CHAPTER VII

Return—Doctor’s Degree—Carlstadt—Luther’s Oath—Principle of Reform—Luther’s Courage—First Views of Reformation—The Schoolmen—Spalatin—Affair of Reuchlin.

Luther quitted Rome and returned to Wittemberg, his heart full of sadness and indignation. Turning away his eyes in disgust from the pontifical city, he directed them in hope to the Holy Scriptures, and to that new light of which the word of God seemed then to give promise to the world. This word gained in his heart all that the Church lost in it. He detached himself from the one and turned towards the other. The whole Reformation was in that movement. It put God where the priest had hitherto been.

Staupitz and the elector did not lose sight of the monk whom they had called to the university of Wittemberg. It would seem that the vicar-general had a presentiment of the work that was to be done in the world, and, feeling it too much for himself, wished to urge on Luther. There is nothing more remarkable, and perhaps more mysterious, than this personage, who is ever found hurrying on the monk into the path to which God calls him; and who himself ultimately goes and sadly ends his days in a convent. The preaching of the young professor had made an impression on the prince. He had admired the vigour of his intellect, the nervousness of his eloquence, and the exellence of his expositions. The elector and his friend, wishing to advance a man who gave such high hopes, resolved to make him take the honourable degree of Doctor of Divinity. Staupitz repairing to the convent, led Luther into the garden, and there alone with him, under a tree which Luther was afterwards fond of showing to his disciples,² the venerable father said to him—“It is now necessary, my friend, that you become a doctor of the Holy Scriptures.” Luther recoiled at the idea; the high honour frightened him. “Look out,” replied he, “for a more worthy person; as for me, I cannot consent to it.” The vicar-general insisted, “The Lord God has much to do in the Church, and has need at present of young and vigorous doctors.” These words, adds Melancthon, were perhaps used half in jest, and yet the event realised them. Many omens ordinarily precede great revolutions. It is not necessary to suppose that Melancthon here speaks of miraculous predictions. The most incredulous age—that which preceded our own—saw this sentiment verified. There was no miracle; and yet how many presages announced the revolution with which it closed?

“But I am weak and sickly,” replied Luther, “and have not long to live. Seek a strong man.” “The Lord,” replied the vicar-general, “has work in heaven as well as on the earth; dead or alive, God has need of you in his counsel.”

“None but the Holy Spirit can make a doctor of theology,” exclaimed the monk, still more alarmed. “Do what your convent asks,” said Staupitz, “and what I, your vicar-general, command. You promised to obey us.” “But my poverty,” replied the friar. “I have no means of paying the expences attendant on such promotion.” “Give yourself no trouble about them,” said his friend. “The prince has been graciously pleased to take all the expences on himself.” Luther, thus urged, saw it his duty to yield. This was towards the end of the summer of 1512. Luther set out for Leipsic to receive the money necessary for his promotion from the elector’s treasures. But according to the usages of courts, the money came not. The friar getting impatient would have left, but monastic obedience detained him. At length, on the 4th of October, he received fifty florins from Pfeffinger and John Doltzig, and gave them his receipt for it, in which he designates himself merely as a monk. “I, Martin,” says he, “friar of the order of Eremites.” Luther hastened back to Wittemberg.

Andrew Bodenstein was then Dean of the Faculty of Theology, and is best known under the name of Carlstadt, being that of his native town. He was also called A. B. C. It was Melancthon who first gave him this designation, which is taken from the three initial letters of his name. Bodenstein acquired the first elements of literature in his native place. He was of a grave and gloomy temper, perhaps inclined to jealousy, and of a restless intellect, eagerly bent, however, on acquiring knowledge, and endowed with great ability. He attended different universities in order to increase his acquirements, and studied theology even at Rome. On his return from Italy into Germany he established himself at Wittemberg, and became doctor in divinity. “At this period,” says he himself afterwards, “I had not read the Holy Scriptures.” This account gives a very just idea of what the theology of that day was. Carlstadt, besides being a professor, was a canon and archdeacon. This is the person who was at a later period to make a rent in the Reformation. In Luther at that time, he only saw an inferior, but the Augustin soon became an object of jealousy to him. “I am not willing,” said he one day, “to be a smaller man than Luther.”

³ When Carlstadt conferred the highest university degree on his future rival, he was far from foreseeing the celebrity which the young professor was destined to obtain. On the 18th of October, 1512, Luther was admitted a licentiate in theology, and took the following oath:—“I swear to defend evangelical truth by every means in my power.” The following day, Bodenstein, in presence of a numerous assembly, formally delivered to him the insignia of doctor of theology. He was made Biblical doctor, not doctor of sentences, and in this way was called to devote himself to the study of the Bible, and not to that of human tradition.⁵ The oath, then, which he took was, as he relates, to his well-beloved Holy Scripture. He promised to preach it faithfully, to teach it purely, to study it during his whole life, and to defend it by discussion and by writing, as far as God should enable him to do so. This solemn oath was Luther’s call to be the Reformer. In laying it upon his conscience freely to seek, and boldly to announce Christian truth, this oath raised the new doctor above the narrow limits to which his monastic vow might perhaps have confined him. Called by the university and by his sovereign, in the name of the emperor, and of the See of Rome itself, and bound before God, by the most solemn oath, he was thenceforth the intrepid herald of the word of life. On this memorable day, Luther was dubbed knight of the Bible.

Accordingly, this oath taken to the Holy Scriptures, may be regarded as one of the causes of the renovation of the Church. The infallible authority of the word of God alone was the first and fundamental principle of the Reformation. All the reformations in detail which took place at a later period, as reformations in doctrine, in manners, in the government of the Church, and in worship, were only consequences of this primary principle. One is scarcely able at the present time to form an idea of the sensation produced by this elementary principle, which is so simple in itself, but which had been lost sight of for so many ages. Some individuals of more extensive views than the generality, alone foresaw its immense results. The bold voices of all the Reformers soon proclaimed this powerful principle, at the sound of which Rome is destined to crumble away:—“Christians, receive no other doctrines than those which are founded on the express words of Jesus Christ, his apostles, and prophets. No man, no assembly of doctors, are entitled to prescribe new doctrines.” The situation of Luther was changed. The call which the Reformer had received became to him like one of these extraordinary calls which the Lord addressed to the prophets under the Old Dispensation, and to the apostles under the New. The solemn engagement which he undertook made so deep an impression on his mind, that, in the sequel, the remembrance of this oath was sufficient to console him amid the greatest dangers and the sharpest conflicts. And when he saw all Europe agitated and shaken by the word which he had announced; when it seemed that the accusations of Rome, the reproaches of many pious men, and the doubts and fears of his own easily agitated heart, would make him hesitate, fear, and give way to despair, he called to mind the oath which he had taken, and remained firm, tranquil, and full of joy. “I have advanced in the name of the Lord,” said he, on a critical occasion, “and I have put myself into his hands. His will be done. Who asked him to make me a doctor? If He made me, let him sustain me; or if he repents of having made me, let Him depose me!… This tribulation terrifies me not. I seek one thing only, and it is to have the Lord favourable to me in all that he calls me to do.” Another time he said, “He who undertakes any thing without a divine call, seeks his own glory; but I, Doctor Martin Luther, was compelled to become a doctor. Papism sought to stop me in the discharge of my duty, and you see what has happened to it; and still worse will happen. They will not be able to defend themselves against me. I desire, in the name of the Lord, to tread upon the lions, and trample under foot the dragons and vipers. This will commence during my life, and be finished after my death.” From the hour when he took the oath Luther sought the truth solely for itself and for the Church. Still deeply impressed with recollections of Rome, he saw indistinctly before him a course which he determined to pursue with all the energy of his soul. The spiritual life which had hitherto been manifested within him was now manifested outwardly. This was the third period of his development. His entrance into the convent had turned his thoughts towards God: the knowledge of the forgiveness of sins and of the righteousness of faith, had emancipated his soul; and his doctor’s oath gave him that baptism of fire by which he became the Reformer of the Church. His thoughts were soon directed in a general way to the subject of reformation. In a discourse which he had written apparently with a view to its being announced by the Provost of Litzkau, at the Council of Lateran, he affirmed that the corruption of the world was occasioned by the priests, who, instead of preaching the pure word of God, taught so many fables and traditions. According to him the word of life alone had power to accomplish the spiritual regeneration of man. Hence, even at this period, he made the salvation of the world depend on the re-establishment of sound doctrine, and not on a mere reformation of manners. Luther was not perfectly consistent with himself; he entertained contradictory opinions; but a powerful intellect was displayed in all his writings. He boldly broke the links by which the systems of the schools chained down human thought, passed beyond the limits to which past ages had attained, and formed new paths for himself. God was in him. The first opponents whom he attacked were those famous schoolmen whom he had so thoroughly studied, and who then reigned as sovereigns in all universities. He accused them of Pelagianism; and, forcibly assailing Aristotle, the father of the school, and Thomas Aquinas, undertook to tumble both of them from the throne on which they sat, the one ruling philosophy, and the other theology. “Aristotle, Porphyry, the theologians of sentences,” (the schoolmen,) wrote he to Lange, “are the lost studies of our age.² There is nothing I more ardently long for than to expose this player, who has sported with the Church by wrapping himself up in a Greek mask, and to make his disgrace apparent to all.” In all public disputations he was heard to say, “the writings of the apostles and prophets are more certain and more sublime than all the sophisms and all the theology of the school.” Such sayings were new, but people gradually became accustomed to them. About a year after he could triumphantly write—“God works. Our theology and St. Augustine make wonderful progress, and reign in our university. Aristotle is on the decline, and is already tottering to his speedy and eternal overthrow. The lessons on the sentences are admirable for producing a yawn. No man can hope to have an audience if he does not profess Biblical theology.” Happy the university to which such a testimony can be given. At the same time that Luther attacked Aristotle, he took the part of Erasmus and Reuchlin against their enemies. He entered into communication with these great men and others of the learned, such as Pirckheimer, Mutian, and Hütten, who belonged more or less to the same party. At this period he formed another friendship also, which was of great importance to him during his whole life.

There was then at the court of the elector a man distinguished for wisdom and candour, named George Spalatin. Born at Spalatus or Spalt, in the bishopric of Eichstadt, he had at first been curate of the village of Hohenkirch, near the forest of Thuringia, and was afterwards selected by Frederick the Wise to be his secretary and chaplain, and also tutor to his nephew, John Frederick, who was one day to wear the electoral crown. Spalatin retained his simplicity in the midst of the court. He appeared timid on the eve of great events, circumspect and prudent like his master, when contrasted with the impetuous Luther, with whom he was in daily correspondence. Like Staupitz he was made for peaceful times. Such men are necessary, somewhat resembling those delicate substances in which we wrap up jems and trinkets to protect them from injury in travelling. They seem useless, and yet without them the precious jewels would have been broken and destroyed. Spalatin was not fitted to do great things, but he faithfully and unostentatiously acquitted himself of the task which had been assigned to him. He was at first one of the principal assistants of his master in collecting those relics of saints, of which Frederick was long an amateur, but gradually, along with the prince, turned toward the truth. The faith which was then re-appearing in the Church did not take the firm hold of him that it did of Luther. He proceeded at a slower pace. He became Luther’s friend at court, the minister through whom all affairs between the Reformer and the princes were transacted, the mediator between the Church and the State. The elector honoured Spalatin with his friendship; when on a journey they always travelled in the same carriage.² In other respects, the air of the court often half suffocated the good chaplain. He took fits of melancholy, and would have liked to quit all his honours, and be again a simple pastor in the woods of Thuringia; but Luther consoled him, and exhorted him to remain firm at his post. Spalatin acquired general esteem; the princes and the learned of his time testifying the sincerest regard for him. Erasmus said, “I inscribe the name of Spalatin not only among those of my principal friends, but also amongst those of my most venerated patrons; and this not on paper but on my heart.” The affair of Reuchlin and the monks was then making a great noise in Germany. The most pious men were often at a loss as to the party which they ought to embrace; for the monks wished to destroy Jewish books which contained blasphemies against Christ. The doctor of Wittemberg being now in high repute, the elector ordered his chaplain to consult him on this subject. The following is Luther’s reply. It is the first letter which he addressed to the preacher of the court.

“What shall I say? These monks pretend to drive out Beelzebub, but not by the finger of God. For this I cease not to lament and groan. We Christians begin to be wise abroad, and we are void of sense at home. On all the places of Jerusalem are blasphemies a hundred times worse than those of the Jews. The world is filled with spiritual idols. Inspired with a holy zeal, we should put away and destroy these internal enemies, whereas we leave the matter which is most pressing; the devil himself persuading us to abandon our own business at the same time that he prevents us from amending what belongs to others.”