CHAPTER VII

Departure for the Diet of Worms—Luther’s Adieu—His Condemnation Published—Cavalcade near Erfurt—Meeting of Jonas and Luther—Luther in his old Convent Luther Preaches at Erfurt—Incident—Faith and Works—Concourse of People—Luther’s Courage—Luther to Spalatin—Halt at Frankfort—Fears at Worms—Plan of the Imperialists—Luther’s Firmness. The 2nd of April had arrived, and Luther behoved to take leave of his friends. After writing a note to Lange to intimate that he would spend the following Thursday or Friday at Erfurt, he bade adieu to his colleagues. Turning to Melancthon he said to him, in a tone which betrayed emotion, “If I do not return, and my enemies put me to death, O, my brother, cease not to teach, and remain firm in the truth. Labour in my stead, since I shall not be able to labour any longer for myself. If you live, it matters little though I perish.” Then, committing himself to the hand of Him who is faithful and true, Luther took his seat and quitted Wittemberg. The town council had provided him with a modest carriage with a cloth covering which might be put on or off at pleasure. The imperial herald, clad in his insignia, and wearing the imperial eagle, was on horseback in front, followed by his servant. Next followed Luther, Schurff, Amsdorff, and Suaven in their carriage. The friends of the gospel, the citizens of Wittemberg, in deep emotion, were invoking God, and shedding tears. Such was Luther’s departure.²

He soon observed that the hearts of those whom he met were filled with gloomy forebodings. At Leipsic no honour was paid to him. He only received the usual present of wine. At Naumburg he met a priest, probably J. Langer, a man of stern zeal, who carefully preserved in his study the portrait of the famous Jerome Savonarola of Ferrara, who was burnt at Florence in 1498, by order of pope Alexander VI, as a martyr to liberty and morality, as well as a confessor of evangelical truth. Having taken the portrait of the Italian martyr, the priest came up to Luther, and held out the portrait to him without speaking. Luther understood what the dumb figure intimated, but his intrepid soul remained firm. “It is Satan,” said he, “who, by these terrors, would fain prevent a confession of the truth from being made in the assembly of the princes, because he foresees the blow which this will give to his kingdom.” “Adhere firmly to the truth which thou hast perceived,” said then the priest to him gravely, “and thy God will also adhere firmly to thee.”

Having spent the night at Naumburg, where the burgomaster had hospitably entertained him, Luther arrived next evening at Weimar. He was scarcely a moment there when he heard loud cries in all directions. They were publishing his condemnation. “Look,” said the herald to him. He looked, and his astonished eyes beheld imperial messengers traversing the town, and posting up the imperial edict, which ordered his writings to be laid before the magistrates. Luther had no doubt that these harsh measures were exhibited before-hand, to deter him from coming, that he might afterwards be condemned for having refused to appear. “Well, doctor, will you go on?” said the imperial herald to him in alarm. “Yes,” replied Luther, “though put under interdict in every town, I will go on: I confide in the emperor’s safe-conduct.” At Weimar, Luther had an audience of the Elector’s brother, Duke John, who was then residing there. The prince invited him to preach. He consented, and from his heart, now under deep emotion, came forth the words of life. John Voit, the friend of Frederick Myconius, a Franciscan monk, heard him, and being converted to evangelical doctrine, quitted the convent two years after. At a later period, he became professor of theology at Wittemberg. The duke gave Luther the money necessary for his journey. From Weimar the Reformer proceeded to Erfurt. It was the town of his youth, and he hoped to see his friend Lange, provided, as he had written him, he could enter the town without danger. He was still three or four leagues off, near the village of Nora, when he saw a troop of horsemen appear in the distance. Were they friends, or were they enemies? Shortly Crotus, the rector of the university, Eobanus Hesse, Melancthon’s friend, whom Luther called the king of poets, Euricius Cordus, John Draco, and others, to the number of forty, members of the senate, the university, and the municipality, all on horseback, saluted him with acclamation. A multitude of the inhabitants of Erfurt covered the road, and gave loud expression to their joy. All were eager to see the mighty man who had ventured to declare war against the pope. A young man of twenty-eight, named Justus Jonas, had got the start of the party. Jonas, after studying law at Erfurt, had been appointed rector of the university in 1519. Illumined by the evangelical light which then radiated in all directions, he felt desirous to become a theologian. “I believe,” wrote Erasmus to him, “that God has elected you as an instrument to spread the glory of his Son Jesus.” All Jonas’ thoughts were turned to Wittemberg and Luther. Some years before, when only a student of law, being of an active enterprising spirit, he had set out on foot, accompanied by some friends, and in order to reach Erasmus, then at Brussels, had traversed forests infested by robbers, and towns ravaged by the plague. Will he not now confront other dangers in order to accompany the Reformer to Worms? He earnestly begged the favour, and Luther consented. Thus met these two doctors, who were to labour through life in the renovation of the Church. Divine Providence gathered around Luther men destined to be the light of Germany: the Melancthons, the Amsdorffs, the Bugenhagens, the Jonases. On his return from Worms, Jonas was appointed provost of the Church of Wittemberg, and doctor in theology. “Jonas,” said Luther, “is a man whose life would deserve to be purchased at a large price, in order to detain him on the earth.”² No preacher ever surpassed him in the gift of captivating his hearers. “Pomeranus is an expositor,” said Melancthon, “and I am a dialectitian,—Jonas is an orator. The words flow from his lips with surpassing grace, and his eloquence is overpowering. But Luther is beyond us all.” It seems that nearly about the same time a companion of Luther’s childhood, one of his brothers, joined the escort. The deputation turned their steeds, and horsemen and footmen, surrounding Luther’s carriage, entered the town of Erfurt. At the gate, in the squares and streets, where the poor monk had so often begged his bread, the crowd of spectators was immense. Luther dismounted at the Augustin convent, where the gospel had consoled his heart. Lange received him with joy; Usingen, and some of the more aged fathers, showed great coolness. There was a general desire to hear him preach, and though he was interdicted from doing it, the herald himself could not resist the desire, and consented.

Sunday after Easter, the Augustin church at Erfurt was crowded. That friar who formerly opened the doors and swept the church, mounted the pulpit, and having opened the Bible, read these words: “Peace be with you; and when he had so said, he showed them his hands and his side.” (John, 20:19, 20.) “All the philosophers, doctors, and writers,” said he, “have exerted themselves to show how man may obtain eternal life, and have not succeeded. I will now tell you.” This has, in all ages, been the great question; accordingly Luther’s hearers redoubled their attention.

“There are two kinds of works,” continued the Reformer; “works foreign to ourselves—these are good works; and our own works—these are of little value. One builds a church; another goes on a pilgrimage to St. James or St. Peter; a third fasts, prays, takes the cowl, walks barefoot; a fourth does something else. All these works are nothing, and will perish: for our own works have no efficacy in them. But I am now going to tell you what is the genuine work. God raised a man again from the dead, even the Lord Jesus Christ, that he might crush death, destroy sin, and shut the gates of hell. Such is the work of salvation. The devil thought that he had the Lord in his power when he saw him between the two thieves, suffering the most ignominious martyrdom, accursed of God and men … But the Divinity displayed its power, and annihilated sin, death, and hell …

“Christ has vanquished; this is the grand news; and we are saved by his work, not by our own. The pope gives a very different account. But I maintain that the holy Mother of God herself was saved neither by her virginity nor maternity, neither by her purity nor her works, but solely by means of faith and by the works of God …”

While Luther was speaking, a sudden noise was heard; one of the galleries gave a crack, and seemed as if it were going to give way under the pressure of the crowd. Some rushed out, and others sat still, terror-struck. The orator stopped for a moment, and then, stretching out his hand, exclaimed, with a loud voice, “Fear nothing; there is no danger; the devil is seeking, in this way, to prevent me from proclaiming the gospel, but he shall not succeed.” At these words, those who were running out, stopped astonished and rivetted to the spot; the assembly calmed, and Luther, without troubling himself with the attempts of the devil, continued. “You will perhaps say to me, You tell us a great deal about faith. Tell us, also, how we can obtain it. Yes; well, I will tell you. Our Lord Jesus Christ says, ‘Peace be with you; behold my hands:’ in other words, ‘Behold, O man, it is I, I alone who have taken away thy sin, and ransomed thee, and now thou hast peace, saith the Lord.’

“I did not cat the fruit of the tree,” resumed Luther; “neither did you eat it; but we received the sin which Adam has transmitted to us, and are guilty of it. In like manner. I did not suffer on the cross, nor did you suffer on it; but Christ suffered for us; we are justified by the work of God, and not by our own.… ‘I am,’ saith the Lord, ‘thy righteousness and thy redemption.’ … “Let us believe the gospel, let us believe St. Paul, and not the letters and decretals of the popes.”

Luther, after having preached faith as the mean of the sinner’s justification, preaches works as the consequence and evidence of salvation.

“Since God has saved us,” continues he, “let us so order our works that he may take pleasure in them. Art thou rich,—let thy wealth be useful to the poor. Art thou poor.—let thy service be useful to the rich. If thy toil is useful only to thyself, the service which thou pretendest to render to God is mere falsehood.”

There is not a word in the sermon on Luther himself; no allusion to the circumstances in which he is placed; nothing on Worms, on Charles, or the nuncios; he preaches Christ, and Christ only; at this moment, when the world has its eyes upon him, he is not in the least occupied with himself; and herein is the mark of a genuine servant of God.

Luther set out from Erfurt, and passed through Gotha, where he again preached. Myconius adds, that at the moment when the people were coming out from the sermon the devil detached from the pediment of the church some stones which had not budged for two centuries. The doctor slept in the convent of the Benedictines, at Rheinhardsbrunn, and thence proceeded to Eisenach, where he felt indisposed. Amsdorff, Jonas, Schurff, and all his friends, were alarmed. He was bled, and the greatest possible attention was paid him. Even the Schulthess of the town, John Oswald, hastened to him with a cordial. Luther, after drinking it, fell asleep, and was thereby so far recovered that he was able to proceed on the following day.

Wherever he passed the people flocked to see him. His journey was a kind of triumphal procession. Deep interest was felt in beholding the intrepid man who was on the way to offer his head to the emperor and the empire. An immense concourse surrounded him. “Ah!” said some of them to him, “there are so many cardinals and so many bishops at Worms, they will burn you; they will reduce your body to ashes, as was done with that of John Huss.” But nothing terrified the monk. “Were they to make a fire,” said he, “that would extend from Worms to Wittemberg, and reach even to the sky, I would walk across it in the name of the Lord; I would appear before them; I would walk into the jaws of this Behemoth, and break his teeth, and confess the Lord Jesus Christ.”

One day, when just going into an inn, and while the crowd were as usual pressing around him, an officer came up to him and said, “Are you the man who undertakes to reform the papacy? How will you succeed?” “Yes,” replied Luther, “I am the man. I confide in Almighty God, whose word and command I have before me.” The officer, affected, gave him a milder look, and said, “Dear friend, there is something in what you say; I am the servant of Charles, but your Master is greater than mine. He will aid you and guard you.” Such was the impression which Luther produced. Even his enemies were struck at the sight of the multitudes that thronged around him, though they have painted the journey in different colours.³ At length the doctor arrived at Frankfort, on Sunday, 14th April.

News of Luther’s advance had reached Worms. The friends of the pope had thought he would not obey the summons of the emperor. Albert, cardinal-archbishop of Mentz, would have given anything to stop him by the way, and new schemes were set on foot for this purpose.

Luther, on his arrival at Frankfort, took some repose, and then announced his approach to Spalatin, who was at Worms with the Elector. It is the only letter which he wrote during his journey. “I am getting on,” says he, “though Satan has striven to stop me on the way by sickness. From Eisenach to this I have never been without a feeling of languor, and am still completely worn out. I learn that Charles has published an edict to frighten me. But Christ lives, and we shall enter Worms in spite of all the barriers of hell and all the powers of the air. Therefore, make ready my lodging.” The next day Luther visited the learned school of William Nesse, a celebrated geographer of that time. “Be diligent,” said he to the scholars, “in the reading of the Scriptures, and the investigation of truth.” Then placing his right hand on the head of one of the children, and his left on another, he pronounced a blesing on the whole school.

While Luther blessed the young, he was also the hope of the old. Catharine of Holzhausen, a widow advanced in years, and serving God, went to him, and said, “My father and mother told me that God would raise up a man who should oppose the papal vanities, and save the Word of God. I hope you are that man, and I wish you, for your work, the grace and the Holy Spirit of God.”

These were by no means the sentiments universally entertained at Frankfort. John Cochlœus, dean of the church of Notre Dame, was one of those most devoted to the Roman Church. On seeing Luther pass through Frankfort on his way to Worms, he could not suppress his fears. He thought the Church was in want of devoted defenders, and scarcely had Luther quitted the town than Cochlœus set out in his track, ready, as he says, to give his life in defence of the honour of the Church.

There was great alarm in the camp of the pope’s friends. The heresiarch was at hand—every day, every hour brought him nearer Worms. If he entered, all was perhaps lost. The Archbishop Albert, the confessor Glapio, and all the politicians about the emperor, felt uneasy. How can the arrival of this monk be prevented? It is impossible to carry him off, for he has the emperor’s safe-conduct. Stratagem alone can arrest him. These intriguers immediately arranged the following plan. The emperor’s confessor, and his high chamberlain, Paul of Armsdorff, quit Worms in great haste, and proceed about ten leagues distant, to the castle of Ebernburg, the residence of Francis de Seckingen, the knight who had offered Luther an asylum. Bucer, a young dominican, chaplain to the Elector-Palatine, and who had been gained to the evangelical doctrne at the Heidelberg discussion, had then taken refuge in “this hôtel of the just.” The knight, who had no great knowledge of the affairs of religion, was easily imposed upon, while the disposition of the Palatine chaplain favoured the designs of the confessor. In fact, Bucer was inclined to pacific measures. Distinguishing between fundamental and secondary points, he thought he might sacrifice the latter to unity and peace. The chamberlain and confessor begin their attack. They give Seckingen and Bucer to understand that it is all over with Luther if he goes to Worms. They assure him that the emperor is ready to send certain learned men to Ebernburg there to confer with the doctor. “Under your charge,” say they to the knight, “the two parties will be placed.” “We are at one with Luther on all essential points,” say they to Bucer: “only some secondary points remain; and as to these you will be mediator.” The knight and the chaplain are shaken. The confessor and chamberlain continue. “The invitation addressed to Luther must come from you,” say they to Seckingen, “and let Bucer be the bearer of it.” Every thing was arranged according to their wish. Let Luther only be credulous enough to come to Ebernburg; his safe-conduct will soon expire, and then who will be able to defend him?

Luther had arrived at Oppenheim. His safe-conduct was available only for three days longer. He sees a troop of horsemen approaching, and soon recognises at their head the Bucer with whom he had such intimate conference at Heidelberg. “These horsemen belong to Francis of Seckingen,” said Bucer to him after the first expressions of friendship. “He sends me to you to conduct you to his strong castle.⁴ The emperor’s confessor is desirous of a conference with you. His influence over Charles is unbounded: every thing may be arranged. But beware of Aleander!” Jonas Amsdorff and Schurff knew not what to think; Bucer insisted; but Luther hesitated not. “I continue my journey,” was his answer to Bucer; “and if the emperor’s confessor has any thing to say to me, he will find me at Worms. I go where I am called.”

Meanwhile Spalatin himself began to be troubled and afraid. Surrounded at Worms by the enemies of the Reformation, he heard them saying that no respect should be paid to the safe-conduct of a heretic. He became alarmed for his friend; and at the moment when the latter was approaching the town a messenger presented himself and said to him on the part of the chaplain, “Don’t enter Worms!” This from his best friend, the Elector’s confidant, Spalatin himself! Luther unmoved, turns his eye on the messenger, and replies, “Go and tell your master, that were there as many devils in Worms as there are tiles upon the roofs, I would enter.” Never, perhaps, was Luther so grand. The envoy returned to Worms with his extraordinary message. “I was then intrepid,” said Luther a few days before his death, “I feared nothing; God can give man such boldness; I know not if at present I would have as much liberty and joy.”—“When the cause is good,” adds his disciple Mathesius, “the heart expands, giving courage and energy to evangelists and soldiers.”²