CHAPTER V

Arrival at Augsburg—De Vio—His Character—Serra-Longa—Preliminary Conversation—Visit of the Counsellors—Return of Serra-Longa—The Prior—Luther’s Wisdom—Luther and Serra-Longa—The Safe-Conduct—Luther to Melancthon. The instant he was at Augsburg, and before he had seen any one, Luther, wishing to pay all due respect to the legate, begged Winceslaus Link to go and announce his arrival. Link did so, and humbly declared to the cardinal, on the part of the doctor of Wittemberg, that he was ready to appear at his order. The legate was delighted with the news. At last he had a hold of this boisterous heretic, who, he assured himself, would not quit the walls of Augsburg as he had entered. At the same time, when Link went to the legate, the monk Leonard set out to announce Luther’s arrival to Staupitz. The vicar-general had written the doctor, that he would certainly come as soon as he should know of his being in the town, and Luther was unwilling to lose an instant in giving him intimation. The Diet was closed, and the Emperor and the electors had already separated. The Emperor, it is true, had not left but was hunting in the neighbourhood. The ambassador of Rome was thus at Augsburg alone. Had Luther come during the Diet, he would have found powerful protectors, but now it seemed that every thing must bend under the weight of papal authority. The name of the judge before whom Luther had to appear was not fitted to increase his confidence. Thomas de Vio surnamed Cajetan, from the town of Gaeta, in the kingdom of Naples, where he was born, had, from his youth, given great hopes. Having at sixteen entered the Dominican order, against the express wish of his parents, he afterwards became general of his order, and a cardinal of the Roman Church. But what was worse for Luther, this learned doctor was one of the most zealous defenders of the scholastic theology, which the Reformer had always treated so unmercifully. His mother was said to have dreamt during her pregnancy, that St. Thomas would in person educate the child to which she was to give birth, and introduce him to heaven. Hence De Vio, on becoming Dominican, had changed his name from James to Thomas. He had zealously defended the prerogatives of the papacy, and the doctrines of Thomas Aquinas, whom he regarded as the most perfect of theologians. A lover of pomp and show, he almost gave a literal meaning to the Roman maxim that legates are above kings, and surrounded himself with great state. On the first of August, he had celebrated a solemn mass in the cathedral of Augsburg, and in presence of all the princes of the empire, had placed the cardinal’s hat on the head of the Archbishop of Mentz while kneeling before the altar, and had delivered to the Emperor himself the hat and sword consecrated by the pope. Such was the man before whom the monk of Wittemberg was going to appear, clothed in a frock which was not even his own. Besides, the acquirements of the legate, the austerity of his disposition, and the purity of his morals, gave him in Germany an influence and authority which other Roman courtiers would not have easily obtained. To this reputation for sanctity he doubtless owed his mission. Rome saw that he would serve her purposes admirably. Thus the personal qualities of Cajetan made him still more formidable. Moreover, the business entrusted to him was not complicated. Luther had already been declared a heretic.² If he refused to retract, the duty of the legate was to put him in prison; or if he escaped, to launch excommunication at every one who should dare to give him an asylum. This was all that Rome required to be done by the legate before whom Luther was cited.

Luther had recovered strength during the night, and on Saturday morning 8th October, being somewhat rested from his journey, began to consider his strange situation. He felt resigned, and waited till the will of God should be manifested by the event. He had not long to wait. A personage who was unknown to him sent in a message, as if he had been entirely devoted to his service, to say that he was coming to wait upon him, and that Luther must take good care not to appear before the legate without having seen him. This message came from an Italian named Urban of Serra-Longa, who had often been in Germany, as envoy of the Margrave of Montferrat. He was known to the Elector of Saxony, to whom he had been accredited, and after the death of the Margrave had attached himself to Cardinal de Vio. The finesse and manners of this man formed a very striking contrast to the noble frankness and generous integrity of Luther. The Italian shortly after arrived at the Augustin convent. The cardinal had sent him to sound the Reformer, and prepare him for the retractation which he was expected to make. Serra-Longa imagined that his residence in Germany gave him great advantages over the other courtiers in the suite of the legate, and he hoped to have good sport with the German monk.

He arrived attended by two servants, and pretended to have come of his own accord, because of the friendship which he felt for a favourite of the Elector of Saxony, and because of his attachment to the Holy Church. After paying his respects to Luther in the warmest terms, the diplomatist added, in an affectionate manner,—

“I come to give you sage and good advice. Re-attach yourself to the Church. Submit unreservedly to the cardinal. Retract your injurious expressions. Remember the Abbot Joachim of Florence. He, you know, had said heretical things, and yet was declared not heretical, because he retracted his errors.”

Luther spoke of defending himself.

Serra-Longa.—“Beware of doing so!… Would you pretend to fight with the legate of his holiness, as if you were tilting at a tournay?”

Luther.—“When it is proved that I have taught anything contrary to the Roman Church I will pass judgment on myself, and retract instantly. The whole question will be, Whether the legate leans more upon St. Thomas than the faith authorises him to do? If he does, I will not yield to him.”

Serra-Longa.—“Ah! Ah! Do you pretend, then, to break lances?”

Then the Italian began to say things which Luther designates horrible. He pretended that false propositions might be maintained, provided they produced money and filled the strong box—that the universities must take good care not to dispute on the authority of the pope—that their duty, on the contrary, was to maintain that the pope can, at his beck, alter or suppress articles of faith; adding other things of the same nature. But the wily Italian soon perceived that he was forgetting himself. Returning to soft words, he strove to persuade Luther to submit to the legate in every thing, and retract his doctrines, his oaths, and his theses. The doctor, who, at the outset, had given some credit to the fine protestations of orator Urban, (as he designates him in his account of the interview,) was now convinced that they were of very little value, and that Serra-Longa was much more on the legate’s side than on his. He, therefore, became less communicative, and contented himself with saying that he was quite disposed to exercise humility, give proof of obedience, and make satisfaction in whatever matters he had been mistaken. At these words Serra-Longa, overjoyed, exclaimed, “I am off to the legate, and you will follow me; everything will go off most admirably; it will be soon finished.…”

He went off. The Saxon monk, who had more discernment than the Roman courtier, thought within himself, “This wily Sinon has come along ill-prepared and ill-instructed by his Greeks.” Luther was suspended between hope and fear; hope, however, predominating. The visit and the strange assertions of Serra-Longa, whom at a later period he calls an inexpert mediator,³ made him resume courage. The counsellors and other inhabitants of Augsburg, to whom the Elector had recommended Luther, hastened to visit the monk, whose name was now resounding throughout all Germany. Peutinger, counsellor of the empire, who was one of the most distinguished patricians of the town, and often invited Luther to his table, counsellor Langemantel, Dr. Auerbach of Leipsic, the two brothers Adelmann, both canons, and several others besides, repaired to the convent of the Augustins, and gave a cordial welcome to the extraordinary man, who had journeyed so far to come and place himself in the hands of the creatures of Rome. “Have you a safe-conduct?” they asked. “No!” replied the intrepid monk. “What hardihood!” exclaimed they. “It was, indeed,” says Luther, “a fit term to designate my rash folly.” All with one voice entreated him not to go to the legate until he had obtained a safe-conduct from the Emperor himself. It is probable that the public had already heard of the papal brief of which the legate was the bearer.

“But,” replied Luther, “I came to Augsburg without a safe-conduct, and have arrived in good health.”

“The Elector having recommended you to us, you ought to obey us, and do what we tell you,” rejoined Langemantel, kindly but firmly. Dr. Auerbach seconded his remonstrances. “We know,” says he, “that the cardinal, at the bottom of his heart, is in the highest degree incensed against you. No trust can be put in the Italians.”⁵

Canon Adelmann likewise insisted, “You have been sent defenceless, and it has been forgotten to furnish you with the precise thing which you required.” These friends engaged to obtain the necessary safe-conduct from the Emperor. They afterwards told Luther how many persons even of elevated rank, were inclined in his favour. “Even the minister of France, who quitted Augsburg a few days ago, spoke of you in the most honourable terms.”² This statement struck Luther, and he afterwards remembered it. Thus, the most respectable citizens in one of the first cities of the empire were already gained to the Reformation.

They were still conversing when Serra-Longa re-appeared. “Come,” said he to Luther, “the cardinal is waiting for you and I myself am going to conduct you to his presence. Listen while I tell you how you are to appear. When you enter the hall where he is, you will prostrate yourself before him with your face on the ground; when he tells you to rise, you will get up on your knees, and not stand erect, but wait till he bids you. Recollect that it is before a prince of the Church that you are going to appear. For the rest fear nothing; the whole will be finished soon, and without difficulty.”

Luther, who had promised this Italian that he would be ready to follow at his call, felt embarrassed. Yet he hesitated not to inform him of the advice which he had received from his Augsburg friends, and spoke to him of a safe-conduct.

“Beware of asking one,” immediately replied Serra-Longa; “you have no need of it. The legate is well-disposed, and quite ready to finish the thing amicably. If you ask a safe-conduct you will totally spoil your affair.”

“My gracious lord, the Elector of Saxony,” replied Luther, “has recommended me to several honourable men of this town, who counsel me to undertake nothing without a safe-conduct. I must follow their advice, for, were I not to do so, and were anything to happen, they would write to the Elector, my master, that I had refused to listen to them.”

Luther persisted in his resolution, and Serra-Longa saw himself obliged to return to his chief, to announce the obstacle which his mission had encountered at the moment when he was flattering himself with seeing it crowned with success.

Thus terminated the conferences of that day with the orator of Montferrat.

Another invitation was given to Luther. John Frosch, the prior of the Carmelites, who was an old friend of his, and two years before, as a licentiate of theology, had maintained theses under the presidency of Luther, paid him a visit, and earnestly begged he would come and reside with him. He claimed the honour of having the doctor of Germany for his guest. Men at length feared not to do homage to him in presence of Rome; the feeble had already become strong. Luther accepted, and left the Augustin convent for that of the Carmelites. The day did not close without serious reflection. The eagerness of Serra-Longa, and the fears of the counsellors, equally served to acquaint him with the difficulty of his position. Nevertheless, God in heaven was his protector, and under his guardianship he could sleep without fear. The next day, being Sunday, gave him somewhat more repose. He had, however, to endure a different kind of fatigue. The whole talk of the town was about Dr. Luther, and, as Melancthon expresses it, every body was desirous to see “this new Erostratus, who had kindled so immense a conflagration.”² The people pressed around him, and the good doctor, no doubt smiled at their eagerness. But he had to submit to another kind of importunity. If the people were desirous to see him, they were still more so to hear him, and he was requested on all hands to preach. Luther had no greater delight than in proclaiming the word, and would have been happy to preach Jesus Christ in this great city, in the solemn circumstances in which he was placed. But on this occasion, as on many others, he showed a strong sense of propriety, and profound respect for his superiors, and refused to preach, lest the legate might suppose that he did it in order to give him pain, and by way of defiance. This moderation and wisdom were undoubtedly of as much value as a sermon. The cardinal’s creatures, however, did not leave him in tranquillity, but returned to the charge. “The Cardinal,” said they, “assures you of his entire grace and favour. What do you fear?” They alleged a thousand reasons in order to induce him to go. “He is a father full of mercy, said one of these envoys; but another approaching, whispered in his ear, “Don’t believe what is told you—he does not keep his word.” Luther adhered to his resolution. On Monday morning, 10th October, Serra-Longa returned to the charge. The courtier had made it a point of honour to succeed in his negotiation. As soon as he entered, he exclaimed in Latin, “Why do you not come to the cardinal? He is waiting for you with the most indulgent feelings. The whole matter may be summed up in six letters:—Revoca, Retract. Come, you have nothing to fear.”

Luther thought within himself, these six are important letters; but, without entering into discussion on the subject, said, “As soon as I have obtained the safe-conduct I will appear.”

Serra-Longa broke out on hearing these words. He insisted, and remonstrated, but found Luther immovable. Becoming more and more irritated, he exclaimed, “You imagine, doubtless, that the Elector will take up arms in your behalf, and for your sake run the risk of losing the territories handed down to him from his fathers.”

Luther.—“God forbid.”

Serra-Longa.—“Abandoned by all, where will your refuge be?”

Luther.—(Looking upwards with the eye of faith,) “Under heaven.”

Serra-Longa, struck with this sublime reply, for which he was not prepared, remained a moment silent, and then continued:— “What would you do if you had the pope, the legate, and all the cardinals, in your hands, as they have you in theirs?”

Luther.—“I would pay them all honour and respect. But in my view, the word of God takes precedence of all.”

Serra-Longa.—(Laughing, and wagging one of his fingers as the Italians do.) “Hem! Hem! all honour.… I don’t believe a word of it.…”

He then went out, leapt into his saddle, and disappeared.

Serra-Longa returned no more to Luther; but he long remembered both the resistance which he had met with from the Reformer, and that which his master also was soon to experience. At a later period, we shall see him with loud cries demanding Luther’s blood.

Serra-Longa had not long left the doctor when the safe-conduct arrived. His friends had obtained it from the counsellor of the empire, who, it is probable, had previously consulted with the Emperor, as he was not far from Augsburg. It would even seem, from a remark afterwards made by the cardinals that, to avoid offending him, his consent had been asked. This may have been his reason for employing Serra-Longa to work upon Luther; for to have openly opposed the giving of a safe-conduct would have been to reveal intentions which he was desirous to conceal. It was safer to induce Luther himself to desist from his demand. It was soon seen, however, that the Saxon monk was not made of pliable materials.

Luther is going to appear. While demanding a safe-conduct, he did not trust to a carnal arm; for he knew very well that a safe-conduct did not save John Huss from the flames. He only wished to do his duty by submitting to the advice of his master’s friends. Jehovah will decide. If he requires him to give back his life, he is ready to give it joyfully. At this solemn moment, he feels a longing for converse with his friends, especially with Melancthon, now so dear to his heart, and avails himself of a moment of retirement to write him.

“Comport yourself like a man,” says he to him, “as you always do. Teach our dear youth what is right and agreeable to God. For me, I am ready to be sacrificed for you and for them, if it is the Lord’s will. Sooner than retract what I was bound to teach, I would die, and even (what would be to me the greatest misfortune) be deprived for ever of your delightful society, thus losing (perhaps by my fault) the excellent studies to which we are now devoted.

“Italy, like Egypt of old, is plunged in darkness, so thick that it may be felt. Nobody knows anything of Christ, or of what relates to him; and yet these people are our lords and masters in faith and manners. Thus the wrath of God is fulfilled upon us, as the prophet speaks: ‘I will give them youths for governors, and babes will rule over them.’ Conduct yourself as in presence of the Lord, my dear Philip, and avert the divine wrath by pure and fervent prayer.” The legate, informed that Luther was next day to appear before him, assembled the Italians and Germans, in whom he had the greatest confidence, in order to consider what was necessary to be done with the Saxon monk. Opinions were divided. “He must,” says one, “be compelled to retract.” “He must be seized,” says another, “and imprisoned.” A third thought that it was better to get quit of him; and a fourth that an attempt should be made to gain him by kindness and lenity. This last advice the cardinal seems at first to have determined to adopt.