Luther and Cromwell

Chapter I. Luther

The human race has always been subjected to violent shocks, from the commencement of its history until now. Revolution has seemed indispensable to progress, and every step forward which the world has taken, has caused a tremor like the first pulsations of an earthquake. We turn from " revolutions" with a shudder, for the violence and bloodshed that accompany them are revolting to our feelings; but we forget that, constituted as governments and society are, they are necessary. A higher wisdom, guided by a truer sympathy than ours, has said, " I come not to send peace, but a sword; to set a man at variance against his father," &c. The world is full of oppressive systems, whose adherents will not yield without a fierce struggle, and the iron framework of which will not crumble except to heavy blows. Nearly, if not quite all the moral struggles of the race have at length come to a physical adjustment ; for the party weakest in the justice of its cause has generally been the strongest in external force. Hence, when overthrown with argument, it has resorted to the sword. Then conies martyrdom ; but with increase of strength to the persecuted, and the co-operators of rulers, resistance has followed, ending in long wars and wasting battles.

Thus did the Reformation under Luther — begun in silence and in weakness — -end in revolutions, violence, and war.

There seems sometimes a vast disparity between causes and the results they accomplish. We behold a poor monk, haggard and wan, praying alone in his cell, with tears and groans ; we look again, and he is shaking thrones, and principalities, and powers. To-day he is sweeping the convent, and engrossed in the occupations of a menial ; to-morrow, confronting kings and awing princes, by the majesty of his bearing. And yet no visible power has passed into his hands ; he is a single, solitary man, with nothing to sustain him but truth, and leaning on no arm but that of the invisible God!

But we are to look for the cause of the Reformation out of Luther. That great movement was not a sudden impulse ; the war that swept over Europe was born in a deeper sea than Luther's bosom. Although Rome seemed secure, and her power supreme, the heavens had been for a long time giving indications of an approaching tempest. The world was expecting some great change, and this expectancy grew out of its need. The church had no spirituality, and was

Worse than dead — it was corrupt. With its observances, and ceremonies, and indulgences, it could not reach the heart and wants of man. The human soul, slowly awaking from its long slumbers, called pleadingly for that Christianity which the Son of God had established. But it could not be found in the church. The doctrines of grace and justification by faith were scoffed at as ridiculous, and salvation by works was loudly proclaimed, thus bringing back a religion of mere ceremonies — Judaism, under another form, which the world had shaken off at the appearance of Christ. Added to this, the Romish Church was the den of every vice. The capital and palace of the Pontiff exhibited scenes of debauchery, drunkenness, and irreligion, that made them a byword in the mouths of the people. The same immorality characterized the priesthood every where. It finally became a custom to pay a tax for keeping a mistress ; and one bishop declared that eleven thousand priests came to him in one year to pay this tax. The climax to all these absurdities and immoralties was the sale of indulgences, not carried on at Rome, but over the continent, by which a few groats would buy pardon for any crime, even for incest.

Thus, under its own corruptions, was the immense fabric of papacy tottering to its fall. Kings and princes were also in a state of preparation for a change ; they began to question the right of the Pope to the vast power he wielded, and which they had so often suffered under; while the burghers and more wealthy citizens, especially of the free cities of Germany, did not hesitate to express their views of the oppressions of the hierarchy. The common people, too, began to see their rights and ask for them. Thus, in the church and state were found the elements of revolution. The revival of learning, by expanding the human mind, also pushed on the movement. The mysticism of the schoolmen, and the skepticism of the Aristotelians, were not enough to counterbalance the invigorating power of letters. Civilization had advanced, and knowledge increased, until the whole iron framework of the papal and ecclesiastical system, which had been fitted for a darker age and a more ignorant, slavish race of men, could no longer keep its place. Man had outgrown the narrow limits in which he was confined, and pressed painfully upward against the bars which held him down. A single blow, and every thing would heave and part asunder. Europe did not need to be roused by the advent of a new prophet ; it wanted simply relief. The church, the state, the wealthy and the poor — the universal soul asked for relief, and Luther brought it.

All the great reformations of the world have been brought about by persons selected from the lower classes. Christ was born in a manger ; the apostles were taken from the ranks of laborers ; Zwingle was an Alpine shepherd-boy; Melancthon the son of a smith ; and Luther first drew his breath in the lowly cottage of a German miner. Of such humble origin, and so ignorant were the parents of the great reformer, that his mother could never tell in what year her world-renowned son was born ; but from all that can be gathered, it is probable he was born on the 10th of November, 1483. Eisleben has the honor of being his birthplace ; but before he was six months old his parents removed to Mansfield, some five leagues distant, where, by the banks of the Wipper, the young Luther passed his early boyhood. As we behold him with childish, unsteady step, following his mother as she staggers under the load of faggots she has gathered for fuel, or, later in life, glowing before his father's furnaces besmeared with soot and dust, we find no indications of his future career.

After years of industry and toil, his father found himself in comparatively easy circumstances. He took advantage of this change in his condition, and sent young Luther to school. Here his career commences, and we begin to look for those traits which, developed in the man, formed one of the most wonderful characters in history. Like all those spirits which have revolutionized the world, he in his childhood possessed violent passions, an immovable will, and great energy. No doubt he was treated too rigorously, and was whipped oftener than he deserved ; yet, when he tells us that he was flogged fifteen times successsivety in one morning, we know, with all due allowance for over severity, that the little rebel was a hard subject to manage.

When fourteen years old, he was sent to Magdeburg to school. Without friends or money, he was at this early age thrown upon the world, and compelled, in the intervals of study, to beg his bread from door to door; sometimes treated with kindness, and often chased with severity from the doors of the rich, the little beggar -passed a year of trouble. At the end of it, he was sent to Eisenach, where his parents had relatives who might befriend him. But here, too, as at Magdeburg, he was often forced to resort to street begging for food. Possessed of a sweet voice, he would stop before the portals of the wealthy, and carol forth the hymns he had learned. Driven away, even in the midst of his innocent songs, by harsh words and threats of chastisement, the poor young scholar would retire unfed to some secret place and weep bitter tears, while the dim and shadowy future was filled with gloomy shapes to his imagination. One morning, he had been repulsed from three doors in succession, and, as he reached the fourth, that of a wealthy citizen, he paused and stood for a long time motionless, wrapped in melancholy thoughts. While his desponding heart Was vacillating between another attempt and a hungry stomach, the door opened, and the good wife of Conrad Cotta approached and invited him in. So pleased was she and her husband with his character, that they at length took him to live with them. From this time on, Martin's days at Magdeburg passed smoothly on. He learned to play on the flute and lute, and, accompanying the latter with his fine voice, he made the house of good Ursula Cotta ring with music. Possessed of a remarkable memory and rare gifts, he soon outstripped all his companions, and gave promise of future eminence. He remained here until his eighteenth year, and

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then, burning with the desire of knowledge, he joined the University of Erfurt with the. design of studying law. From this moment he becomes an object of the deepest interest. Standing on the threshold of life, just beginning to be conscious of the power that is within him,^ and filled with great aspirations, his imagination revels in bright visions of glory that await him. With that dark, earnest, and piercing eye so few could withstand, he surveys the path he is resolved to tread, while an invisible eye is tracing out one for him we shudder to contemplate.

There are several great epochs in the history of Luther. One was the discovery of the Bible in the library of the University, as he was looking over the books. He had never before seen one, and he devoured the contents with an avidity that showed he was drinking deep from its living wells. From this time the world gradually lost all its attractions for him. Eternity and its dread realities, the soul and its great destinies, God and his character, law and judgments, filled all his thoughts ; a severe sickness deepened these impressions, and at length a thunderbolt which fell at his feet as he was one day entering Erfurt, and prostrated him like Paul on the earth, completed the change that was passing over him, and fixed for ever his wavering resolution. He renounced the world, and devoted himself to God. The bright career that was opening before him he closed with his own hand ; and, despite the prayers and tears of his friends, and the anger of his father, the young Master of Arts and Doctor of Philosophy, not yet twenty-two years of age, bade an eternal adieu to the world, and joined the hermits of St. Augustine.

We get some insight into the bewildered state of this young devotee's heart, and see through what chaos he was groping towards the light, when we remember that the only books he took with him into his seclusion, were Yirgil and Plautus — an epic poem, and a volume of comedies. Shut out from life for ever, he hears his friends without, earnestly asking for admittance, and begging him not to commit so suicidal an act. But it is all in vain ; the steadfast resolution that afterwards a world in arms against him could not shake, begins at once to exhibit itself.

What a picture does Luther present at this time ! But twenty-years of age, full of genius and energy, at the dawn of manhood, when ambition soars wildest, and hope promises fairest, already honored with distinctions that older men might covet, he calmly turns his back on all — on his best friends, his parents — on every thing dear in life, and buries himself from sight for ever. And for what does this falconeyed stripling forsake all these ? For a conviction. Such a man may be overborne by force ; but, while he lives, his course will be like the lightning's flash or cannon-ball, straight to its mark. Oh ! could those who wondered and clamored so at his decision, have looked into his soul and seen the struggles that had no outward manifestation, the agony that found no utterance even in groans, they would have stood before him speechless. That strong and conscientious nature was wrestling with the most terrific thing in the universe — the omnipotent law of God. The blows it gave and the wounds it inflicted were all out of sight, but none the less painful for that. That problem, which has absorbed the soul of man since the smoke of the first altar-fire, kindled on the yet unpeopled earth, darkened the heavens until now — " How shall man be just with Grod?" — he hoped to solve in the cloisters of a convent.

This was the second epoch in his career, and darknesss filled it to its close. It is painful to witness the earnest, yet futile efforts of this sincere spirit after truth. Committing over again the old time-worn mistake, that justification is to be secured by works, he plunges into endless labyrinths, and fathomless abysses of gloom. The young Doctor of Philosophy stoops to the work of a menial, cheerfully. He becomes a porter, opens and shuts the gates of the convent, sweeps the church, and cleans out the cells. And when these humiliating tasks are over, he is required to take his wallet and go begging from door to door. Those who had invited him to their houses, and listened to his eloquent lectures, and looked upon him as a new s^ar arising in the heavens, now saw him at the doors, humbly begging for bread.

Amid the penances, prayers, and menial duties of his order, Luther's career would have had a sad termination, had he not found a Bible in the convent. To this sacred volume, chained up, he repaired in the intervals of his duties, and read with ever-increasing spirit. The light that flashed from its pages would not permit him to find rest under his system of works.

The war between his conscience and a just and dreadful law which he had hoped to lay, only raged the fiercer, and profounder melancholy fell upon him.

His exodus from bondage was to be through a wilder sea than that which rolled at the feet of the Hebrew host.

After he was relieved from his menial duties, he spent his time between the most exhausting studies, prayers, fastings, mortifications, and watchings. Weeks together, of sleepless nights, convulsions, tears, and groans, told with what agony he struggled with the great problem, " How shall a man be just with (rod !" Chased by that question as with whip of scorpion, through the whole round of works, he became pale, emaciated, and haggard. He wandered like a ghost through the cloisters, and his naturally bright and flashing eye took at times the glare of insanity. Once in the midst of the mass he fell on the floor of the chapel, crying out, " It is not I ! It is not I !" His moaning made his cell resound day and night, and once, after a seclusion of several days, he was found apparently dead on the floor. Thus reduced to what he once was, it was evident that his body would soon sink under the severe action of the mind. Yet there was a grandeur even in his fanaticism, for it was based on a great thought, how to secure justification. He was grave, solemn, and resolute, and when most reduced, showed that the powerful soul within was unweakened, its terrible energy unshaken.

To the contemplative mind, how sad is one aspect of the human race ! We see the heavens darkened with the smoke of altar-fires ; we behold men prostrating themselves under the cars of idols ; women casting their children into the Ganges, suffering selfchastisement and death, cheerfully endured, to solve this single problem of justification, the study of which so well-nigh wrecked Luther for ever. That problem has saddened the soul of man from the commencement of his history till now. The smoke of Abel's sacrifice, ascending from the borders of Eden, was endeavoring to pierce the sky for its solution. All the ceremonies of the Jewish religion tended to the same end.

The pagan before his idol, and the Christian at a holier shrine, have been asking the same question for ages. Pilgrimages have been made, and tortures and martyrdom endured, to answer it. The spire of every temple and church in the world is now pointing to the heavens as if in answer. Every bell on the Sabbath day, calling men to the house of prayer, says, Come and hear the solution of this great problem. But Luther struggled with it with an intensity few know any thing about.

From the state of deep despondency and overwhelming agony into which he had been so long plunged, he obtained relief where it was least to be expected. Going to La Kala Santa, a sacred staircase in Rome, up which our Saviour is said to have passed when brought before Pilate, he began to ascend it, in order to obtain the indulgence promised to the devotee. But he had not dragged his prone body far, before a voice arrested him in tones of thunder, "The just shall live by faith." Startled by these accents of terror, lie hurried like a guilty thing from the spot, and from that hour he adopted the doctrine as eternal truth, and, planting himself upon it as upon a rock, looked serenely back on the wild sea through which he had been struggling. The last rivet in his chain was burst, and he stood up a free man. He did not at first see how this doctrine struck at the whole system of papacy, founded, as it was, on works, and that it required the believer in it to deny the infallibility of the Pope in all matters of conscience. Yet it did both.

Not long after, the sale of indulgences, carried on with the most unblushing effrontery, aroused his indignation ; for the whole system was opposed to the doctrine of faith, on which he had just cast himself, soul and body. He attacked it boldly ; and, Tetzel sheltering himself behind the Pope, he attacked the Pope also, and the great battle began.

It is not necessary to trace the progress of the struggle ; for the adoption of the doctrine of justification by faith, and his open defence of it when assailed, embraced the Reformation— the first was the soul, the other, its outward manifestation.

Having, therefore, seen him fairly launched on his spiritual life, and irrevocably committed to an outward struggle, we can turn from his career to his character.

Luther was born for action. He was one of those determined spirits that are at home in strife and danger ; opposition and rage steadied him. For a long time held in bondage, not from fear of men, but because he could not find the truth, he no sooner discovered it and announced himself its champion, than he became a different man. Instead of the menial monk, schooling his iron nature into slavish submission, he is the bold reformer, shaking the pillars of empire. The falcon eye can at last look fearlessly forth, and the eloquent voice speak clearly out. Tied clown by no superstitious forms, checked and made mute by no authority he feels bound to regard, with his feet planted on eternal rock, and his knee bent to God alone, he contemplates calmly the commotions about him.

The Pope smiled at the ravings of this fanatical monk, and for a long time could not be persuaded to notice his conduct. Seated on the seven-hilled city, and every throne of Europe on his side, how could he fear the idle prating of a would-be reformer ? But he at length awoke from his dangerous dream, and stood up to crush at one stroke the impious enemy of the church of God. Luther had fought manfully against the errors and superstitions of the. church, disputed with the subtle schoolmen and philosophers of Germany, borne up against the tide of passion that had threatened to sweep him away, resisted the tame advice of his friends, and moved forward amid obstacles that would have crushed any. ordinary spirit, and now, to crown the whole, the thunders of Rome were launched at him. Kings and princes he could meet with " Thus saith the Lord;" but how will he meet the authority of the church ? the anathemas of God's vicegerent on earth ? There was not a monarch of Europe, though with an army of fifty thousand men at his back, but would have turned pale at that curse and trembled for his crown ; for the Pontiff did not rely solely on his authority as head of the church — he had other weapons he well knew, how to use. What could Luther do against such a power, backed by the thrones of Europe ? To all men it seemed idle to resist ; his enemies were elated with confidence, his friends depressed with fear. The good throughout the land, who had hailed with joy the rising light, gave way to discouragement. It was a sad hour for Luther, for he stood alone, the mark of papal vengeance. He had withstood ridicule, solicitations, and flattery, hurled back with scorn threats of violence ; but to meet Rome single-handed, the authority of the church, too, which he had been taught to venerate — to brave such tremendous power, while oppressed with the fear that he might be stepping beyond the bounds of duty, was more than could be expected of any man. Wittenberg was at that moment an object of deeper interest than Rome itself. All eyes were turned thither, to see what the bold monk would do. Will his recantation be full or partial — his penitence real or feigned — his retreat skillful or humiliating ? These were the questions asked ; and, while all waited the answer, suddenly there burst upon the world a paper headed "Against the bull of Antichrist." The Pope had driven Luther to the wall, and he turned at bay like a lion. He dare call the head of the church

"Antichrist" — nay more, he boldly arraigns him before Christendom. Condemned by the Pope, he exclaims, " I appeal from the Pope, first, as an unjust, rash, and tyrannical judge, who condemns me without a hearing ; secondly, as a heretic, misled, hardened, and condemned by the Holy Scriptures; thirdly, as an enemy, an Antichrist, an adversary, an opposer of the Holy Scriptures, who dares set his own words in opposition to the Word of God ; fourthly, as a despiser, a calumniator, a blasphemer of the holy Christian church." His friends stood aghast at this presumption and daring ; for, not only did he thus rain his terrible accusations on the Pontiff, in his appeal to Charles the Emperor, "electors, princes, counts, barons, knights, gentlemen," &c, but declared that, if they scorned his prayer, he " abandoned them to the supreme judgment of God, with the Pope, and his adherents." " The monk of Wittenberg will do all that the sovereign Pontiff dare do. He gives judgment for judgment ; he raises pile for pile. The son of the Medici and the son of the miner of Mansfield have gone down into the lists, and in this desperate struggle, which shakes the world, one does not strike a blow which the other does not

return."

Not content with having hurled back with redoubled power the thunders of Rome, he publicly burned the bull, saying, as it sank in the flames, " Since thou hast vexed the holy one of the Lord, may everlasting fire vex and consume thee !" Luther, disputing with learned men, and rising superior to the obstacles that surrounded him, had excited the admiration of friends and enemies. His daring journey to Augsburg on foot, to have an interview with the Pope's legate, his firmness amid the trials to which he was subjected for ten days, plied now with arguments and entreaties, and now with flatteries, and again assailed with threats, had elevated him still higher as a reformer ; but this flinging down the gauntlet to the Pope, and pouring his maledictions on the triple crown, was a step that those who looked upon him simply as a bold man could not comprehend. He was by nature fearless ; he had the same inflexible will and unconquerable energy that characterized Paul, Bonaparte, Cromwell, and all those great men around whom the waves of revolution have dashed in vain. His was a spirit that rises with difficulties, that may be crushed but never broken.

Luther's courage, however, had a firmer basis than his own will — it rested on truth. With one thus anchored, and who has no thought or wish beyond the truth, the common motives that sway men have no influence. He has nothing to do with compromises, diplomacy, or results. The word of the living Grod is ever before him, reducing monarchs and dignitaries to the level of the meanest subject, while no consequences can be so awful as the wrath of the Almighty. Here was the secret of Luther's strength. The fate of Huss was before him ; but the faith of Huss also strengthened his soul. These two great traits of lofty courage, and still loftier faith, are exhibited in every step of Luther's progress, and fills his life with

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sublime pictures, chief among which is his appearance at the Diet of Worms.

That council, composed of six electors, twenty-four dukes, eight margraves, thirty-archbishops, bishops, and abbots, seven ambassadors, princes, counts, barons, and deputies, in all two hundred and four, with the young Emperor Charles at their head, was the most imposing assembly that had ever met in Germany. Behold, Luther has been summoned thither, to settle the fate of Europe and of future generations ! His last farewell to Melancthon, as he departs, is that of one who feels he may never return. Gloomy forebodings accompany him, and he is every where met with strong entreaties not to proceed. They tell him his journey will end at the stake, or in the gloomy dungeon of a Roman prison. Nothing daunted, he replies, " Though they kindle a fire all the way from Worms to Wittenberg, the flames of which reached to heaven, I would go through it in the name of the Lord. I would appear before them, I would enter the jaws of this Behemoth and break his teeth, confessing the Lord Jesus Christ." As he approaches the city, a message meets him from Spalatin, saying, " Do not enter Worms." " Go tell your master," he replies, a that, even should there be as many devils in Worms as tiles on the housetops, still I would enter it." He did enter, and, as he moved along the street, a solemn chant met his ear —

as if the ghosts of the departed were already welcoming him to their abode.

In the presence of the august assembly that await him, the simply-habited monk enters, and, casting his eagle eye around on the princes, nobles, and dignitarie, dressed in the pomp that becomes the occasion, turns to his emperor. The ample hall, the character of the assembly, the imposing display, the loneliness of his position, as he feels that all are his enemies, and the tremendous results depending, are enough to confuse and shake the firmest spirit. As he passed in, the old warlike knight, George of Freundsberg, whose hair had been bleached in the storm of ,battle, touched him on the shoulder, saying, " Poor monk ! poor monk ! thou art now going to make a nobler stand than I or any other captain have ever made in the bloodiest of our battles." The old warrior felt that he had rather charge alone on a rank of serried steel, than meet the responsibilities and trials of that hour. No wonder that for a moment Luther's brilliant eye was dazzled, and his clear intellect seemed confused. But the whispered words, " When ye shall be brought before governors and kings for my sake, the Spirit of your Father shall speak in you" brought back his soul to its firm trusting-place, and he was himself again, and stood composed, though alone, before the throne of his emperor. His voice rose clear and calm over the vast assembly, and, though his monarch's eye never left him for a moment, he felt only that the eye of God was upon him. When asked if he would retract his books, he spoke for an hour with the boldness of a prophet, in which, having gone over the accusations against him, he declared that he could not retract that which was in accordance with the Word of God. " I cannot" said he, u l will not retract." He paused a moment, and casting his eye fearlessly yet respectfully around on the assembly which held his fate in their hands, he exclaimed, " Here I stand; I can do no more. God help me. Amen!" That deep and solemn Amen I thrilled that assembly like the peal of a trumpet, and the Reformation was safe. It was nobly, sublimely done, and the monk of Wittemberg was greater than a king. Resting in sublime faith on the simple promise of the eternal God, and looking beyond the pomp, and splendor, and commotions, and sufferings of this world, he saw the judgment to come, and the heaven that awaited him. As he thus stood, with clasped hands and uplifted eyes, he exhibited a moral grandeur rarely witnessed on earth.