CHAPTER IV

The Procession—Mass—Mosellanus—Veni, Sancte Spiritus!—Portraits of Luther and Carlstadt—Doctor Eck—Carlstadt’s Books—Merit of Congruity—Natural Powers—Scholastic distinction—Point where Rome and the Reformation separate—Grace gives man freedom—Carlstadt’s Note-Book—Commotion in the auditory—Melancthon during the debate—Manœuvres of Eck—Luther Preaches—The Citizens of Leipsic—Quarrels of Students and quarrels of Teachers. The 27th of June was the day fixed for the commencement of the discussion. In the morning the parties met in the hall of the university, and thereafter walked in procession to the Church of St. Thomas, where high mass was celebrated by the order and at the expence of the duke. After service, those present proceeded to the ducal castle. At their head walked Duke George, and the Duke of Pomerania; next came counts, abbots, knights, and other persons of distinction; and, lastly, the doctors of the two parties. A guard composed of seventy-six citizens, carrying halberds, accompanied the procession, with colours flying, and drums beating, and halted at the castle gate. On the arrival at the palace, each took his place in the hall where the debate was to take place—Duke George, the hereditary Prince John, Prince George of Anhalt, a boy of twelve, and the Duke of Pomerania, occupying the seats allotted to them.

Mosellanus, by order of the duke, mounted a pulpit, to remind the theologians of the manner in which the discussion was to be carried on. “If you begin to quarrel,” said the orator to them, “what difference will there be between a theological disputant and a swaggering duellist? What is victory here but just to recall a brother from his error?… Each, it would seem, should be more desirous to be conquered than to conquer.” At the conclusion of the address, sacred music echoed along the aisles of the Pleissenberg, the whole assembly knelt down, and the ancient hymn of invocation to the Holy Spirit, “Veni, Sancte Spiritus,” was sung. Solemn hour in the annals of the Reformation! The invocation was thrice repeated; and, while the solemn chant was pealing, the defenders of the ancient, and the champions of the new doctrines, the men of the Church of the middle ages, and those desirous of re-establishing the Church of the apostles, mingling together without distinction, in lowly attitude bent their faces to the ground. The ancient tie of one single communion still united all these different minds, and the same prayer still proceeded from all these lips as if a single heart had dictated it.

These were the last moments of external lifeless unity for which a new spiritual living unity was about to be substituted. The Holy Spirit was invoked in behalf of the Church, and the Holy Spirit was about to answer by a revival of Christendom. When the hymn and prayer were finished, the assembly rose up. The discussion should have now commenced; but, as the hour of noon had arrived, there was an adjournment of two hours. The leading personages who proposed to attend the debate, having dined with the duke, returned with him after dinner to the castle hall, which was filled with spectators. Meetings of this description were the public assemblies in which the representatives of the age discussed questions of general and engrossing interest. The orators were soon at their post. That a better idea may be formed of them, we will give their portraits as drawn by one of the most impartial witnesses of the debate.

“Martin Luther is of middle size; and so emaciated by hard study that one might almost count his bones. He is in the vigour of life, and his voice is clear and sonorous. His learning and knowledge of the Holy Scriptures are beyond compare: he has the whole word of God at command. In addition to this he has great store of arguments and ideas. It were perhaps to be wished that he had a little more judgment in arranging his materials. In conversation he is candid and courteous; there is nothing stoical or haughty about him; he has the art of accommodating himself to every individual. His address is pleasing, and replete with good humour. He displays firmness, and is never discomposed by the menaces of his adversaries, be they what they may. One is, in a manner, compelled to believe that, in the great things which he has done, God must have assisted him. He is blamed, however, for being more sarcastic in his rejoinders than becomes a theologian, especially when he announces new religious ideas.

“Carlstadt is of smaller stature; his complexion is dark and sallow, his voice disagreeable, his memory less retentive, and his temper more easily ruffled than Luther’s. Still however he possesses, though in an inferior degree, the same qualities which distinguish his friend.

“Eck is tall and broad shouldered. He has a strong and truly German voice, and such excellent lungs that he would be well heard on the stage, or would make an admirable town-crier. His accent is rather coarse than elegant, and he has none of the gracefulness so much lauded by Cicero and Quintilian. His mouth, his eyes, and his whole features, suggest the idea of a soldier or a butcher, rather than a theologian. His memory is excellent, and were his intellect equal to it he would be faultless. But he is slow of comprehension, and wants judgment, without which all other gifts are useless. Hence, when he debates, he piles up, without selection or discernment, passages from the Bible, quotations from the Fathers, and arguments of all descriptions. His assurance, moreover, is unbounded. When he finds himself in a difficulty he darts off from the matter in hand, and pounces upon another; sometimes, even, he adopts the view of his antagonist, and changing the form of expression, most dexterously charges him with the very absurdity which he himself was defending.”

Such, according to Mosellanus, were the men who drew the eyes of the crowds who were then thronging into the great hall of Pleissenburg. The discussion was opened by Eck and Carlstadt.

Eck, for some moments, fixed his eyes on the books which lay on the little table in front of his opponent’s desk, and seemed to give him uneasiness: they were the Bible and the Fathers. “I decline the discussion,” exclaimed he suddenly, “if you are allowed to bring books with you.” A theologian have recourse to his books in discussion! The astonishment of Dr. Eck was still more astonishing. “It is merely a fig leaf which this Adam is employing to hide his shame,” said Luther. “Did Augustine consult no books in combating the Manichees?” No matter! Eck’s partisans made a great noise. Carlstadt remonstrated. “The man is altogether devoid of memory,” said Eck. At last it was decided, agreeably to the desire of the chancellor of Ingolstadt, that each disputant should have the use only of his memory and his tongue. “Thus then,” said several, “the object in this debate will not be to discover truth, but to show off the eloquence and memory of the disputants.” The discussion lasted seventeen days; but as it is impossible to give the whole of it, we must, as a historian says, imitate painters who, in representing a battle, place the most distinguished exploits in front, and leave the others in the back ground. The subject of discussion between Eck and Carlstadt was important. “Before conversion,” said Carlstadt, “the will of man is incapable of doing good; every good work comes entirely and exclusively from God, who gives first the will to do, and afterwards the ability to perform.” This truth is proclaimed by the Scriptures, which say, “It is God which worketh in you, both to will and to do of his good pleasure,” and by Augustine, who, in disputing with the Pelagians, delivers it in almost the very same terms. Every work in which there is neither love to God nor obedience to his will, is, in his sight, devoid of the only quality which could render it truly good, even should it be in other respects dictated by the most honourable human motives. Now there is in man a natural enmity to God—an enmity which he is utterly unable to suppress. He has not the power to do so—he even wants the will. If ever, therefore, it is to be suppressed, it must be by the power of God. This is the doctrine of free will, so much declaimed against in the world, and yet so simple. It had been the doctrine of the church. But the schoolmen had explained it in a manner which caused it to be misunderstood. “No doubt,” said they, “the natural will of man cannot do any thing which is truly pleasing to God; but it can do much to render man more capable and more worthy of receiving divine grace. These preparatives they termed merit of congruity; “because,” as St. Thomas expressed it, “it is congruous for God to bestow peculiar favour on those who make a good use of their will.” In regard, again, to the conversion which man must undergo, it is no doubt true that, according to the schoolmen, the grace of God behoved to accomplish it, but still without excluding his natural powers. “These powers,” said they, “have not been annihilated by sin; sin only puts an obstacle in the way of their development; but as soon as this obstacle is removed (and this, according to them, was what the grace of God had to do,) these powers begin again to act.” To use one of their favourite comparisons—“the bird whose legs are tied does not thereby lose either its powers, or forget the art of flying, though it must be loosed by some other hand before it can be able again to use its wings.” “The same,” said they, “is the case with man.”³

Such was the question discussed between Eck and Carlstadt. At first Eck seemed to deny Carlstadt’s propositions out and out, but feeling the difficulty of maintaining his ground, said, “I grant that the will has not power to do a good work, but receives it from God.” “Confess then,” rejoined Carlstadt, overjoyed at obtaining such a concession, “that every good work comes entirely from God.” “Every good work comes indeed from God,” replied the schoolman subtlely, “but not entirely.” “There,” exclaimed Melancthon, “goes a discovery well worthy of theological science.” “An apple,” added Eck, “is all produced by the sun, but not altogether, and without the co-operation of the tree.” Assuredly no man ever thought of maintaining that an apple is all produced by the sun.

“Very well,” said his opponents, going still deeper into this delicate question, so important in philosophy and in religion, “let us consider how God acts on man, and how man conducts himself when so acted on. “I acknowledge,” said Eck, “that in conversion the first impulse comes from God, and that the human will is entirely passive.” So far the disputants were agreed. “I acknowledge,” said Carlstadt, on his part, “that after this first action on the part of God, something must come from man, something which St. Paul calls the will, and which the fathers designate by consent.” Here again both parties were agreed—but at this point the separation began. “This consent of man,” said Eck, “comes partly from our natural will, and partly from the grace of God.” “No,” said Carlstadt, “this will in man is entirely created by God.”

⁴ Hereupon Eck began to express astonishment and indignation at words so well fitted to impress man with a sense of his utter nothingness. “Your doctrine,” exclaims he, “makes man a stone or a block, incapable of any counter action.…” “What,” replied the Reformers, “does not the faculty of receiving the powers which God produces in him (a faculty which we admit that he possesses) sufficiently distinguish him from a stone and a block?” “But,” resumed their antagonist, “by denying man all natural power, you contradict experience.” “We deny not,” was the reply, “that man possesses certain powers, and has in him a faculty of reflecting, meditating, and choosing. We only consider these powers and faculties as mere instruments, incapable of doing any thing that is good until the hand of God sets them in motion. They are like the saw in the hands of the sawyer.” The great question of liberty was here debated, and it was easy to demonstrate that the doctrine of the Reformers did not divest man of the liberty of a moral agent or make him a passive machine. The liberty of a moral agent consists in the power of acting conformably to his choice. Every action done without external constraint, and in consequence of the determination of the mind itself, is a free action. The mind is determined by motives, but we constantly see that the same motives act differently on different minds. Many do not act conformably to the motives which their judgment approves. This inefficiency of motives is attributable to the obstacles which they meet with in the corruption of the understanding and the heart. Now, God, by giving a new heart and a new spirit, removes those obstacles, and thereby so far from depriving man of freedom, on the contrary, removes what prevented him from acting freely, and in obedience to the dictates of his conscience. In the language of the gospel it renders him “free indeed.” (

John 8:36) A slight incident for a short time interrupted the debate. Carlstadt (this is Eck’s account) had prepared different heads of argument; and, as is done by many of the orators of our day, read what he had written. Eck saw in this only a school boy’s tactics, and objected. Carlstadt embarrassed, and fearing he might be taken at a disadvantage if deprived of his note-book, insisted on retaining it. “Ah!” said the scholastic doctor, quite proud of the advantage which he thought he had over him, “his memory is shorter than mine.” The point having been submitted to arbiters, it was decided that quotations from the Fathers might be read, but that in other respects the discussion should be extempore. This first part of the discussion often met with interruption from the audience. They ruffed and screamed. Any proposition offensive to the ears of the majority instantly aroused their clamour, and then, as in our day, it was necessary to call to order. The disputants also occasionally allowed themselves to be carried away in the heat of discussion.

Melancthon sat near Luther, and attracted almost equal attention. He was of short stature, and would scarcely have been thought more than eighteen. Luther, who was a whole head taller, seemed to be united to him by the closest friendship; they came in, went out, and walked together. “To look at Melancthon,” says a Swiss theologian, who studied at Wittemberg, “one would think him a mere boy, but in judgment, learning, and talent he is a giant. It is difficult to comprehend how so much wisdom and genius can be contained within so puny a body.” Between the sittings, Melancthon conferred with Carlstadt and Luther. He assisted them in preparing for the debate, and suggested arguments drawn from the stores of his vast erudition; but during the discussion he remained quietly seated among the spectators, giving close attention to every thing that was said by the theologians. Occasionally, however, he came to the aid of Carlstadt.² When the latter was on the point of giving way under the powerful declamation of the chancellor of Ingolstadt, the young professor whispered a word in his ear, or slipt a paper to him on which he had noted down the answer. Eck on one occasion perceived this, and indignant that this grammarian, as he called him, should presume to intermeddle with the discussion, turned towards him, and haughtily said, “Be silent, Philip, keep to your own studies, and give me no disturbance.” Perhaps Eck had already a presentiment of the formidable adversary he was afterwards to encounter in this young man. Luther was offended at the rude insult given to his friend; “The judgment of Philip,” said he, “weighs more with me than that of a thousand doctor Ecks.” The calm Melancthon easily discerned the weak points of this discussion. “We can only be surprised,” says he with the wisdom and grace conspicuous in all his words, “when we think of the violence which was brought to the discussion of such subjects. How could any advantage be derived from it? The Spirit of God loves retreat and silence: there dwell those whose hearts he penetrates. The bride of Christ does not stand in streets and public places, but conducts the Bridegroom into her mother’s house.”

Both parties claimed the victory. Eck employed all his address to make it appear that he had gained it. As the points of divergence almost met, he often exclaimed that he had brought over his opponent to his opinion, or like a new Proteus, as Luther calls him, turning suddenly round, he stated Carlstadt’s own opinion in different words, and then asked, with an air of triumph, if he did not feel constrained to yield. The unskilful, who were unable to detect the sophist’s manœuvre, applauded and triumphed with him.… In several respects the match was unequal. Carlstadt was slow, and sometimes left his opponent’s objections unanswered till next day. Eck, on the contrary, was master of his subject, and could lay his hand at once on whatever he required. He came forward with a haughty air, mounted his desk with a firm step, and when there, stamped with his foot, moved backwards and forwards, made the ceiling ring with his powerful voice, gave some sort of reply to every argument, and astonished the audience with his memory and adroitness. Still Eck, without perceiving it, conceded much more in the discussion than he had intended. His partizans shouted and laughed at each of his turns, “but,” says Luther, “I strongly suspect they only made a show of laughing, and were exceedingly vexed at heart when they saw their chief, who had commenced with so much bravado, quit his standard, abandon his army, and become a shameless deserter.”

Three or four days after the discussion had commenced, it was interrupted by the feast of St. Peter and St. Paul. The Duke of Pomerania requested Luther to preach before him, on the occasion, in his chapel. Luther gladly complied. The chapel was soon filled, and crowds still arriving, it became necessary to remove to the great hall of the castle, where the discussion was held. Luther preached from the text of the day, on the grace of God, and the power of Peter, and gave a popular exposition of the views which he was wont to maintain before a learned audience. Christianity causes the light of truth to penetrate alike into the highest and the humblest intellects, and is in this way distinguished from all other religions, and from all philosophical systems. The theologians of Leipsic, who had been present at the sermon, hastened to acquaint Eck with the expressions which had offended them. “These subtile errors,” exclaimed they, “must be answered, must be publicly refuted.” This was just what Eck wished. All the churches were open to him, and on four successive occasions he mounted the pulpit to declaim against Luther and his sermon. Luther’s friends were indignant, and demanded that the theologian of Wittemberg should be heard in his turn. But they demanded in vain. The pulpits were open to the enemies of evangelical truth, but shut against those who proclaimed it. “I kept silence,” says Luther, “and was obliged to submit to attacks, insults, and calumnies, without being able to exculpate and defend myself.” The ecclesiastics were not the only persons who displayed hostility to the evangelical doctrine: the citizens of Leipsic were in this respect of one mind with their clergy, and yielded themselves up with blind fanaticism to the falsehoods and animosities which were industriously propagated. The principal inhabitants did not visit either Luther or Carlstadt. They left them unnoticed when they met them in the street, and tried to prejudice the duke against them. On the other hand they visited and gave daily entertainments to the doctor of Ingolstadt, who enjoyed their good cheer, and learnedly discussed the comparative merits of Saxony and Bavarian beer. His manners, somewhat free, did not indicate a very strict morality. The only thing offered to Luther was the customary present of wine to the disputants. Moreover, even those who wished him well were anxious that others should not know it; several Nicodemites visited him by night or in secret. There were only two who did themselves honour by publicly declaring their friendship. These were Dr. Auerback, whom we have already met at Augsburg, and Dr. Pistor, junior. The greatest excitement prevailed in the town. The two parties formed, as it were, two hostile camps, and sometimes came to blows. In taverns, frequent quarrels took place between the students of Leipsic and Wittemberg. It was openly averred, even at meetings of the clergy, that Luther carried about with him a devil, confined in a little box. “Whether the devil is in a box, or only under his frock,” said Eck, maliciously, “I know not; but most assuredly he is in one or other of them.”

During the discussion several doctors of both parties lodged with the printer Herbipolis; and the dispute ran so high that the host was obliged to station a town-officer at the top of the table with a halbert to keep the peace, and prevent the guests from coming to blows. One day Baumgartner, a vender of indulgences, had a scuffle with a gentleman, a friend of Luther, and fell into such a rage that he dropt down dead. Fröschel, who gives the account, says, “I was one of those who carried him to the grave.” The general agitation which prevailed was thus manifested. Then, as now, the discourses of the desk were re-echoed in the drawing-room and in the streets.

Duke George, though very decidedly in favour of Eck, did not betray so much passion as his subjects. He invited Eck, Luther, and Carlstadt to dine together with him. He even asked Luther to pay him a visit in private, but soon showed how strongly he was prejudiced against him. “By your book on the Lord’s Prayer,” said the duke to him, with bitterness, “you have led many consciences astray. There are persons who complain of not having been able to say one pater for more than four days.”