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In the course of September, 1518, Luther received the citation to appear before Cardinal Cajetan at Augsburg, as had been agreed with the Elector Frederick; already, on August 25, the General of the Augustinians had, in accordance with the earlier and more stringent instructions from Rome to Cajetan, forwarded an order to the Saxon Provincial Gerard Hecker, to seize Luther and keep him in custody. At the end of September Luther set out for Augsburg, where he arrived, with a recommendation from the Elector and an Imperial safe conduct, on October 7.

He had started on the journey with great inward tremors and was a prey to the same violent agitation at Augsburg. At a later date he attributes the evil thoughts which plagued him to the influence of a demon.[917] He seems from the first to have been determined to carry his cause with a high hand, as ostensibly that of Jesus Christ. He becomes more and more convinced of his mission from above, a persuasion which takes possession of his soul with suggestive force.

In the fragment of a lost letter from Nuremberg we find him writing of his journey on October 3-4, 1518, to his Wittenberg friends whom he wishes to encourage to remain steadfast. Faint-hearted people, so he says, had tried to dissuade him from continuing his journey, “but I stand fast; let the Will of the Lord be done; even at Augsburg, even in the midst of His enemies, Christ still reigns ... Christ shall live though Martin and every other sinner perish; the God of my Salvation shall be exalted. Farewell and be steadfast, stand upright because it is necessary either to be rejected by man or by God, but God is true and every man a liar.”[918] He certainly did not treat the matter lightly. To attribute hypocrisy to him, as though he merely played a part, would be to do him an injustice. It is true there are recent writers who look upon him as a mere comedian, but it would be nearer the mark to compare him to John Hus on his journey to the Council of Constance. Like him, he looked forward to death without any inclination to recant. The thought passed through him, he once said later: “Now I must die,” and he pictured to himself “what a shame that would be for his parents.”[919]

The two letters he addressed to Spalatin and Melanchthon a few days after his arrival in Augsburg and before his first examination, gave proof of the strange mystical tendency which also appears in the fragment mentioned above; they show how he overcomes the inward voice which urges him to submit, and also the importunities of his anxious friends; they also show how, even then, he was prepared to take a certain step, should the demands appear to him too great: “I shall assuredly appeal to a General Council.”[920] He admits that he was “wavering between hope and fear” and, in order to stimulate his own courage, he draws a picture in these letters of two of the terrifying qualities of these “Italians” before whose representative (i.e. Cajetan) he is to defend himself.

We must try to place ourselves in his position and to appreciate his prejudices.

In the first place, he relentlessly accuses his adversaries of avarice and greed in everything; unfortunately his knowledge of the Indulgence business had furnished sufficient cause for reproaches and complaints against the Church authorities in that respect.[921] Secondly, he finds fault with the “ignorance” of his opponents, and here he undoubtedly excites himself quite wrongly and unnecessarily over their supposed senseless and one-sided Scholasticism. In his letter to Melanchthon he exclaims, as though to reassure himself: “Italy lies in Egyptian darkness, her animosity to learning and culture is unbounded. So greatly do they misapprehend Christ and all that is Christ’s. And yet these are our teachers and masters in faith and morals. The anger of God is thus fulfilled in us where He says: ‘I will give children to be their princes, and the effeminate shall rule over them.’ Good-bye, my Philip, and turn aside God’s anger by holy prayers.” The supposed want of sympathy with learning and culture of which Luther accuses the Italians in this letter to Philip Melanchthon is surely most untrue, and was no doubt intended to strengthen Melanchthon, the weak and wavering Humanist, in his allegiance to Luther’s party, for Luther, notwithstanding his anxieties, had not lost his cunning. The reproach against Italy and Rome, where at that time Humanism was flourishing as nowhere else, can at most only apply to the stiffness of the old debased Scholasticism, and perhaps to a certain backwardness in biblical studies. Such blemishes afforded him a welcome handle. “I will rather perish,” he assures Melanchthon, the enthusiastic scholar, “than withdraw my true theses and help to destroy learning.” “I go, should it please the Lord, to be sacrificed for you and your young men.”

He still clings to the idea of being one with the Church in his theological views. “If they can prove to me that I have spoken differently from what the Holy Roman Church teaches, I will at once pronounce sentence against myself and beat a retreat, but,” he adds, “there lies the knot.”[922] A knot tied by himself. Strange, indeed, is the method he proposes for cutting it: “If that Cardinal [Cajetan] insists on the private opinions of St. Thomas more strongly than is compatible with the doctrine and authority of the Church, I shall not yield to him until the Church withdraws from her earlier standpoint upon which I have taken up my position.”

How greatly the applause with which he was meeting everywhere worked upon him psychologically, confirming him in his resistance, came out clearly at Augsburg.

It was only on this journey and at Augsburg itself that he became aware what a celebrity his action had made him. He alludes to this in the above-mentioned letter to Melanchthon, where he also reveals a flattering self-complacency: “The only thing that is new and wonderful here is, that the town rings with my name. All want to see the man who, like a new Herostratus, has kindled such a big blaze.”

Cardinal Cajetan, after making vain representations to Luther, finally demanded the withdrawal of two propositions which he had plainly taught and acknowledged as his. The first was his denial that the treasure of the merits of Christ and the saints was the foundation of Indulgences; the second was the statement which appeared in the “Resolutions,” that the sacraments of the Church owed their efficacy only to faith. These were points in which he had manifestly deviated from the Catholic teaching and, to boot, matters of supreme doctrinal importance; as a professor of theology Luther, moreover, had bound himself to submit to the teaching authority of the Church.

His final answer to the Papal legate was, that he could not recant unless he were convinced that he had said something against Holy Scripture, the Fathers of the Church, the Papal definitions, or sound reason.

Then followed his famous secret flight from Augsburg to Wittenberg. Staupitz, who had stood by him at Augsburg, dispensed him for the journey from any part of the Rule which might have proved to his disadvantage, even from the wearing of the Augustinian habit. This Superior had again shown himself at Augsburg as a man of half-measures who allowed his prejudice for Luther to outweigh the demands of the Church and of his Order.

Luther caused his Appeal to the Pope “better instructed” to be presented to the Cardinal at Augsburg. He intended, as almost at the same time he confided to Spalatin, to make an appeal to the future Council only after the Pope, “in the plenitude of his power, or rather of his tyranny,” had rejected his first appeal.[923] Meanwhile he does not know, and this makes him waver between hope and fear, whether he will be able to remain at the University of Wittenberg. Will the Elector have power to retain him in his office? Will it be possible for him to continue to lead a safe existence under his sovereign, and, above all, find protection in the present danger from imprisonment and the violent measures threatened? At this, the turning-point of his life, these were the most pressing questions.

The duty of providing for his safety and furthering his cause devolved principally on the Court Chaplain, Spalatin. Luther, in his letters to Spalatin, which duly reached the Elector either as they were written or in extracts, wisely avoids any unseasonable demands which could only have been prejudicial to his interests; on the contrary, he declares in well-chosen language, which was certain to please the Elector, that he is ready to take up the pilgrim’s staff should it be necessary for the good of the cause; the verbal commentary on his letters was undertaken at Court by his able clerical friend.

“I am filled with joy and peace,” he writes to the courtier in the letter above mentioned, “so that I can only wonder how my skirmish [the trial at Augsburg] appears as something great to many esteemed men.” If, however, joy and contentment reigned in him at that time, this was principally owing to his natural relief at his escape from the dreaded town of Augsburg.

In feverish haste, without awaiting the result of his first appeal, he published, November 28, 1518, a new appeal to a future General Council.

An appeal to an Œcumenical Council was prohibited by old laws of the Church, because, at the commencement of any movement directed against the authority of the Church, it appeared likely to render all efforts for the composing of differences illusory. It was rightly felt that whoever came in conflict with the Church would make every effort to reserve the decision of his cause to some future Council, more especially when he is able meanwhile to devote himself freely to the furtherance of his ideas, and when the speedy summoning of a Council is very doubtful. The claim that an Œcumenical Council should be called to pronounce upon every new opinion was so extravagant that the prohibition found general approval.

At the time of Luther’s advent on the scene the prospect of a General Council, owing to the dissensions among the Christian Powers, had retreated into the far distance, and even though it had been possible for the bishops throughout the whole world to assemble, the meeting, according to ancient custom and the regulations of canon law, would have taken place under the Pope’s presidency. Even in this event Luther can, accordingly, have cherished but small hope of winning the day.

His deep distrust of Rome we find expressed in the letter, written almost simultaneously, to his trusted friend Wencelaus Link, the Nuremberg Augustinian, to whom he was forwarding his account of what had taken place at Augsburg (Acta Augustana): “My pen is giving birth to much greater things than these Acta. I know not whence these thoughts come to me; the cause [i.e. the conflict], to my thinking, has not yet commenced in earnest and much less can these gentlemen from Rome look to see the end. I shall send my little works to you so that you may see if I am right in surmising that the real Anti-Christ whom Paul describes (2 Thess. ii. 3 ff.) rules at the Roman Court. I think I can prove that to-day he is worse than the Turks.”[924] Whoever could speak in this way had already cut himself adrift or was on the point of so doing.

The powerful forces within the fiery and vivacious Monk seethed like the crater of a volcano. The Lecture-hall at Wittenberg again resounded with his eloquent and vehement outbursts. The number of students at the University increased to an unexpected extent. “They surround my desk like busy ants,” Luther declares in a letter.[925]

He does not know whence the ideas he pours forth come to him, but he sees daily more clearly that they are from Christ. “I see,” so he wrote to Staupitz, his Superior, “they are determined [at Rome] to condemn me; but Christ on His part is resolved not to yield in me. May His holy and blessed will be done, yea, may it be done. Pray for me.”[926] In the same way, though in stronger terms, he informs his friend Johann Lang soon afterwards: “Our Eck is again preparing to assail me; it will come to this, that, with the help of Christ, I shall carry out what I have long since planned, namely, to strike a deadly blow at the Roman vipers by means of a powerful book. Hitherto I have merely played and jested with Rome, albeit she has smarted as keenly under it as though it had been meant in deadly earnest.”[927] “So God carries me away,” we shall soon after hear him say. “God draws me. I cannot control myself.” “God must see to it, what He is working through me.... Why has He not instructed me otherwise?” He fancies he feels “the mighty breathing of the Spirit,” and little by little he is carried away by the conviction that he is God’s messenger and the leader of a cause which “is not of man’s invention.”[928]

During the exciting years of 1517 and 1518 Luther, in addition to his polemical works, published several popular, practical handbooks on religion. They consisted chiefly of collections and enlargements of the sermons which he still continued to preach from time to time. Their publication strengthened in many the impression, that the man whom some denounced as a theological rebel was, on the contrary, simply zealous for the salvation of souls and only seeking the spiritual profit of his neighbour.

In the spring of 1517 he published, for instance, the German exposition of the Seven Penitential Psalms, already referred to, a book which, as he wrote to Christopher Scheurl, was intended for the rough Saxon “to whom the Christian teaching cannot be presented too fully.”[929] If the work pleases no one, he says, then it will please him all the more.[930] In this work he speaks in heartfelt tones, especially when enlarging upon the “Word of Grace” and describing the riches of Christ.[931] Another book, his: “Exposition of the Our Father for the simple laity,”[932] first appeared in 1517 through Agricola, then again in 1518 after having been amended by the author. In the preface he says amicably: “I should like, if it were possible, to render a service even to my adversaries; for my desire is to be profitable to all men and harmful to none.” The object of such assurances is, however, too evident, and they are, moreover, flatly contradicted by his actual behaviour towards his opponents.

To pass over other pious instructions which his amazing power for work created, he also published in 1518 the detailed Latin notes of the sermons on the Ten Commandments, which he had delivered in 1516-17.[933] Many portions of this book are really useful and hardly to be distinguished from what a true spiritual guide of souls would write, but they also contain other matter which necessarily challenged dispute. In most of his explanations he gives a very clever, popular and perfectly correct presentment of the contents of the commandments and the motives for keeping them; he goes, however, too far, for instance, in his ruthless, and occasionally even contemptuous opposition to the abuses connected with the veneration of the saints. The tone which he here adopts in his strictures could not have favourable results, and he would have done better had he devoted himself to the criticism of the superstitious practices to which he had alluded shortly before in connection with the errors of the Middle Ages.[934] Oldecop, who was not unkindly disposed, complains that “in the matter of the veneration of the saints, Luther was not in agreement with the Catholic Church.”[935]

In the book in question, where he treats of the Sixth Commandment, he is very severe and exact, indeed, rather too exact and detailed in his enumeration and denunciation of the various kinds of sins of the flesh. He speaks with rhetorical emphasis and, it must be admitted, with a wealth of earnest thought, against the habit of filthy talking which was gaining ground at that time.[936] Here, for example, after the most solemn warnings against giving scandal to the little ones, he lets fall these golden words with regard to reform: “If the Church is to blossom again, the beginning must be made by a careful training of the young.”[937] Among other things, Luther treats of the temptations which the devout man abhors and must abhor, although he can never escape them, and gives vent to the paradox: “True chastity is therefore to be found in sensuality, and the more filthy the sensuality, the more beautiful the chastity,”[938] surely a delightful instance of our author’s propensity to unusual language. Somewhat obscurely, indeed, he also speaks against the freedom of the will to do what is good; Paul invokes the mercy of God against the temptation “in the body of this death” (Rom. vii. 24 f.), and he, Luther, would lament over the “poison of death within him.” “Where then are those who vaunt their free will? Why do they not set themselves free from concupiscence as soon as they please? Why will they not, yea, why are they unable even to will?... Because their will is already elsewhere, dragged away as a captive.”[939]