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On June 15, 1520, Leo X promulgated the Bull condemning forty-one Propositions of Luther’s teaching, and threatening the person of their author with excommunication.[110]

The Bull was the result of a formal suit instituted at Rome on the details of which light has been thrown in recent times by Karl Müller, Aloys Schulte and Paul Kalkoff.[111]

The trial had taken a long time, much too long considering the state of things in Germany; this delay was in reality due to political causes, to the Pope’s regard for the Elector of Saxony, the approaching Imperial Election and to the procrastination of the German Prince-Bishops. Even before Dr. Johann Eck proceeded to Rome to promote the case the negotiations had been resumed in the Papal Consistories at the instance of the Italian party. The first Consistory was held on January 9, 1520.

After this, from February to the middle of March, the matter was in the hands of a commission of theologians who were to prepare the decision. A still more select commission, presided over by the Pope in person, then undertook the drafting of the Bull with the forty-one Propositions of Luther which were to be condemned. Upon the termination of their work, in the end of April, it was submitted to the Cardinals for their decision; four more Consistories, held in May and June, were, however, necessary before the matter was finally settled. Certain differences of opinion arose as to the question whether the forty-one Propositions were, as Cardinal Cajetan proposed, to be separately stigmatised as heretical, false, scandalous, etc., or whether, as had been done in the case of the Propositions of Wiclif and Hus at Constance, they should be rejected in the lump without any more definite characterisation. The latter opinion prevailed. In the last Consistory of June 1 the Pope decided on the publication of the Bull in this shape, and by June 15 it was complete.

Two Cardinals, Pietro Accolti (Anconitanus) and Thomas de Vio (Cajetanus), had all along been busy with the case. The moving spirit was, however, Cardinal Giulio de’ Medici.[112] Everything points to “the matter having been treated as a very grave one.”[113]

Legally the case was based on the notoriety of Luther’s doctrines, he having proposed and defended them at the Disputation of Leipzig, according to the sworn evidence of the notaries-public. The Louvain theologians and Eck had their share in selecting and denouncing the Theses. It would seem that during the trial Eck submitted the official printed minutes of the Leipzig Disputation in order to prove that the errors were really expressed in Luther’s own words.

This utilisation of the Leipzig Disputation was justified, as it rendered nugatory Luther’s appeal to a General Council. At the Disputation in question he had denied the authority even of Œcumenical Assemblies.

Eck’s efforts were of assistance in elucidating and pressing on the matter. But we may gather how incorrectly the question was regarded in Rome by many, who, it is true, had little to do with it, from the fact that, even on May 21, persons were to be found holding the opinion that the publication of a solemn Bull would tend to injure the cause of the Church rather than to advance it, and that the scandal in Germany would only become greater if it were apparent that so much importance was attached to Luther’s errors.[114]

In the final sentence pronounced by the Pope, i.e. in the Bull commencing with the words: Exsurge Domine, the forty-one Propositions are condemned in globo as “heretical or false, scandalous, offensive to pious ears, insulting, ensnaring and contrary to Catholic truth.”[115] A series of Luther’s principal doctrines on human inability for good, on Faith, Justification and Grace, on the Sacraments, the Hierarchy and Purgatory were there condemned.

The Papal sentence did not proceed against Luther’s person with the severity which, in accordance with Canon Law, his fiercest adversaries perhaps anticipated. Even the errors mentioned as occurring in his writings are designated only in the body of the Bull, and with much circumlocution. The only penalty directly imposed on him in the meantime was the prohibition to preach. The Bull declares that legally, as his case then stood, he might have been excommunicated without further question, particularly on account of his appeal to a General Council, to which the Constitutions of Pius II and Julius II had attached the penalties of heresy. Instead of this he is, for the present, merely threatened with excommunication, and is placed under the obligation, within sixty days (i.e. after a triple summons repeated at intervals of twenty days) from the date of the promulgation of the Bull, of making his submission in writing before ecclesiastical witnesses, or of coming to Rome under the safe conduct guaranteed by the Bull; he was also to commit his books to the flames; in default of this, by virtue of the Papal declaration, he would, ipso facto, incur the penalties of open heresy as a notorious heretic (i.e. be cut off from the Communion of the Faithful by excommunication); every secular authority, including the Emperor, was bound, in accordance with the law, to enforce these penalties. A similar sentence was pronounced against all Luther’s followers, aiders or abettors.

With respect to the terms in which the Papal Edict is couched, the severe criticism of certain Protestant writers might perhaps have been somewhat less scathing had they taken into account the traditional usages of the Roman Chancery, instead of judging them by the standard of the legal language of to-day. Such are the harsh passages quoted from Holy Scripture, which may appear to us unduly irritating and violent. When all is said, moreover, is it to be wondered at, that, after the unspeakably bitter and insulting attacks on the Papacy and the destruction of a portion of the German Church, strong feelings should have found utterance in the Bull?

The document begins with the words of the Bible: “Arise, O God, judge thine own cause: remember thy reproaches with which the foolish man hath reproached thee all the day” (Ps. lxxiii. 22). “Shew me thy face; catch us the little foxes that destroy the vines” (Cant. ii. 15). … “The boar out of the wood hath laid it waste: and a singular wild beast hath devoured it” (Ps. lxxix. 14). “Lying teachers have arisen who set up schools of perdition and bring upon themselves speedy destruction; their tongue is a fire full of the poison of death,” etc. “They spit out the poison of serpents, and when they see themselves vanquished they raise calumnies.” “We are determined to resist this pestilence and this eating canker, the noxious adder must no longer be permitted to harm the vineyard of the Lord.” These, the strongest expressions, are taken almost word for word from the Bible; they might, moreover, be matched by much stronger passages in Luther’s own writings against the authorities of the Church.

Further on the Pope addresses, in a mild, fatherly and conciliatory fashion, the instigator of the dreadful schism within a Christendom hitherto united. “Mindful of the compassion of God Who desireth not the death of a sinner, but that he be converted and live, we are ready to forget the injury done to us and to the Holy See. We have decided to exercise the greatest possible indulgence and, so far as in our power lies, to seek to induce the sinner to enter into himself and to renounce the errors we have enumerated, so that we may see him return to the bosom of the Church and receive him with kindness, like the prodigal son in the Gospel. We therefore exhort him and his followers through the love and mercy of our God and the precious blood of Our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the human race was redeemed and the Church founded, and adjure them that they cease from troubling with their deadly errors the peace, unity and truth of the Church for which the Saviour prayed so fervently to His Father. They will then, if they prove obedient, find us full of fatherly love and be received with open arms.”

Luther was aware that, after the promulgation of the Bull, he could place no further hope in the Emperor Charles V, whose devotion to the Church was well known, but he was sure of the protection of his Elector.[116] It was clear to Luther that, without the support of the Elector, the execution of the Bull by the secular power after the excommunication had come into force would mean his death.

Before publicly burning his boats he launched among the people his booklet “Von den newen Eckischenn Bullen und Lügen,”[117] pretending that the Bull (which he knew to be genuine) was merely a fabrication of Dr. Eck’s. Here, with a bold front, he repeated that his doctrine had not yet been condemned, nor the controversy decided, and that all the hubbub was merely the result of Eck’s personal hatred.

This was shortly after followed by the pamphlet “Against the Bull of ‘End-Christ,’ ”[118] issued by his indefatigable press. The Latin version of the little work, brimming over with hatred, was ready by the end of October, 1520.

Although, in order to keep up the pretence of doubting the authenticity of the Bull, he here deals with it hypothetically, he nevertheless implores the Pope and his Cardinals, should they really have issued it, to reflect, otherwise he would be forced to curse their abode as the dwelling-place of Antichrist. In the same strain he proceeds: “Where art thou, good Emperor, and you, Christian Kings and Princes? You took an oath of allegiance to Christ in baptism and yet you endure these hellish voices of Antichrist.”[119]

In the German version, from motives of policy, the tone is rather milder. Luther shrank from instigating the German princes too openly to violent measures. The appeal to them and to the Emperor is there omitted. The call to the people, however, rings loud and enthusiastic: “Would it be a wonder if the Princes, the Nobility and the laity were to knock the Pope, the Bishops, parsons and monks on the head and drive them out of the land?” For the action of Rome is heretical, the Pope, the Bishops, the parsons and the monks were bringing the laity about their ears by this “blasphemous, insulting Bull.” Then he suddenly pulls himself up, but to very little purpose, and adds: “not that I wish to incite the laity against the clergy, but rather that we should pray to God that He may turn aside His wrath from them, and set them free from the evil spirit that has possessed them.”[120]

In the German version, however, he refers more distinctly to the existence of “the Bulls against Dr. Luther which are said to have recently come from Rome.”[121] He here declares, as to the theological question involved, that “as a matter of fact the whole Christian Church cannot err,” viz. “all Christians throughout the whole world,” but that the Pope is guilty of the most devilish presumption in setting up his own opinion, as though it were as good as that of the whole Church. The work is thus levelled at the doctrine of Papal Infallibility, which had always been accepted in the Church in cases where the Pope decides on matters of doctrine as supreme judge; this doctrine had ever been taken for granted, and stood in the forefront in all the measures previously taken by the Church against the attacks of heretics. Even in those days the Church had always based her action against separatists on her infallibility as a teacher.

In view of the existing political conditions there was but little hope that it would be possible for the General Council, to which Luther had appealed, to meet at an early date. At the time of Luther’s uprising, moreover, the state of feeling, both in ecclesiastical circles and among the laity, gave little promise of good results even in the event of the calling together of a great Council. The stormy so-called Reforming Councils of the fifteenth century had shown the dangers of the prevailing spirit of independence, and the feeling among the ecclesiastical authorities was, from motives of caution, averse to the holding of Councils. Luther, on his part, was well aware how futile was his appeal to a General Council.

That his request was useless and only intended to gain time was apparent to all who had any discernment, when, on November 17, 1520, he again appealed to a “free Christian Council.” Luther’s appeal was published at the same time as his Latin work “Against the Bull of End-Christ” Its character is plain from its invitation to the people “to oppose the mad action of the Pope.” It was a method of agitation calculated to call forth the applause of those who had become accustomed to the ecclesiastical radicalism of the so-called reforming Councils.

Luther gave practical effect to his view regarding the value to be set on solemn Papal decrees on faith by his famous act before the Elster Gate of Wittenberg.

On December 10 he there proceeded to burn the Bull of Excommunication amid the acclamations of his followers amongst the students, whom he had invited to the spectacle by a public notice exhibited at the University. Not the Bull only was committed to the flames, but, according to the programme, also “books of the Papal Constitutions and of scholastic theology.” Besides the Bull the following were cast into the great fire: the Decretum of Gratian, the Decretals with the “Liber Sextus,” the Clementines and the Extravagants, also the Summa Angelica of Angelus de Clavasio, the work then most in use on the Sacrament of Penance, books by Eck, particularly that entitled “Chrysopassus,” some by Emser, and others, too, offered by the zeal of private individuals. The recently discovered account by Johann Agricola says, that the works of Thomas and Scotus would also have been consigned to the flames but that no one was willing to deprive himself of them for this purpose. According to this writer, whose information is fuller than that of the authority generally quoted, Luther, while in the act of burning the Bull, pronounced the words: “Because thou hast destroyed the truth of the Lord, the Lord consume thee in this fire” (cp. Josue vii. 25).[122]

A few weeks later Luther related, not without pride, how the students “in the Carnival days made the Pope figure in the show [the students being dressed up to play the part], seated on a car with great pomp; it was really too droll. At the stream in the market-place they allowed him to escape with his Cardinals, bishops and attendants; he was then chased through various parts of the city: everything was well and grandly planned; for the enemy of Christ is deserving of such mockery, since he himself mocks at the greatest Princes and even Christ Himself. The verses which describe the whole scene are now being printed.” This was how Luther wrote to Spalatin, who was then with the Elector at the Diet of Worms.[123]

Evil things were in store for Luther at Worms. It seemed that his summons thither was unavoidable, since Pope Leo X, in the new Bull, “Decet Romanum Pontificem,” of January 3, 1521, had declared that Luther, owing to his persistent contumacy, had, ipso facto, incurred excommunication and become liable to the penalties already decreed by law against heretics.

Certain historians have extolled the great calmness which Luther preserved even during the stormy days when the excommunication arrived; they will have it that his composure of mind never deserted him. He himself, however, speaks otherwise.

According to his own statements contained in the letters which give so speaking a testimony to the state of his mind, he frequently did not know what he was doing, and blindly obeyed the impulse which drove him onward. Luther’s behaviour at that time was the very reverse of the clear-sighted, enlightened and self-controlled conduct of holy and virtuous Churchmen when in the midst of storm and stress. He himself confessed with regard to his polemics: “Yes, indeed, I feel that I am not master of myself (compos mei non sum). I am carried away and know not by what spirit. I wish evil to none, but I am not on my guard against Satan, and it is to this that the fury of my enemies is due.”[124]

To explain this inward turmoil we must take into account, not only the excommunication, but also the unexampled overexertion which at that time taxed his mental and physical powers. He was necessarily in a state of the utmost nervous tension. “Works of the most varied kind,” he says, in the letter quoted, “carry my thoughts in all directions. I have to speak publicly no less than twice daily. The revision of the Commentary on the Psalms engages my attention. At the same time I am preparing sermons for the press, I am also writing against my enemies, opposing the Bull in Latin and in German and working at my defence. Besides this I write letters to my friends. I am also obliged to entertain my ordinary visitors at home.” At this time Luther not unfrequently kept three printing-presses at work at once.

Never before had Gutenberg’s art been of such service to any public cause; all Germany was flooded with Luther’s writings with bewildering rapidity.

He commenced printing the booklet “To the Christian Nobility” before it was fully written, and its plan he settled whilst a second pamphlet of his against Prierias was passing through the press. This, in turn, was accompanied by a booklet against the Franciscan Alveld. Between the publication of the three so-called great “Reformation works,” which, with the new editions immediately called for, followed each other in rapid succession, came the printing of a sermon on the New Testament and the tracts already mentioned: “Von den newen Eckischenn Bullen,” and “Against the Bull of Antichrist” (in Latin); then followed the publication of his “Warumb des Bapsts und seyner Jüngern Bücher vorbrant seyn,” then the “Defence of all the Propositions” condemned in the Bull (in Latin), then the controversial pamphlets: “An den Bock zu Leyptzck” (Hieronymus Emser), and “Auff des Bocks zu Leypczick Antwort.” At the same time, however, he published some religious works of a practical nature, namely the “Tessaradekas,” a book of consolation for suffering and perturbed Christians, and the commencement of his exposition of the Magnificat. The latter he dedicated to Johann Friedrich, the Elector’s nephew; it is not only improving in tone, but was also of practical use in increasing the esteem in which he was held at Court.

Such incredible overtaxing of his strength naturally resulted in a condition of serious mental strain, at the very time, too, when Luther had to weigh in his mind profound and momentous questions, vital problems, the treatment of which called for the most utmost recollection and composure.

“While I am preaching to others, I myself am a castaway,” so he once writes in biblical terms in a letter to Staupitz,[125] “so much does intercourse with men carry me away.” Pope Leo X, whose personal qualities he had shortly before been praising, becomes in this letter a wolf, who in his Bull has condemned all that Staupitz had taught regarding God’s mercy. Christ Himself is condemned by the Pope, damned and blasphemed. Staupitz might well exhort him to humility, for, alas, he knew he was proud, but Staupitz, on his part, was too humble, otherwise he would not retreat before the Pope. “Men may accuse me of every vice, of pride, adultery, murder and even of Anti-popery, but may I never be guilty of a godless silence in the presence of those who are crucifying our Lord afresh. … Therefore at least suffer me to go on and be carried away even though you may not yourself agree to follow (sine me ire et rapi).” It is here that he appeals to the assistance of Hutten and his party, and to the intervention of the Elector Frederick in the words already quoted.[126]

And yet he confesses to a certain nervousness: “At first I trembled and I prayed while burning the Papal books and the Bull. But now I am more rejoiced at this than at any previous act of my life; they [the Romanists] are a worse pestilence than I had thought.” This he writes to his same fatherly friend, Staupitz.[127]

His perturbation, which had become to him almost a life-element, served to dispel his fears and his doubts: “I am battling with the floods and am carried away by them (“fluctibus his rapior et volvor”). “The noise [of strife] rages mightily. Both sides are putting their heart into it.”[128] Catholics discern with grief in this uncanny joy a sad attempt on his part to find encouragement in the preposterous notion he fostered of the “devilishness” of the Papacy. They will also perceive in his outbursts of rage, and in the challenges to violence in which he indulges in unguarded moments, the effect of the excommunication working on a mind already stirred to its innermost depths. When we hear him declare in a popular pamphlet, after the arrival of the Papal Bull, that it would not be surprising were the Princes, the nobility and laity to hit the Pope, the bishops, priests and monks over the head and drive them out of the land,[129] we find that such language agrees only too well with his furious words in his tract written in 1520 against Prierias, where he compares the Pope and his followers to a band of cut-throats.

If murderers are punished with the sword, why then should we not proceed with still greater severity against those “teachers of perdition” who are determined not to repent? “Why do we not attack them with every weapon that comes to hand and wash our hands in their blood, if we thereby save ourselves and ours from the most dangerous of flames? How happy are those Christians who are not obliged like us, the most miserable of men, to live under such an Antichrist.” Recognising the ominous character of the passage “Cur non … manus nostras in sanguine istorum lavamus,” etc., later Lutherans added certain words which appear first in the Jena edition (German translation) in 1555: “But God Who says (Deut. xxxii. 35, Rom. xii. 19) ‘Vengeance is mine’ will find out these His enemies in good time, who are not worthy of temporal punishment, but whose punishment must be eternal in the abyss of hell.” These words, which are not found in the original edition of 1520, are given in Walch’s edition of Luther, vol. xviii., p. 245. The argument in exoneration of Luther, based upon them by a recent Lutheran, thus falls to the ground. The addition will be sought for in vain in the Weimar edition (6, p. 347 f.), and in that of Erlangen (“Opp. Lat. var.” 2, p. 107). Paulus has proved that the falsification of the text was the work of Nicholas Amsdorf, who was responsible for the Jena edition, though in the Preface he protests that his edition of Luther’s works is free from all correction or addition.[130]

In view of the inflammatory language which he hurled among the crowd, assurances of an entirely different character, which, when it suited his purpose, he occasionally made for the benefit of the Court, really deserve less consideration. In these he is desirous of disclaiming beforehand the responsibility for any precipitate and dangerous measures taken by men like Hutten, and such as Spalatin in his anxiety fancied he foresaw. What Luther wrote on January 16, 1521, was addressed to him and intended for the Elector;[131] here he says that the war for the Gospel ought not to be waged by violence and manslaughter, because Antichrist is to be destroyed by “the Word” alone. On this occasion he expresses the wish that God would restrain the fury of those men who threatened to injure His good cause and who might bring about a general rising against the clergy such as had taken place in Bohemia (i.e. the Husite insurrection).[132]

1911, p. 17. He foresees, however, that the Romanists will bring this misfortune upon themselves through their obstinate resistance to “the Word.” As yet they were holding back (so he wrote when the meeting at Worms had commenced); but, should their fury burst forth, then, it was generally apprehended that it would lead to a regular Bohemian revolt in Germany, in which the clergy would suffer; he himself, however, was certainly not to blame, as he had advised the nobility to proceed against the Romanists with “edicts” and not with the sword.[133]

The menacing attitude of the Knights seemed to Luther sufficiently favourable to his cause without their actually declaring war. We shall return later to Luther’s ideas regarding the use of force in support of the Evangel (vol. iii. xv. 3).

As for the above-mentioned references to Antichrist, we can only assume that he had gradually persuaded himself that the Pope really was the Antichrist of the Bible. According to his opinion the Antichrist of prophecy was not so much a definite person as the Papacy as a whole, at least in its then degenerate form. So thoroughly did he imbue his mind with those biblical images which appealed to him, and so vivid were the pictures conjured up by his imagination of the wickedness of his foes, that we cannot be surprised if the idea he had already given expression to, viz. that the Pope was Antichrist,[134] took more and more possession of him. Owing to the pseudo-mysticism, under the banner of which he carried on his war against the Church of Rome, he was the more prone to indulge in such a view. His lamentations over Babylon and Antichrist, and his intimate persuasion that he had unmasked Antichrist and that therefore the second coming of Christ was imminent (see below), undoubtedly rested on a morbid, pseudo-mystic foundation.

At about that time he set forth his ideas regarding Antichrist in learned theological form, for the benefit of readers of every nation, in a Latin exposition of the prophecies of Daniel, in which, according to him, the Papacy is predicted as Antichrist and described in minutest detail. This strange commentary is found in his reply to the Italian theologian Ambrose Catharinus: “Ad librum Catharini responsio.”[135] Cultured foreign readers can scarcely have gained from these pages a very favourable impression of the imaginative German monk’s method of biblical exposition. This curious tract followed too quickly upon that to which it was a reply. Luther received a copy of the book against him by Catharinus on March 6 or 7, yet, in order to forestall the effect of the work on the Diet of Worms, in the course of the same month he composed the lengthy reply which is all steeped in mystical fanaticism. From that time forward the crazy fiction that the Pope was Antichrist gained more and more hold of him, so that even towards the end of his life, as we shall see, he again set about decking it out with new and more forceful proofs from Holy Scripture.

Luther’s frame of mind again found expression in a tract which he launched among the people not long after, viz. the “Deuttung des Munchkalbes.”[136] Here he actually seeks to show in all seriousness that the horrors of the Papacy, and particularly of the religious state, had been pointed out by heaven through the birth of a misshapen calf, an occurrence which at that time was attracting notice. Passages from the Bible, and likewise Apocalyptic dreams, were pressed in to serve the author of this lamentable literary production.

Yet, in spite of all these repulsive exaggerations with which his writings were crammed, nay, on account of these images of a heated imagination, the attack upon the old Church called forth by Luther served its purpose with all too many. Borne on the wings of a hatred inspired by a long-repressed grudge, his pamphlets were disseminated with lightning speed by discontented Catholics. Language of appalling coarseness, borrowed from the lips of the lowest of the populace, seemed to carry everything before it, and the greater the angry passion it displayed the greater was its success. What one man’s words can achieve under favourable circumstances was never, anywhere in the history of the world, so clearly exemplified as in Germany in those momentous days. Luther’s enthusiastic supporters read his writings aloud and explained them to the people in the squares and market-places, and the stream of eloquence falling on ready ears proved far more effective than the warnings of the clergy, who in many places were regarded with suspicion or animosity.

Spalatin, in the meantime, was engaged in trying to prevent Luther from incurring the only too well-founded reproach of openly inciting people to revolt against the authority of the Empire; with such a charge against him it would have been difficult for the Elector of Saxony to protect him.

As, during Spalatin’s stay at Worms, the burning of Luther’s books had already begun in various places, owing to the putting in force of the Bull “Exsurge Domine,” the courtier was at pains to advise his impetuous friend as to what he should do respecting such measures. He counselled Luther to compose a pamphlet addressed to penitents, dealing with the forbidden books, the matter being a practical one owing to the likelihood of people confessing in the tribunal of penance that they possessed works of Luther. It was no easy task to deal with this question of the duty of confession. Luther, however, felt himself supported by the attitude assumed by the Elector, at whose command, so he says, he had first published his new booklet against the Bull, “Grund und Ursach aller Artickel” (Ground and Reason of all the [condemned] Articles), in German and Latin.[137]

He therefore determined to carry his war into the confessional and, by means of a printed work, to decide, in his own favour, the pressing, practical question regarding his books. The flames were blazing in the bishoprics of Merseburg and Meissen, and to them were consigned such of Luther’s writings as had been given up by Catholics or halting disciples. Easter, too, was drawing near with the yearly confession. Many a conscience might be stirred up by the exhortations of pious confessors and be aroused to renewed loyalty to the Church. Luther’s pamphlet, entitled “Unterricht der Beychtkinder ubir die vorpotten Bücher” (An Instruction for Penitents concerning the prohibited books), which appeared in the earlier part of February, 1521, affords us an insight into the strategies adopted by Lutheranism at its inception.

The language of this tract is, for a writer like Luther, extremely moderate and circumspect, for its object was to enlist in his cause the most secret and intimate of all acts, that of the penitent in confession; its apparent reticence made it all the more seductive. In his new guise of an instructor of consciences, Luther here seems fully to recognise the Sacrament of Confession. He has no wish, so he protests, to introduce “strife, disputation and dissension into the holy Sacrament of Confession.”[138]

The penitent, who is in the habit of reading his works, he tells to beg his confessor in “humble words,” should he question him, not to trouble him concerning Luther’s books. He is to say to his confessor: “Give me the Absolution to which I have a right, and, after that, wrangle about Luther, the Pope and whomsoever else you please.” He encourages his readers to make such a request by explaining that these books, and likewise Luther’s guilt, have not yet been duly examined, that many were in doubt about the Bull, that Popes had often changed their minds upon similar matters and contradicted themselves, and that a confessor would therefore be acting tyrannically were he to demand that the books should be given up; this was, however, the unfair treatment to which he had ever been subjected. There was only one thing wanting, namely, that Luther should have repeated what he had shortly before declared, that, for the sake of peace, he would “be quite happy to see his books destroyed,” if only people were permitted to keep and read the Bible.[139]

He continues: Since it might happen that some would be conscientiously unable to part with his writings, owing to knowledge or suspicion of the truth, such people should quietly waive their claim to Absolution should it be withheld. They were nevertheless to “rejoice and feel assured that they had really been absolved in the sight of God and approach the Sacrament without any shrinking.” Those who were more courageous, however, and had a “strong conscience” were to say plainly to the “taskmaster” (the confessor): “You have no right to force me against my conscience, as you yourself know, or ought to know, Romans xiv.” “Confessors are not to meddle with the judgment of God, to whom alone are reserved the secrets of the heart.” If, however, communion be refused, then all were first to “ask for it humbly,” “and if that was of no avail, then they were to let Sacrament, altar, parson and Church go”; for “contrary to God’s Word and your conscience no commandment can be made, or hold good if made, as they themselves all teach.”

Such a view of the functions of a confessor and of his duty as a judge appointed by authority had certainly never been taught in the Church, but was entirely novel and unheard of, however much it might flatter the ears of the timid, and of those who wavered or were actually estranged from the Church. Most of his readers were unaware how shamelessly their adviser was contradicting himself, and how this apparently well-meaning instructor of consciences in the confessional was the very man who in previous polemical tracts had denied that there was any difference between priests and laymen.[140] Towards the close of this Instruction, however, the author reappears in his true colours, and whereas, at the commencement when introducing himself, he had spoken of confession as a holy Sacrament, at the end he describes it as an unjust invention of the priesthood, and, indeed, in his eyes, it was really a mere “human institution.” Towards the conclusion, where he relapses into his wonted threatening and abusive language, he “begs all prelates and confessors” not to torture consciences in the confessional lest the people should begin to question “whence their authority and the practice of private confession came”; as if his very words did not convey to the reader an invitation to do so. “The result,” he prudently reminds them, “might be a revolt in which they [the prelates] might be worsted. For though confession is a most wholesome thing, everyone knows how apt some are to take offence.” He points out how in his case the authorities had driven him further and further, well-intentioned though he was: “How many things would never have happened had the Pope and his myrmidons not treated me with violence and deceit.”[141]

The Easter confession that year might prove decisive to thousands. The little earnestness shown by too many in the practice of their religion, the laxity of the German clergy, even the apparent insignificance of the question of retaining or perusing certain books, all this was in his favour. In the above tract he set before the devout souls who were “tyrannised” by their confessors the example of Christ and His Saints, who all had suffered persecution; “we must ask God to make us worthy of suffering for the sake of His Word.” The more imaginative, he likewise warned of the approaching end of the world. “Remember that it was foretold that in the days of ‘End-Christ’ no one will be allowed to preach, and that all will be looked upon as outcasts who speak or listen to the Word of God.” Those who hesitated and were scrupulous about keeping Luther’s writings, seeing they had been prohibited by law and episcopal decrees as “blasphemous,” he sought to reassure by declaring that his books were nothing of the kind, for in them he had attacked the person neither of the Pope nor of any prelate, but had merely blamed vices, and that if they were to be described as blasphemous, then the same “must be said of the Gospel and the whole of Holy Scripture.”[142]

Thus, in this ingenious work, each one found something suited to his disposition and his scruples and calculated to lead him astray. The culmination is, however, in the words already adduced: Nothing against conscience, nothing against the Word of God! The “enslaved conscience” and the “commanding Word of God,” these are the catchwords of which Luther henceforth makes use so frequently and to such purpose. He employs these terms as a cloak to conceal the complete emancipation of the mind from every duty towards a rule of faith and ecclesiastical authority which he really advocates. The “commanding Word of God,” on his lips, means the right of independent, private interpretation of the sacred Books, though he reserves to himself the first place in determining their sense.

Conscience and the Word of God, words with which Luther had familiarised the masses from the commencement of his apostasy, were also to be his cry at the Diet of Worms in 1521, when he stood before the supreme spiritual and temporal authorities there assembled around the Emperor. Uttered there before Church and Empire, this cry was to re-echo mightily and to bring multitudes to his standard.