396] Staupitz sought for enlightenment in a certain mysticism akin to Quietism, instead of in real Scholasticism. On such mystic by-ways Luther was sure to fall in with him, and, as a matter of fact, from the point of view of a false mysticism, Luther was to denounce “rationalising wisdom” and to speak in favour of religious feeling even more strongly than he had done before.

Under the influence of both these elements, a quietistic mysticism and an antagonism to reason in matters of faith, his scorn for all natural works grew. This made it easier for him to regard the natural order of human powers as having been completely upset by original sin. More and more he comes to recognise only an appearance of natural virtues; to consider them as the poisonous blossoms of that unconquerable selfishness which lies ever on the watch in the heart of man, and is only to be gradually tamed by the justifying grace of God. The denial of all freedom, under the ban of sin, little by little becomes for him the principal thing, the “summa causa,” which, as he says in so many words, he has to defend.[397] Beside the debasement of reason and the false fancies of his mysticism, stood as a worthy companion the religion of the enslaved will; this we find present in his mind from the beginning, and at a later period it obtained a lasting monument in the work “De servo arbitrio,” which Luther regarded as the climax of his theology.[398]

But there are other connecting-links between Occamism and the errors of the young Monk.

According to Occam’s school the purely spiritual attributes of God cannot be logically proved; it does not consider it as proved merely by reason that God is the last and final end of man, and that outside of Him there is no real human happiness, nor even, according to Occam himself, that “any final cause exists on account of which all things happen”;[399] not only, according to him, must we be on our guard against any idea that reason can arrive at God as the origin of happiness and as the end of salvation, but even His attributes we must beware of examining philosophically. God’s outward action knows no law, but is purely arbitrary. Thus Occamism, with its theory of the arbitrary Divine Will, manifesting itself in the act of “acceptation” or imputation, was more likely to produce a servile feeling of dependence on God than any childlike relationship; with this corresponded the feeling of the utter worthlessness of man’s own works in relation to imputation, which, absolutely speaking, might have been other than it is.

It is highly probable that the bewildered soul of the young Augustinian greedily lent an ear to such ideas, and laboured to make them meet his own needs. The doubts as to predestination which tormented him were certainly not thereby diminished, but rather increased. How could the idea of an arbitrary God have been of any use to him? In all likelihood the apprehensiveness and obscurity which colours his idea of God, in the Commentary on Romans, was due to notions imbibed by him in his school. Luther was later on to express this conception in his teaching regarding the “Deus absconditus,” on whom, as the source of all predestination (even to hell), we may not look, and whom we may only timidly adore. Already in the Commentary referred to he teaches the absolute predestination to hell of those who are to be damned, a doctrine which no Occamist had yet ventured to put forward.

Among the other points of contact between Luther’s teaching and Occamism, or Nominalism, we may mention, as a striking example, his denial of Transubstantiation, which he expressly associates with one of the theses of the Occamist d’Ailly. Here his especial hatred of the school of St. Thomas comes out very glaringly.

Luther himself confesses later how the Occamist school had led him to this denial.[400] When studying scholastic theology he had read in d’Ailly that the mystery of Christ’s presence in the Sacrament of the Altar would be much more comprehensible could we but assume that He was present with the bread, i.e. without any change of substance, but that this was impossible owing to the unassailable contrary teaching of the Church on Transubstantiation. The same idea is found in Occam, but of this Luther was unaware. Luther criticises d’Ailly’s appeal to the Church, and then proceeds: “I found out later on what sort of Church it is which sets up such a doctrine; it is the Thomistic, the Aristotelian. My discovery made me bolder, and therefore I decided for Consubstantiation. The opinions of the Thomists, even though approved by Pope or Council, remain opinions and do not become articles of faith, though an angel from heaven should say the contrary; what is asserted apart from Scripture and without manifest revelation, cannot be believed.”[401] Yet in point of fact the term “Transsubstantiatio” had been first used in a definition by the Œcumenical Lateran Council of 1215 to express the ancient teaching of the Church regarding the change of substance. According to what Luther here says, St. Thomas of Aquin (whose birth occurred some ten years later) was responsible for the introduction of the word and what it stood for, in other words for the doctrine itself. A little later Luther solemnly reaffirmed that “Transubstantiation is purely Thomistic” (1522).[402] “The Decretals settled the word, but there is no doubt that it was introduced into the Church by those coarse blockheads the Thomists” (1541).[403] Hence either he did not know of the Council or its date, or he did not know when St. Thomas wrote; in any case he was ignorant of the relation in which the teaching of St. Thomas on this point stood to the teaching of earlier ages. He was unaware of the historical fact of the general adoption of the term since the end of the eleventh century;[404] he was not acquainted with the theologians who taught in the interval between the Lateran Council and St. Thomas, and who used both the name and the idea of Transubstantiation, and among whom were Albertus Magnus and Alexander of Hales; he cannot even have noted the title of the Decretal from which he derived the knowledge of the existence of the doctrine of Transubstantiation in the Middle Ages, for it is headed: “Innocentius tertius in concilio generali.”

That he should have made St. Thomas responsible for the doctrine of Transubstantiation, and that so rudely, appears to be a result of his ever-increasing hatred for Aquinas. In the first period of his change of view, his opposition was to the Scholastics in general, but from 1518 onwards his assaults are on St. Thomas and the Thomists. Why was this? A Thomist, Prierias of Rome, was the author of the first pamphlet against him; another Thomist, Cardinal Cajetan, had summoned him to appear before his tribunal; both belonged to the Dominican Order, in which Thomas, the great Dominican Saint, was most enthusiastically studied. Tetzel, too, was a Dominican and a Thomist. Any examination of Luther’s development cannot but pay attention to this circumstance, though it is true it does not belong to his earliest period. It makes many of the outbreaks of anger to which he gave way later more comprehensible. In 1522 Luther pours out his ire on the “asinine coarseness of the Thomists,” on “the Thomist hogs and donkeys,” on the “stupid audacity and thickheadedness of the Thomists,” who “have neither judgment, nor insight, nor industry in their whole body.”[405] His theology, we may remark, largely owed its growth to this quarrel and the contradiction it called forth.

Luther’s tendency to controversial theology and his very manner of proceeding, in itself far less positive than negative, bore the Occamist stamp. It is true he was predisposed this way by nature, yet the criticism of the nominalistic school, the acuteness and questioning attitude of Occam and d’Ailly, lent an additional impulse to his putting forth like efforts. We shall not be mistaken in assuming that his doctrinal arbitrariness was, to a certain extent at least, a result of the atmosphere of decadent theology in which his lot had been cast. The paradoxes to which he so frequently descends are manifestly modelled on the antilogies with which Occam’s works abound; like Occam, he frequently leaves the reader in doubt as to his meaning, or speaks later in quite a different way from what he did before. Occam’s garrulity was, so it would appear, infectious. Luther himself, while praising his acuteness, blames Occam for the long amplifications to which he was addicted.[406] On more than one occasion Luther reproaches himself for his discursiveness and superabundance of rhetoric. Even the Commentaries he wrote in his youth on the Psalms and the Epistle to the Romans prove to the reader that his self-reproof was well deserved, whilst the second Commentary also manifests that spirit of criticism and arbitrariness, bold to overstep the barriers of the traditional teaching of the Church, which he had likewise received from his Occamist masters.

Various attempts have been made to point out other theological influences, besides those considered above, as having worked upon Luther in his earlier years.

It would carry us too far to discuss these opinions individually, the more so that there are scarcely sufficient data to hand to lead to a decision. Luther himself, who should be the principal witness, is very reticent concerning the authors and the opinions he made use of in forming his own ideas. He would rather give the impression that everything had grown up spontaneously from his own thought and research; that his teaching sprang into being from himself alone without the concurrence of outsiders, like Minerva from the head of Jupiter. He assumes to himself with the utmost emphasis the precedence in the discovery of the Gospel, for instance, against rivals such as Carlstadt and Zwingli; he alone had read his Bible, and Carlstadt was quite unacquainted with it; he only, with illumination from above, had discovered everything.

As we find in his writings so few allusions to outside influences—save to that of Occamism—it does not appear worth while to philosophise as to whether he had, or had not, been touched by the Gallicanism which was in the air. It is very doubtful whether he, in the comparative seclusion of his little world of Erfurt and Wittenberg, came to any extent under this influence, especially as his studies were so cursory and brief and confined within such narrow limits. The Gallican tendencies did not find in Germany anything like so fruitful a soil as in France. It is true that Luther soon after his change of opinions was capable of rivalling any Paris professor of Gallican sympathies in his depreciation of the Holy See. Hence though no immediate influence on Luther can be allowed to Gallicanism, yet the fact remains that the prevalent anti-Roman tendencies greatly contributed to the wide acceptance of the Lutheran schism in Germany, and even beyond its borders.

Again, that Luther, as has been asserted, after having tasted the food provided by Nominalism, was so disgusted as to rush to the opposite extreme in Scholasticism, making his own the very worst elements of realism, both philosophical and theological, seems to rest on fancy rather than on facts. We may likewise refuse to see in Wiclifism, with which Luther was acquainted only through the Constance Theses, any element of inspiration, and also shake our heads when some Protestants, at the other extreme, try to show that the Doctors of the Church, St. Augustine and St. Bernard, were really the parties responsible for Luther’s turning his back on the doctrines of the Church.

On the other hand, the influence of mysticism, with which we have now to deal, deserves much more attention. It cannot be denied that a very considerable part in the development of his new ideas was played by mysticism; already at an early date the mystic spirit which Augustine’s works owed to their writer’s Platonic studies, had attracted Luther without, however, making him a Neo-Platonist.[407] During the time of his mental growth he was likewise warmly attached to German mysticism. Yet, here again, it is an exaggeration, as we can already see, to state as some non-Catholics do that Luther, “as the theologian of the Reformation,” was merely “a disciple of Tauler and the Frankfort author of the German Theology,” or that “it was only through meeting with the Frankfort theologian that he was changed from a despairing swimmer struggling in the billows of a gloomy sea into a great reformer.”

CHAPTER V

THE ROCKS OF FALSE MYSTICISM

1. Tauler and Luther

John Tauler, the mystic and Dominican preacher of Strasburg, whom Luther so favoured, was quite Catholic in his teaching; to attribute to him, as has been done, any Pantheistic ideas is to do him an injustice, and it is equally wrong to imagine that he forestalled Luther’s notions regarding grace and justification. Yet his fanciful and suggestive mode of expression, his language which voiced, not the conceptual definiteness of Scholasticism, but the deep feelings of the speaker, often allows of his words being interpreted in a way quite foreign to his real meaning. It was just this depth of feeling and this obscurity which attracted Luther. As his letters show, he breathed more freely while perusing Tauler’s writings, because they responded to his natural disposition and his moods, not the least point in their favour being the absence in them of those hard-and-dry philosophical and dialectical mannerisms which were hateful to him. Without even rightly understanding it, he at once applied the teaching of this master of mysticism to his own inward condition and his new, growing opinions; he clothed his own feelings and views in Tauler’s beautiful and inspiring words. His beloved mother-tongue, so expertly handled in Tauler’s sermons, was at the same time a new means of binding him still more firmly to the mystic. In Tauler the necessity of the complete surrender of the soul to the action of God, of indifference and self-abandonment, is strongly emphasised. To free oneself as far as possible of self; to renounce all confidence in oneself in so far as this implies self-love and the pride of the sinful creature; to accept with waiting, longing, suffering confidence God’s almighty working, this, with Tauler as with all true mystics, is the fundamental condition for a union through love with the most Perfect Being. Luther, in his false interpretation of Tauler, came to dream of a certain false passivity on man’s part, which he then expanded into that complete passivity which accompanies the process of justification. He thought that Tauler repudiated the doing of good works in his own sense. He fancied that in him he had an ally in his fight against the so-called self-righteous and holy-by-works. He quite overlooked the contrary exhortations to the practice of good works and all observances of the Church which the great mystic had so much at heart.[408]

Tauler frequently speaks of the night of the soul, of the darkness in which the natural man must place himself on the way from death to life and through the cross to light; by this he means the self-humiliation which is pleasing to God, by which man fills himself with the sense of his own nothingness, and so prepares for the incoming of God into his innermost being. He often insists that the Creator, by means of the suffering and cruel inward desolation which He sends His elect, brings about that state of night, cross and death, to prove and refine the soul in order to prepare it for an intimate union with Himself. Such passages Luther referred to the states of fear and fright from which he so frequently suffered, possibly also to his want of joy in his vocation, and the state of unrest which, as he complains to his brother monk, George Leiffer, owing to his surrendering himself too much to his own excessive cleverness, pressed heavily upon him.[409] When, during the warfare he had to wage on behalf of his new doctrine, his inward unrest increased, and at times almost mastered him, he took refuge still more eagerly in the tenets of the mystic, striving to calm himself with the idea that his pangs of conscience and his mental anguish were merely a preparation for the strong, joyous faith which must spring up in his soul and those of his followers as a pledge of justification. His very doubts and difficulties became to him, with the help of his misunderstood mysticism, a sign that he was chosen for the highest things, and that God would lead him and all to peace through the new doctrine. It is in connection with his teaching concerning the night of the soul that he most frequently quotes Tauler at the commencement of his public struggle, whereas, before that, he had been wont to bring him into the field only against the so-called self-righteous, or against Scholasticism.[410]

It was known at that time that he had become a pupil of Tauler, whom he frequently quoted, but few of his adversaries seem to have recognised the above-mentioned psychological connection. Dungersheim of Leipzig on one occasion, in 1519, rightly holds up before him the teaching and example of Tauler, and tells him he might have learnt from him how useful it was to accept from others warnings and criticisms; he gloried in having learnt from Tauler many more spiritual doctrines than from any other man, but he really only understood one thing well, namely, how to kick against the pricks to his own hurt.[411]

Luther’s first mention of Tauler is not contained in his letter to Lang of the late summer of 1516,[412] as was hitherto thought, but in the Commentary on Romans, which was already finished in the summer of 1516.

It follows from this circumstance that he was already acquainted with Tauler’s sermons during the time that he was busy on this Epistle. He had come across them somewhat earlier, probably in the course of 1515, when he was nearing his inward crisis. In this passage of the Commentary[413] he declares that God works secretly in man and without his knowledge, and that what He does must be borne, i.e. must be accepted with humility and neglect of self. How we are thus to suffer what God sends, “Tauler,” he says, “explains in the German language better than the others. Yes, yes, we do not know how to pray in the way we should. Therefore God’s strength must come to the assistance of our misery. We, however, must acknowledge our despair and utter nakedness.”

But without actually mentioning Tauler by name, he frequently in this Commentary, utilises ideas which he supports by his teaching. Thus, when in Romans v. 3 he describes in far-fetched terms the self-annihilation of the soul, its fears and pains, from which finally its firm hope in God emerges. The “tribulatio patientiam operator” of the Apostle he takes there to mean mystical inward tribulation; one must desire to be as nothing, in order that the honour of the Eternal God as Creator may remain.[414] Only the self-righteous and the hypocrites shun the mystical death which lies in a renunciation of all self-merit; according to a mystical interpretation of a certain Bible passage the “strong man armed” (Luke xi. 21 f.) will destroy the “mountains of their works”; but the good, in their absolute destitution and tribulation, rejoice in God only, because, according to Paul, “the charity of God is poured forth” in the hearts of the sorely proved; they are drawn into the mysterious darkness of the Divine union and recognise therein not what they love, but only what they do not love; they find nothing but satiety in what they know and experience, only what they know not, that they desire.[415] Such language simply misinterprets some of Tauler’s profound meditations.

As, in his Commentary on the Psalms, Luther does not yet refer either directly or indirectly to Tauler, although the matter frequently invited him to do so, this confirms the supposition that it was only after the termination of those lectures, or towards their conclusion in 1515, that he became acquainted with the Master’s sermons—which alone come under consideration. Probably, as mentioned elsewhere, he owed his knowledge of them to Johann Lang.[416]

One of the books used by Luther in his youth and preserved in the Ratsschul-Library at Zwickau is a copy of Tauler’s sermons in the 1508 Augsburg edition with Luther’s annotations made about 1515.[417] The notes prove how strongly his active imagination was caught up into this new world of ideas, and how, with swelling sails, he set out for the port he thought lay beyond the mystic horizon.

Mysticism teaches the true wisdom, he there says, warmly praising this knowledge as “experimental, not doctrinal” (“sapientia experimentalis et non doctrinalis”). Dimly the error breaks in upon his mind, that man can have no wish, no will of his own with respect to God; true religion (vera fides) is the complete renunciation of the will, the most absolute passivity; only thus is the empty vessel of the heart filled by God, the cause of all; the work of salvation is a “negotium absconditum,” entirely the work of God, and He commences it by the destruction of our self (“quod nos et nostra destruat”); He empties us not only of our good works and desires, but even of our knowledge, for “He can only work in us while we are ignorant and do not comprehend what He is doing.” Any active striving after virtue on our part (“operatio virtutum”) only hinders the birth of the word in our soul.[418]

His new ideal of virtue necessarily involves our not striving after any particular virtues; we are not to imitate this or that special virtue of some saint lest this prove to be the result of our own planning, and not God’s direction, and thus be contrary to passivity.[419] Not only will he grant nothing to sexual desire, or allow it anywhere, but even the enjoyment of the five senses (he calls it simply luxuria) must be struggled against, and the “sweets of the spirit” be kept at a distance, namely, “devotiones,” “affectiones,” “consolationes et hominum bonorum societates.”[420]

In his recommendation of passivity two tendencies unite, the negative influence of the school of Occam, viz. the opposition to human works, and the influence of certain dimly apprehended mystical thoughts.

While Luther twists Tauler’s expressions to suit the errors which were germinating in his mind in opposition to Scholasticism, or, rather, to Occamism, he proceeds, according to his manuscript notes in Tauler’s book, seriously to jeopardise free will without, however, as yet actually attacking it. He finds the origin of all evil in man’s setting up against God his own will, and cherishing his own individual intentions and hopes. He thinks he is summing up the whole of Tauler’s doctrine with the words “God does everything in us” (“omnia in nobis operatur Deus”).[421] Where Tauler in one of his sermons, obviously speaking of other matters, says: “When God is in all things,” Luther immediately follows up the author’s words with: “Hoc, quæso, nota”;[422] the exclusiveness of the Divine being and working appears to him of the utmost moment.

And yet it should be expressly pointed out that Tauler and the real Christian mystics knew nothing of that passivity and complete surrendering of self which floated before Luther’s mind. On the contrary, they declare such ideas to be false. “The ideal of Christian mysticism is not an ideal of apathy but of energy,”[423] “a striving after an annihilation of individuality” was always a mark of mock mysticism. Another essential difference between true mysticism and that of Luther is to be found in the quality of the state of spiritual sadness and abandonment. Luther’s descriptions of the state mirror the condition of a soul without hope or trust and merely filled with despair and dull resignation; this we shall see more clearly in his accounts of the pains of hell and of readiness for hell. With the recognised Catholic mystics this is not the case, and, in spite of all loss of consolation, there yet remains, according to them, “in the very depths of the soul, the heroic resolve of fidelity in silent prayer.”[424] Confidence and love are never quenched though they are not sensibly felt, and the feeling of the separation of the soul from its God in this Gethsemane proceeds merely from a great love of God which does not think of any “readiness for hell.” “That is love,” Tauler says, where there is a burning in the midst of starvation, want and deprivations, and yet at the same time perfect calm.[425]

It is no wonder that in Luther’s Commentary on Romans, written at about the same time as the notes, or shortly after, his pseudo-mysticism breaks out. In addition to the already quoted passages from the Commentary let us take the following, which is characteristic of his new conception of perfect love: With the cross we must put everything of self to death; should God give spiritual graces, we must not enjoy them, not rejoice over them; for they may bring us in place of death a mistaken life of self, so that we stop short at the creature and leave the Creator. Therefore away with all trust in works! Only the most perfect love, the embracing of God’s will absolutely, without any personal advantage is of any worth, only such love as would, if it could, strip itself even of its own being.[426]

Frequently in this period of strange spiritual transition Luther’s manner of speaking of the dissolving of the soul in God, and the penetrating of all things by the Divine, borders on Pantheism, or on false Neo-Platonism. This, however, is merely owing to his faulty mode of expression. He does not appear to have been either disposed or tempted to leave the path of Christianity for actual Pantheism or Neo-Platonism, although the previous example of Master Eckhart and of others shows us, that mysticism has not infrequently allured even great and talented minds on to these rocks. That he should, as already shown, have welcomed without any sign of scruple the actual destruction of all free will for good must, in part, be explained by his lack of a thorough theological and philosophical training. How different might have been his development, given his mental character, had he, instead of devoting his attention in his unripe years to the teachings of mysticism, steeped himself, for instance, in the “Summa Theologica” of Thomas of Aquin, that brightest and greatest mind of the Middle Ages! After making himself thoroughly at home in such a theology he would then have been qualified to summon to his assistance the better sort of mysticism, in which he would have found much agreeing with his stamp of mind and which would have allowed him to rise to a still higher enjoyment of the true and good. If then he was not content to stop short at Tauler and the “German Theology,” there was the Dominican Henry Suso also at his service, the godly author of writings such as “The Little Book of Eternal Wisdom,” which has been called the “finest fruit of German mysticism” (Denifle). He shows in how inspiring a union pious immersion in God can be combined with theological clearness of thought. Many others who flourished after the time of Suso, in Germany and elsewhere, and who distinguished themselves as practical and at the same time theoretical mystics by the depth of their feeling and their theological culture would have served as his examples. Such were Johann Ruysbroek, of Groenendael near Brussels, Gerard Groot of Deventer, the founder of the Brothers of the Common Life, Henry of Louvain, Ludolf the Carthusian, Gerson of Paris—with his excellent Introduction to Mysticism, on the lines of the so-called Areopagite—Thomas à Kempis, the pious guide, and, among enlightened women, Lidwina of Schiedam in Holland, Catherine of Bologna and Catherine of Genoa. The names mentioned, so far as they belong to the domain of German mysticism, point to a fertile religious and literary field in Luther’s own country, as attractive by profundity of thought and beauty of representation as by depth of feeling and heartiness of expression. It was a cruel misunderstanding—which, however, is now breaking down more and more, even in the case of Protestant writers—to represent the ideas of German mysticism as precursors of Luther’s later doctrine.

This vein of true mysticism remained sealed to Luther. By attempting to create a theology of his own with the fantastic notions which he read into Tauler, he fell into the mistake against which Thomas of Aquin had already sounded a warning note in his “Summa Theologica.” Without a safe guiding star many minds are led astray by the attraction of the extraordinary, by the delusions of an excited fancy or the influence of disordered inclinations, and consider that to be the work of Divine grace which is merely deception, as experience shows.[427]

As an expression of the spiritual turmoil going on in Luther, we may quote a passage from a sermon of January, 1517. Speaking of the gifts of the three kings he says: “the pure and choice myrrh is the abnegation with which we must be ready to return to absolute nothingness, to the state before creation; every longing for God is there relinquished (!), and likewise the desire for things outside of God; one thing only is desired: to be led according to His good pleasure back to the starting-point, i.e. to nothingness. Ah, yes, just as before God called us into existence we were nothing, desired nothing, and existed only in the mind of God, so we must return to that point, to know nothing, to desire nothing, to be nothing. That is a short way, the way of the cross, by which we may most speedily arrive at life.”[428] Whether a sermon was the right place for such, at best purely incomprehensible, an outburst, is doubtful. Luther, the idealist, was then disposed to pay but little attention to such practical considerations. In the eyes of many of his pupils and friends, however, mystical discourses of this sort may have lent him the appearance of a pious, spiritually minded man.

With regard to the “way of the cross” and the “theology of the cross,” which he began to teach as soon as he had lost himself in the maze of mysticism, he explains himself more clearly in the Disputations which he organised at Wittenberg, and which will be dealt with below.[429]

2. Effect of Mysticism on Luther

The study of mysticism was not altogether disadvantageous to Luther, for it proved of use to him in various ways.

First, as regards his grasp of spiritual subjects and their expression in words, Tauler’s simple and heartfelt manner taught him how to clothe his thoughts in popular and attractive dress. The proof of this is to be found in his writings for the people and in several of his more carefully prepared sermons, particularly in the works and sermons of the first period when the mystical influence was still predominant. Also with regard to the common body of Christian belief, so far as he still held fast to the same, several excellent elements of Catholic mysticism stood him in good stead, notwithstanding his inward alienation. The intimate attachment of the mystics to Christ and their longing expectation of salvation through the Lord alone, sentiments which made an immense impression on his soul, notwithstanding the fact that he understood them in a one-sided and mistaken fashion, probably had their share in preserving in him to the very end his faith in the Divinity of Christ and in the salvation He wrought. They also led him to esteem the whole Bible as the Word of God, and to hold fast to various other mysteries which some of the Reformers opposed, for instance, the mysterious presence of Christ in the Sacrament, even though they did not prevent him from modifying these doctrines according to his whim. While Luther retained many of the views rooted in the faith and sentiment of earlier ages, the Rationalism of Zwingli was much more ready to throw overboard what did not appear to be sanctioned by reason; this came out especially in the controversy on the Lord’s Supper. The reason of this was that Zwingli had been trained in the school of a narrow and critical Humanism; of mysticism in any shape or form he knew nothing at all.

Among the advantages which Luther derived from mysticism we cannot, however, reckon, as some have done, his later success against the fanatics; this success was not a result of his having overcome their false mysticism by the true one. By that time he had almost completely given up his mysticism, whether true or false. He certainly met the attacks of the fanatics and Anabaptists by appealing to his own mystical experiences, but that was really a mere tactical, though none the less effective, manœuvre on his part, which, with his ready tongue and pen, he was able to put to excellent account. “Who spoke of spirits?” he says; “I also know the spirit and have had experience of the spirit; I am able, yea, am called, to reveal their delusions.” And in the eyes of many he may certainly have been considered, on account of the “mystical” terrors he had suffered, and to which he frequently referred in public, to be specially fitted to unmask the false spiritualism of his opponents. As a matter of fact, his fears and his mysticism had nothing to do with the real discerning of spirits; they never brought him light, but only darkness. The truth is that, at the time of his contest with the fanatics, he had become more sober, had a clear, practical eye for the mischief of the movement, and regarded it as the highest duty of self-preservation to stamp out the flame of revolt against his patrons and his own teaching. We shall see, however, that the fanatics were, in a certain sense, the children of Luther’s own spirit.

The real good which Luther may have derived from the study of mysticism was far more than counterbalanced by the regrettable results of his notions concerning the “pure myrrh” of passivity, and the desire for nothingness, which at one and the same time involved him in a real labyrinth, and raised his estimation of his own mission to an enormous and dangerous height. He came to fancy himself far superior not only to the Occamists, but to the whole of the secular and regular clergy, the “swarm of religious and priests,” even to all the theologians, and particularly to the Scholastics, those “sow theologians,” who knew nothing of what he was conversant with.

His mysticism had already paved the way for his later belief with regard to his own Divine call to establish the new teaching; it was supported by his views of God’s guidance of the unconscious soul; what he would formerly have regarded as a mistaken road and due to diabolical inspiration was now labelled a godly act.

True and real mysticism could not take root in him because, to start with, the necessary predisposition, concerning which the other mystics and Tauler are agreed, was wanting, viz. above all humility, calmness and that holy indifference, which allows itself to be led by God along the path of the rules of its calling without any ulterior, private aims; peaceableness, composure of mind and zeal in prayer were not his. What mysticism left behind in Luther was scarcely more than the fragrance of its words, without any real fruit. What took root and grew in him was rather the hard wood from which lances are made, ready for every combat that may arise. His mysticism itself gives the impression of being part of the battle which his antagonism to the Occamists led him to give to Scholasticism. Those who contradicted his new ideas—even his brother monks, like the Erfurt philosophers and theologians—appeared to him to be opposed on account of their Scholasticism. The most effective way of escaping or overcoming them seemed to him the replacing of the older theology by another, in which, together with Holy Scripture and St. Augustine, mysticism should occupy a chief place.

By this, however, we do not mean that the mysticism of Luther was merely a fighting weapon. From his letters we may gather that he lived in the belief that his new road would conduct him to a joyous nearness to God.

The letter is dated December 14, 1516, in which he exhorts his friend Spalatin, at the Court of the Elector, to taste in Tauler “the pure, thorough theology, which so closely resembles the old, and to see how bitter everything is that is ourselves,” in order to “discover how sweet the Lord is.”[430] He is already so mystically inclined that he will not even advise his friend in answer to a query, which little religious books he should translate into German for the use of the people; this advice lay in the counsel of God, as what was most wholesome for man was generally not appreciated; hardly was there one who sought for Christ; the world was full of wolves (these thoughts certainly seem to have remained with him in his public career); we must mistrust even our best intentions and be guided only by Christ in prayer; but the “swarm of religious and priests always follow their own good and pious notions and are thereby miserably deceived.”

His letter to George Spenlein, which is saturated with an extravagant mysticism of grace, also belongs to the same year, 1516.[431]

On December 4, 1516 (see above, p. 87), Luther finished seeing through the press the “Theologia Deutsch,” which he brought out, first in an incomplete edition, because he was under the impression that it was by Tauler. It is an echo of Tauler’s authentic works, somewhat distorted, however, by Luther’s Preface, at the end of which he declares that a thorough teaching of the Holy Scripture “must make fools,” intending thereby to contrast the insignificance of natural knowledge with Divine revelation. The booklet teaches mysticism from the Church’s standpoint, though its language is not well chosen. There is, however, no real need to interpret certain obscure passages in a pantheistic sense, as has been done. The booklet cannot therefore be taken as a proof that Luther at that time was pantheistically inclined, or that he possessed so little theological and philosophical knowledge as not to be able to distinguish between Pantheism and the teaching of the Church. Nor is there the slightest trace of specifically Lutheran doctrine in the “Theologia Deutsch.”[432]

In a sermon of February 15, 1517, based on Tauler, Luther busies himself with those priests, laymen, and in particular religious, who, so he says, wish to be thought especially pious, but who are hypocrites because, even in spiritual things, they do not overcome their self-love because they attempt, for the love of God, to accomplish much and to do great things; almost all Tauler’s sermons, he remarks, show how clearly he saw through these false self-righteous, and how energetically he opposed them.[433] As a matter of fact, Tauler, in the remarks referred to, has in his mind those who deserve, for other reasons, to be blamed on account of their perverse and proud mind, while Luther utilises such utterances in support of his own notorious dislike for good works and for zealous individual effort.[434]

In his defence of his Wittenberg Indulgence Theses against Eck’s “Obelisci” (1518), we also find a characteristic misrepresentation of Tauler. Tauler, speaking of the possible torments resulting from the deprivation of religious consolation which may be experienced on earth, instances the vision of a poor soul who, by humble resignation to God’s Will, was delivered from its trouble. Luther takes the story as referring to a soul in Purgatory, and sees therein not merely a proof that souls are resigned in the place of purgation, but that they actually rejoice in the separation from salvation which God has imposed upon them; finally, he uses the story in support of his twenty-ninth pseudo-mystical thesis, in which he says that, on account of the piety of those who have died in the peace of God, it is uncertain whether all souls in Purgatory even wish to be delivered from their torments.[435] His mystical ideas concerning abandonment to God’s good pleasure had warped his understanding.

In the above passage, and again later, he instances Paul and Moses as men who had desired to become a curse of God. If they expressed such a wish during life, he declares, a similar desire on the part of the dead is comprehensible. The common and better interpretation of the Bible passages in question regarding Moses and Paul differs very much from that of Luther.

Luther embraced the idea, which permeates Tauler’s works, of the painful annihilation of self-will and of all man’s sensual inclinations, not in order to mortify his own self-will and sensuality by obedience to the rules of his Order and humble submission to the practices of the Church, but the better to make his delusive disregard for the zealous performance of good works appear high and perfect to his own mind and in that of others.

One should be ready, so he asserts in the defence of his theses against Prierias, to renounce all hope in any merit or reward to such an extent that “if you were to see heaven open before you, you would nevertheless, as the learned Dr. Tauler, one of your own Order [Prierias was also a Dominican], says, not enter unless you had first consulted God’s Will as regards your entering, so that even in glory you may not be seeking your own will.”[436] In Tauler there is, it is true, something of the sort,[437] though it does not authorise Luther to assume the standpoint he does in his theory of resignation. Luther in his Commentary on Romans, as already stated, goes so far as to preach resignation to eternal damnation, and even to demand of us a desire to be damned should it please God to decree it for us (see below, vi. 9). All this for the ostensible purpose of excluding the slightest appearance of self-love. “But how,” a modern author asks, writing with a knowledge of the better Christian mysticism, “can there be less merit in striving after the final consummation in the next life which is offered and recommended to us by the Divine favour, and from which final salvation is inseparable? How then can the ideal state of the mystic consist in indifference to his perfection and salvation, to heaven or hell?”[438] “Indifference with regard to the attainment of the highest, uncreated, eternal, endless Good can never be postulated.”[439] But Luther thinks he can justify this and other errors with the help of Tauler and his own mysticism.

But he did not, and could not, use Tauler as a weapon against the Schoolmen. All he could do was to magnify the loss which these had suffered through not being acquainted with such a theology as Tauler’s, “the truest theology.” Tauler, as a matter of fact, was not opposed to Scholasticism, indeed, the pith of his exhortations rests upon well-grounded scholastic principles.

By the time his second and complete edition of the “Theologia Deutsch” appeared, the printing of which was finished on June 4, 1518, Luther knew with certainty that this booklet was not by Tauler. Nevertheless, in the Preface he heaps exaggerated praise upon it, gives it a place beside the Bible and St. Augustine, and declares that his own teaching, on account of which Wittenberg is being assailed, possesses in it a real bulwark: “Only now” has he discovered that, before his time, “other people” thought just the same as he. Here then we see the alliance which he has entered into with mysticism, now placed completely at the service of his rediscovered Evangel; the sympathy which had attracted him to the German mystics during the last few years here reveals its true character and is led to its overdue triumph. In a certain sense mysticism was always to remain harnessed to his chariot.

On the other hand, Luther very soon gave up pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite, the mystic whose teaching had spread from the East over the whole of the West. At first, following public opinion, he had esteemed him very highly, the more so since he had taken him for a disciple of the Apostles; but, subsequently to the Disputation at Leipzig, where the Areopagite was urged against him, he shows himself very much opposed to him. According to Luther, he does not allow Christ to come to His rights, he grants too much to philosophy and is, of course, all wrong in his teaching concerning the hierarchy of the Church.[440] Luther, however, always remained true to St. Bernard, with whom he had become acquainted, together with Gerson, in his spiritual reading at the monastery. From St. Bernard, as likewise from Tauler, he borrowed many mystic ideas, yet not without at the same time forcibly misinterpreting them and ascribing to the former, ideas which are altogether foreign to his mind.[441] Gerson’s theologico-mystical introduction, which Luther cites in his glosses on Tauler, did not experience any better treatment at his hands,[442] while Bonaventure, the mystic whom he once prized, came under suspicion on account of his theological teaching, even before the Areopagite.[443]

On the other hand, he retained his esteem for Tauler till the end.

Some very remarkable references which Luther makes to Tauler’s teaching are in connection with the troubles of conscience which dogged the steps of the Wittenberg Doctor from his first public appearance. These will be mentioned later, together with the means of allaying such torments of soul, which he gives in his “Operationes in Psalmos” (1519-21), borrowing them from misunderstood passages of Tauler.

We conclude with another passage from the “Operationes” in which, following Tauler, he gives expression to that favourite idea of his, which like a star of ill-omen presided at the rise of his new theology. Psalm xi., according to him, is intended to demonstrate the “righteousness by faith” against “the supporters of holiness by works and the deceptive appearance of human righteousness.” This is a forced interpretation going far beyond his own former exposition of the Psalm in question. “To-day,” he says—with an eye on the so-called holy-by-works, or iustitiarii—“there are many such seducers, as Johann Tauler also frequently warns us.”[444] Of course, here again, what he has in mind are the well-known admonitions of Tauler, to trust in God more than in our own acts of virtue, though he takes them quite wrongly as implying the worthlessness of works for salvation. A Protestant authority here meets us at least half-way: “Tauler certainly did not hold in so accentuated a fashion as Luther the antithesis between grace and works, for he allows that ‘good works’ bring a man forward on the way of salvation.”[445]

Luther, since beginning his over-zealous and excited perusal of Tauler’s writings, presents to the calm observer the appearance of a man caught up in a dangerous whirl of overstrain. Even in the first months this whirl of a mystic world brought up from the depth of his soul all the accumulated sediment of anti-theological feeling and disgust with the state of the Church. The enthusiasm with which Luther speaks of the “Theologia Deutsch” and Tauler, shows, as a Protestant theologian has it, “that the mysticism of the late Middle Ages had intoxicated him.” “It is clear that we have here a turning-point in Luther’s theology.”[446]

Of mighty importance for the future was his unfortunate choice, perhaps due to his state of mind, just in that period of storm and stress, to deliver lectures at the University on the Epistle to the Romans. Through his Commentary on this Epistle he set a seal upon his new views directed against the Church’s doctrine concerning grace, works and justification.

CHAPTER VI

THE CHANGE OF 1515 IN THE LIGHT OF THE COMMENTARY ON ROMANS (1515-16)

1. The New Publications

Luther’s lectures on the Epistle to the Romans which, as mentioned above (p. 93), he delivered at Wittenberg from April, 1515, to September or October, 1516, existed till recently (1904-8) only in MS. form. To Denifle belongs the merit of having first drawn public attention to this important source of information, which he exploited, and from the text of which he furnished long extracts according to the Vatican Codex palatinus lat. 1826.[447] The MS. referred to, containing the scholia, is a copy by Aurifaber of the lectures which Luther himself wrote out in full, and once belonged to the library of Ulrich Fugger, whence it came to the Palatina at Heidelberg, and, ultimately, on the transference of the Palatina to Rome, found its way to the Vatican Library. It was first made use of by Dr. Vogel, and then, in 1899, thoroughly studied by Professor Joh. Ficker.[448] While the work was in process of publication the original by Luther’s own hand was discovered in 1903 in the Codex lat. theol. 21,4º of the State Library in Berlin, or rather rediscovered, for it had already been referred to in 1752 in an account of the library.[449] According to this MS., which also contains the glosses,[450] the Commentary, after having been collated with the Roman MS., which is frequently inaccurate, was edited with a detailed introduction at Leipzig in 1908 by Joh. Ficker, Professor at Strasburg University; it forms the first volume of a collection entitled “Anfänge reformatorischer Bibelauslegung.”

Denifle’s preliminary excerpts were so ample and exact that, as a comparison with what has since been published proves, they afforded a trustworthy insight into a certain number of Luther’s doctrinal views of decisive value in forming an opinion on the general course of his development.[451] But it is only now, with the whole work before us, scholia and glosses complete, that it is possible to give a fair and well-founded account of the ideas which were coming to the front in Luther. The connection between different points of his teaching appears in a clearer light, and various opinions are disclosed which were fresh in Luther’s mind, and upon which Denifle had not touched, but which are of great importance in the history of his growth. Among such matters thus brought to light were Luther’s gloomy views on God and predestination, with which we shall deal in our next section.

The Epistle of St. Paul to the Romans ranks first among all his letters for the depth of thought and wealth of revelation which it contains. It treats of the most exalted questions of human thought, and handles the most difficult problems of Christian faith and hope. Its subject-matter is the eternal election of the Gentile and Jewish world to salvation in Christ; the guidance of the heathen by the law of nature, and of the Jews by the Mosaic law; the powers of man when left to himself, and of man supernaturally raised; the universality and potency of the saving grace of Christ, and the manner of its appropriation in justification by faith; finally the life, death and resurrection in which the Christian, through faith, unites himself with Christ.[452]

We may doubt whether the young Doctor of Wittenberg was qualified to grapple with so great a task as the explanation of this charter of faith, especially bearing in mind his comparatively insignificant knowledge of the Fathers of the Church and the theological literature of the past, his impetuosity in dealing with recondite questions, and his excitable fancy which always hurried in advance of his judgment. At any rate, he himself thought his powers sufficient for a work on which the most enlightened minds of the Church had tested their abilities. He immediately followed up this Commentary with other lectures on certain epistles of St. Paul, wherein the Apostle discloses the depths of his knowledge.

On perusing the lengthy pages of the Commentary on Romans we are amazed at the eloquence of the young author, at his dexterity in description and his skill in the apt use of biblical quotations; but his manner of working contrasts very unfavourably with that of the older Commentators on the Epistle, such as Thomas of Aquin with his brevity and definiteness and, particularly, his assurance in theological matters. Luther’s mode of treating the subject is, apart from other considerations, usually too rhetorical and not seldom quite tedious in its amplitude.

The work, with its freedom both in its language and its treatment of the subject, reveals many interesting traits which go to make up a picture of Luther’s inward self.

He starts with the assumption that the whole of the Epistle was intended by its author to “uproot from the heart the feeling of self-righteousness and any satisfaction in the same,” and—to use his own odd expression—“to implant, establish and magnify sin therein (‘plantare, ac constituere et magnificare peccatum’).”[453] “Although there may be no sin in the heart or any suspicion of its existence,” he declares, we ought and must feel ourselves to be full of sin, in contradistinction to the grace of Christ from Whom alone we receive what is pleasing to God.

In his passionate opposition to the real or imaginary self-righteous he allows himself, in these lectures, to be drawn into an ever deeper distrust of man’s ability to do anything that is good. The nightmare of self-righteousness never leaves him for a moment. His attack would have been justifiable if he had merely been fighting against sinful self-righteousness which is really selfishness, or against the delusion that natural morality will suffice before God. Nor does it appear who is defending such erroneous ideas against him, or which school upheld the thesis Luther is always opposing, viz. that there is a saving righteousness which arises, is preserved, and works without the preventing and accompanying grace of God. It is, however, clear that there was in his own soul a dislike for works; so strong in fact is his feeling in this regard that he simply calls all works “works of the law,” and cannot be too forcible in demonstrating the antagonism of the Apostle to their supposed over-estimation. Probably one reason for his selection of this Epistle for interpretation was that it appeared to him to agree even better than other biblical works with his own ideas against “self-righteousness.” We must now consider in detail some of the leading ideas of the Commentary on Romans.

2. Gloomy Views regarding God and Predestination

The tendency to a dismal conception of God plays, in combination with his ideas on predestination, an incisive part in Luther’s Commentary on Romans, which, so far, has received too little attention. The tendency is noticeable throughout his early mental history. He was never able to overcome his former temptations to sadness and despair on account of the possibility of his irrevocable predestination to hell, sufficiently to attain to the joy of the children of God and to the trustful recognition of God’s general and certain will for our salvation. The advice which Staupitz, among others, gave him was assuredly correct, viz. to take refuge in the wounds of Christ, and Luther probably tried to follow it. But we do not learn that he paid diligent heed to the further admonitions of the ancient ascetics, to exert oneself in the practice of good works, as though one’s predestination depended entirely on the works one performs with the grace of God. On the contrary, of set purpose, he avoided any effort on his own part and preferred the misleading mystical views of Quietism.

The melancholy idea of predestination again peeps out unabashed in the passage in his Commentary on the Psalms, where he says, that Christ “drank the cup of pain for His elect, but not for all.”[454]

If he set out to explain the Epistle to the Romans with a gloomy conception of God, in which we recognise the old temptations regarding predestination, owing to his misapprehension of certain passages of the Epistle concerning God’s liberty and inscrutability in the bestowal of grace, his ideas, as he advances, become progressively more stern and dismal. The editor of the Commentary remarks, not without reason, on the forcible way in which Luther, “even in chapter i., emphasises the sovereignty of the Will of God.”[455] It is true of many, Luther says there, that God gives them up to the desires of their heart, unto uncleanness (cp. Rom. i. 24), nor is this merely a permission, but an appointment and command (“non tantum permissio, sed commissio et iussio”).[456] In such a case God commands the devil or the flesh to tempt a man and conquer him. It is true that when God chooses to act graciously He prevents the evil; but He also wills to be severe and to punish, and “then He makes the wicked to sin more abundantly (‘facit abundantius peccare’)”; then “He forsakes a man so that he may not be able to resist the devil, who carries out the order and the Will of God in bringing about his fall.”

The youthful University Professor believes that he is here teaching a “more profound theology.” No one was to come to him, he says, with the shallow and hackneyed assertion that, on the above hypothesis, man’s free will was destroyed; only narrow minds (“rudiores”) take exception at this “profundior theologia.”[457] The teaching of this new theology was the following:

“This man may do what he pleases, it is God’s will that he should be overcome by sin.” “It is true that God does not desire the sin, although He wills that it shall take place (‘non sequitur quod Deus peccatum velit, licet ipsum velit fieri’); for He only wills that it shall happen, in order to manifest in man the greatness of His anger and His severity by punishing in him the sin which He hates.” “It is therefore on account of the punishment that God wills that the sin shall be committed.... God alone may will such a thing” (“Hoc autem soli Deo licitum est velle”),[458] and he repeats fearlessly: “in order that all misery and shame may be heaped upon the man, God wills he should commit this sin.”[459] He fancies he is communicating to his pupils “the highest secrets of theology,” meant only for the perfect, when he assures them that both statements are right: God wills to oblige me and all men [to do what is good] and yet He does not give His grace to all, but only to whom He will, reserving to Himself the choice. Some it does not please Him to justify because He manifests so much the more through them His honour in the elect; in the same way He also wills sin, though only indirectly, viz. “that He may be glorified in the elect.” Hence we must not make it a mere matter of permission, for “how would God permit it unless it were His will?” “Senseless chatter,” thus he describes the unanimous contrary teaching of theologians, “such is the objection they raise that man would thus be damned without any fault on his part, because he could not fulfil the law and was expected to do what was impossible.”—We can only ask how his own method is to be described when he contents himself with this solution: “If that objection had any weight it would follow that it was not necessary to preach, to pray, to exhort, and Christ’s death would also not be necessary. Yet by means of all this God has chosen to save His elect.”[460]

Luther, as this somewhat lengthy passage shows, had, at any rate at that time, no bright, kindly idea of God’s Nature, Goodness and inexhaustible Mercy, which wills to make every creature here on earth happy and to save them in eternity; his mind was imprisoned within the narrow limits to which he had before this accustomed himself; a false conception of God’s essence—perhaps a remainder of his Occamist training—was already poisoning the very vitals of his theology.

His melancholy conception of God comes to light not only in the various passages where he speaks of predestination, but also in the dark pictures, which, in his morbid frame of mind, he paints of the wickedness and sin of man pitting his unquenchable concupiscence against God, the All Holy.[461] In order to adore this stern and cruel God in his own way he had already built up on his false mysticism a practical theory of resignation and self-surrender to whatever might be the Divine Will, even should it destine him to damnation. In the first pages of the Commentary on Romans his idea of God enables him to proclaim loudly and boldly, and with full knowledge of what he is doing, his opposition to the religious practice of his many zealous contemporaries, whether clerics or laymen.

Many have, according to him, an idea of God different from his: “Oh, how many there are to-day who do not worship God as He is, but as they imagine Him to be. Look at their singularities and their superstitious rites, full of delusions. They give up what they ought to practise, they choose out the works by which they will honour Him, they fancy that God is such that He looks down upon them and their works.” “There is spread abroad to-day a sort of idolatry by which God is not served as He is. The love of their own ideas and their own righteousness entirely blinds mankind, and they call it ‘good intention.’ They imagine that God is thereby graciously disposed to them, whereas it is not so: and so they worship their phantom God rather than the true God.”[462]

Neither do they understand how to pray, because they do not know the awfulness of God. Does not the Scripture say; he asks them: “Serve ye the Lord with fear and rejoice unto Him with trembling” (Ps. ii. 11), and “with fear and trembling work out your salvation” (Phil. ii. 12)? Not wanting to look at their own works as “bad and suspicious” in the eyes of this God, “they do not assiduously call upon His grace.” They assume that their good intention arises out of themselves, whereas it is a gift of God, and desire to prepare themselves for the infusion of grace.[463] “Pelagian notions are at the bottom of all this. No one acknowledges himself now to be a Pelagian, but many are so unconsciously, with their principle that free will must set to work to obtain grace.”[464]

Such is the perilous position he reaches under the influence of his distaste for works, viz. a violent antagonism to free will. Man is unable to do the least thing to satisfy this Holy God.[465] The Occamist theology of the school in which he was trained here serves him in good stead, as the following sentences, which are closely akin to Occam’s acceptation-theory, show: “We must always be filled with anxiety, ever fear and await the Divine acceptance”; for as all our works are in themselves evil, “only those are good which God imputes as good; they are in fact something or nothing, only in so far as God accepts them or not.” “The eternal God has chosen good works from the beginning that they should please Him,”[466] “but how can I ever know that my deed pleases God? How can I even know that my good intention is from God?”[467] Hence, away with the proud self-righteous (“superbi iustitiarii”) who are so sure of their good works!

Fear, desponding humility and self-annihilation, according to Luther, are the only feelings one can cherish in front of this terrible, unaccountable God.[468] “He who despairs of himself is the one whom God accepts.”[469]

He also speaks of a certain “pavor Dei,” which is the foundation of salvation: “trepidare et terreri” is the best sign, as it is said in Psalm cxliii.: “Shoot out Thy arrows and Thou shalt trouble them,” the “terrens Deus” leads to life.[470] True love does not ask any enjoyment from God, rather, he here repeats, whoever loves Him from the hope of being made eternally happy by Him, or from fear of being wretched without Him, has a sinful and selfish love (“amor concupiscentiæ”); but to allow the terrors of God to encompass us, to be ready to accept from Him the most bitter interior and exterior cross, to all eternity, that only is perfect love. And even with such love we are dragged into thick interior darkness.[471]

All these gloomy thoughts which cloud his mind, gather, when he comes to explain chapters viii. and ix. of the Epistle to the Romans, where the Apostle deals with the question of election to grace.

Luther thinks he has here found in St. Paul the doctrine of predestination, not only to heaven, but also to hell, expressed, moreover, in the strongest terms. At the same time he warns his hearers against faint-heartedness, being well aware how dangerous his views might prove to souls.

“Let no one immerse himself in these thoughts who is not purified in spirit, lest he sink into an abyss of horror and despair; the eyes of the heart must first be purified by contemplating the wounds of Christ. I discourse upon these matters solely because the trend of the lectures leads up to them, and because they are unavoidable. It is the strongest wine there is, and the most perfect food, a solid nourishment for the perfect; it is that most exalted theology of which the Apostle says (1 Cor. ii. 6): ‘we speak wisdom among the perfect’ ... only the perfect and the strong should study the first book of the Sentences [because predestination is dealt with at the end of Peter Lombard’s first book]; it should really be the last and not the first book; to-day many who are unprepared jump at it and then go away blinded in spirit.”[472]

Luther teaches that the Apostle’s doctrine is: God did not in their lifetime exercise His mercy towards the damned; He is right and not to be blamed when He follows herein His own supreme will alone. “Why then does man murmur as though God were not acting according to the law?” His will is, for every man, the highest good. Why should we not desire, and that with the greatest fervour, the fulfilment of this will, since it is a will which can in no way be evil? “You say: Yes, but for me it is evil. No, it is evil for none. The only evil is that men cannot understand God’s will and do it”; they should know that even in hell they are doing God’s will if it is His wish that they should be there.[473]

Hence the only way he knows out of the darkness he has himself created is recognition of, and resignation to, the possibility of a purely arbitrary damnation by God. The expressions he here makes use of for reprobation, “inter reprobos haberi,” “damnari,” “morte æterna puniri” make it plain that he demands resignation to actual reprobation and to being placed on a footing with the damned. Yet, as he always considers this resignation as the most perfect proof of acquiescence in the Will of God, it does not, according to him, include within itself a readiness to hate God, but, on the contrary, the strongest and highest love.[474] With such an exalted frame of mind, however, the actual penalty of hell would cease to exist. “It is impossible that he should remain apart from God who throws himself so entirely into the Will of God. He wills what God wills, therefore he pleases God. If he pleases God, then he is loved by God; if he is loved by God, then he is saved.”[475] That he is thus cutting the ground from under his hypothesis of an inevitable predestination to hell by teaching how we can escape it, does not seem to strike him. Or does he, perhaps, mean that only those who are not predestined to hell can thus overcome the fear of hell? Will such resignation be possible to him who really believes himself destined to hell, and who sees even in his resignation no means whereby he can escape it?

To such a one even the “wounds of Christ” offer no assurance and no place of refuge. They only speak to man of the God of revelation, not of the mysterious, unsearchable God. The untenable and insulting comparison between the mysterious and the revealed Supreme Being which Luther was later on to institute is here already foreshadowed.

He explains in detail how the will of man does not in the least belong to the person who wills, or the road to the runner. “All is God’s, who gives and creates the will.” We are all instruments of God, who works all in all. Our will is like the saw and the stick—examples which he repeatedly employs later in his harshest utterances concerning the slavery of the will. Sawing is the act of the hand which saws, but the saw is passive; the animal is beaten, not by the stick, but by him who holds the stick. So the will also is nothing, but God who wields it is everything.[476]

Hence he rejects most positively the theological doctrine that God foresees the final lot of man as something “contingenter futurum,” i.e. that he sees his rejection as something dependent on man and brought about by his own fault. No, according to Luther, in the election of grace everything is preordained “inflexibili et firma voluntate,” and this, His own will, is alone present in the mind of God.

Luther speaks with scorn of “our subtle theologians,” who drag in their “contingens” and build up an election by grace on “necessitas consequentiæ, sed non consequentis,” in accordance with the well-known scholastic ideas. “With God there is absolutely no ‘contingens,’ but only with us; for no leaf ever falls from the tree to the earth without the will of the Father.” Besides, the theologians—so he accuses the Scholastics without exception—“have imagined the case so, or at least have led to its being so imagined, as though salvation were obtained or lost through our own free will.”[477]

We know that here he was wrong. As a matter of fact, true Scholasticism attributed the work of salvation to grace together with free will, so that two factors, the Divine and the human, or the supernatural and the natural, are mutually engaged in the same. But Luther, when here reporting the old teaching, does not mention the factor of grace, but only “nostrum arbitrium.”

He then adds: “Thus I once understood it.” If he really ever believed salvation to be exclusively the work of free will, then he erred grievously, and merely proves how defective his study, even of Gabriel Biel, had been.

He also interpreted quite wrongly the view of contemporary and earlier scholastic theologians on the love of God, and, again, by excluding the supernatural factor. He reproaches them with having, so he says, considered the love in question as merely natural (“ex natura”) and yet as wholesome for eternal life, and he demands that all wholesome love be made to proceed “ex Spiritu Sancto,” a thing which all theologians, even the Occamists, had insisted on. He says: “they do not know in the least what love is,”[478] “nor do they know what virtue is, because they allow themselves to be instructed on this point by Aristotle, whose definition is absolutely erroneous.”[479] It makes no impression upon him—perhaps he is even ignorant of the fact—that the Scholastics consider, on good grounds, the love which loves God’s goodness as goodness towards us, and which makes personal salvation its motive, compatible with the perfect love of friendship (amicitiæ, complacentiæ).[480] According to him, this love must be extirpated (“amor exstirpandus”) because it is full of abominable self-seeking.[481] In its place he sets up a most perfect love (which will be described below), which includes resignation to, and even a desire for, hell-fire, a resignation such as Christ Himself manifested (!) in His abandonment to suffering.

Luther had now left the safe path of theological and ecclesiastical tradition to pursue his own ideas.

It is true that, notwithstanding his exhortation to be resigned to the holy will of God in every case, he looks with fear at the flood of blasphemies which must arise in the heart of one who fears his own irrevocable, undeserved damnation. Anxious to obviate this, or to arm the conscience against it, when pointing to the wounds of Christ he adds these words: “Should anyone, owing to overmastering temptation, come to blaspheme God, that would not involve his eternal damnation. For even towards the godless our God is not a God of impatience and cruelty. Such blasphemies are forced out of a man by the devil, therefore they may be more pleasing to God’s ear than any Alleluia or song of praise. The more terrible and abominable a blasphemy is, the more pleasing it is to God when the heart feels that it does not acquiesce in it, i.e. when it is involuntary.”[482]

Involuntary thoughts, to which alone he sees fit to refer, are, of course, not deserving of punishment; but are the murmurs and angry complaints against predestination to hell of which he speaks always only involuntary? The way to resignation which he mentions in the same connection is no less questionable. It consists largely in “not troubling about such thoughts.”[483] But will all be able to get so far as this?

He again repeats with great insistence that “everything happens according to God’s choice”; “he upon whom God does not have mercy, remains in the ‘massa’” [perditionis].[484] “For whom it is, it is,” he adds elsewhere in German, “whom it hits, him it hits.”[485] God permits at times even the elect to be reduced, as it were, to nothingness,[486] but only in order that His sole power may be made manifest and that it may quench all proud boasting; for man is so ready to believe that he can by the exercise of his free will rise again, and waxes presumptuous; but here he learns that grace exalts him before and above every choice of his own (“ante omne arbitrium et supra arbitrium suum”).[487]

We shall not here examine more closely his grave misapprehension of the teaching of the Apostle in the Epistle to the Romans, on which he tries to prop up his glaring theory concerning predestination. Suffice it to say that the principal passage to which he refers (Rom. ix. 11 ff.), according to the exegetist Cornely, is not now taken by any expositor to refer to predestination, i.e. to the selection by grace of each individual.[488] The passage treats of the promises made to the Jewish people (as a whole) which were given without desert and freely; but Israel, as St. Paul explains, has, by its fault, rendered itself unworthy of the same and excluded itself (as a whole) from the salvation which the heathen obtain by faith—a reward of Israel’s misdeeds, which, in itself, is incompatible with Luther’s doctrine of an undeserved predestination to hell.[489]

Luther also quotes St. Augustine, but does not interpret him correctly. He even overlooks the fact that this Father, in one of the passages alleged, says the very opposite to his new ideas on unconditional predestination to hell, and attributes in every case the fate of the damned to their own moral misdeeds. Augustine says, in his own profound, concise way, in the text quoted by Luther: “the saved may not pride himself on his merits, and the damned may only bewail his demerits.”[490] In his meditations on the ever-inscrutable mystery he regards the sinner’s fault as entirely voluntary, and his revolt against the eternal God as, on this account, worthy of eternal damnation. Augustine teaches that “to him as to every man who comes into this world” salvation was offered with a wealth of means of grace and with all the merits of Christ’s bitter death on the cross.[491]

Luther also quoted the Bible passages regarding God’s will for the salvation of all men, but only in order to say of them: “such expressions are always to be understood exclusively of the elect.” It is merely “wisdom of the flesh” to attempt to find a will of God that all men be saved in the assurance of St. Paul: “God wills that all men shall be saved” (1 Tim. ii. 4), or “in the passages which say, that He gave His Son for us, that He created man for eternal life, and that everything was created for man, but man for God that he might enjoy Him eternally.”[492]

Other objections which Luther makes he sets aside with the same facility by a reference to the thoughts he has developed above.[493] Thus the first: Why did God give to man free will by means of which he can merit either reward or punishment? His answer is: Where is this free will? Man has no free will for doing what is good. Then a second objection: “God damns no one without sin, and he who is forced to sin is damned unjustly.” The answer to this is new: God ordains it so that those who are to be damned are gladly, even though of necessity, in sin (“dat voluntarie velle in peccato esse et manere et diligere iniquitatem”). Finally, the last objection: “Why does God give them commandments which He does not will them to keep, yea hardens their will so much that they desire to act contrary to the law? Is not God in this case the cause of their sinning and being damned?” “Yes, that is the difficulty,” he admits, “which, as a matter of fact, has the most force; it is the weightiest of all. But to it the Apostle makes a special answer when he teaches: God so wills it, and God Who thus wills, is not evil. Everything is His, just as the clay belongs to the potter and waits on his service.” Enough, he continues, “God commands that the elect shall be saved, and that those who are destined for hell shall be entangled in evil in order that He may show forth His mercy and also His anger.”

It makes one shudder to hear how he cuts short the sighs of the unhappy soul which sees itself a victim of God’s harshness. It complains: “It is a hard and bitter lot that God should seek His honour in my misery!” And Luther replies: “See, there we have the wisdom of the flesh! My misery; ‘my,’ ‘my,’ that is the voice of the flesh. Drop the ‘my’ and say: Be Thou honoured, O Lord.... So long as you do not do that, you are seeking your own will more than the will of God. We must judge of God in a different manner from that in which we judge of man. God owes no man anything.”

“With this hard doctrine,” he concludes, “the knife is placed at the throat of holiness-by-works and fleshly wisdom and therefore the flesh is naturally incensed, and breaks out into blasphemies; but man must learn that his salvation does not depend upon his acts, but that it lies quite outside of him, namely, in God, Who has chosen him.”

He attempts, however, to mingle softer tones with the voices of despair, which, he admits, these theories have let loose. This he can only do at the expense of his own teaching, or by fining it down. He says: whoever is terrified and confused, but then tries to abandon himself with indifference to the severity of God, he, let this be his comfort, is not of the number of those predestined to hell. For only those who are really to be rejected are not afraid[?], “they pay no heed to the danger and say, if I am to be damned, so be it!” On the other hand, confusion and fear are signs of the “spiritus contribulatus,” which, according to his promise, God never rejects (Ps. 1.).

After all, then, we are forced to ask, according to this, is not man to be saved by his own act, namely, the act of heroic indifference to his eternity? For this act remains an act of man: “Whoever is filled with the fear of God, and, taking courage, throws and precipitates himself into the truth of the promises of God, he will be saved, and be one of the elect.”[494]

3. The Fight against “Holiness-by-Works” and the Observantines in the Commentary on Romans

His ideas on predestination were not the direct cause of Luther’s belittling of human effort and the value of good works; the latter tendency was present in him previous to his adoption of rigid predestinarianism; nor does he ever attribute to election by grace any diminution of man’s powers or duties, whether in the case of the chosen or of the reprobate. The same commandments are given to those whom God’s terrible decree has destined for hell as to the elect; they possess the same human abilities, the same weaknesses. It was not predestination which led him in the first instance to attribute such strength to concupiscence in man, and to invest it, as he ultimately did, with an actually sinful and culpable character.

His ideas concerning the absolute corruption of the children of Adam, even to the extinction of any liberty in the doing of what is good, had another origin, and, in their development, were influenced far more by false mysticism than by the predestinarian delusion.

He approached the lectures on the Epistle to the Romans in the conviction that, in this Epistle, he would find the sanction of his earlier efforts against the self-righteous and “holy-by-works,” against whom his peculiar mysticism had still further prejudiced him. From the very outset he interprets the great Apostolic document on the calling of the heathen and the Jews to salvation as directed exclusively against those who, according to him, were imperilling the Church; against those who (whether in his own Order or in Christendom generally) laid stress on the importance of works, on the duty of fulfilling observances and the merit of exercises of virtue for gaining heaven, and who were unmindful of the righteousness which Christ gives us. This is not the place to point out how Paul is speaking in quite another sense, against those Jewish Christians who still adhered to the works of the Mosaic Law, of the merely relative value of works, of the liberty which Christianity imparts and of the saving power of faith.

Luther, however, in the very first lines, tells the “holy-by-works” that the whole purpose of the Epistle to the Romans is a driving back and rooting out of the wisdom and righteousness of the flesh. Among the heathen and the Jews were to be found those who, though “devoted in their hearts to virtue,” yet had not suppressed all self-satisfaction in the same, and looked upon themselves as “righteous and good men”; in the Church, according to Paul, all self-righteousness and wisdom must be torn out of the affections, and self-complacency. God willed to save us not by our own righteousness but by an extraneous righteousness (“non per domesticam sed per extraneam iustitiam vult salvare”), viz. by the imputed righteousness of Christ, and, owing to the exterior righteousness which Christ gives (“externa quæ ex Christo in nobis est iustitia”), there can be no boasting, nor must there be “any depression on account of the sufferings and trials which come to us from Christ.”[495]

“Christ’s righteousness and His gifts,” he says, “shine in the true Christian.... If any man possesses natural and spiritual advantages, yet this is not considered by God as being his wisdom, righteousness and goodness (‘non ideo coram Deo talis reputatur’), rather, he must wait in humility, as though he possessed nothing, for the pure mercy of God, to see whether He will look upon him as righteous and wise. God only does this if he humbles himself deeply. We must learn to regard spiritual possessions and works of righteousness as worthless for obtaining the righteousness of Christ, we must renounce the idea that these have any value in God’s sight and merit a reward, otherwise we shall not be saved” (“opera iusta velint nihil reputare,” etc.).[496]

Any pretext, or even none at all, serves to bring him back again and again in the work to the “Pelagian-minded iustitiarii.” It is possible that amongst these the “Observantines” ranked first. Our thoughts revert to those of his brother monks, whose cause he had at first defended in the internal struggle within the Congregation, only to turn on them unmercifully afterwards. On one occasion he mentions by name the “Observants,” reproaching them with trying to outshine one another in their zeal for God, while at the same time they had no love of their neighbour, whereas, according to the passage he is just expounding, “the fulness of the law is love.”[497] He would also appear to be referring to them, when, on another occasion, he rails at such monks, who by their behaviour bring their whole profession into disgrace.

“They exalt themselves against other members of their profession,” he cries, “as though they were clean and had no evil odour about them,”[498] and continues in the style of his monastic discourse on the “Little Saints” mentioned above (p. 69 f.). “And yet before, behind and within they are a pig-market and sty of sows ... they wish to withdraw from the rest, whereas they ought, were they really virtuous, to help them to conceal their faults. But in place of patient succour there is nothing in them but peevishness and a desire to be far away (‘quærunt fugam ... tediosi sunt et nolunt esse in communione aliorum’). They will not serve those who are good for nothing nor be their companions; they only desire to be the superiors and companions of the worthy, the perfect and the sound. Therefore they run from one place to another.”[499]

The struggle of which this is a picture continued among the German Augustinians. In the spring, 1520, a similar conflict broke out in the Cologne Province, one side having the sympathy of the Roman Conventuals.[500] We can well understand how the General of the Order in Rome was not disposed to grant the exemptions claimed by the Observantines of the Saxon Congregation against his own Provincials.

Luther brandishes his sharp blade against the “spiritually minded, the proud, the stiff-necked, who seek peace in works and in the flesh, the iustitiarii,”[501] without making any sharp distinction between the actual Observantines and the “self-righteous.”

With regard to himself, he admits that he is so antagonistic to the “iustitiarii,” that he is opposed to all scrupulous observance of “iustitia,” to all regulations and strict ordinances:

“The very word righteousness vexes me: if anyone were to steal from me, it would hurt me less than being obliged to listen to the word righteousness. It is a word which the jurists always have on their lips, but there is no more unlearned race than these men of the law, save, perhaps, the men of good intention and superior reason (‘bonæ-intentionarii seu sublimatæ rationis’); for I have experienced both in myself and in others, that when we were righteous, God mocked at us.”[502]

4. Attack on Predisposition to Good and on Free Will

The assertion of the complete corruption of human nature owing to the continuance of original sin and the inextinguishable tinder of concupiscence, arose from the above-mentioned position which Luther had taken up with regard to self-righteousness.

Man remains, according to what Luther says in the Commentary on Romans, in spite of all his veneer of good works, so alienated from God that he “does not love but hates the law which forces him to what is good and forbids what is evil; his will, far from seeking the law, detests it. Nature persists in its evil desires contrary to the law; it is always full of evil concupiscence when it is not assisted from above.” This concupiscence, however, is sin. Everything that is good is due only to grace, and grace must bring us to acknowledge this and to “seek Christ humbly and so be saved.”[503]

The descriptions of human doings which the author gives us in eloquent language are not wanting in fidelity and truth to nature, though we cannot approve his inferences. He has a keen eye on others and is unmerciful in his delineation of the faults which he perceived in the pious people around him.

He spies out many who only act from a desire for the praise of men, and who wish to appear, but not really to be, good. How ready are such, he says, to depreciate themselves with apparent humility. Others only do what is right because it gives them pleasure, i.e. from inclination and without any higher motive. Others do it from vain self-complacency; yea, selfishness is present in almost all, and mars their works. Outward routine and a business-like righteousness spoils a great deal. It is to be deplored that, like the Pharisees, they only keep what is commanded in view and long for the rewards of a busy and petty virtue.[504]

In such descriptions he is easily carried too far and is sometimes even obviously unjust. Thus, for instance, of evil practices he makes conscious theories, in order the more readily to gain the upper hand of his adversaries. “They teach,” he cries, “that it is only necessary to keep the law by works and not with the heart ... their efforts are not accompanied with the least inward effort, everything is wholly external.”[505]

In respect of the doctrine of original sin and its consequences in man, he not only magnifies enormously the strength of the concupiscence which remains after baptism, without sufficiently taking into account the spiritual means by which it can be repressed, but gives the most open expression to his belief that concupiscence is actually sin; it is the persistence of original sin, rendering every man actually culpable, even without any consent of the will. The “Non concupisces” of the Ten Commandments—which the Apostle emphasises in his Epistle to the Romans, though in another sense—Luther makes out to be such a prohibition that, by the mere existence of concupiscence, it is daily and hourly sinfully transgressed. He pays no attention to the theology of the Church, which had hitherto seen in the “Non concupisces” a prohibition of any voluntary consent to a concupiscence existing without actual sin.

His attack on free will is very closely bound up with his ideas on concupiscence.

“Concupiscence with weakness is against the law ‘Thou shalt not covet,’ and it is deadly imputat’) it as mortal sin to the man whom he chooses to perfect and render whole.”[506]

He makes various attempts to deduce from concupiscence the absolute want in the will of freedom to do what is good. There is not the slightest doubt that he does deny this freedom, though, on the other hand, he grants so much to liberty in his admonitions concerning predestination (see below, p. 219) that he practically retracts his denial. The position he takes up with regard to grace ought to be a test of what he actually held: did he look upon grace as in every case irresistible? But on this very point he is as yet indisposed to commit himself as he will not hesitate to do later, to a positive, erroneous “yes.” In short, though he stands for a denial of liberty, he has not yet seen his way to solve all the difficulties.

If we seek some specimens illustrating the course of his ideas regarding lack of liberty, we find, perhaps, the strongest utterance in his comments on Romans viii. 28: “Free will apart from grace possesses absolutely no power for righteousness, it is necessarily in sin. Therefore St. Augustine in his book against Julian terms it ‘rather an enslaved than a free will.’ But after the obtaining of grace it becomes really free, at least as far as salvation is concerned. The will is, it is true, free by nature, but only for what comes within its province, not for what is above it, being bound in the chain of sin and therefore unable to choose what is good in God’s sight.”[507] Here Luther makes no distinction between natural and supernatural good, but excludes both from our choice; in fact there is no such thing as natural goodness, for what nature performs alone is only sin.

“Where is our righteousness,” he exclaims rhetorically some pages before this, “where are our works, where is the liberty of choice, where the presupposed ‘contingens’ (see above, p. 193)? This is what must be preached, this is the way to bring the wisdom of the flesh to the dust! The Apostle does so here. In former passages he cut off its hands, its feet, its tongue; here he seizes it [the wisdom of the flesh which speaks in defence of free will] and makes an end of it. Here, like a flash of light, it is seen to possess nothing in itself, all its possession being in God.”[508] This, then, is Luther’s conclusion: the elect are not saved by the co-operation of their free will, but by the Divine decree; not by their merits, but by the unalterable edict from above by means of which they conquer all the difficulties in the way of salvation. He is silent here as to whether the elect may not succumb to sin temporarily, either by the misuse of liberty, or from lack of compelling grace.

Towards the end of the Commentary he asserts quite definitely that we are unable to formulate even a good intention with our human powers which could in any way [even in the natural order] be pleasing to God.

He here examines certain opponents, who rightly denied this inability, “otherwise man would be forced to sin.” Further on he attributes to all theologians the teaching of the Occamists (see above, p. 75): “therewith we receive without fail the infusion of God’s grace”; a proposition which certainly sounds Pelagian. He passes over one point which true scholastic theologians did not omit, viz. that God’s supernatural assistance “prevents” our natural will, raises the same into the order of grace, and thus enables us to merit salvation. Further, again disregarding the scholastic teaching, he foists upon all theologians the idea that, having once formed our intention, “we need have no further anxiety, or trouble ourselves to invoke God’s grace.”[509] Such is, according to him, the position of his opponents.

In his answer he does not assert, as regards the first proposition, that God forces us to evil; “the wicked,” he says, “do what they wish, perhaps even with good intentions, but God allows them to sin even in their good works.” Of this, according to him, his opponents must be aware and therefore ought not to act with so much assurance and certainty as though they were really performing good works. Everyone should rather say: “Who knows whether God’s grace is working this in me?” Then only does man acknowledge “that he can do nothing of himself”; only thus can we escape Pelagianism, which is the curse of the self-righteous. “But because they are persuaded that it is always within their power to do what they can, and therefore also to possess grace [here he is utilising some of the real weaknesses of Occamism], therefore they do nothing but sin all the time in their assurance.”[510]

Luther does not here ask himself what else man is to perform in order to possess the grace of God, beyond doing what he can, humbling himself and praying for grace, as all preceding ages had taught. He is still looking for an assurance of salvation by some other method. Only at a later date does he learn, or thinks he learns, how it is to be obtained (by faith alone). Here he merely says: “It is the greatest plague to speak of the signs of possessing grace and thereby to lull man into security.” He has not yet found the assurance of the “Gracious God,” as he is to express it later.

Meanwhile he proceeds, ostensibly following St. Paul, to denounce the principle “he who does what he can,” etc., like wise freewill and the possibility of fulfilling the law.

Paul teaches, for instance, in Romans viii. 3 f.: What the Mosaic law could not do on account of the rebellion of the flesh in man, namely, conquer sin, that God did by the incarnation of His Son, who overcame sin and helps us to fulfil the law; in those who are not born again, sin lives as the “law of sin,” because they are “weak” ἠσθένει against the attacks of concupiscence; on the other hand, the saving grace of the gospel frees us from the “law of sin and death.” To the proposition with which Paul introduces this doctrine, viz. that it had not been possible for the law (i.e. the Mosaic Law) to conquer sin, Luther simply adds: “where now is the freedom of the will?[511] ... the holy Apostle Paul says here expressly that the law was unable to condemn [overcome] sin, or even the weakness which proceeds from the flesh. This is nothing else but the doctrine which I have so frequently been insisting upon, that a fulfilling of the law through our own efforts is impossible; it cannot even be said that we have the power to will and to be able, in such a way as God would have us, viz. by grace [thus it is possible to us to perform what is naturally good]; for otherwise grace would not be necessary, but only useful, and otherwise the sin of Adam would not have corrupted our nature, but have left it unimpaired.... It is true that the law of nature is written in the hearts of all; reason also has a natural desire for what is good, but this is selfish, being directed to our own good, not to that which pleases God; only faith working by love is directed towards God. All that nature desires and acquires, goodness, wisdom, virtue and whatever else there is, are evil goods (‘male bona sunt’), because nature, by original sin, is blinded in its knowledge and chained in its affections, and therefore cannot know God, nor love Him above all things nor yet refer all to Him. Therefore it follows that, without faith and love, man is unable to desire, have, or do anything that is good, but only evil, even when he does what is good.” “Without love, i.e. without the assistance of an external and higher power, he sins continually against the law ‘Thou shalt not covet,’ for this commandment requires that we should not appropriate or seek anything for ourselves, but live, act and think for God in all things. This commandment is simply beyond us.”[512]

His object in thus disparaging liberty is not for the present grounded on the Almighty Power of God, as though this stood in its way, or, as was the case later, on predestination, as though its irrefutable decree were incompatible with liberty, but merely on his exaggeration of the results of original sin with regard to doing what is good (i.e. on concupiscence); he simply moves along the old lines of his distaste for good works and for so-called self-righteousness.[513]

His misinterpretation of the Scholastics, due partly to ignorance, partly to the strength of his prejudice against them, here did him very notable service. He says on one occasion: “In their arbitrary fashion they make out that, on the infusion of grace, the whole of original sin is remitted in everyone just like all actual sin, as though sin could thus be removed at once, in the same way as darkness is dispelled by light.... It is true their Aristotle made sin and righteousness to consist in works. Either I never understood them, or they did not express themselves well.”[514] Here there can be no doubt that the former hypothesis is the correct one. That he did not understand his teachers and the school books is apparent from the following remark: If sin were completely removed in confession (“omnia ablata et evacuata”), then he who comes from confession ought to prefer himself to all others, and not look upon himself as a sinner like the rest. Even the Occamists never provided the slightest ground for such an inference, though they admitted in the justified the entire remission of all sin, original as well as actual. Luther had said in the very passage of the Commentary on Romans just quoted: “the remission of sin is, it is true, a real remission, yet not a removal of sin; the removal is only to be hoped for (“quod non sit ablatio peccati, nisi in spe”) from the giving of grace; grace commences the process of the removal in this way, that the sin is no longer imputed as sin.”[515] But, without recalling his own admission that he may possibly have misunderstood the Scholastics, he goes on to speak of the “deliria” of such Doctors.

5. Luther rudely sets aside the older doctrine of Virtue and Sin

In his Commentary on Romans Luther enters upon the domain of theological and philosophical discussion regarding the questions of natural and supernatural morality, the state of grace and the infused habit, sometimes with subtilty, sometimes with coarse invective, but owing to the limits of the present work we are unable to follow him except quite cursorily.

The manner in which he flings his “curses” at the doctrines of Scholasticism is distinctive of him; he says they are entirely compounded of pride and ignorance with regard to sin, to God and the law;[516] “cursed be the word ‘formatum charitate,’ and also the distinction between works according to the substance of the deed and the intention of the Lawgiver.”[517] There is perhaps no previous instance of a learned, exegetical treatise intended for academic consumption being thus spiced with curses.

Certain of Luther’s remarks on his practical experience call for consideration. Such is the following: “Everywhere in the Church great relapses after confession are now noticeable. People are confident that they are justified instead of first awaiting justification, and therefore the devil has an easy task with such false assurance of safety, and overthrows men. All this is due to making righteousness consist in works. But whoever thinks like a Christian can find this out for himself.”[518]

He gives the following exhortation with great emphasis and almost as though he had made an astounding discovery: “Whoever goes to confession, let him not believe that he gets rid of his burden and can then live in peace.”[519] His new doctrine of sin, which he discloses in the same passage, lies at the bottom of this; the baptised and the absolved must on no account forthwith consider themselves free from sin, on the contrary “they must not fancy themselves sure of the righteousness they have obtained and allow their hands to drop listlessly as though they were not conscious of any sin, for they have yet to fight against it and exterminate it with sighs and tears, with sadness and effort.”[520]

“Sin, therefore, still remains in the spiritual man for his exercise in the life of grace, for the humbling of his pride, for the driving back of his presumption; whoever does not exert himself zealously in the struggle against it, is in danger of being condemned even though he cease to sin any more (‘sine dubio habet, unde damnetur’). We must carry on a war with our desires, for they are culpable (‘culpa’), they are really sins and render us worthy of damnation; only the mercy of God does not impute them to us (‘imputare’) when we fight manfully against them, calling upon God’s grace.”[521]

There are few passages in the Commentary where his false conception of the entire corruption of human nature by original sin and concupiscence comes out so plainly as in the words just quoted. We see here too how this conception leads him to the denial of all liberty for doing what is good, and to the idea of imputation.

We can well understand that he needed St. Augustine to assist him to cover all this. And yet, as though to emphasise his own devious course, he quotes, among other passages, one in which Augustine confutes the view of any sin being present in man simply by reason of concupiscence.

“If we do not consent to concupiscence,” Augustine says, “it is no sin in those who are regenerate, so that, even if the ‘Non concupisces’ is infringed, yet the injunction of Jesus Sirach (xviii. 30) ‘Go not after thy lusts’ is observed. It is merely a manner of speaking to call concupiscence sin (“modo quodam loquendi”), because it sprang from sin, and, when it is victorious, causes sin.”[522] To this statement of the Father of the Church, which is so antagonistic to his own ideas, Luther can only add: that, certainly, concupiscence is in this way merely the cause and effect of sin, but not formally sinful (“causaliter et effectualiter, non formaliter”); Augustine himself had taught in another passage,[523] that owing to the mere existence of concupiscence, we are able to do what is good only in an imperfect way, not well and perfectly (“facere, non perficere”; cp. Rom vii. 18); that we ought, however, to strive to act well and perfectly “if we wish to attain to the perfection of righteousness” (“perficere bonum, est non concupiscere”).[524]

St. Augustine’s words, which are much to the point if taken in the right sense, only encouraged Luther in his opposition to the Scholastics; he points out to them that Augustine’s manner is not theirs, and that at least he supports his statements by Holy Scripture when speaking of the desires which persist without the consent of the will; they on the other hand come along without Bible proofs and thus with less authority; those old Doctors quieted consciences with the voice of the Apostle, but these new ones do not do so at all, rather they force the Divine teaching into the bed of their own abstractions; for instance, they derive from Aristotle their theory as to how virtues and vices dwell in the soul, viz. as the form exists in the subject; all comprehension of the difference between flesh and spirit is thus made impossible.

The question which here forces itself upon Luther, viz. how virtue and vice exist in the soul, is of fundamental importance for his view of ethics, and, as it frequently occurs in the Commentary, it must not be passed over.

When he says that virtues and vices do not adhere to the soul, he means the same as what he elsewhere expresses more clearly, viz. that “it depends merely on the gracious will of God whether a thing is good or bad.”[525]

“Nothing is good of its own nature, nothing is bad of its own nature; the will of God makes it good or bad.”[526]

This is the merest Nominalism, akin to Occam’s paradox that “hatred of God, theft and adultery might be not merely not wicked, but even meritorious were the will of God to command them.”

From such ideas of Occam Luther advanced to the following: “The will of God decides whether I am pleasing to Him or not.”[527]

This explains the proposition which frequently appears, in the Commentary on Romans and elsewhere, that man is at the same time righteous and a sinner, that the righteous man has the left foot still in sin and the right in grace.[528]

In the Commentary he attacks self-complacency in the performance of good works with the cry: “Good works are not something that can please because they are good or meritorious, but because they have been chosen by God from eternity as pleasing to Himself,” words which presuppose that only the imputation matters. “Therefore,” he continues, “works do not render us good, but our goodness, or rather the goodness of God, makes us good and our works good; for in themselves they would not be good, and they are or are not good in so far as God accounts them, or does not account them good (‘quantum ille reputat vel non reputat’). Our own accounting or not accounting does not matter in the least. Whoever keeps this before him is always filled with fear, and waits with apprehension to see how God’s sentence will fall out. This puts an end to all that puffing up of self and quarrelling, so beloved of the proud ‘iustitiarii,’ who are so sure of their good works.”

“Even the very definition of virtue which Aristotle gives,” he concludes, “is all wrong, as though, forsooth, virtue made us perfect and its work rendered us worthy of praise. The truth is simply that it makes us praiseworthy in our own eyes and commends our works to us; but this is abominable in God’s sight, while the contrary is pleasing to Him.”[529]

As a matter of fact, Scholasticism, basing its teaching on Aristotle, considered virtue and vice as something real and objective, as qualities of the soul which adhere to it inwardly and “inform” it, i.e. impart to it a spiritual form and become part of it in the same way as material things have their special qualities, for instance, their natural colour without which they do not exist. These, as a matter of fact, were merely learned ways of expressing the fundamental truth naturally perceived by all, viz. that evil deeds and vices render a man evil, and good deeds and virtues render him good; no sane mind could conceive of a theory of imputation by which good is made evil or evil good.

Luther was naturally obliged by his new theology of imputation to declare war on the older theological view of the existence of virtue and vice in the soul.[530] It was in so doing that, in his excitement, he uttered the curses above referred to (p. 209). It was no mere question of words, but of the very foundation of his new theology, a fact which makes his excitement comprehensible.

As a matter of fact, by his application of the theory of imputation he was heading for a “transformation of all values” and drifting towards the admission of a “future life of good and evil” long before modern philosophy had confidently opened up a similar perspective.

6. Preparation for Justification

Notwithstanding the fact that, according to the above exposition in the Commentary on Romans, man has absolutely no freedom of choice for doing what is good and that we cannot know with regard to our works how God will account them, Luther frequently speaks in the same book of the preparation necessary for obtaining justification, namely, by works. Here his feeling and his eloquence come into full play at the expense of clear theology. He does not even take into account the irresistibility of grace, which is the point he is bound to arrive at finally. Christ alone does the work, he says (“soli Christo iustitia relinquitur, soli ipsi opera gratiæ et spiritus”).[531] On the other hand, the bringing about of justification, at least so far as preparation goes, is imposed upon man. There are “works which predispose to justification,” he teaches (“opera quæ fiunt præparatorie ad iustificationem acquirendam”). “Whoever by his works disposes himself for the grace of justification is already, to a certain extent, righteous; for righteousness largely consists in the will to be righteous.”[532]

“Such works,” he continues, “are good, because we do not trust in them, but by them prepare ourselves for justification by which alone we may hope for righteousness.”[533] “Therefore we must pray earnestly, be zealous in good works and mortify ourselves (‘castigandum’) until readiness and joyousness develop in the will and its old inclination to sin is overcome by grace.”

“For the grace [of justification] will not be given to man without this personal agriculture of himself” (“non dabitur gratia sine ista agricultura sui ipsius”).[534]

We must continue to “look upon such works as merely preparatory, just as all works of righteousness performed in grace, prepare in their turn for an increase of justification, according to Apoc. xxii. 11.”[535] “Only so can we be saved, namely, by repenting that we are laden with sin and are living in sin, and by imploring of God our deliverance.[536] He also, in other passages, emphasises the fact that works are necessary for justification as its preparation: “We must do works in order to obtain justification (‘opera pro iustificatione quærenda’), works of grace and faith; they confirm the desire for justification and the fulfilment of the law, but we may not think that we are justified by them.” “Rather, true believers spend their whole life in seeking justification ... whoever seeks it with the heart and by works, is without doubt already justified in God’s sight.”[537] Towards the end of the Commentary he describes in emphatic words, which will be quoted below, the humility and sighing which should bring about justification.

We need not here specify how far the demand for individual effort is here a reminiscence of his Catholic training, or more particularly due to the school of Occam. It is an undoubted fact that Occamism and pseudo-mysticism are here rubbing shoulders, and that Luther himself is aware of the incongruity.[538]

7. Appropriation of the righteousness of Christ by humility—Neither “Faith only” nor assurance of Salvation

Luther’s words, quoted above, where he says that Christ fulfilled the law for us, He made His righteousness ours and our sins His (see above, p. 95 f.), show that he applied in the fullest manner the theory of imputation to justification. Man remains a sinner, but the sin is not imputed to him, he is accounted righteous by the imputing to him of what is quite alien to him, viz. the righteousness of Christ. Thus he is at one and the same time the friend and the enemy of God.[539]

The verb “to justify” as used in Holy Scripture the author of the Commentary on Romans simply takes to mean “to account as righteous,” or “to declare righteous.” Thus he says: “The doers of the law (according to Rom. ii. 13) are justified, i.e. they are accounted righteous. In Psalm cxlii. we read: ‘In Thy sight no man living shall be justified,’ i.e. be accounted righteous.... The Pharisee in the Temple wished to ‘justify himself’ (Luke x. 29), i.e. to declare his justification.”[540]

“Whoever seeks peace in his righteousness, seeks it in the flesh.” “Christ only is righteousness and truth, and in Him all is given us in order that by Him we may be righteous and true and escape eternal damnation.”[541] “This justification takes place (according to Paul) outside of works of the law, i.e. without works which are outside of faith and grace, that is, which come from the law, which forces by fear and attracts by temporal promises. The Apostle calls those only works of faith which proceed from the spirit of freedom through the love of God, and these can only be done by the man who is justified by faith. The works of the law however do not help towards justification, but are rather a hindrance because they prevent a man from looking upon himself as unrighteous and in need of justification.”[542]

“Christ, according to the Apostle, has become our righteousness (1 Cor. i. 30), i.e. all the good that we possess is exterior, it is Christ’s. It is only in us by faith and hope in Him.” “Our fulness and our righteousness is outside of us, within we are empty and poor.... The pious know that sin alone dwells in them, but that this is covered over and not imputed on account of Christ.... The beauty of Christ conceals our hideousness.”[543]

“There is in this system,” says Denifle, in his description of it, “no question of the expulsion of sin. The sinner ... casts himself in his sinful condition on Christ without any means of his own, he hides himself under the wings of the hen and comforts himself with the idea: Christ has done everything in place of me, all my works would be merely sin ... Luther did not perceive what a grievous wrong he was doing to God by this theory. It entirely suppresses the inward grace of God which raises a man up again, penetrates to the depths of his soul and purifies and fills it with supernatural strength. The organic process of justification thus shrinks into a purely mechanical shifting of the scenery.” To this Denifle opposes the statement of Holy Scripture: “That man by a living faith is implanted in Christ as the sapling is grafted on to the olive tree, or the branch on the vine, so that there must be an interior change, an ennobling, and thus a new life.”[544]

Luther says, “we are outwardly righteous because we are justified, not by our works, but only by the reputation of God; but His reputation is not inwardly within us, and is not within our power.” “Solum Deo reputante sumus iusti, ergo non nobis viventibus vel operantibus; quare intrinsece et ex nobis impii semper.”[545]

The connection between “reputation” as above and Occam’s theory of acceptation is unmistakable.

The nominalistic views of God and of His arbitrary acceptation were the form in which Luther’s ideas were moulded. The general structure of his thoughts was derived from what he had retained of the Nominalism of Occam.[546] On the principal point, however, Luther diverges from the theology of the school of Occam by not admitting in any way the saving grace which the latter teaches. There is with him no such thing as an infused virtue of righteousness.[547] Luther in his doctrine on virtue and vice had already suppressed them as “qualities,” i.e. as objective realities; still more so does he deny that the grace which makes us righteous is in any sense a real “qualitas,” or “habitus”; in fact, he leaves no actual justifying grace whatever actually inherent in man, but merely sees in God a gracious willingness not to regard us as sinners, and to lend us His all-powerful assistance for the struggle against sin (concupiscence and actual sin).

Thus the outlines of the strongest assertions which he makes later as to the imputing of the righteousness of Christ are already apparent in his interpretation of the Epistle to the Romans. Christ alone has assumed the place of what the Catholic calls saving grace. He already teaches what he was to sum up later in the short formula: “Christ Himself is my quality and my formal righteousness,” or, again, what he was to say to Melanchthon in 1536: “Born of God and at the same time a sinner; this is a contradiction; but in the things of God we must not hearken to reason.”[548] His Commentary on Romans prepares us for his later assertions: “The gospel is a teaching having no connection whatever with reason, whereas the teaching of the law can be understood by reason ... reason cannot grasp an extraneous righteousness and, even in the saints, this belief is not sufficiently strong.”[549] “The enduring sin is admitted by God as non-existent; one and the same act may be accepted before God and not accepted, be good and not good.” “Whoever terms this mere cavilling (‘cavillatio’) is desirous of measuring the Divine by purblind human reason and understands nothing of Holy Scripture.”[550]

How then are we to obtain from God the imputation of the righteousness of Christ? There is surely some condition to be supplied by man which may allow it to be conferred, for it cannot rule blindly and unconsciously. Or are we never certain of this imputation? Luther’s answer is very pessimistic: Man never knows that it has been bestowed upon him. He can only hope, by sinking himself in his own nothingness (“humilitas”), to placate God and obtain this imputation.

Thus the author of the Commentary on Romans is still very far from that absolute assurance of salvation by faith which he was subsequently to advocate.[551]

He insists so much on the uncertainty of salvation that he blames Catholic theologians severely for the assurance and confidence which their teaching induces in man, and refuses to admit any of the customary signs which moralists and ascetics look upon as conclusive testimony of a soul being in a state of grace.

The advantage he perceives in his new ideas is precisely that they keep man ever in a state of fear (“semper pavidus”).[552] That, as Luther expressly says, “we can never know whether we are justified and whether we believe, is owing to the fact that it is hidden from us whether we live in every word of God.”[553] When dealing with a passage, which he makes use of later in quite a different sense (Rom. iii. 22, “the justice of God by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all”), he says: “We must fear and tremble (‘timent et pavent’) lest we please not God; we must be in fear and despair (‘pavor et desperatio’), for such is God’s own work in us; if this fear does not take the place of the customary signs, then there is no hope possible; and, in so far, fear alone is a good sign.”[554] “Our life is in death [here speaks the mystic], our salvation in destruction, our kingdom in banishment, our heaven in hell.”[555] “Away with all trust in righteousness.” Arise and “destroy all presumption in wholesome despair.”

On this road of painful despair Luther fancies he discovers the only really “good sign” of salvation, so far as any sign at all can be said to exist: “On account of the confession of their sins God accounts the saints as righteous.”[556]

“Whoever renounces everything, even himself, is ready to become nothing (volens it in nihilum), to go to death and to damnation, whoever voluntarily confesses and is persuaded that he deserves nothing good, such a one has done enough in God’s sight and is righteous. We must, believing in the word of the cross, die to ourselves and to everything; then we shall live for God alone.” “The saints have their sins ever before them, they beg for righteousness through the mercy of God and, for that very reason, they are always accounted righteous by God; in truth they are sinners, though righteous by imputation; unconsciously righteous and consciously unrighteous, sinners in deed but righteous in hope.” “God’s anger is great and wonderful; He accounts them at the same time righteous and unrighteous, removing sin and not removing it.”[557] Here he exclaims pathetically: “God is wonderful in His saints (Ps. lxvii. 36), who are at the same time righteous and unrighteous.” Of the “self-righteous” he immediately adds ironically: Wonderful is God in the hypocrites, “who are at the same time unrighteous and righteous!” Without any suspicion of paradox, he concludes: “It is certain that God’s elect will be saved, but no one is certain that he is chosen.”

Luther repeatedly represents the feeling of despair (under the name of “humilitas”) as not merely a means of recognising the imputation of God and therewith one’s salvation, but even as in itself the only means which can lead to salvation. He praises “humility” in mystical language as something man must struggle to attain and as the ideal of the devout. It occupies almost the same place in his mind as the “sola fides” at a later date.

That “humility” is to him the actual factor which obtains the imputation of the merits of Christ and thus makes the soul righteous and wins for it eternal salvation, is apparent not only from the above, but also from the following utterances: “When we are convinced that we are unrighteous and without the fear of God, when, thus humbled, we acknowledge ourselves to be godless and foolish, then we deserve to be justified by Him.”[558] The fear of God works humility, but humility makes us fit for all [salvation]; we must merely resign ourselves to the admission that “there is nothing so righteous that it is not unrighteous, nothing so true that it is not a lie, nothing so pure that it is not filthy and profane before God.”[559] “Let us be sinners in humility and only desire to be justified by the mercy of God.” He alone who acknowledges his entire unrighteousness, who fears and beseeches, he alone, “as an abiding sinner,” opens for himself the door to salvation.[560]

We must believe everything that is of Christ, he says, and only he does this who humbly bewails his own utter unrighteousness.[561] The mystic star of “humility” which has arisen to him he even describes as the “vera fides,” and makes the following inference: “As this is so, we must humble ourselves beyond bounds.” “When we have humbled ourselves wholly before God, then we have fulfilled righteousness, wholly and entirely (‘totam perfectamque iustitiam’); for what else does all Scripture teach but humility?”[562]

Luther ascribes to “humility” all that he later ascribes to faith; “all Scripture,” which now teaches humility, will later teach that faith is the only power which saves. In that very Epistle to the Romans, which at a later date was to be the bulwark of his “sola fides,” he can as yet, in 1515 and 1516, find only “sola humilitas.” His frequent exhortations to self-annihilation and despair of one’s own efforts, exhortations taking the form of fulsome praise of one particular kind of humility, must be traced back to mystical influence and to his irritation against the “proud self-righteous.”

It is true that Luther had, from the very beginning of his exposition, as the editor of the Commentary justly points out, “taken his stand against the scholastic [rather the Church’s] doctrine of salvation; it is apparent at the very outset of the lectures that the separation has already taken place.” It could not be otherwise, as at the commencement of the Commentary he already denies the power of man to do what is good. Ficker also says with truth: “Luther again and again comes back to his oldest and deepest torment, viz. the struggle against free will and man’s individual powers”;[563] his study of St. Paul confirms his views, which now take clearer shape, until finally “he incontinently identifies his opponents with the Pelagians.”[564]

With regard to Luther’s tenets on faith in the matter of salvation he has so far not departed in any essential from the accepted olden doctrine that faith is the commencement, root and foundation of salvation.

The editor of the Commentary also admits, though with limitations, the very remarkable fact that faith does not yet occupy in the Commentary on Romans the position which Luther assigns to it later: “the ‘fides,’ which Luther explains with the help of a number of terms borrowed from his lectures on the Psalms, in the exposition of the Pauline Epistle does not as yet appear in its entire fulness and depth, as the expression of the relation of man to the eternal, at least not to the same extent as it does later; frequently we have a mere reproduction of the Pauline phraseology; there is no lack of reminiscences of Augustine, and the results of an Occamist training are also apparent.”[565]

We certainly cannot say that at the very beginning of the Commentary,[566] faith or even “sola fides” is conceded the high place which it is afterwards to occupy in his system; the expression “sola fides” occurs there by pure accident and does not bear its later meaning; it is only intended to elucidate a sentence which in itself is correct: “iustitia Dei est causa salutis.” By this is meant that “fides evangelii” to which, as Luther says, Augustine ascribes justification, but which the latter, according to Luther’s own admission, did not intend to take in the sense of the later Lutheran “sola fides.” Above all, as already pointed out, faith, in the Commentary on Romans, lacks its chief characteristic and does not of itself alone produce an absolute assurance of the state of grace. It was only in 1518 that Luther arrived at his peculiar belief in justification by virtue of a confident faith in Christ (assurance of salvation).[567]

In the Commentary on Romans Luther understands by faith, first the general submission of the mind to Divine revelation, a faith which he here, as also later, in agreement with the Church’s teaching, accounts as the first preliminary for the state of grace. His opposition to works and self-righteousness frequently urges him to praise the high value of the faith which comes from God, whilst his mysticism likewise makes him accentuate the importance of trust and blind submission. “Credite, confidite” he cries in his exposition of the Psalms—of which the standpoint is still entirely that of the Church—also fervently recommending to his hearers the “fiducia gratiæ Dei.”[568] All that can be complained of is that there, as in the Commentary on the Psalms, he seizes every occasion to speak in favour of the advantages which faith possesses over works.

With regard to his teaching on faith in the Commentary on Romans, Denifle complains of “Luther’s want of clearness in respect of justifying faith,” of his exaggerations and indistinctness, of “his absolute ignorance of wholesome theology.”[569] “The medium in this doctrine of justification,” he says, “is really not faith at all, but the confession that we are always under the works of the law, always unrighteous, always sinners”; “he never, even later, arrived at a correct or uniform idea of faith.... Luther’s assertion of the bondage of the will (complete passivity) renders faith in the process of justification, a mere monstrosity.”[570]

Here we are not as yet concerned with the qualities of faith in the Lutheran process of justification, but it must be pointed out, that the acceptance of complete passivity in justification is a necessary corollary of the above ideas of “humilitas.” “Whereas the Christian,” Denifle says, following the Catholic teaching, “moved and inspired by the grace of God repents of his sins, and, with a trusting faith, turns to God and implores their pardon, Luther excludes from justification all acts whether inward or outward on the part of the sinner; for God could not come into our possession or be attained to without the suppression of everything that is positive. Our works must cease and we ourselves must remain passive in God’s hands.”[571] In the Commentary on Romans passivity in the work of justification is certainly insisted on. Luther does not take the trouble to reconcile this with the activity which man is to exert in steeping himself in humility in order, by his prayers and supplications, to gain salvation.[572] He says of passivity: “God cannot be possessed or touched except by the negation of everything that is in us.”[573] “Then only are we capable of receiving God’s works and plans, when our planning and our works cease; when we are altogether passive with regard to God interiorly as well as exteriorly.”[574] In the Commentary on Galatians, not long after, he calls Christian righteousness a “passive righteousness,” because we “there do nothing, and give God nothing.”[575]

8. Subjectivism and Church Authority. Storm and Stress

Subjectivism plays an important part in the exposition of the Epistle to the Romans.

It makes itself felt not merely in Luther’s treatment of the Doctors and the prevalent theological opinions, but also in his ideas concerning the Church and her authority. We cannot fail to see that the Church is beginning to take the second place in his mind. Notwithstanding the numerous long-decided controversial questions raised in the Commentary, there is hardly any mention of the teaching office of the Church, and the reader is not made aware that with regard to these questions there existed in the Church a fixed body of faith, established either by actual definition or by generally accepted theological opinion. The doctrine of absolute predestination to hell, for instance, had long before been authoritatively repudiated in the decisions against Gottschalk, but is nevertheless treated by Luther as an open question, or rather as though it had been decided in the affirmative, thus making of God a cruel avenger of involuntary guilt.

The impetuous author, following his mistaken tendency to independence, disdains to be guided by the heritage of ecclesiastical and theological truth, as the Catholic professor is wont to be in his researches in theology and in his explanations of Holy Scripture. Luther, though by no means devoid of faith in the Church, and in the existence in her of the living Spirit of God, lacks that ecclesiastical feeling which inspired so many of his contemporaries in their speculations, both theological and philosophical; we need only recall his own professor, Johann Paltz, and Gabriel Biel to whom he owed so much. Impelled by his subjectivism, and careless of the teaching of preceding ages, he usually flies straight to his own “profounder theology” for new solutions. Here the habits engendered by the then customary debates in the schools exercise a detrimental effect on him. He is heedless of the fact that his hasty and bold assertions may undermine the foundations which form the learned support to the Church’s dogmas. Important and assured truths become to him, according to this superficial method, mere “soap bubbles” which his breath can burst, “chimeras of fancy” which will melt away in the mist. This is the case, for instance, with the traditional doctrines of saving grace, of the distinction between original and actual sin, and of meritorious good works. Whoever does not agree with his terrible doctrine of predestination is simply reckoned among the subtle theologians, who are desirous of saving everything with their vain distinctions.[576] We cannot, of course, measure Luther by the standard of the Tridentine decrees, which embodied these and other questions in distinct formularies of which the Church in his time had not yet the advantage. Yet the principal points which Luther began to agitate at this time were, if not already actual dogmas, yet sufficiently expressed in the body of the Church’s teaching and illuminated by ecclesiastical theology.

That he still adheres in the Commentary to the principle of the hierarchy is apparent from the fact that he declares its office to be sublime, and loudly bewails the fact that so many unworthy individuals had forced themselves at that time into its ranks; he says in his curious language: “It is horrifying and the greatest of all perils that there can be in this world or the next; it is simply the one biggest danger of all.”[577] In the hierarchy, he says, God condescended to our weakness by choosing to speak to us and come to our assistance through the medium of men, and not directly, in His unapproachable and terrible majesty.[578]

He also recognises the various grades of the hierarchy, priestly and episcopal Orders. “The Church is a general hospital for healing those who are spiritually sick”;[579] the rules which she gives to the clergy, the recital of the Divine Office for instance, must be obediently carried out.[580] She has a right to temporal possessions, only “at the present day almost all declare these to be spiritual things; they, the clergy, are masters in this ‘spiritual’ domain and are more careful about it than about their real spiritualities, or about their use of thunderbolts [excommunications] in the sentences pronounced by the Church.”[581]

According to him, the prelates and the Church have a perfect right to condemn false teachers however much the latter may “utter their foolish cry of ‘we have the truth, we believe, we hear, we call upon God.’” “Just as though they must be of God because they seem to themselves to be of God. No, we have an authority which has been implanted in the Church, and the Roman Church has this authority in her hands. Therefore the preachers of the Church, unless they fall into error, preach with assurance [on account of their commission]. But false teachers are pleased with their own words, because they are according to their own ideas. They appear to demand the greatest piety, but are themselves governed by their own opinion, and their self-will.”[582] “Whoever declares that he is sent by God must either give proof of his mission by wonders and heavenly testimony, as the Apostles did, or he must be recognised and commissioned by an authority confirmed by Heaven. In the latter case, he must stand and teach in humble subjection to such authority, ever ready to submit to its judgment; he must speak what he is commissioned to speak and not what his own taste leads him to invent.... Anathema is the weapon,” he exclaims—unconscious of his own future—“which lays low the heretics.”[583]

Whenever he gets the chance he magnifies the corruption of the Church so much that his expressions might lead one to suppose that the saving institution founded by Christ was either completely decayed and fallen away or was at least on the road to forsaking its vocation as teacher and as the guardian of morals. His complaints may, it is true, be in part accounted for by the impetuosity which carries him away and by his rhetorical turn. He probably did not at that time really think that a healthy reformation from within was absolutely impossible. Still, had anyone attempted to carry out his immature and excessive demands for reform, they would hardly have achieved much in the way of a real regeneration. His ideas of a radical change were deeply ingrained in his mind; this we naturally gather from his bringing them forward so frequently and under such varied forms. In his mystical moods he sees the errors and abuses opposed to the “Word” swollen into a veritable “deluge”; his professorial chair is only just above the waves. Hence he will cry out as loudly as he can. In his voice we can, however, detect a false note, and his exaggerations and all his stormings do not avail to inspire us with confidence. He is too full of his own subjectivity, too impetuous and passionate to be a reformer, though his other gifts might have fitted him for the office. His very sensitiveness to neglect of duty in others, had it been purified and disciplined, aided by his eloquence, might have been able to inaugurate a movement of reform. In many of his sayings he comes nigh the position of a Catholic reformer, and even, at times, makes exaggerated demands on obedience and the need of feeling with the Church.[584]

We may add the following to the complaints above mentioned, as occurring in the Commentary on Romans with regard to the state of the Church.

“The Pope and the chief pastors of the Church,” so runs Luther’s general and bitter charge, “have become corrupt and their works are deserving of malediction; they stand forth at the present day as seducers of the Christian people” (“seducti et seducentes populum Christi a vera cultura Dei”).[585] He waxes eloquent not only against their too frequent granting of indulgences—from which in their avarice they derived worldly profit for the Church—but also against their luxurious lives which fill the whole world with the vices of Sodom, and others too; under their wicked stewardship the faithful throughout the Church have altogether forgotten what good works, faith and humility are, and make their eternal salvation depend upon external observances and foolish legends. Even those who have more insight and are better men, are all self-righteous and more like idolaters than Christians.

The Apostle Paul, he says, expounds in the Epistle to the Romans, the command of loving our neighbour (xii. 6 seq.), but is this followed by the Church? Instead of fulfilling it “we busy ourselves with trivialities, build churches, increase the possessions of the Church, heap money together, multiply the ornaments and vessels of silver and gold in the churches, erect organs and other pomps which please the eye. We make piety to consist in this. But where is the man who sets himself to carry out the Apostle’s exhortations, not to speak of the great prevailing vices of pride, arrogance, avarice, immorality and ambition.”[586] Not long after this outburst, speaking in a milder strain, he says: “We exalt ourselves so as to instruct the whole world, and hardly understand ourselves what we are teaching.” “People without training or knowledge of the world, sent by their bishops and religious superiors, undertake to instruct men, but really only add to the number of chatterers and windbags.”[587]

On another occasion he declares, people think bustle in the church, loud organ playing and pompous solemnities at Mass are all that is needed; for such things collections are made, whereas alms-giving for the relief of our neighbour is not accounted anything. Nothing is thought of swearing, lying or backbiting, even on Feast Days, but if anyone eats flesh-meat or eggs on a Friday, he gives great scandal, so unreasonable are all people nowadays (“adeo nunc omnes desipiunt”). What is needed to-day is to do away with the Fast Days and to abrogate many of the Festivals ... the whole Christian Code ought to be purified and changed, and the solemnities, ceremonies, devotions and the adorning of the churches reduced. But all this is on the increase daily, so that faith and charity are stifled, and avarice, arrogance and worldliness grow apace. What is worse, the faithful hope to find in this their eternal salvation and do not trouble about the inner man.[588]

The lawyers, he says, speaking in a mystical vein, act quite wrongly when, as soon as they see that anyone has the law on his side, they encourage him to assert his rights (“qui statim quod secundum iura iustum sciunt, prosequendum suadent”). “On the contrary, every Christian should rejoice in suffering injustice, even in matters of the greatest moment (‘quoad maximas iustitias nostras’).... But almost the whole world runs after the contrary error [i.e. sternly asserts its rights]. Cardinals, bishops, princes act like the Jews did to the King of Babylon (2 Kings xxiv. 20; xxv. 1 ff.); they cling to their petty privileges, lose sight of morality and so perish.” Someone should have told Duke George (of Saxony) when he fought against the Duke of Frisia: “Your own and your people’s deserts are not so great that you should not rather have patiently allowed yourself to be chastised by that rebel, who, though unrighteous, was the executor of God’s righteous judgment. Calm yourself therefore and acknowledge the Will of God.”[589]

He says something similar to his own bishop, Hieronymus Schulz (Scultetus) of Brandenburg,[590] and to another bishop, probably Wilhelm von Honstein, Bishop of Strasburg. The latter had put in force the ecclesiastical statutes against the infringers of the sanctity of the church. Luther says: “Why trouble a town with this wretched matter? It is merely a question of human regulations; but if the bishop desired to enforce God’s laws, he would not need to leave his own house; he is not indeed acting wrongly, but he is swallowing a camel and straining at gnats (Matt. xxiii. 24).... But the bishops thirst for vengeance, they brand the criminals and themselves deserve to be worse branded. Would to God that the time may come when rights and privileges and all who worship them are consigned to perdition! Ambition and unbelief should not be allowed to triumph over those condemned for transgressing the statutes.”[591]

“I say this with pain, but I am obliged to because I have an Apostolic commission to teach. My duty is to point out to all the wrong they are committing, even to those in high places.”[592]

In accordance with this, the young Professor loudly blames Pope Julius II. In his quarrel with the Republic of Venice “this advice should have been given him: ‘Holy Father, Venice is doing you a wrong, but the Roman Church deserves it on account of her faults, yea, she deserves even worse. Therefore do nothing, such is the Will of God.’ But the Pope replied: ‘No, no, let us vindicate our rights by force.’”[593] “He chastised them [the Venetians] with great bloodshed because they had sinned grievously and seized upon the possessions of the Church; he brought them back to the Church and so gained great merit. But the horrible corruption of the Papal Curia and the mountain of the most terrible immorality, pomp, avarice, ambition and sacrilege is accounted no sin.”[594]

On another occasion, after a no less forcible outburst against Rome, he demands the abolition of “false piety”: This so-called piety must no longer be permitted, as though it were merely a weakness; but in Rome they do not trouble about doing away with it, there is there nothing but the freedom of the flesh; “almost all are wanting in charity.” “I fear that in these days we are all on the road to utter destruction.”[595]

We must listen, he says—alluding to the formalism which he thinks is apparent everywhere—to the “inward word,” which often speaks to us quite differently from the injunctions to which we are accustomed. “The wisdom of fools always looks more to the work than to the word; it thinks itself able to gauge the meaning and value of the word from the value or worthlessness of the deeds”; what we should do is the contrary; the precious, inestimable word must always resound in our hearts and direct all our outward actions.[596] The “spirit of the believer is subject to no one,” “the spirit is free as regards all things”; “all exterior things are free to those who are in the spirit.” “The bondage [of charity] is the highest liberty.”[597]

Such words form a quite obvious preliminary to the “Evangelical freedom” which he was afterwards to vindicate. He thus gives a much wider application to the ideas he had met with in Tauler than was in the mind of that pious mystic. Tauler writes: “I tell you that you must not submit your inner man to anyone, but to God only. But your exterior man you must submit in a true and real humility to God and to all creatures.”[598] Luther says what on the surface seems quite similar: the Christian is free and master of all things and is subject to no one (by faith), and yet at the same time a willing servant of all and subject to all (by charity).[599] Yet, both in the Commentary on Romans and in the works which were soon to follow, “the willing servant” is more and more ousted by false ideas of independence, so that a danger arises of only the “free master of all things” remaining. In the Commentary on Romans all exterior submission to the Church is, in principle, menaced by a liberty which, appealing to the inward experience of the Word and a deeper conception of religion, seeks to overstep all barriers.

The confused ideas for which he was beholden to his pseudo-mysticism were in great part the cause of this and of other errors.

9. The Mystic in the Commentary on Romans

Since the appearance in print of Luther’s Commentary on Romans it has been possible to perceive more clearly the ominous power which false mysticism had gained over the young author.

His misapprehension of some of the principal elements of Tauler’s sermons and of the “Theologia Deutsch” stands out in sharp relief in these lectures on the Pauline Epistle, and we see more plainly how the obscure ideas he finds in the mystics at once amalgamate with his own. The connection between the pseudo-mysticism which he has built up on the basis of true mysticism, and the method of theology which he is already pursuing, appears here so great, and he follows so closely the rather elastic figures and thoughts provided by the mystical science of the soul, that we are almost tempted, after reading his exposition of the Epistle to the Romans, to ask whether all his intellectual mistakes were not an outcome of his mysticism. The fact is, however, that he began his study of mysticism only after having commenced formulating the principles of his new world of thought. It was only after the ferment had gone on working for a considerable time that he chanced upon certain mystic works. Yet, strange to say, the mysticism with which he then became acquainted was not that German variety which had already been infected with the errors of Master Eckhart, but the sounder mysticism which had avoided the pitfalls. It is a tragic coincidence that mysticism, the most delicate blossom of the theology of the Middle Ages and of true Catholicism, should have served to confirm him in so many errors. True mysticism has in all ages been a protest against all moral cowardice and inertia, against tepidity and self-complacent mediocrity; false mysticism, on the other hand, debases itself to Quietism and even to Antinomianism; the world has lived to see pseudo-mysticism deny evil the better to permit it.[600] Even true mysticism is constantly open to the danger not only of conscious and intentional exaggeration of its theses, but of unintentional misapprehension.

Misapprehension is a misfortune to which mysticism was ever exposed, owing mainly to the inadequacy of human language to express the mystic’s thoughts,[601] whereas Scholasticism, thanks to its clear-cut terminology, has been spared such a fate, and for the same reason has never been in favour with confused and cloudy minds. Tauler had originally been trained in the Scholasticism of St. Thomas of Aquin, and in the teaching of the Frankfort author of the “Theologia Deutsch” the true principles of the old school still shine out. This, however, did not save these writers from having formerly been considered, by Protestants, precursors of Luther’s doctrines. Denifle, by his studies on these and the later mystics, threw such valuable light on the subject that the Protestant theologian Wilhelm Braun, in the work he recently devoted to tracing the development of Luther, says: “it is wrong for Protestants to claim mysticism as a pre-Reformation reforming movement; this Denifle has proved in his epoch-making researches.”[602]

False Passivity

As regards the important new data furnished by the Commentary on Romans on Luther’s mysticism, the editor himself admits in the preface that “the ideal of resignation [preached by the Catholic mystics] was raised by Luther to an unconditional passivity and to a real system of Quietism, which he completely identified with the theme of the Epistle to the Romans and with the piety of St. Augustine. In this he found the bond of union combining all his experiences. Mysticism it is which lends its deep and fiery hue to his thoughts; where Luther is describing the most intimate processes and gives their highest expression to the thoughts which inspire him, it is mysticism which is speaking through him ... the complete and unconditional surrender of man to God.”[603]

Luther gives in a peculiar fashion his reasons for taking such a standpoint: “The Nature of God demands that He should first destroy and annihilate everything there is in us before He imparts His gifts. For it is written: ‘The Lord maketh poor and maketh rich, He bringeth down to hell and bringeth back again.’ By this most gracious plan He renders us fit for the reception of His gifts and His works. We are then receptive to His works and plans when our own plans and our own works have ceased, and we become quite passive towards God (‘quando nostra consilia cessant et opera quiescunt et efficimur pure passivi respectu Dei’) both as regards exterior and interior activity.... Then the ‘utterable sighs’ commence, then ‘the Spirit comes and helps our infirmity.’”[604] It is in the description of this “suffering and bearing of God” that he expressly quotes Tauler as the teacher of the higher form of prayer, adding: “Yes, yes, ‘we know not how we should pray,’ therefore the Spirit is necessary to assist us in our weakness.” “As a woman remains passive in conception, so we must remain passive to the first grace and eternal salvation. For our soul is Christ’s bride. Before grace, it is true, we pray and implore, but when grace comes and the soul is to be impregnated by the Spirit, then it must neither pray nor act, but only endure. To the soul this seems hard and it is downcast, for that the soul should be without act of the understanding and the will, that is much like sinking into darkness, destruction and annihilation (‘in perditionem et annihilationem’); from this prospect she shrinks back in horror, but in so doing she often deprives herself of the most precious gifts of grace.”[605]

It was just on this point that Luther most completely misapprehended Tauler. It is true that this mediæval mystic speaks strongly against any too great esteem of human activity, and that he also recommends the spiritual man, in certain circumstances, to “refuse all exterior works the better to devote himself with the necessary submission and in entire peace” to interior communication with his Maker and Highest Good, and, as he says, “to suffer God.”[606] But he does not thereby recommend man to long after a state without thought or will, or after mere nothingness—in order to magnify God and His powers alone; according to Tauler, grace does not work in the soul “without the co-operation of the understanding and the will.”

The Quenching of the “Good Spark in the Soul”

Luther in the above recommendation to passivity falsely assumes that the soul is entirely corrupted by original sin and only offends God with its acts. This also appears clearly in the Commentary on Romans. Protestants themselves now admit that Luther deviated from the standpoint of the orthodox mystics, particularly from that of Tauler, and that “in the view of the mystics of the Middle Ages there is no doubt that the natural good in man outweighs the natural evil. The central point in which all the lines of mystic theology converge is this indestructible goodness.” So speaks a Protestant theologian.[607]

In Gerson, the mystic whom Luther had studied in his early days at Erfurt, he must have met with the beautiful teaching, that the soul had received from God a natural tendency towards what is good, that this is “the virginal portion of the soul,” which is the “source and seat of mystical theology.”[608] Tauler is fond of treating of this “noble spark of fire in the soul,” of “this interior nobility which lies hidden in the depths.”[609] The Scholastics, too, unanimously teach this disposition to good which remains after original sin.

Luther, when opposing the good tendency, attacks only the Scholastics, not the mystics; he declares that all the errors on grace and nature which he has to withstand entered through the hole which the Scholastics made with their “syntheresis.”[610] One thing is certain, viz. that he was wrong in foisting his view of the absolute corruption of the human race on the mystics; “he could not,” the Protestant theologian above referred to admits, “quite truthfully invoke the support of the mystics for his assertions.”[611] The doctrines which Tauler advances in the very context in which his blame of the self-righteous occurs, viz. that there is no righteousness without personal acts, that even the sinner can do what is good, that he, more especially, must prepare himself for the grace of justification, pass unheeded in Luther’s exposition of the Epistle to the Romans. “Luther overlooked this series [of testimonies given by Tauler]; only the statements regarding the righteous by works made any impression on him; his polemics are directed against those who serve two masters, who wish to please God and the world and to do great things for God’s sake; these are the people who are at heart satisfied with themselves.”[612]

Tauler repeatedly uses the word “spirit” for man’s native good tendency and activity. This expression Luther simply takes to mean the Divine Spirit, which must be infused into man on account of his natural helplessness. The theologian mentioned above hero also admits: “Much that Tauler intended to refer to the human syntheresis, or the created spirit, Luther has ascribed to the uncreated Divine Spirit, who imparts grace and faith”;[613] on the other hand we may allow with the same author that Luther was probably misled by the “hermaphrodism of Tauler’s teaching, according to which the spirit longs for a metamorphosis”; Tauler’s lively description of the supernatural being and life of the soul sometimes throws into the background the independence of its action in the natural sphere, though the outcome is not really an “hermaphrodite” in the strict sense of the word. It is also true that “Luther overlooked the other side, namely, the Divine immanence which all those mystics teach with equal distinctness,[614] or at least he did not make sufficient account of it.

Selfishness and the “Theology of the Cross”

Another important point on which Luther deviated from true mysticism has now been brought to light by the Commentary on Romans. According to the Strasburg mystic, and according to all good mystics generally, selfishness must be looked on as the greatest interior enemy of man. It is a leaven which readily infects the actions, even of the best, and therefore must be expelled by struggling against it and by prayer.

Selfishness, says the “Theologia Deutsch,” “makes the creature turn away from the unchangeable good to that which is changeable.” Even in the case of the devil, it tells us, the reason of his fall was “his I and my, his mine and me”; he fancied he was something, that something belonged to him and that he had a right to something.[615]

In the Commentary on Romans Luther also speaks in impressive words against selfishness and its malice.[616] He makes use of every note at his command in order to warn us against this serpent. In these passages we might fancy we hear the voices of the mystic leaders of the faithful in the Middle Ages, even of a Bernard of Clairvaux. Nor is practical advice wanting; we are exhorted to earnest, humble prayer, to a watchful resistance—to be strengthened by practice—against the desires of self-love, even in small things, to mortify and to tame our flesh. We must go out of ourselves even in spiritual matters; everything, he says, depends in the spiritual life on self-abnegation: “God’s righteousness fills those only who seek to empty themselves of their own righteousness, He fills the hungry and the thirsty ... let us then tell God, so he says with all the enthusiasm his idea of grace gives him: “how glad are we to be empty, that Thou mayest be our fulness; how glad to be weak, that Thy strength may dwell within us; how glad to be sinners, that Thou mayest be justified in us; how glad to be fools, that Thou mayest be our wisdom; how glad to be unrighteous, that Thou mayest be our righteousness.”[617] Suffering sent by God, so the author frequently repeats almost in Tauler’s words, is to be accepted as a remedy against the disease of self-love not only with patience, but with joy. Pain, particularly inward pain, should be honoured like the cross of Christ (“tribulatio velut crux Christi adoranda”);[618] we must bear it bravely like true children of God and not take to flight like the servant, or the hireling.[619]

In connection with selfishness Luther exposes his so-called “theologia crucis,” which, with the adjuncts he gives it, is quite in keeping with his ideas. He was also to advocate the theology of the cross in his disputations, endeavouring to show that it alone teaches us how to make a right use of earthly things.

“He is not a Christian, but a Turk, and an enemy of Christ, who does not desire afflictions.” “Our theologians and popes are in fact enemies of the cross of Christ ... for no one hates pain and trouble more than the popes and the lawyers [i.e. those who insist upon laws and observances]. No one is more greedy than they for riches, comfort, idleness, honour and pomp.” “They honour the relics of the Holy Cross and yet abhor and fly from what they dislike.” “We consider Christ our helper and our support in time of trouble, but whoever does not suffer gladly, cheats Him of these titles; to such a one God even is no longer the Creator because he will not return to the nothingness from which God created all. Whoever will not suffer God in weakness, foolishness and punishment, for him God is not powerful, not wise, not merciful.”[620] “The cross puts to death everything that is in us. Nature, it is true, desires to make itself and everything alive, but God in His love takes care, by the infliction of crosses and suffering, that even spiritual gifts shall not taste too sweet to the righteous; he must not throw himself upon them in a natural, godless impetuosity in order to enjoy them, even though they be attractive and tempt him to savour them ... he may not even love God on account of His grace and His gifts, but only for His own sake, otherwise this would be a forbidden [!] indulgence in the grace received, and he would insult the Father even more than he did before [i.e. when as yet unrighteous!]. In the Commentary on Romans Luther refuses to recognise any love save that which springs from the most perfect motive. He stigmatises the love which arises from the joy in the benefits bestowed by a gracious God,—and which the orthodox mystics allowed,—as presumption, and as an enjoyment of the creature rather than of the Creator, and goes so far as to say that if a man were to remain in this love “he would be lost eternally.”[621]

To these assertions we may add the following theses, defended under Luther’s auspices in 1518, which explain the new “theologia crucis.” “Whoever is not destroyed (‘destructus’) and brought back by the cross and suffering to the state of nothingness, attributes to himself works and wisdom, but not to his God, and so he abuses and dishonours the gifts of God. But whoever is annihilated by suffering (‘exinanitus’) ceases to do anything, knowing that God is working in him and doing all. Therefore, whether he himself does anything or not, he remains the same, and neither vaunts himself for doing something nor is ashamed of doing nothing, because God works in him. For himself, this he knows, it is enough that he should suffer and be destroyed by the cross, so that he may advance more and more towards annihilation. This is what Christ teaches in John iii. 3: ‘Ye must be born again.’ If we are to be born again, we must first die and be raised with the Son of God [on the cross]; I say die, i.e. taste death as though it were present.”[622] “We may not fly from human wisdom and the law, but whoever is without the theology of the cross is making the worst use of the best things. The true theologian is not he who understands the ‘invisible things of God by the things that are made,’ but he who by suffering and the cross recognises in God the visible and the obscure.”[623]

The Night of the Soul and Resignation to Hell

The better to fight against selfishness Tauler had proposed that everyone should look upon himself and his own works as evil, imitating a certain holy brother who used to say: “Know that I am the basest of sinners.”[624] In this innocent recommendation nothing is implied of the complete corruption of nature, of a desire for hell, or of resignation to eternal separation from God. It was only as an exercise in humility and penitent love that Tauler and the other mystics wished the devout man to cultivate the habit of looking on himself as absolutely unworthy of heaven and as better fitted for a place in hell. He is urged to descend in spirit to the place of torment and acknowledge, against his egotism and arrogance, that, on account of his sins, he has deserved a place there among the damned, and not in the happy vicinity of God.

They also depict in gloomy, mystical colours the condition of the unhappy soul who, by the consent of God and in order to try it, sees itself deprived of all comfort, and, as it were, torn away from its highest good and relegated to hell. Such pains, they teach, are intended as a way of purgation for the soul, which, after such a night, can raise itself again with all the more confidence and love to God, who has, so far, preserved it from so great a misfortune.

The doctrine of the dark, mystical night appealed very strongly to Luther’s mind. In his theology he is fond of picturing the soul as utterly sinful and deserving of hell, meaning by this something very different from what orthodox mystics taught. He also suffered greatly at times from inward commotion and darkening of the soul, due to fears regarding predestination, to a troubled conscience or to morbid depression, of which the cause was perhaps bodily rather than mental. These, however, bore no resemblance to the pains—“mystical exercises” as they have been called by Protestants—of which the mystics speak. In his “temptations in the monastery” he did not experience what Tauler and the “Theologia Deutsch” narrate of the consuming inner fire of Purgatory. Luther, however, erroneously applied their descriptions to his own condition.[625] Thus his idea of the night of the soul is quite different from that of the mystics, though he describes it in almost the same words, and, thanks to his imagination and eloquence, possibly in even more striking colours.

Several times in his Commentary on Romans he represents resignation to, indeed even an actual desire for, damnation—should that be the will of God—as something grand and sublime. Thereby he thinks he is teaching the highest degree of resignation to God’s inscrutable will; thereby the highest step on the ladder of self-abnegation has been attained. In reality it is an ideal of a frightful character, far worse even than a return to nothingness. He lets us see here, as he does so often in other matters, how greatly his turbulent spirit inclined to extremes.[626]

“If men willed what God wills,” he writes, “even though He should will to damn and reject them, they would see no evil in that [in the predestination to hell which he teaches]; for, as they will what God wills, they have, owing to their resignation, the will of God in them.” Does he mean by this that they should resign themselves to hating God for all eternity? Luther does not seem to notice that hatred of God is an essential part of the condition of those who are damned (“damnari et reprobari ad infernum”). Has he perhaps come to conceive of a hatred of God proceeding from love? He seems almost to credit those who think of hell, with a resolve to bear everything, even hatred of God, with loving submission to the will of Him Who by His predestination has willed it.

He even dares to say to those who are affrighted by predestination to hell, that resignation to eternal punishment is, for the truly wise, a source of “ineffable joy” (“ineffabili iucunditate in ista materia delectantur”);[627] for the perfect this is “the best purgation from their own will,” i.e. the way of the greatest bitterness, “because under charity the cross and suffering is always understood.” But all, he says, even the half-imperfect, see that here we have a splendid remedy for destroying “the presumptuous building upon merit; let everyone rejoice in his fear and thank God,”[628] the more so that those who are so much afraid will certainly not go to hell; “as they make themselves entirely conformable to the will of God it is impossible that they should be delivered over to eternal punishment, as he who resigns himself entirely to God’s holy Will cannot remain separated from Him.”[629]

This doctrine of a wholesome fear of hell, of a saving, heroic abandonment to God, and of an exalted and pure love to be exercised by all as a “remedy” against damnation, invalidates Luther’s doctrine of absolute and undeserved predestination to hell; salvation is again made to depend upon both God and man, whose co-operation becomes necessary; it is only because “man will not will what God wills” that he is damned. Yet, according to Luther, the saving fear and resignation is only possible to the elect, and these must in the end be in doubt as to whether they are pleasing to God, just as they must be uncertain regarding all their actions.

In confirmation of his theory of readiness for hell Luther even refers to St. Paul, who says in his Epistle to the Romans, that he had offered himself to the everlasting pains of hell for the salvation of the Jews; that, in order to save them, he had been ready to be “an anathema from Christ.”[630] But the example does not apply. According to a more correct explanation, the Apostle, who was always in spiritual communion with Christ, speaks only of an outward separation.[631] Luther himself says in this connection: Paul did not desire to hate Christ, but was ready to be separated from Him; in this he displayed the “most sublime degree of charity, a truly apostolic love”; “this seems, of course, incomprehensible and foolish to those who think themselves holy and love God with the ‘amor concupiscentiæ,’ i.e. on account of their salvation and for the sake of eternal rest, or in order to escape from hell, in other words, not for God’s sake but their own.... What they really desire is salvation according to their own fancy, instead of desiring their own nothingness both here and hereafter (‘suum nihil optare’), and only the will and glory of God,” whereas “all perfect saints, out of their overflowing affection, are ready to accept everything, even hell itself. By reason of this readiness, it is true, they at once escape all punishment.”

According to Luther, even Christ offered Himself for hell whole and entire. Luther does not make the slightest distinction in the agony in the Garden between mere exterior and real interior separation from God. Christ was ever united hypostatically with God, and His human nature never ceased to enjoy the vision of God. Luther, however, merely says: “He found Himself in a state of condemnation and abandonment which was greater than that of all the saints. His sufferings were not easy to Him, as some have imagined, because He actually and in truth offered Himself to the eternal Father to be consigned to eternal damnation for us (‘quod realiter et vere se in æternam damnationem obtulit Deo patri pro nobis’). His human nature did not behave differently from that of a man who is to be condemned eternally to hell. On account of this love of God, God at once raised Him from death and hell, and so He overcame hell (‘eum suscitavit a morte et inferno et sic momordit infernum’; cp. Osee xiii. 14). All His saints must follow this example, some more, some less; and according to the degree of their perfection in love they find this harder or easier. But Christ bore the most severe form of it (‘durissime hoc fecit’), and for this reason He laments in many passages (in the Messianic Psalms) the pains of hell.”[632]

In the light of passages such as these we can understand to some extent the lurid, fanciful, mystic description which he gives early in 1518, clearly on the strength of his own states of mind. He tells how a man fancies himself at certain moments plunged into hell, and feels his breast pierced by all the pangs of everlasting despair, because he apprehends God’s “frightful ire” and the impossibility of ever being delivered. This grotesque picture of a soul, with which we shall deal more fully later, although it is partly taken almost word for word from the earlier descriptions of the mystics, reveals its morbid character more especially by the fact, that the hope, which, in the case of the devout, remains in the depths of the soul even throughout the most severe interior trials, seems entirely absent. God is seen as He appeared to Luther, i.e. as an inexorable, arbitrary punisher of His creature.[633]

Luther’s mysticism is veritably a mysticism of despair and the “humilitas,” with its love ready even for hell, which he belauds as the anchor of safety, is a forced expedient really excluded by his system, and which he himself discarded as soon as he was able to replace it by the (God-given) fides, in the shape of faith in personal justification and salvation.

10. The Commentary on Romans as a Work of Religion and Learning

The Commentary purports to be as much a religious as a learned work. Its religious value can be shortly summed up from the above.

The author is as much occupied in putting forth religious ideas which appeal to him as in expounding exegetically St. Paul’s Epistle, and these ideas he supports on the text of the Epistle to the Romans or on other passages from Holy Scripture which he incessantly adduces. His intention also was to make the considerations of practical use from the religious point of view to his hearers, who were probably most of them Augustinians. He wished to give them a practical introduction to the doctrines of St. Paul, as he understood them, and at the same time to his own mysticism.

We must, if we wish to do justice to the Commentary on Romans, admit without reserve that it does not show us the picture of a man who is morally bankrupt. The author does not make the impression of one bent on sensuality, and seeking the means of gratifying it. The work, on the contrary, breathes a spiritual tendency, even to the point of excess, though not, indeed, without a strong admixture of the earthly element.

The author is, however, far from having arrived at any clear religious views; after wrestling with the secrets of the Pauline Epistle with feeling and eloquence, he is unable even at the end to extricate himself from a condition of spiritual restlessness. The work testifies to an enduring state of religious ferment.

The vivacity and fertility of thought which the author displays is noteworthy; the personal colouring in which he depicts his religious ideas, and, frequently, too, rabidly defends them against scholars and religious who think differently, is unique, and of priceless value to the biographer. Such a strong personal tone is not, it is true, quite in place in a learned work.

The religious “experience,” so often supposed to stand in the forefront of his development, is not to be found there.

If the so-called spiritual “experience” had actually taken place Luther would certainly have alluded to it, for he has much to say of his own state and observations. Why does he say nothing here of the experiences he afterwards relates in such detail? Of the excessive, almost suicidal, monastic practices to which, as a Catholic-minded monk, he surrendered himself, seeking God’s grace, until through Divine intervention he recognised that the path of works and strictness of life, in fact the Catholic road generally, was incapable of leading one to peace with God here below and to union with God in eternity? There is nothing here of that sudden leap from weary, self-righteous seeking after God—ostensibly a delusion cherished by all Catholics—to the joyous consciousness of a gracious God, based on the recognition of justification. Luther, on the other hand, gives a seemingly accurate description of his own spiritual development, though without mentioning himself, at the end of his exposition of Romans iii., a passage to which we shall return later.

The author frequently allows his fancied religious interests to spoil his exegesis.

Often enough he does not even make an attempt to follow up the thoughts of the Apostle and arrive at their sense. His character is too impatient of restraint and too predisposed to rhetoric. Thus he descends to the religious and political questions then being debated at Wittenberg and says by way of excuse: “I will explain the meaning of the Apostle to you in its practical sense, in order that you may understand the matter better by the help of some comparisons.”[634] These words occur in the passage in which he admonishes Duke George of Saxony regarding his quarrels with Edgard, Count of East Frisia (1514-15), telling him he ought to have recognised the Will of God in the Count’s “malicious revolt” and have patiently suffered himself to be vanquished by his foe—as though it were the duty of princes to become mystics like himself.[635]

If we now examine the actual value of the Commentary, we find much that is excellent and calculated to elucidate the Pauline text.

It is especially praiseworthy in Luther that he should have made the Greek text edited by Erasmus the basis of his work as soon as it was published during the course of his lectures. He also makes frequent, diligent and intelligent use of the “exegetical ability” of Nicholas of Lyra,[636] following him for the text as well as for the interpretation and division of the subject; this was the author whose assistance he had formerly declined with far too much contempt. Other authorities whom he also consults are Paul of Burgos, Peter Lombard, for his explanations of the Epistle to the Romans, and, for the division of the matter, particularly the Schemata of Faber Stapulensis. His own linguistic training and his knowledge of ancient literature were of great service to him, as also was his natural quickness of judgment combined with sagacity. He frequently quotes passages from St. Augustine, and through him, i.e. at secondhand, from Cyprian and Chrysostom; in his interpretations the mediæval authorities of whom he makes most use are the Master of the Sentences and St. Bernard.[637] The way in which Aristotle and the Scholastics are handled is already plain from what we have said. Reminiscences of the works of his own professors, Paltz, Trutfetter and Usingen, are merely general, and he freely differs from them. As an Occamist he feels himself in contradiction to the Thomists and to some extent also to the Scotists; in addition to Occam, d’Ailly, Gerson and Biel have a great influence on him, even in his interpretation of the Bible. Tauler, who has so frequently been mentioned, also left deep traces of his influence not only in the matter of the Commentary, but also in the language, which is often obscure, rich in imagery and full of feeling, while here and there we seem to find reminiscences of the “Theologia Deutsch” which Luther was to publish at the close of his lectures. The latter was, “to his thinking, the most exact expression of the great thoughts of the Epistle to the Romans.”[638]

From a learned point of view his exegesis would probably have been different and far more reliable had he consulted the famous Commentary of St. Thomas Aquinas on the Epistle to the Romans, not merely for the division of his subject, but also for the matter. This Commentary held the first place, as regards clearness and depth of thought, among previous expositions, yet not once does Luther quote it, and, probably, he had never opened the work for the purpose of study. “It is most remarkable,” Wilhelm Braun says, speaking of Luther’s Commentary and of his whole development, “that Luther never came to understand Thomas of Aquin. We meet with some disparaging remarks [elsewhere than in the Commentary on Romans]; he is doubtful as to whether St. Thomas was really saved, because he wrote some heretical stuff and brought Aristotle, the corrupter of pious doctrine, into prominence in the Church; but he never understood him from the theological point of view.”[639] We might well go further and say, that he did not even do what must certainly precede any “understanding”—study his writings with the intention of carefully examining them.[640]

How greatly does Luther in his method, his manner of delivery and his spirit differ from St. Thomas, from the latter’s quiet precision and trustworthiness in following the great traditions of learning and theology. Luther so often speaks without due thought, so often in his impetuosity sees but one side of things, he contradicts himself without remarking it, falls into grotesque exaggeration, and, in many passages, is not merely impulsive in his manner of speech, but even destructive. The rashness with which he lays hands on the generally accepted teaching of the best tried minds, his assumption of supremacy in the intellectual domain, the boundless self-confidence which peeps out of so many of his assertions, gave cause for fearing the worst from this professor, to whose words the University was even then attentive.

He knew well how to hold his listeners by the versatility of his spirit and his ability to handle words. His language comprises, now weighty sentences, now popular and taking comparisons. He speaks, when he is so inclined, in the popular and forcible style he employs at a later date; he borrows from the lips of the populace sayings of unexampled coarseness with which he spices his harangues, more especially with a view to emphasising his attitude to his opponents. We may be permitted to quote one such passage in which he is speaking against those who hold themselves to be pure: “I look on them as the biggest fools, who want to forget how deeply they stick in the mire.... Did you never ... in your mother’s lap, and was not the smell evil? Is your perfume always so sweet? Is there nothing about your whole person which has an unpleasant odour? If you are so clean, I am surprised that the apothecaries have not long ago got hold of you to use you in making their balsams, for surely you must reek of balm. Yet had your mother left you as you are and were, you would have perished in your own filth.”[641]

Immediately after this he proceeds with a more pleasing thought: “Truly to please oneself, one must be utterly displeased with self. No one can please himself and others at the same time.”

He is fond of startling antitheses and frequently loses himself in paradoxes. “God has concealed righteousness under sin, goodness under severity, mercy under anger.”[642] “He who does not think he is righteous, is for that very reason righteous before God.” “To be sinners does not harm us, if we only strive earnestly for justification.”[643]

It may serve to give a better idea of the exegetical value of the whole work, and thereby increase our knowledge of its author, if we consider some of the other peculiarities which permeate it.

Luther frequently engages with great zest in philosophical argument and has skirmishes in dialectics with his adversaries, after the custom of the school of Occam. In such cases he often becomes scarcely intelligible owing to his utter neglect of the rules of logic. The answer he gives to the proofs alleged by “modern philosophers” for the possibility of a natural love of God is very characteristic. They had urged: The will is able to grasp all that reason proposes to it as right and necessary; but reason proposes that we must love God, the cause of all things, and the Highest Good above all. Against this Luther philosophises as follows: “That is decidedly a bad conclusion. The conclusion should be: If the will is able to will everything that reason prescribes shall be willed and performed, then the will may will that God is to be loved above all, as reason says. But it does not follow that the will can love God above all, but merely that it can feebly will that this be done, i.e. the will has just that tiny little bit of will (‘voluntatulam voluntatis habere’) which reason orders it to have.” To this Luther adds: “Were that proof correct, then the common teaching would be erroneous that the law [of God in Revelation] has been given in order to humble the proud who presumptuously build on their own powers.” And immediately, with supposedly scriptural proofs, he proceeds to show that no power for doing what is good can be ascribed to the will.[644]

In what he says of the position of philosophy to saving grace—a point we mentioned above—we have another example of his faulty method.

It is well known that the old Scholastics, far from drawing their profound teaching concerning sanctifying grace from the “mouldy” stores of Aristotle, advocated, with regard to justification, regeneration and bestowal of sanctifying grace (“gratia sanctificans”) by the infusion of the Holy Spirit, simply the views contained in Holy Scripture and in the Fathers; but, in order to make her teaching more comprehensible and to insure it against aberrations, the Church clothed it as far as necessary in the language of the generally accepted philosophy. The element which Scholasticism therewith borrowed from Aristotle—or to be accurate not from him only, but, through the Fathers, from ancient philosophy generally—was of service for the comprehension of revealed truth. Luther, however, was opposed to anything which tended to greater definition because he was more successful in expressing his diverging opinions in vague and misapprehended biblical language than in the stricter and more exact language of the philosophical schools.

The Church, on the other hand, has given Scholasticism its due. In the definitions of the Council of Trent on the points of faith which had been called into question, the Church to a certain degree made her own the old traditional expressions of the schools on the doctrine of grace, teaching, for instance, that the “only formal cause of our righteousness lies in the righteousness of God, not in that by which He Himself is just, but that by which He makes us just.” She declared that, with justifying grace, the “love of God becomes inherent in us,” and that with this grace man “receives the infusion (‘infusa accipit’) of faith, hope and charity”; she also speaks of the various causes of justification, of the final, efficient, meritorious, instrumental and formal cause.[645] All these learned terms were admirably fitted to express the ancient views vouched for by the Bible or tradition, and the same may be said, for instance, of the formula sanctioned by the Council of Trent, that “by the sacraments grace is bestowed ‘ex opere operato,’” and that the sacraments of Baptism, Confirmation and Order impart “a ‘character,’ i.e. a spiritual and ineradicable mark on account of which they cannot be repeated.”[646] When the Church expresses herself in such terms with regard to sanctifying grace, she implies thereby no more than what is stated in the various biblical excerpts quoted in detail by the Council of Trent to which Luther had paid too little heed. Her teaching is that man is signed and anointed with the spirit of promise which is the pledge of our inheritance; that he is renewed through the Spirit, and that by the Spirit the love of God is poured forth in his heart; that he becomes a living member of Christ; that because he is made the heir and child of God he has a right to heaven; that he is born again by the Holy Ghost to a new life, and thus is translated into the Kingdom of the Love of His Son where he has redemption and forgiveness of sins; as such he is a friend and companion of God; yet he must go on from virtue to virtue and, as the Apostle says, be renewed from day to day by constantly mortifying the members of his flesh and offering them as the weapons of righteousness for sanctification.