This is a further abridged extract from d’Aubigné’s The History of the Reformation in the Sixteenth Century, vol 1. Last month’s article described some of the reaction to Luther’s 95 Theses, written in response to the sale of indulgences by Tetzel near Wittenberg.
More formidable resistance than Tetzel’s came against Luther. Rome answered. It was not Leo X who condescended to speak of theology. “It is a mere monkish squabble,” he said one day; “the best way is not to meddle with it.” At another time he observed, “It is a drunken German that has written these theses; when the fumes have passed off, he will talk very differently”. A Roman Dominican, Sylvester Mazzolini of Prierio, master of the sacred palace, was the censor; in this capacity he first became acquainted with Luther’s theses.
Luther’s theses came into collision with the power in Rome which claimed to open and shut at pleasure the mouth of Christendom. The Roman censor, prior-general of the Dominicans – empowered to decide what Christendom should profess or conceal, and on what it ought to know or be ignorant of – hastened to reply. He published a work which he dedicated to Leo X, in which he spoke contemptuously of Luther. Then, under the form of a dialogue, he attacked Luther’s theses, employing by turns ridicule, insult and menaces. This combat between the Augustine of Wittenberg and the Dominican of Rome was waged on the very question that is the principle of the Reformation: “What is the sole infallible authority for Christians?”
Here is the system of the Roman Church: the letter of the written Word is dead without the spirit of interpretation, which alone reveals its hidden meaning. Now this spirit is not given to every Christian, but to the Church – that is, to the priests. It is great presumption, she claims, to say that He who promised the Church to be with her always, even to the end of the world, could have abandoned her to the power of error. It will be said perhaps that the doctrine and constitution of the Church are no longer such as we find them in Scripture. Undoubtedly, the Church replies, but this change is only in appearance; it extends only to the form and not to the substance. The Church goes further: this change is progressive. The vivifying power of God’s Spirit has given a reality to what in Scripture was merely an idea; it has completed the work of which the Bible only gave the first rough draft. We must therefore understand the sense of the Holy Scriptures as settled by the Church, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit. From this point there is a divergence. General councils, said some, are the representatives of the Church. The pope, said others, is the depository of the spirit of interpretation, and no one has a right to understand the Scriptures except as decreed by him.
This was Prierio’s opinion. He put forward propositions on the power of the Church and of the pope, at which the most shameless flatterers of the Church of Rome would have blushed. Here is one of his principles: “Whoever does not rely on the teaching of the Roman Church and of the Roman pontiff, as the infallible rule of faith, from which the Holy Scriptures themselves derive their strength and their authority, is a heretic.”
Then, in a dialogue in which Luther and Prierio are the speakers, the latter seeks to refute Luther’s propositions. The opinions of the Saxon monk were altogether strange to a Roman censor; accordingly Prierio shows that he understood neither the emotions of his heart nor the springs of his conduct. “My dear Luther,” said he, “if you were to receive from our lord the Pope a good bishopric and a plenary indulgence for repairing your Church, you would sing in a softer strain, and you would extol the indulgences you are now disparaging!” The Italian, so proud of his elegant manners, occasionally assumes the most scurrilous tone: “If it is the nature of dogs to bite, I fear you had a dog for your father”. He ends by showing his adversary the cruel teeth of an inquisitor: “The Roman Church, the apex of whose spiritual and temporal power is in the pope, may constrain by the secular arm those who, having once received the faith, afterwards go astray. It is not bound to employ reason to combat and vanquish rebels.”
These words were very significant. Still, they did not frighten Luther. He believed, or feigned to believe, that this dialogue was not written by Prierio. He had no desire to behold the see of Rome excited against him. However, after having kept silence for some time, his doubts (if he had any) were dispelled; he set to work, and his answer was ready in two days.
The Bible had moulded the Reformer and begun the Reformation. He did not need the testimony of the Church in order to believe; his faith had come from the Bible itself. He was so intimately convinced that evangelical doctrine was immovably founded on the Word of God that in his eyes all external authority was useless. The living source that had welled forth for Luther was to become a river to slake the thirst of nations.
In order to comprehend the Word, the Spirit of God must give us understanding, said the Church; and it was right thus far. But its error lay in considering the Holy Spirit as a monopoly accorded to a certain class, and supposing that it could be confined exclusively within assemblies or colleges. “The wind bloweth where it listeth”, the Son of God had said, speaking of God’s Spirit; in another place, “They shall be all taught of God”. The corruption of the Church, the ambition of the pontiffs, the passions of the councils, the quarrels of the clergy, the pomp of the prelates, had banished far from them the Holy Spirit and the spirit of humility and peace. The Spirit had taken up His dwelling with simple Christians and humble priests. The Church – degraded by its love of power and riches, dishonoured in the eyes of the people by selling salvation to replenish the treasuries drained by its haughtiness and debauchery – had forfeited all respect, and sensible men no longer attached any value to her testimony. They turned joyfully towards God’s Word and its infallible authority, as the only refuge remaining to them in the general disorder.
In his reply, Luther passes over the principles which Prierio had set forth in the beginning of his work: “Following your example, I will also lay down certain fundamental principles. The first is this expression of Paul: ‘Though we, or an angel from heaven, preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed’.
“The second is this passage from Augustine to Jerome: ‘I have learned to render to the canonical books alone the honour of believing most firmly that none of them has erred; as for the others, I do not believe in what they teach simply because it is they who teach them’.”
Here we see Luther laying down with a firm hand the essential principles of the Reformation: the Word of God, the whole Word of God, nothing but the Word of God. “If you clearly understand these points,” he continues, “you will also understand that your Dialogue is wholly overturned by them; for you have only brought forward the expressions and the opinions of Thomas. Presumably Thomas Aquinas, the mediaeval theologian.” Then, attacking his adversary’s axioms, he frankly declares that he believes popes and councils can err. He complains of the flatteries of the Roman courtiers, who ascribe both temporal and spiritual power to the pope. He declares that the Church exists virtually in Christ alone, and representatively in the councils.
Then coming to Prierio’s insinuation: “No doubt you judge of me after yourself,” he said, “but if I aspired to an episcopal station, of a surety I should not use the language that is so grating to your ears. Do you imagine I am ignorant how bishoprics and the priesthood are obtained at Rome? . . . I protest that you will not frighten me . . . by the threatening noise of your words. If I am put to death, Christ lives, Christ my Lord and the Lord of all, blessed for evermore. Amen.” Thus, with a firm hand, Luther sets against the papacy the infallible, holy Word of God, before which he would have every knee to bow, and on which he declares himself ready to offer up his life.
Prierio published an answer, and then a third book, On the Irrefragable Truth of the Church and of the Roman Pontiff, in which, relying on church law, he asserted that, although the pope should make the whole world go with him to hell, he could neither be condemned or deposed. The Pope was at last obliged to impose silence on Prierio.
A new adversary soon entered the lists; he also was a Dominican. James Hochstraten, inquisitor at Cologne, whom we have already seen opposing Reuchlin and the friends of letters, shuddered at Luther’s boldness. It was necessary for monkish darkness and fanaticism to come in contact with him who was destined to give them a mortal blow. Monasticism had sprung up as the primitive truth began to disappear. Since then, monks and errors had grown up side by side. A man had now appeared who was to accelerate their ruin; but these robust champions could not abandon the field of battle without a struggle. It lasted all the Reformer’s life. Hochstraten lost his temper and called loudly for the heretic’s death. It was by the stake he wished to secure the triumph of Rome. “It is high treason against the Church”, he exclaimed, “to allow so horrible a heretic to live one hour longer. Let the scaffold be instantly erected for him!” This murderous advice was but too effectually carried out in many countries; the voices of numerous martyrs, as in the early Church, gave testimony to the truth in the midst of flames. But in vain were the sword and the stake invoked against Luther. The Angel of the Lord kept watch around him and preserved him continually.
Luther answered Hochstraten in few words, but with great energy. He said in conclusion, “Go, you raving murderer, who cries for the blood of your brethren; it is my earnest desire that you forbear to call me Christian and faithful, and that you continue, on the contrary, to decry me as a heretic. Do you understand these things, blood-thirsty man, enemy of the truth, and if your mad rage should hurry you to undertake anything against me, take care to act with circumspection and to choose your time well. God knows what is my purpose, if he grant me life.” Hochstraten was silent.
A more painful attack awaited the reformer. Doctor Eck, the celebrated professor of Ingolstadt and Luther’s friend, had received the famous theses. Eck was not a man to defend the abuse of indulgences; he was well versed in the scholastic writings, but not in the Word of God. If Prierio represented Rome, if Hochstraten represented the monks, Eck represented the schoolmen. The main theologians of the Middle Ages. The schools, which for five centuries past had domineered over Christendom, rose up haughtily to crush the man who dared pour out upon them the floods of his contempt. Eck and Luther, the school and the Word, had more than one struggle, but it was now that the combat began.
Eck found errors in many of Luther’s positions. Nothing leads us to doubt the sincerity of his convictions. He as enthusiastically maintained the scholastic opinions as Luther did the declarations of the Word of God. We may even suppose that he felt no little pain when he found himself obliged to oppose his old friend; it would seem, however, from the manner of his attack, that passion and jealousy had some share in his motives.
He gave the name of Obelisks to his remarks against Luther’s theses. Desiring at first to save appearances, he did not publish his work, but was satisfied with communicating it confidentially to his superior, the Bishop of Eichstadt. But the Obelisks were soon extensively circulated, either through the indiscretion of the bishop or by Eck himself. A copy fell into the hands of Link, a friend of Luther and preacher at Nuremberg. He quickly sent it to the Reformer. Eck was a far more formidable adversary than Tetzel, Priero, or Hochstraten; the more his work surpassed theirs in learning and in subtlety, the more dangerous it was. He assumed a tone of compassion towards his “feeble adversary”, being well aware that pity inflicts more harm than anger. He insinuated that Luther’s propositions circulated the Bohemian poison, and by such malicious allusions, he drew upon Luther the unpopularity and hatred attached in Germany to the name of John Hus and his followers.
The malice that pervaded this treatise exasperated Luther; but the thought that this blow came from an old friend grieved him still more. Must he uphold the truth at the cost of his friend’s affections? Luther poured out his deep sorrow in a letter to Egranus, pastor at Zwickau: “In the Obelisks I am styled a venomous man, a Bohemian, a heretic, a seditious, insolent, rash person. . . . I pass by the milder insults, such as drowsy-headed, stupid, ignorant, contemner of the sovereign pontiff etc. This book is brimful of the blackest outrages. Yet he who penned them is a distinguished man, with a spirit full of learning, and a learning full of spirit; and, what causes me the deepest vexation, he is a man who was united to me by a great and recently-contracted friendship . . . . If I did not know Satan’s thoughts, I should be astonished at the fury which has led this man to break off so sweet and so new a friendship, and that too without warning me.”
But if Luther’s heart was wounded, he rose up invigorated for the contest. Eck realised how disgraceful his conduct had been and endeavoured to vindicate himself in a letter to Carlstadt. In it he styled Luther “their common friend”, and cast all the blame on the Bishop of Eichstadt, at whose solicitation he pretended to have written his work. He said that it had not been his intention to publish the Obelisks, and demanded in conclusion that Luther, instead of disputing publicly with him, should turn his weapons against the Frankfort divines. These fine phrases did not persuade Luther, who was yet inclined to remain silent. But his friends disagreed; they constrained him to answer.
He therefore replied to the Obelisks with his Asterisks, in which he treated his adversary with less severity than he had shown his previous antagonists, but his indignation pierced through his words. Luther showed that in the Obelisks there was nothing from the Holy Scriptures, nothing from the Fathers of the Church; they were filled with mere opinions and empty dreams. The Asterisks are full of life and animation. The author is indignant at the errors of his friend’s book, but he pities the man. He professes anew the fundamental principle which he laid down in his answer to Priero: “The supreme pontiff is a man and may be led into error, but God is truth and cannot err”. Further on, he says, “It is the most impudent of all impudence to affirm in the Church and among Christians what Christ Himself has not taught. Now where is it found in the Bible that the treasure of Christ’s merits is in the hands of the pope?” Luther did not publish the Asterisks; he communicated them solely to his friends. They were not given to the public till long afterwards.
This rupture between the doctors of Ingoldstadt and Wittenberg was a great sensation in Germany. They had many friends in common. Scheurl especially, who appears to have been the man who brought the two doctors together, was alarmed. He was one of those who desired to see a thorough reform in the German Church by means of its most distinguished men. But if, at the outset, the most eminent theologians of the day should come to blows, then what disruption might not be feared? Would two hostile camps not be formed in the bosom of the Empire?
Scheurl endeavoured therefore to reconcile Eck and Luther. The latter declared his willingness to forget everything, that he loved the genius, that he admired the learning of Doctor Eck, and that what his old friend had done had caused him more pain than anger. “I am ready,” he told Scheurl, “for peace and for war, but I prefer peace. Apply yourself to the task; grieve with us that the devil has thrown among us this beginning of discord, and afterwards rejoice that Christ in his mercy has crushed it.” About the same time he wrote Eck a letter full of affection, but Eck made no reply. It was no longer a season for reconciliation. The contest daily grew warmer. Eck’s pride and implacable spirit soon broke entirely the last ties of that friendship.