CHAPTER IX
Victory—Tumult and calm—Duke Erick’s Glass of Beer—The Elector and Spalatin—Message from the Emperor—Wish to violate the Safe-conduct—Strong opposition—Enthusiasm for Luther—Voice for Conciliation—The Elector’s Fear—Assemblage at Luther’s Lodging—Philip of Hesse.
It was night, and each regained his dwelling in the dark. Two imperial officers were ordered to accompany Luther. Some persons imagining that his fate was decided, and that they were conducting him to prison, which he should leave only for the scaffold, an immense tumult arose. Several gentlemen exclaimed, “Are they taking him to prison?” “No,” replied Luther, “they are accompanying me to my hotel.” At these words the tumult calmed. Then some Spaniards of the emperor’s household, following this bold champion, hissed and jeered at him as he passed along the streets, while others howled like wild beasts deprived of their prey. Luther remained firm and peaceful.
Such was the scene at Worms. The intrepid monk, who had hitherto hurled defiance at his enemies, spake, when in the presence of those who had thirsted for his blood, with calmness, dignity, and humility. There was no exaggeration, no human enthusiasm, no anger; he was peaceful amid the strongest excitement; modest, while resisting the powers of the earth; great, in presence of all the princes of the world. In this we have an irrefragable proof that Luther was then obeying God—not following the suggestions of his own pride. In the hall of Worms there was One greater than Luther and Charles. Jesus Christ has said, “When they deliver you up, take no thought how or what you shall speak. For it is not ye that speak.” Never, perhaps, was this promise so manifestly fulfilled. A deep impression had been produced on the heads of the empire. Luther had observed this, and it had increased his courage. The servants of the pope were angry at John Eck for not having oftener interrupted the guilty monk. Several princes and nobles were gained to a cause which was maintained with such conviction. In some, it is true, the impression was evanescent, but, on the other hand, several who till then had concealed their sentiments, henceforth displayed great courage.
Luther had returned to his hotel, and was reposing from the fatigue of the severe service in which he had been engaged. Spalatin and other friends were around him, and all were giving thanks to God. While they were conversing, a valet entered, bearing a silver vase full of Eimbeck beer. “My master,” said he, presenting it to Luther, “begs you to refresh yourself with this draught of beer.” “What prince is it,” asked Luther, “who so graciously remembers me?” It was old Duke Erick of Brunswick. The Reformer was touched by the offering thus made him by so powerful a prince; one, too, belonging to the papal party. “His highness,” continued the valet, “was pleased to taste the draught before sending it to you.” Luther, being thirsty, poured out the duke’s beer, and after drinking it, said, “As Duke Erick has this day remembered me, so may the Lord Jesus Christ remember him in the day of his final combat.” The present was in itself of little value, but Luther, wishing to show his gratitude to a prince who had thought of him at such a moment, gave him what he had—a prayer. The valet returned with the message to his master. The old duke, in his last moments, remembered the words, and addressing a young page, Francis de Kramm, who was standing at his bedside, said to him, “Take the gospel and read it to me.” The child read the words of Christ, and the soul of the dying man was refreshed. “Whosoever,” says the Saviour, “shall give to one of you a cup of cold water in my name, because you are my disciple, verily I say unto you, he shall in no wise lose his reward.” The valet of the Duke of Brunswick was no sooner gone than a message from the Elector of Saxony ordered Spalatin to come to him instantly. Frederick had come to the Diet full of disquietude. He thought that, in presence of the emperor, Luther’s courage might give way, and he had accordingly been deeply moved by the Reformer’s firmness. He was proud of having taken such a man under his protection. When the chaplain arrived, the table was covered, and the Elector was going to sit down to supper with his Court—the valets having already brought in the vase for washing the hands. The Elector seeing Spalatin enter, immediately beckoned him to follow, and when alone with him in his bedchamber, said to him, with deep emotion, “Oh! how well father Luther spoke before the emperor and all the states of the empire! My only fear was, that he would be too bold.” Frederick then formed a resolution to protect the doctor in future with greater courage.
Aleander saw the impression which Luther had produced. There was no time, therefore, to be lost. The young emperor must be induced to act vigorously. The moment was favourable, for there was immediate prospect of war with France. Leo X, wishing to enlarge his states, and caring little for the peace of Christendom, caused two treaties to be secretly negotiated, at the same time, the one with Charles against Francis, and the other with Francis against Charles. By the former he stipulated with the emperor for Parma, Placenza, and Ferrara; by the latter, he stipulated with the king for a part of the kingdom of Naples, of which Charles was thus to be deprived. Charles felt the importance of gaining over Leo, in order that he might have him as an ally against his rival of France. Luther was an easy price to pay for the friendship of the mighty pontiff. The day after Luther’s appearance, he caused a message to be read to the Diet, which he had written in French, with his own hand. “Sprung,” said he, “from the Christian emperors of Germany, from the Catholic kings of Spain, the archdukes of Austria, and the dukes of Burgundy, who are all illustrious as defenders of the Roman faith, it is my firm purpose to follow the example of my ancestors. A single monk, led astray by his own folly, sets himself up in opposition to the faith of Christendom. I will sacrifice my dominions, my power, my friends, my treasure, my body, my blood, my mind, and my life, to stay this impiety.3 I mean to send back the Augustin, Luther, forbidding him to cause the least tumult among the people; thereafter I will proceed against him and his adherents as against declared heretics, by excommunication and interdict, and all means proper for their destruction. I call upon the members of the states to conduct themselves like faithful Christians.” This address did not please every body. Charles, young and impassioned, had not observed the ordinary forms; he ought previously to have asked the opinion of the Diet. Two extreme views were immediately declared. The creatures of the pope, the Elector of Brandenburg, and several ecclesiastical princes, demanded that no regard should be paid to the safe-conduct which had been given to Luther. “The Rhine,” said they, “must receive his ashes, as a century ago it received the ashes of John Huss.” Charles, if we may believe a historian, afterwards bitterly repented that he had not followed this dastardly counsel. “I confess,” said he, towards the close of his life, “that I committed a great fault in allowing Luther to live. That heretic having offended a greater master than I, even God himself, I was not obliged to keep my promise to him. I might, nay, I ought to have forgotten my word, and avenged the insult which he offered to God; because I did not put him to death, the heresy has not ceased to gain strength. His death would have strangled it in the cradle.” This horrible proposition filled the Elector and all Luther’s friends with terror. “The execution of John Huss,” said the Elector Palatine, “brought too many calamities on Germany to allow such a scaffold to be erected a second time.” “The princes of Germany,” exclaimed George of Saxony, himself the irreconcilable enemy of Luther, “will not allow a safe-conduct to be violated. This first Diet, held by our new emperor, will not incur the guilt of an act so disgraceful. Such perfidy accords not with old German integrity.” The princes of Bavaria, also devoted to the Church of Rome, joined in this protestation. The death scene which Luther’s friends had already before their eyes appeared to be withdrawn. The rumour of these debates, which lasted for two days, spread over the town. Parties grew warm. Some gentlemen, partisans of reform, began to speak strongly against the treachery demanded by Aleander. “The emperor,” said they, “is a young man whom the papists and bishops lead at pleasure by their flattery.” Pallavicini makes mention of four hundred nobles who were ready to maintain Luther’s safe-conduct with the sword. On Saturday morning placards were found posted up on the houses and public places, some against Luther and others in his favour. One of them merely contained the energetic words of Ecclesiastes, “Woe to thee, O land, when thy king is a child!” Seckingen, it was said, had assembled at some leagues from Worms, behind the impregnable ramparts of his fortress, a large body of knights and soldiers, and only waited the issue of the affair that he might know how to act. The popular enthusiasm, not only in Worms, but also in the most distant towns of the empire, the intrepidity of the knights, the attachment of several princes to the Reformer, all must have made Charles and the Diet comprehend that the step demanded by the Romans might compromise the supreme authority, excite revolts, and even shake the empire. It was only a simple monk that they proposed to burn; but the princes and partisans of Rome, taken all together, had neither power nor courage enough to do it. Doubtless, also, Charles V, their young emperor, had still a fear of perjury. This would seem indicated by an expression, which, if some historians speak true, he uttered on this occasion: “Were fidelity and good faith banished from the whole world, they ought to find an asylum in the hearts of princes.” It is said he forgot this when on the brink of the grave. But there were other motives which might have had their influence on the emperor. The Florentine Vettori, a friend of Leo X and of Machiaveli, affirms, that Charles spared Luther only that he might keep the pope in check.
2 On the Saturday’s sitting, the violent counsels of Aleander were negatived. There was a feeling in favour of Luther, and a wish to save the simple-hearted man whose confidence in God was so affecting; but there was a wish also to save the Church. The Diet shuddered equally at the consequences which would result from the triumph and from the destruction of the Reformer. Proposals of conciliation were heard, and it was suggested that a new attempt should be made with the doctor of Wittemberg. The archbishop-elector of Mentz himself, the young and extravagant Albert, more devout than courageous, says Pallavicini, had taken alarm on seeing the interest which the people and the nobility showed in the Saxon monk. His chaplain, Capito, who, during his residence at Bâle, had been intimate with the evangelical priest of Zurich, named Zuinglius, the intrepid defender of the truth, of whom we have already had occasion to speak, had also, doubtless, represented to Albert the righteousness of the Reformer’s cause. The worldly archbishop had one of those returns to Christian sentiment which his life occasionally exhibits, and agreed to go to the emperor and ask him to allow one last attempt. But Charles flatly refused. On Monday (22nd April) the princes met in a body to renew the solicitations of Albert. “I will not depart from what I have decreed,” replied the emperor. I will not commission any person to go officially to Luther. “But,” added he, to the great scandal of Aleander, “I give this man three days to reflect; during this time any one may, as an individual, give him suitable advice.” This was all that was asked. The Reformer, thought they, elevated by the solemnity of his public appearance, will yield in a more friendly conference, and perhaps be saved from the abyss into which he is ready to fall. The Elector of Saxony knew the contrary; accordingly he was in great fear. “If it were in my power,” wrote he next day to his brother, Duke John, “I would be ready to support Luther. You could not believe to what a degree I am attacked by the partisans of Rome. If I could tell you all, you would hear very strange things. They are bent on his ruin, and however slight interest any one shows for his person, he is immediately decried as a heretic. May God, who forsakes not the righteous cause, bring all to a good end!” Frederick, without showing the strong affection which he felt for the Reformer, contented himself with not losing sight of any of his movements.
It was not so with men of all ranks then in Worms. Many fearlessly gave full vent to their sympathy. From the Friday, a crowd of princes, counts, barons, knights, gentlemen, ecclesiastics, laics, and common people surrounded the hotel where the Reformer lodged; they came in and went out, and could not see enough of him. He was become the man in Germany. Even those who doubted not that he was in error were touched by the nobleness of soul which had led him to sacrifice his life at the bidding of his conscience. With several of the personages present at Worms, and forming the flower of the nation, Luther had occasionally conversations full of that salt with which his sayings were always seasoned. None left him without feeling animated with a generous enthusiasm for the truth. George Vogler, the private secretary of the margrave Casimir of Brandenburg, writing to a friend, says, “What things I should have to tell you! What conversations full of piety and kindness Luther has had with myself and others! How winning that man is!
One day a young prince of seventeen came prancing into the court of the hotel: it was Philip, who had been reigning for two years in Hesse. The young landgrave was of an active and enterprising character, of a wisdom beyond his years, a martial spirit, and an impetuous temper, seldom allowing himself to be guided by any ideas but his own. Struck with Luther’s addresses he wished to have a nearer view of him. “As yet, however,” says Luther, in relating his visit, “he was not for me.”5 He dismounted, and without any other formality, came up into the Reformer’s room, and addressing him, said, “Well, dear doctor, how goes it?” “Gracious lord,” replied Luther, “I hope it will go well.” “From what I learn,” resumed the landgrave laughing, “you teach, doctor, that a wife may quit her husband, and take another, when the former is found to be too old!” The people of the imperial court had told this story to the landgrave. The enemies of the truth never fail to circulate fabulous accounts of the lessons of Christian teachers—“No, my lord,” replied Luther gravely, “let your highness not speak so, if you please.” Thereupon the prince briskly held out his hand to the doctor, shook his cordially, and said, “Dear doctor, if you are in the right, may God assist you.” On this he left the room, again mounted his horse and rode off. This was the first interview between these two men, who were afterwards to stand at the head of the Reformation, and to defend it, the one with the sword of the word, and the other with the sword of kings.
It was the Archbishop of Trêves, Richard de Greifenklan, who, with permission of Charles V, had undertaken the office of mediator. Richard, who was on an intimate footing with the Elector of Saxony, and a good Roman Catholic, was desirous to arrange this difficult affair, and thereby at once do a service to his friend and to the Church. On Monday evening, (22nd April,) just as Luther was going to sit down to table, a messenger of the archbishop came to say, that the prelate wished to see him the day after to-morrow (Wednesday), at six oʹclock in the morning.