In the Disputation with Eck at Leipzig in the following year, owing to

his views on the subject not yet being generally known, they were not

directly discussed.

When, however, after its termination, Luther, in August, 1519,

published the Latin “Resolutions” on the Leipzig Disputation, he

proclaimed himself to the world as a most determined opponent of

free-will, not even confining himself to attacking the power for doing

what is good.

“Free-will,” he says here, “is purely passive in every one of its acts

(‘_in omni actu suo_’) which can come under the term of will.... A

good act comes wholly and entirely (‘_totus et totaliter_’) from God,

because the whole activity of the will consists in the Divine action

which extends to the members and powers of both body and soul, no

other activity existing.”[637] In another passage of the “Resolutions”

he says: “At whatever hour of our life we may find ourselves we are

the slaves either of concupiscence or of charity, for both govern

free-will (‘_utraque enim dominabitur libero arbitrio_’).”[638] Julius

Köstlin is right when he sees in such words the complete renunciation

of free-will. “Of man’s free-will in the ordinary sense of the term,

or of any independent choice for good or for evil which should include

the possibility of a different decision, there is, according to Luther,

no question.” Köstlin points out that Luther does not here go into

the question as to whether the sinfulness and corruption of the lost

are to be attributed to God, Who did not cause His saving grace to be

sufficiently efficacious in them.[639] Luther certainly contrived to

avoid this dangerous objection, not only here, but also for long after

when speaking on the subject of the will.

In the “Resolutions” Luther had merely represented his opposition to

free-will as the consequence of his doctrine of the corruption of

human nature due to original sin, but subsequent to the appearance of

the Bull of Excommunication he goes further and declares the denial

of the “_liberum arbitrium_” to be nothing less than the fundamental

article of his teaching (“_articulus omnium optimus et rerum nostrarum

summa_”).[640] Among the propositions condemned by the Papal Bull

was Luther’s thesis directed against free-will at the Heidelberg

Disputation. It was given in Luther’s own words, viz. that free-will is

a mere empty name, etc.

In defence of the condemned propositions Luther wrote, in 1520, the

“_Assertio omnium articulorum_,” which was published in 1521. To prove

his denial of free-will it is usual to quote his “_De servo arbitrio_,”

but the “_Assertio_” already contains in substance all the strictures

embodied in his later attacks.

After dealing with other subjects, he there declares that, as for the

question of free-will, he had expressed himself far too feebly when

speaking of the semblance of freedom; the term “_liberum arbitrium_”

was a device of the devil; hence he withdraws his previous statement

which erred on the side of weakness; he ought to have said that

free-will was a lie, an invention (“_figmentum in rebus_”). “No one

has the power even to think anything evil or good, but everything

takes place agreeably with stern necessity (‘_omnia de necessitate

absolute eveniunt_’), as Wiclif rightly taught, though his proposition

was condemned by the Council of Constance.”[641]

Luther now appeals to the belief in fate with which the heathen were

already acquainted. He also appeals to the Gospel which surely gives

him reason, for does not Christ say (Matt. x.): “Not a sparrow shall

fall to the ground without your Father in Heaven,” and “the very

hairs of your head are all numbered”? And in Isaias xli. does not

God mockingly challenge the people: “Do ye also good and evil if you

can”? The Pope and the defenders of the Bull, with their doctrine of

free-will, he looks upon as prophets of Baal and he calls to them

ironically: “Cheer up and be men; do what you can, attempt what is

possible, and prepare yourselves for grace by your own free-will.

It is a great disgrace that you are unable to produce anything from

experience in support of your teaching.”

“The experience of all,” he says boldly, “testifies to the contrary”;

God has our life in His hands, and how much more all our actions, even

the most insignificant. It is Pelagian to say that free-will is able,

by means of earnest effort (“_si studiose laboret_”), to do anything

good; it is Pelagian to think that the will can prepare itself for

grace; Pelagian too, is the principle handed down in the schools, that

God gives His grace to the man who does what he can. For if we do

what we can, we perform the works of the flesh! “Do we not know the

works which are of the flesh? St. Paul specifies them, Galatians v.:

Fornication, uncleanness, immodesty, luxury, envies, murders, etc.

This is what free-will works, i.e. what is of its nature, viz. works

of death; for in Romans viii. we read: ‘The wisdom of the flesh is

death and an enemy to God.’ How can we then speak of preparation for

grace by enmity with God, of preparation for life by death?”[642]

In these somewhat disorderly effusions of his pen he repeatedly harks

back to the Bible, strangely forcing his texts. Paul denies free-will,

saying in Ephesians i.: “God works all in all,” thus confirming the

fact “that man, even when he does and thinks what is wrong, is not

responsible.”[643] “God even works what is evil in the impious,”[644]

as is written in Proverbs xvi.: “The Lord hath made all things for

Himself, the wicked also for the evil day,” and in Romans i., of the

heathen: “God delivered them up to a reprobate sense to do those

things which are not convenient.”

Room is also found for philosophical arguments: God as the highest

Being cannot permit Himself to be influenced by man’s changeableness,

in the way that free-will would involve; on the contrary, He must,

by virtue of His nature, determine everything Himself, down to the

very smallest matters; nor does He do so merely by the “_influentia

generalis_” (“_concursus divinus generalis_”), which, according to

the “chatterboxes,” alone assists our free-will; free-will must

perish (“_periit_”) in order to make room for a strict and compelling

influence. This applies to our pardon, for we cannot elicit or

snatch this from God by our own efforts, as though we surprised Him

in slumber. “_O furor, furorum omnium novissimus!_” he exclaims of

the Papal Bull in the midst of this philosophical and theological

digression: “All is of necessity, for we--every man and every

creature--live and act not as we will, but as God wills. In God’s

presence the will ceases to exist.”[645]

It is not surprising that Augustine also is made to bear witness in

his favour.

This Doctor of the Church, though in many passages he declares himself

emphatically in favour of free-will, nevertheless frequently in his

works against the Pelagians asserts (perhaps too strongly were we to

consider his words apart from that heated controversy) that, without

grace, and left to itself, free-will cannot as a rule avoid sin; on

such occasions he does not always express the firm conviction he also

holds, viz. that the will nevertheless of its own strength is able

to do what is naturally good. In one passage, he says for instance,

apparently quite generally: “Free-will in its captive state has

strength only to sin; for righteousness it has none until it has been

set free by God, and then only with His help.”[646] And elsewhere

again: “Free-will can do nothing but sin, when the path of truth is

hidden.”[647] This latter assertion Luther places as a trump card at

the head of the discussion of his thirty-sixth condemned proposition,

though he alters the wording.[648] As a matter of fact it is not

difficult to prove, as we shall do below, that Luther was quite wrong

in appealing to the Doctor of Hippo in support of his own teaching.

Of more importance for the present account is the significant position

which Luther assigns to his supposed rediscovery of the doctrine of

the captive will. He is full of enthusiasm for the idea of a religion

of the enslaved will. This new religion of the enslaved will appears

to him in the light of a “theology of the cross,” which, in return for

his renunciation of free-will, descends upon man in order to point

out to him the true road to God. “For what honour remains to God were

we able to accomplish so much?” “The world has allowed itself to be

seduced by the flattering doctrine of free-will which is pleasing to

nature.”[649] If any point of his teaching, then certainly that of the

captive will is to be accounted one of the “most sublime mysteries of

our faith and religion, which only the godless know not, but to which

the true Christian holds fast.”[650]

It fills one with grief and tears, he says, to see how the Pope and

his followers--poor creatures--in their frivolity and madness, fail to

recognise this truth. All the other Popish articles are endurable in

comparison with this vital point, the Papacy, Councils, Indulgences

and all the other unnecessary tomfoolery.[651] Not one jot do they

understand concerning the will. Sooner shall the heavens fall than

their eyes be opened to this basic truth. Christ, it is true, has

nought to do with Belial, or darkness with light. The Popish Church

knows only how to teach and to sell good works, its worldly pomp does

not agree with our theology of the cross, which condemns all that

the Pope approves, and produces martyrs.... That Church, given up to

riches, luxury and worldliness, is determined to rule. But it rules

without the cross, and that is the strongest proof by which I overcome

it.... Without the cross, without suffering, the faithful city is

become a harlot, and the true kingdom of Antichrist incarnate.[652]

He concludes, congratulating himself upon his having given Holy

Scripture its rights.

Scripture is “full” of the doctrine on grace described above, but for

at least three hundred years no writer has taken pity upon grace and

written in its defence, on the contrary all have written against it.

“Minds have now become so dulled by their habitual delusion that I

see no one who is able to oppose us on the ground of Holy Scripture.

We need an Esdras to bring forth the Bible again, for [the Popish]

Nabuchodonosor has trampled it under foot to such an extent that no

trace of even one syllable remains.”[653] He is grateful for the

cheering “revival of the study of Greek and Hebrew throughout the

world,” and is glad to think that he has turned this to good account

in his biblical labours. With this consolation he writes his final

“Amen” at the end of this curious document on the religion of the

captive will.

Since Luther in the above “_Assertio_” against the Bull of condemnation

sets up Scripture as the sole foundation of theology--he could not well

do otherwise, seeing that he had rejected all external ecclesiastical

authority--we might have anticipated that, in the application of his

newly proclaimed principle of the Bible only, he would have taken pains

to demonstrate its advantages in this work on free-will by the exercise

of some caution in his exegesis. It is true that he declares, when

defending the theory of the Bible only: “Whoever seeks primarily and

solely the teaching of God’s Word, upon him the spirit of God will come

down and expel our spirit so that we shall arrive at theological truth

without fail.” “I will not expound the Scripture by my own spirit, or

by the spirit of any man, but will interpret it merely by itself and

according to its own spirit.”[654] And again: It often happens that

circumstances and a mysterious, incomprehensible impulse will give to

one man a right understanding such as is hidden from the industry of

others.[655] Yet when, on the basis of the Bible only, he attempts to

“overthrow his papistical opponents at the first onslaught,”[656] he

brings forward texts which no one, not even Luther’s best friend, could

regard as having any bearing on the subject.

He quotes, for instance, the passage where the believer is likened to

the branch of the vine which must remain engrafted on Christ the true

vine, in order to escape the fire of hell, and finds therein a proof

of his own view, that grace completely evacuates the will, a proof so

strong that he exclaims: “You speak with the voice of a harlot, O most

holy Vicar of Christ, in thus contradicting your Master who speaks of

the vine.”[657] Another example. In Proverbs xvi. it is written: “It

is the part of man to prepare the soul and of the Lord to govern the

tongue,” hence man, reasons Luther, who cannot even control his tongue,

has no free-will to do what is good.[658] There too we read: “The heart

of man disposeth his way, but the Lord must direct his steps,” and

further on: “As the divisions of water, the heart of the king is in

the hand of the Lord, whithersoever He will He shall turn it.” After

adducing these texts, which merely emphasise the general Providence

of God, Luther thinks he is justified in demanding: “Where then is

free-will? It is a pure creation of fancy.”[659]

The saying of the clay and the potter (Isa. lxiv. 8) which manifestly

alludes to the Creation and expresses man’s consequent state of

dependence, he refers without more ado, both here and also later, to a

continuous, purely passive relationship to God which entirely excludes

free-will.[660] When Christ says (Matt. xxiii. 37; Luke xiii. 34) that

He wished to gather the children of Jerusalem like a hen under His

wings, but that they would not (_καὶ οὐκ ἠθελήσατε_), Luther takes this

as meaning: They _could_ not; they did not wish to, simply because they

did not possess that free-will which his foes believe in. It might

however be said, he thinks, that Christ only “spoke there in human

fashion” of the willingness of Jerusalem, i.e. “merely according to

man’s mode of speech,” just as Scripture, for the sake of the simple,

frequently speaks of God as though He were a man.[661] It is plain from

his explanation that Luther, as an eminent Protestant and theologian

says, “was seeking to escape from the testimony to the Divine Will that

all men be saved.”[662]

The best text against the hated free-will appeared to him to be

Ephesians ii. 3, where St. Paul deals with original sin and its ethical

consequences. “We were by nature children of wrath, even as the rest.”

“There is not,” so he assures his readers, a “clearer, more concise

and striking testimony in the Bible against free-will”; “for if all by

reason of their nature are children of wrath, then free-will is also a

child of wrath,”[663] etc.

He handled Scripture as an executioner would handle a criminal. All

unconsciously he was ever doing violence to the words of the Bible.

We naturally wonder whether in the whole history of exegesis such

twisting of the sense of the Bible had ever before been perpetrated.

Yet we find these interpretations in the very pages where Luther first

exposed his programme of the Bible only, and declared that he at least

would expound the Word of God according to its own sense, according to

the “Spirit of God,” and setting aside all personal prejudice. The old

interpretation, on the other hand, which was to be found in the book

of Lyra, with which Luther was acquainted, gave the correct meaning

retained among scholars to our own day, not merely of the texts already

quoted, but of many other striking passages alleged by Luther then or

afterwards against free-will.

Luther proceeds rather more cautiously in the German edition of the

“_Assertio_,” which speedily followed the Latin.

It deals with the denial of free-will at considerably less length.

Perhaps, as was often the case with him, after he had recovered from

the first excitement caused by the condemnation of the articles, he may

have been sobered, or perhaps he was reluctant to let loose all the

glaring and disquieting theses of the “_Assertio_” in the wide circle

of his German readers, whom they might have startled and whose fidelity

to his cause was at that time, after the sentence of outlawry, such a

vital matter to him. In later editions of the Latin text some of his

sayings were softened even during his lifetime so as to avoid giving

offence.

Luther had been careful in the “_Assertio_,” just as he had been in his

previous treatment of the subject, not to take into consideration the

consequences involved by his denial of free-will; that, for instance,

it follows that it is not man who actually does what is evil, but

rather God who works in him, and that many were condemned merely on

account of the necessity of sinning imposed upon them by God. Of this

he has as yet nothing to say, though he was, shortly after, to make an

attempt to obviate the difficulties.

In his translation of the Bible, in 1522, he had to render the passage

of the First Epistle to Timothy (ii. 4): “God will have all men to be

saved (_σωθῆναι_, ‘_salvos fieri_’) and to come to the knowledge of

the truth.” This he translated: “God wills that all be assisted.” He

sought to escape the doctrine of the Divine Will for the salvation of

all men, by attributing to the principal word a “comprehensive and

somewhat indefinite sense,” for that “all be assisted” may only mean,

that all are to be preached to, prayed for, or assisted by fraternal

charity.[664]

In a letter written at that time he even declares, that the Apostle

says nothing more than that “it was God’s will that we should pray for

all classes, preach the truth and be helpful to everyone, both bodily

and spiritually”; that it did not follow from this that God called all

men to salvation.[665] “And even though many other passages should be

brought forward, yet all must be understood in this sense, otherwise

the Divine Providence [i.e. prevision, predestination] and election

from all eternity would mean nothing at all, whereas St. Paul insists

very strongly upon this.”[666] Thus his own interpretation of Paul,

the wholly subjective interpretation which he thought he had received

through an interior revelation, was to govern the Bible as a rule

admitting of no exception; it was, for instance, to elucidate for him

the Epistles of Peter. In a sermon delivered about February, 1523,

on the Second Epistle of Peter, he says of the passage: “The Lord is

not willing that any should perish, but that all should return to

penance,” that this was “one of the verses which might well lead a man

to believe this epistle was not written by St. Peter at all,” at any

rate, the author here “fell short of the apostolic spirit.”[667] At

the back of this opinion lay Luther’s attachment to his pet doctrine

and method of interpretation.

Luther’s efforts to get rid of the plain texts on the salvation which

is offered to all without exception arose, accordingly, from his

strong aversion to free-will, and also from a certain fear of man’s

co-operation by means of works (even performed under grace), which

would result from free-will and lead to salvation. He admits this

plainly enough where he expounds 1 Timothy ii. 4: “This saying of St.

Paul, the Papists assert, confirms free-will; for since he says, that

‘God wills that every man be assisted’ [rather, that every man be

saved], it no longer depends upon Him, but upon us, whether we comply

with His Will or not. This is how they come to use these words as an

objection against us.”[668]

For the time being he had but little to say of predestination, though

he had by no means given up the idea of absolute predestination, even

to hell, which he had advocated in the Commentary on Romans. (See vol.

i., p. 187 ff., 237 ff.). He probably had reasons of his own for being

more reticent in his public utterances on this subject. It is only

later, when treating of the revealed and the hidden God, that he again

lays stress on his doctrine of predestination.

When Melanchthon published his “_Loci communes rerum theologicarum_,”

in December, 1521, in this work, which was the technical exposition of

Lutheranism at that time, he gave clear expression to the denial of

free-will. “All that happens,” he says there, “happens of necessity

(‘_necessario eveniunt_’) in accordance with the Divine predestination;

there is no such thing as freedom of the will.”[669] Luther praised

this work as an “_invictus libellus_,” worthy, not only of immortality,

but of taking its place in the canon of the Bible.[670] It was only

later that Melanchthon came to a more correct view, making no secret of

his rejection of Luther’s determinism.

* * * * *

It is of interest to note how Luther, in his practical writings and

exhortations, passes over his denial of free-will in utter silence.

Such a denial would, needless to say, have been out of place in works

intended for the furtherance of the Christian life. In admonishing

people to keep the commandments of God, to cultivate virtue and

practise charity, we must necessarily take free-will for granted. On

such occasions, therefore, Luther’s language is the very reverse of

that which we have just heard and furnishes a practical proof of the

falseness of his theory.

Although he had commenced his attacks on free-will in 1516, yet in the

practical writings which appeared in 1517 and 1518, in his exposition

of the Penitential Psalms, the Our Father and the Ten Commandments,

he speaks as though the Christian were free, with the help of grace,

to hearken to his exhortations and follow the path of salvation. In

his sermons on the Decalogue he even calls the opinion “godless,” that

any man is forced by necessity to sin and not rather led to commit it

by his own inclination. All that God has made is good and thus all

natural inclination is to what is good.[671] And yet, in 1516, he had

taught that man of necessity, though not with reluctance, follows his

predominating inclination to evil.[672]

When, at the commencement of 1520, he wrote his detailed “Sermon on

Good Works”--to complete, or rather to vindicate, his theory of faith

alone against the objections raised--dedicating it to Duke Johann

of Saxony, he there expressed himself so unhesitatingly in favour

of independent moral activity as to make it appear quite free and

meritorious. “Since man’s nature and disposition cannot remain for a

moment without doing or omitting, suffering or fleeing--for life is

ever restless, as we see--let whoever aspires to piety and good works

begin to exercise himself in living and working at all times in this

belief, learning to do or leave undone all things in this assurance

[of faith], and he will then find how much there is to keep him busy.”

Doing thus the believer will find that everything is right, for “it

must be good and meritorious.”[673] Even concerning faith we read in

this remarkable work, that it must be united to charity, nay, that

this must precede it, though charity is in reality the peculiar and

noblest work of an unfettered will which strives after God. “Such

confidence and faith brings with it charity and hope, indeed, if we

regard it aright, charity comes first, or at least with faith.”[674]

At a time when he was already quite convinced of the absence of

free-will, Luther wrote, in October, 1520, his tract “On the Freedom

of a Christian man.”[675]

There he teaches that the Christian is “free lord of all and subject

to none.” The servitude of the body does not extend to the soul;

in God’s Holy Word the soul lives a free and godly life, enjoying

wisdom, liberty and everything that is good; true, the interior man,

in his freedom and righteousness by faith, has no need of any law

or good works, but, since we are not altogether spiritual, we are

obliged to exercise the body by means of discipline lest it resist the

interior man, i.e. the will which rebels against God must be “quelled”

more and more, so far as the carnal mind calls for subjugation, in

order that the works which proceed from faith may be performed out

of pure charity. In all his works man must endeavour to direct his

intention towards serving and being helpful to his neighbour. This

is to serve God freely and joyfully; by thus acting he will defy the

upholders of ceremonies and the enemies of liberty who cling to the

ordinances of the Church. In this way Luther is teaching the true

Christian freedom, which “sets the heart free from all sins, laws and

ordinances, and which is as far above all other liberty as the heavens

are above the earth.”[676]--And yet, after his previous assertions

against free-will, we are forced to ask whether he had not himself

destroyed the basis of all this, for the free-will he attacked was the

fundamental condition of all spiritual action which might be called

free, and surely quite essential to his vaunted “Christian freedom.”

In his sermons, expositions and practical writings of the next few

years he continued, with a few exceptions,[677] to speak to the

faithful as though they still enjoyed moral freedom of the will and

liberty of choice, notwithstanding the position he had assumed in the

“_Assertio_.” In what he says of earthly business and of life, public

and private, his views are likewise not at all those of a determinist.

Such inconsistency was altogether characteristic of him throughout his

life.

In spite of all his attempts to make his view of the will acceptable

and to accommodate it to the prevailing convictions of humanity, many,

even amongst his own followers and admirers, were shocked at his

attacks on free-will. People were scandalised, more particularly by the

consequences involved.

At Erfurt his friends disputed as to how God could possibly work evil

in man, and Luther was forced to request them to desist from enquiring

into such matters, since it was clear that we did what was evil because

God ceased to work in us: they ought to occupy themselves all the more

diligently with the moral interests of the new churches.[678]

Capito declared himself openly against Luther’s theories concerning

the absolute enslavement of the will.[679] The Humanist Mosellanus

(Peter Schade), a great admirer of the Wittenbergers, spoke so

strongly at Leipzig against the propositions deduced from Luther’s

teaching on predestination to hell, that the latter was warned of what

had occurred.[680] Many who had previously been favourably disposed

to Luther were repelled, by his teaching on the enslaved will, and

fell away then or later, for instance, the learned naturalist George

Agricola.[681]

Mosellanus, like many others, now went over to the side of Erasmus,

who, it had now leaked out, was growing more and more to dislike Luther

the more the latter showed himself in his true colours.

_Erasmus--His Attitude in General and his Attack on Luther in 1524_

Erasmus had frequently been invited by the highest authorities to take

up his pen and enter the field against Luther. This, however, presented

some difficulty to him owing to his timidity, his anxiety to play the

part of mediator and his real sympathy for many of Luther’s demands.

Even before Erasmus had reached any decision, Luther and his friends

had already a premonition of the great Humanist’s coming attack.

On August 8, 1522, Erasmus, while still wavering, wrote to Mosellanus

concerning the desire expressed by the Emperor, the King of England

and certain Roman Cardinals. “All want me to attack Luther. I do not

approve of Luther’s cause, but have many reasons for preferring any

other task to this.”[682] In May, however, a work on the question of

predestination and free-will was already looked for in Lutheran circles

at Leipzig, and the opinion was freely expressed that Luther “would

probably get the worst in the encounter.” Luther, nevertheless, sought

to inspire his friends with courage and confidence.

That Erasmus should have been solicited by so many parties to write

against Luther was due to the quite extraordinary fame and influence of

this scholar who, by common consent, was the first authority of the day

on classical and critical studies.

The prolific Dutch author was venerated with fanatical admiration

by the younger Humanists as the founder and head of their school.

Mutian had gone so far as to write: “He is divine and to be honoured

as a god.” The term “_Divus Erasmus_” was frequently applied to him.

Since, owing to his peculiar standpoint in ecclesiastical matters, he

was reckoned by Luther’s co-religionists as one of their party, the

request to write against Luther amounted to an invitation publicly to

renounce all allegiance to a party which was seeking to secure him in

its own interests.

His great fame in the domain of learning was unquestionably well

merited. From his ever-changing place of abode, from England, Italy,

the Netherlands and especially (1521-1529) from Basle, he sent forth

into the learned world his books, all written in the most fluent

Latin, and dealing not only with classical subjects and matters of

general literary culture, but also with religious questions and

historical criticism. Thanks to his philological learning he was able

to handle most advantageously the text of the Bible and the Fathers of

the Church. The applause which was showered upon him by all scholars

who were dissatisfied with the traditional course of studies was due

not merely to his polished language and his wit, but chiefly to the

new method of which he made use, particularly in dealing with the

Fathers, viz. to his endeavour to seek out the best and oldest sources

with the help of criticism. Among the many who formed themselves on

his example, and, so to speak, in his school, were several of Luther’s

friends and co-workers, for instance, Melanchthon and Justus Jonas.

The “_Enchiridion militis christiani_,” published by Erasmus in 1501,

was greeted with joy by the neo-Humanists as a new presentment,

in harmony with the tendency of the day, of the duties of a

Christian;[683] many of them had, however, no better conception of

Christianity than Erasmus himself, who had already then forsaken his

Order--he was an Augustinian Canon--though he received the requisite

dispensation only in 1517, and whose performance of his priestly

duties was anything but satisfactory.[684] The writing in question,

a devotional manual for the learned, also made him many enemies,

for, in it, he attacked various popular devotions and religious

institutions sanctioned by the Church, ostensibly in order to bring

to light the true piety.[685] Even more so was this the case with his

“Praise of Folly” (“_Encomium Moriae_,” 1509), a satire on the morals

and ecclesiastical conditions of his time, brimful of exaggeration

and animosity against certain institutions in the Church, more

particularly the religious life. Among those who were desirous of

innovations, the book was so well received that it ran through at

least twenty-seven editions during the author’s lifetime. The proud,

witty fault-finding of the great man achieved an equally great success

in the “_Colloquia familiaria_,” which appeared in 1518 and showed

his style at its perfection. Intended as a handbook of latinity and

general conduct, it was fated to be excluded from the more serious

schools on account of the licentiousness of tone and language which

pervades certain chapters.

The opinion of this leading spokesman of the Renaissance was, that

it was necessary to break away completely from the Middle Ages; that

for four hundred years Christ had been almost forgotten (“_Christus

pene abolitus_”), and hence a return to the simplicity of the gospel

was indispensable; to the “_simplicitas doctrinae_,” secured by

the stripping off of all the padding of scholasticism, was to be

united the original “_simplicitas vitae christianae_” and neglect of

external practices. He set up a “Philosophy of Christ,” of which the

bare sobriety had no need of the Pharisaism of ceremonies, i.e. of

the invocation of Saints and the veneration of images and relics,

of monastic vows, canonical hours, fast-days, etc. Erasmus was not

desirous of shaking the foundations of the ancient dogmas, nor did

he, like Luther, lay hands upon the authority of the Church; yet he

attacked so many of her institutions and with such terribly effective

satire that he seemed to threaten the Church herself. Hardly ever had

respect for the Roman See been so undermined as by his censure of the

Popes and his tendency to contrast their assumption of authority with

the humility of the Bishops of Rome in olden days.

Nor was even the Bible safe from his love of innovation, inasmuch

as he was wont to elucidate more particularly the facts of the Old

Testament with the help of a spiritual interpretation, termed by

him allegorical, by which the historical and revealed contents were

explained away. His wish, too, was that the Bible, with notes thus

interpreting its narratives, should be read by all, even by the

unlearned.[686] The “Simple Theology,” which he was eager to set up

in place of Scholasticism, beneath the splendour of the Humanistic

language in which it was clothed, was exceedingly poor in ideas;

so elastic was his language also, “so infinitely flexible and

accommodating, so susceptible of being variously interpreted according

to individual taste, that people of all creeds and of no creed ...

could point to him as their guide.”[687] He had himself to blame

for the fact, that he was regarded with great suspicion in Catholic

circles, for, owing to his diplomatic caution, no one knew how far

he intended to go in his censure of ecclesiastical institutions;

whether he merely wished to blame the corruption then rampant, or

whether he wished to strike a blow at the Church herself. Besides

his positive hatred of the monastic life, what is particularly

noticeable is his fundamental rejection of Scholasticism, which,

according to his oft-repeated assertion, “had replaced God’s Word by

human ideas.” As a Protestant theologian opines: “We may say, that

the mighty intellectual work, which, in spite of all its faults, was

embodied in the ingenious systems of the Schoolmen failed entirely

to be appreciated by him.”[688] Nor was this the only thing he

failed to appreciate. He understood nothing of the mighty evolution

of the Church in previous ages, of the character of her discipline

and canon law, of her theology and of the great results attained by

mediæval philosophy. He did not even possess sufficient knowledge of

the practical requirements of his own age, when Luther’s hand was

already at work, demolishing the edifice of the Church. The one-sided

scholar, blinded by the incense of praise, was unfitted for the task

of directing his contemporaries in matters of religion.

It is wonderful to see how well he knew how to secure the good-will

of dignitaries, secular or ecclesiastical, by low flattery expressed

in classic language. He exhibited very markedly certain qualities not

infrequently observed in eminent Humanists, viz. want of character,

fickleness in words and behaviour and extraordinary sensitiveness

to criticism. His vanity was matched by the petty vindictiveness of

the satires with which he lashes his opponents, and all who dared to

disagree with him. Material assistance from the great ones of the

earth was never lacking to him, the demi-god of the intellectual

sphere; when declining an invitation to go to Germany he could say:

“The Emperor implores me to come to Spain, King Ferdinand wants me

at Vienna, Margaret in Brabant and Henry in England; Sigismund asks

me to go to Poland and Francis to France, and all offer me rich

emoluments.”[689]

It is not surprising, that when Luther came forward many elements of

his new teaching were at once welcomed with sympathy by Erasmus and his

school.

“It cannot be denied, that Luther commenced to play an excellent part

and to vindicate the cause of Christ--which had been almost wiped

off the face of the earth--amidst great and general applause.”[690]

Thus wrote Erasmus to Duke George of Saxony as late as 1522. Many of

Erasmus’s sayings in his books and confidential letters in favour of

Luther’s reform were cherished as oracles. His testimonies in favour of

Luther’s writings and his private life were spread far and wide, though

he really knew little of Luther’s works (those written in German he

could not even read), and owed all his information concerning his life

to Humanist friends who were prejudiced in Luther’s favour.

It was true that he was not personally acquainted with Luther, he

wrote on April 14, 1519, from Antwerp to Frederick the Elector of

Saxony, and, of his writings, he had, so far, read only certain

extracts;[691] “but all who were conversant with his life approved

of it, since he was above every suspicion of ambition. The purity of

his character is such that he even wins over the heathen. No one has

shown his error or refuted him, and yet they call him a heretic.”

Hence he urges the Prince not to abandon an innocent man to malicious

persons.[692] It was probably this letter which confirmed the Elector

in his determination not to withdraw from Luther his protection.

“Luther’s life is approved by everyone here,” Erasmus writes on April

22 of the same year from Louvain to Melanchthon; “opinions differ

with regard to his learning.... Luther has rightly found fault with

some things, would that he had done so with a success equal to his

courage.”[693] His letters to England are in the same strain: “All

are agreed in praise of this man’s life. It is in itself no small

matter that his conduct is so blameless that even his enemies can find

nothing with which to reproach him.”[694]

To Luther himself, on May 30, 1519, in reply to a friendly and very

submissive letter received from him, he complains of the attacks

made upon him at Louvain as the alleged prime instigator of the

Lutheran movement. He had replied--what as a matter of fact deprives

the testimony he had given in his favour of much of its weight--that

Luther was quite unknown to him (“_te mihi ignotissimum esse_”),

that he had not yet read his books and was therefore unable to

express either approval or disapproval. “I hold myself, as far

as is permissible, aloof (‘_me integrum servo_’), that I may be

of greater service to the revival of learning. More is gained by

well-mannered modesty than by storming.” He adds other admonitions

to peaceableness and prudence, and, after some cautious expressions

of praise and thanks for his Commentary on the Psalms,[695] at which

he had been able to cast only a cursory glance, finally wishes him

“a daily increase of the Spirit of Christ to His honour and the

public weal.”[696] By this letter, which appeared in print a few

weeks later, Erasmus offended both parties; to Luther’s followers the

author appeared too reticent, and to be wanting in cordiality; to

his opponents he seemed unduly to favour the innovations. To justify

himself he sent out several letters, one being to Archbishop Albert

of Mayence on November 1, 1519. In this he admits the existence of

“certain sparks of an excellent, evangelical spirit” in Luther, “who

is not striving after either honours or riches” and “at whose writings

the best minds take no offence.” Luther should not “be suppressed,

but rather brought to a right frame of mind”; he finds fault with the

fact that in him an honest man has been unfairly and publicly defamed;

Luther had only too just cause for his proceeding in the thousand

abuses prevailing in ecclesiastical life and in theology. Here again

he is careful to add, as usual, that he had not found time to peruse

Luther’s writings.[697] This letter, which was to reach Albert

through Hutten, and with which he at once became acquainted, Luther

calls an “_egregia epistola_,” which might well be printed.[698]

Hutten, in point of fact, had the letter printed before handing it

to the addressee, and, on his own responsibility, altered the name

“_Lutherus_” into the more significant “_Lutherus noster_.”[699]

Erasmus, while thus whitewashing and indirectly furthering Luther’s

cause, wrote with less restraint to Zwingli: “It seems to me that I

have taught well-nigh all that Luther teaches, only less violently,

and without so many enigmas and paradoxes.”[700] It was his desire to

be reckoned a leader in every field.

After the breach between Luther and the ecclesiastical past had been

consummated in 1520, Erasmus became more and more guarded in his

utterances, whether public or private. His blame of Luther becomes ever

more severe, though he is still desirous of finding a _via media_,

and is willing to approve of far too much in Luther’s action. The

excommunication of the heretic by the ecclesiastical authorities he

describes in one of his letters after the publication of the Bull as an

unfortunate mistake, showing want of charity; a peaceful adjustment of

the controversy might easily have been reached by means of a council of

wise men; this course his biassed mind still regarded as feasible.[701]

It was on July 6, 1520, only a few days before Luther broke out into

the exclamation: “The dice have fallen in my favour” (above, p. 24),

that Erasmus, alarmed at the tone of Luther’s controversial writings,

wrote to Spalatin warning him that Luther was utterly wanting in

moderation and that Christ was surely not guiding his pen.[702] He now

exerted himself to dissociate from Luther those of his friends who

had not as yet entirely gone over to him, and to retain them for the

Church, for instance, Justus Jonas.[703] As for himself he declared he

would never be dragged away, either in life or death, from communion

with the ecclesiastical authority ordained by God.[704] His complaints

concerning Luther’s unrestrained violence and vituperation were

ceaseless;[705] he saw the effect on Luther of the popular feeling,

and the great applause he met with, he even attributed his obstinacy

in great measure to the “plaudits of the world’s stage,” which had

turned his head.[706] In his letters he also gives expression to a

happy thought: the upheaval accomplished by the Wittenberg Professor

was indeed a misfortune for his own age, but it might also be a remedy

for the future. On November 20, 1522, he wrote to King Ferdinand: “God

grant that this drastic and bitter remedy, which, in consequence of

Luther’s apostasy, has stirred up all the world like a body that is

sick in every part, may have a wholesome effect for the recovery of

Christian morals.”[707] Erasmus also set to work to compose practical

booklets on religion and worship. A “_Modus confitendi_” he published

in 1525 was frequently reprinted later; its aim was to restore to

honour the Sacrament of Penance so maltreated by the innovators. At

a later date he even composed a sort of Catechism, the “_Explanatio

symboli_” (1533).

“In Luther I find to my surprise two different persons,” Erasmus wrote

on March 13, 1526, to Bishop Michael of Langres. “One writes in such a

way that he seems to breathe the apostolic spirit, the other makes use

of such unbecoming invective as to appear to be altogether unmindful

of it.”[708] To another bishop, on September 1, 1528, he writes:

“Whatever of good there may be in Luther’s teaching and exhortations

we shall put in practice, not because it emanates from him, but

because it is true and agrees with Holy Scripture.”[709]

He continued to scourge the abuses in ecclesiastical life and to

demand a reformation, but he did so in a fashion more measured and

dignified than formerly, so that well-disposed Catholics for the most

part agreed with him.

Owing to the new position he assumed, the Popes did not repel him,

but showed him favour and confidence. They were desirous of retaining

him and his enormous influence for the good of the Church. A Spanish

theologian, who had written an “_Antapologia_” against Erasmus to

reinforce the attack made upon him by Prince Carpi, tells us that

Clement VII, after glancing through the work, said to him: “The Holy

See has never set the seal of its approbation on the spirit of Erasmus

and his writings, but it has spared him in order that he might not

separate himself from the Church and embrace the cause of Lutheranism

to the detriment of our interests.”[710] According to one account,

Paul III even wished to make him a cardinal; Erasmus, however, refused

this dignity on account of his age.

Luther for his part was fond of saying, that he merely spoke out

plainly what Erasmus in his timidity only ventured to hint at. He

himself, he tells a correspondent, had led the believing Christians

into the Promised Land, whereas Erasmus had conducted them only as far

as the land of Moab.[711] He recognised, however, the great difference

between himself and Erasmus in their fundamental theological views,

for instance, as to the condition of man stained by original sin, as

to his free-will for doing what is good, his justification and pardon,

on all of which the Humanist scholar held fast to the traditional

teaching of the Church because, so Luther says, he could not, or would

not, understand the Bible. Luther was well aware that, as time went

on, Erasmus frequently protested that he had never had any intention

of writing anything contrary to the revealed Word of God as taught by

Holy Scripture and the common faith of Christendom; that he submitted

himself to the decisions of the Popes, that he was ready to accept,

as the Voice of God, what the authorities of the Church taught,

even though he might not understand the reasons, and be personally

inclined to embrace the opposite. His standpoint was accordingly miles

removed from that of Luther with its unfettered freedom in religious

matters.[712]

In one of his Apologies Erasmus states of his earlier writings--in

which, it is true he often goes too far--that “neither Lutherans nor

anti-Lutherans could clearly show him to have called into question

any single dogma of the Church”; though numbers had tried hard to

do so, they had merely succeeded in “bringing forward affinities,

congruities, grounds for scandal and suspicion, and not a few big

fibs.”[713] Concerning his tendency to scepticism he says nothing.

Of the excessive zeal of certain critics he says in the same passage:

“Some theologians, in their hatred for Luther, condemn good and pious

sayings which do not emanate from us at all, but from Christ and the

Apostles. Thus, owing to their malice and stupidity, many remain in

the party adverse to the Church who would otherwise have forsaken it,

and many join it who would otherwise have kept aloof.” He himself

was not to be drawn by invective to embrace Luther’s cause. He even

ventures to affirm that he was the first, who, almost single-handed

(“_ipse primus omnium ac pene solus restiti pullulanti malo_”),

opposed Luther, and that he had proved a true prophet in predicting

that the play which the world had greeted with such warm applause

would have a sad termination.--He speaks more truly when he seriously

regrets having fanned the flames by his writings. Thus, in 1521, he

writes to Baron Mountjoy: “Had I known beforehand that things would

shape themselves so, I would either have refrained from writing

certain things, or have written them differently.”[714]

If Luther, after having met with strong opposition from Erasmus, in

place of the support he had anticipated, denounced him as an infidel

Epicurean, he only demonstrated anew how far passion and bitter

disappointment could carry him.[715] “Luther,” says Kawerau, “when

passing judgment on Erasmus, sees only the dark side of his character,

and this the more as years go by.” “In his writings, and even in his

most harmless utterances, Luther scents evil. In the contempt he pours

upon him he is often grossly unfair, and, as a whole, his judgment of

him does not do justice either to the greatness or the character of

Erasmus.”[716]

Even where Luther does not actually attribute unbelief and

untruthfulness to his opponent he frequently goes too far in blaming

his sarcasm. He says, for instance, at a later date, that Erasmus

could do nothing but jeer; that to refute or disprove anything he

was utterly unable. “If I were Papist I would easily get the upper

hand of him.... By merely laughing at opponents no one will succeed

in vanquishing them.”[717] He could see in Erasmus only the idle

cynic Lucian and nothing else. As early as 1517 he declaims against

the “Erasmic” habit of “making fun of the faults and miseries of

the Church of Christ instead of bewailing them before God with deep

sighs.” It has, however, been pointed out by a Protestant theologian

that such serious complaints concerning the disorders in the Church

are not lacking even in the earlier writings of Erasmus.[718]

A severe but not unfair criticism of Erasmus--which does not charge

him with unbelief or apostasy though censuring him for other grave

faults--is to be met with in two German writers, both of them well

conversant with their age, viz. Kilian Leib, Prior of the monastery of

Rebdorf, and Bl. Peter Canisius.

The former, in dealing in his “_Annales_” with the year 1528, complains

of the effect on the religious world of the sceptical and critical

manner of his contemporary. “Wherever Erasmus had expressed a wish,

or even merely conveyed a hint, there Luther has broken in with all

his might.”[719] He is here referring to the strictures contained in

the Annotations of Erasmus on the New Testament, in particular on

Math. xi., upon the fasts and feasts, marriage laws and practice of

confession, on the heavy burden of prayers, the number of Decretals and

the endless ceremonial rules.

The other, Peter Canisius, speaks of Erasmus in the Preface to

his edition of the Letters of St. Jerome. He says that Erasmus is

distinguished by the “fluency and richness of his literary style”

and his “rare and admirable eloquence.” In polite literature he had

undoubtedly done good service, but he should either have refrained

from meddling with theology or have treated it with more reserve and

fairness. No one before him had ventured to censure the Fathers, the

Schoolmen and the theologians in so severe and overbearing a fashion,

nor was one to be found more touchy when contradicted. “He has carried

this so far that he is now made as little of in the Catholic as in the

opposite camp. In his writings he paid more attention to the form than

to the matter.” The following sentence is worthy of attention: “I know

not by what spirit he was really led, for he dealt with the Church’s

doctrine according to the theology of Pyrrhus [the sceptic].”[720]

What, we may ask in this connection, was the origin of the saying which

became later so widely current: “Erasmus laid the egg which Luther

hatched”?

It is first alluded to by Erasmus himself in 1523, where he informs a

friend that this had been said of him by certain Franciscans; he adds,

that he had indeed laid a hen’s egg, but that Luther had hatched out

quite a different nestling.[721] In 1534 he speaks more definitely

of the German Franciscans as the purveyors of this saying, and in

particular of the Cismontane commissioner of the Order, Nicholas

Herborn, who with the assistance of other Friars had caused a volume

of sermons to be printed at Antwerp in which appeared “the favourite

asseveration of the brethren,” viz.: “Erasmus is Luther’s father; he

laid the eggs and Luther hatched out the chicks; Luther, Zwingli,

Œcolampadius and Erasmus are the soldiers of Pilate who crucified

Jesus.”[722]

Similar utterances were indeed current in Catholic circles. Canisius

mentions that he had frequently heard a saying which agrees with the

words in Leib: “_Ubi Erasmus innuit, illic Lutherus irruit_,”[723] and

might be rendered: Where Erasmus merely indicated, Luther violently

eradicated. So general was the feeling that the head of the Humanists

had really paved the way for Luther’s action.

As we have frequently pointed out, Luther’s speedy and unhoped-for

success is altogether inexplicable, unless his way had been prepared

beforehand by others, and that particular kind of Humanism which

Erasmus had been largely instrumental in furthering cannot but be

regarded as one of the causes which contributed to the spread of

Lutheranism.

It is true that Humanism in some regards presented an inspiring and

attractive spectacle. The revival of classical learning, the union

of which with Christian truth had been the original aim both of the

Humanists and of the Church, who had encouraged them; the idea of

liberty and of the rights of the individual; the criticism and revision

of ecclesiastical studies; all this, within due limits, seemed to

presage a spring-tide in the development of the Christian nations

at the close of the Middle Ages. The sanguine dreamt of a happy

amalgamation of the ancient faith with the new culture of an age which

was striving mightily upwards in all that concerned citizenship. Yet

even enthusiastic patrons of the Christian Humanism of the day could

not praise all the ideas current among those of its representatives

who looked up to Erasmus; in such quarters many were the grievances

raised against the Church, it being urged that religion had been

corrupted, and that a purer Christianity should be established on the

model of the earlier ages, and minus the mediæval errors. Ideas such

as these were distinctly revolutionary, especially when they had taken

root in the heads of the masses in an even worse form. “It cannot as

a matter of fact be denied,” says the French Academician P. Imbart de

la Tour, “that the Humanists by their mode of criticising, accelerated

the gathering of the revolutionary storm-clouds of the sixteenth

century.”[724]

It was in the nature of an expiation that, along with Erasmus, many

like-minded Humanists, following the example of their leader, deserted

Luther’s cause, as soon as the air had been cleared by the master’s

work against Luther and the denial of free-will. At the head of the

German Humanists, Mutian, now an old man, welcomed the defence of

free-will embodied in the “_Diatribe_.”[725] Zasius and Crotus, like

Pirkheimer, returned to the Church. Others, especially those of Erfurt,

were not to be separated from Luther, such were Justus Jonas, Johann

Lang, Adam Kraft, Euricius Cordus, Draconites, Camerarius, Menius and

Eobanus Hessus, who, however, wavered long.[726]

Summing up all that has been said, we must discount both the

exaggerated charges brought against Erasmus, and the one-sided eulogies

lavished upon him. A type of the unfair critic was Hieronymus Aleander,

who was chiefly responsible for the violent attack made on Erasmus by

Prince Albert Pius of Carpi. In 1521 Aleander declared: “Erasmus has

written worse things against the faith than Luther”; he is of opinion

that Erasmus had preached a real “intellectual revolt in Flanders and

the Rhine-Lands.”[727] Equally exaggerated in the opposite direction is

the statement ascribed to the Emperor Charles V, which must have been

due to the glowing accounts given by the admirers of Erasmus, viz. that

Erasmus had greatly reduced the number of Lutherans and achieved what

Emperors, Popes, Princes and Universities had previously striven to

do, but in vain. The allusion would seem to be to the great Humanist’s

work against Luther’s denial of free-will.

What has been said tends to place in a true light a certain view which

has been put forward in modern days. Thanks to a wrong interpretation

of his antagonism to Luther’s principles and of his criticism of

Catholic doctrine and practice, an attempt has been made to represent

him as the “father of religious universalism” and of religion minus

dogma. His bold schemes for renovation it is said paved the way for a

great “renascence of Christianity” towards which we might well strive

even to-day. As a matter of fact this “original creator in the domain

of religion,” this “spokesman of modern religion,” never existed in

Erasmus. It is a mere figment of the imagination of those who desire

the complete reformation of religion and seek to shelter themselves

behind the great Humanist. What is really strange is that such a

deformation of the Erasmus of history has been attempted by certain

Protestant theologians, whereas in Luther’s day Erasmus was denounced

by Protestants as a free-thinker and unbeliever. There are other

Protestant theologians, however, who candidly admit the futility of

such efforts with regard to Erasmus.[728]

Catholics can see easily enough why the rise of Protestantism tended to

bring back many Humanists, among them Erasmus himself, to a firmer and

more clearly defined religious standpoint and to a more whole-hearted

support of the Church. Erasmus, as stated above, frequently spoke of

Luther’s work as a “remedy” (p. 249). It was a remedy above all for

himself and for the more serious elements among his own party, whom

the sight of the outward effects and internal consequences of the new

teaching served to withdraw from the abyss towards which they were

hurrying.

In his Annotations on the New Testament, Erasmus had clearly expressed

both his fundamental antagonism to Luther’s denial of free-will and

his own position. It so happens that the contrast between Luther and

Erasmus becomes apparent for the first time in Luther’s correspondence

of the famous year 1517. Luther had at that time been devoting some

attention to his future opponent’s interpretation of Romans ix., of

which the words concerning Divine election had confirmed him in his

false teaching, while supplying Erasmus with an opportunity to lay

stress on the freedom of the will under the influence of grace. The

Wittenberg professor, full of the spirit of his recently completed

Commentary on Romans, had, during his reading of it, written to his

friend Lang concerning Erasmus in words which seem to presage the

coming encounter: “I am reading our Erasmus, but every day he pleases

me less. That he should so boldly attack the religious and the clergy

for their ignorance pleases me, but I fear he does not sufficiently

vindicate the rights of Christ and the grace of God.... How different

is the judgment of the man who concedes something to free-will from one

who knows nothing besides grace!”[729]--In these words we hear, as it

were, the distant muttering of the storm which broke out seven years

later, when the two exchanged their thunderbolts, clearing the air and

plainly disclosing the difference between the Catholic and the Lutheran

standpoint.

* * * * *

When a report reached Luther in 1522 that Erasmus was about to oppose

his teaching on free-will, he was carried away to say certain things in

his letters which greatly provoked his opponent.

In a letter to the Leipzig Professor, Caspar Borner, he stated that

Erasmus understood less about these matters than the schools of the

Sophists (the Schoolmen). “I have no fear of being vanquished so long

as I do not alter my opinion.”[730] “Truth is stronger than eloquence,

the spirit mightier than talent, faith greater than learning”; with

his habitual confidence he says that were he only to stammer forth

the truth he would still be sure of vanquishing the eloquence even

of far-famed Erasmus. He did not wish to vex the scholar, but should

he dare to attack he would be made to see “that Christ fears neither

the gates of hell nor the powers of the air”; he (Luther) well

knew the thoughts of Satan (“_quandoquidem et Satanæ cogitationes

noverimus_”).[731] Hence he seems to have regarded the doctrine of

the absence of free-will as a sort of revelation, which the devil must

necessarily oppose.

Erasmus got to hear of this letter. With the expressions it contained,

viz.: spirit, truth, faith, triumph of Christ, he was familiar, for

they were Luther’s watchwords; the innovators, following Luther’s

example, made use of them, in season and out of season, though they

were not able to conceal their real nature, least of all from the

sharp eyes of Erasmus. “All,” Erasmus wrote in 1524 to Theodore

Hezius, “have these five words always on their lips: evangel, God’s

Word, faith, Christ and Spirit, and yet I see many behave so that I

cannot doubt them to be possessed by the devil.”[732]

After long delay and anxious consideration, Erasmus finally decided to

comply with the requests made of him and to publish a polemical work

against Luther on the subject of free-will, for his own vindication

and for the enlightenment of many whose eyes were turned upon him.

In 1523 he set to work and forwarded a rough draft to Henry VIII of

England.

He has frequently been said to have declared, in his witty way, that

he had only yielded against his will to strong persuasion and that the

work had been wrung from him; that, writing of free-will, he had lost

his own free-will, and was, therefore, not to be taken seriously. This

legend rests upon a false interpretation of a passage, the text of

Erasmus containing nothing of the sort.[733]

In order if possible to delay or parry the attack, Luther, about the

middle of 1524, wrote a strange letter addressed to the scholar.[734]

He there complains openly of the criticisms Erasmus had directed

against him latterly and of his ostensibly insulting remarks, and

informs him that he, the Wittenberg Professor, has nothing whatever

to fear, “even though an Erasmus should fall on him tooth and nail;”

at the same time he begs him, with a most flattering eulogy of his

gifts and standing, to consider well whether it would not be better

to leave his (Luther’s) doctrines alone (“_intacta dimittere_”), and

to busy himself with his own Humanist affairs. “I desire that the

Lord may bestow on you a spirit worthy of your name. Should the Lord,

however, still delay this gift, I would beg you meanwhile, if you can

do nothing else, at least to remain a mere spectator of our tragedy;

do not write against me or increase the number and strength of my

opponents; particularly do not attack me through the press, and I for

my part shall also refrain from attacking you.” The writer was all too

well aware how heavily the words of Erasmus would weigh down the scale

against him in public opinion.

Erasmus, however, was not to be moved from his decision; indeed, he

felt still further provoked to write by an allusion of Luther’s in the

above letter to the kindness he had hitherto displayed towards godless

and hypocritical foes; should Erasmus dare to come forward against him

publicly Luther vows he will alter this tone.[735] In the latter event

Luther, in another passage of the letter, had declared regretfully,

in perfect accordance with his theory of grace and the absence of

free-will, that “Erasmus had not yet received from the Lord the gift

of strength and an inward mind,” which would have enabled him to ally

himself freely and trustfully with him (Luther) in his struggle with

the monsters who were attacking him; even from Erasmus one could not

expect what was beyond his power and lay outside his way. “On the

contrary, we have accepted with patience and respect your weakness and

the limitation of God’s gift in you.”

We may perhaps be permitted to remark here concerning the absence of

the Divine action on the will, that Luther on other occasions did

not allow himself to be swayed by “patience and respect,” as in the

case of Erasmus, least of all when dealing with the Pope and his

supporters. On the contrary, he reproves them severely for their

“terrible blindness” and says, that the wrath of God had led to the

setting up of an empire of error and lying, in spite of the Church

having been so often warned by Christ and the Apostles against the

Pope, i.e. Antichrist. The only explanation was in 2 Thessalonians ii.

10: “Therefore God sent upon them the operation of error, to believe

lying”; “this operation was so great (‘_illa energia tam potens

fuit_’) that they were blind even to the worst errors”; thus it was

that they had set up their horrid Papacy. Out upon you, he cries to

those, who, on the Lutheran hypothesis, were unable to do otherwise,

“the overwhelming effect of your delusion defies all opposition”

(“_illa efficacia erroris potentissime restitit_”). “But I have

attacked the Pope in his very marrow and teaching, not merely his

abuses.” “Had I not brought about his downfall by means of the Word,

the devil himself would have vomited him forth.”[736]

The work of Erasmus, “_De libero arbitrio diatribe_,” which appeared in

that same year, 1524, at Basle, was a severe blow to Luther.[737]

The ground chosen by Erasmus in his long-expected reply to all the

questions raised by the Reformers, viz. the matter of free-will,

was singularly apt; he launched forth at once into one of the most

important subjects, one, too, which was readily understood by the

people. His task was the exposure of the religion of the enslaved will.

Though the author was not thoroughly conversant with the learning

of the Schoolmen, which might perhaps have enabled him to place the

relationship between grace and free-will in an even clearer light,

and though in the work he is rather reserved, yet his refinement of

judgment and his eloquence more than compensate for his defects;

these at least insured him great applause in an age so favourable to

Humanism. Even the theologians were, on the whole, satisfied with

the scriptural proofs adduced by so learned a man, whose linguistic

knowledge and exegetical skill gave all the more weight to his work.

Many cultured laymen breathed more freely, as though relieved of a

heavy burden, when the authoritative voice of the great scholar was

at last raised against Luther and in defence of free-will, that basic

truth of sane human reason and pillar of all religious belief.

Ulrich Zasius, the Freiburg-im-Breisgau lawyer, who had hitherto been

hesitating, wrote in enthusiastic praise of the work to Boniface

Amerbach.[738] Duke George of Saxony expressed his thanks to the

author in a letter, with the honest and not altogether unwarranted

remark: “Had you come to your present decision three years ago, and

withstood Luther’s shameful heresies in writing instead of merely

opposing him secretly, as though you were not willing to do him much

harm, the flames would not have extended so far and we should not now

find ourselves in the distressing present state of things.”[739]

The moderation with which the champion of free-will wrote, was

commended even by Melanchthon in a letter to Erasmus (“_perplacuit

tua moderatio_”).[740] With this, other critics, Martin Lipsius for

instance, agreed.[741]

Luther was forced unwillingly to admit the kindness displayed by

Erasmus, but the fact that the keen intellect of his opponent should

have singled out for animadversion the most vital point of his

teaching, as he termed it, was very bitter to him. The question dealt

with, he said, certainly constituted the central point of the quarrel;

it is absolutely essential that we should know what and how much we

are capable of in our relations to God, otherwise we remain ignorant

of God’s work, nay, of God Himself, and are unable to honour, to

thank, or to serve Him.[742] Luther accordingly admitted, concerning

Erasmus’s work--and this he was in his own way anxious to see regarded

as it deserved--that the author, unlike his previous opponents, “had

seized upon the real question at issue, the ‘_summa causæ_’”; he had

not scolded him on the Papacy, indulgences and similar subjects, but

had hit upon the cardinal point, and held the knife at his (Luther’s)

throat. God had not, however, yet bestowed upon Erasmus the grace

which would have fitted him to deal with the controversy. “God has

not so willed nor given it; perhaps He may bestow it later and make

this opponent capable of defending my doctrine more efficaciously

than I can myself, seeing he is so far beyond me in all other things

[especially in worldly learning].” These words, so remarkable from the

psychological standpoint, are to be found in Luther’s reply.[743]

In his “_Diatribe_” Erasmus dwelt with emphasis and success on the

fact that, according to Luther, not merely every good, but also every

evil must be referred to God; this was in contradiction with the

nature of God and was excluded by His holiness. According to Luther,

God inflicted eternal damnation on sinners, whereas they, in so far

as they were not free agents, could not be held responsible for their

sins; what Luther had advanced demanded that God should act contrary

to His eternal Goodness and Mercy; it would also follow that earthly

laws and penalties were superfluous, because without free-will no one

could be responsible; finally, the doctrine involved the overthrow of

the whole moral order.

The scriptural passages bearing on the question, more particularly

those appealed to by Luther in his “_Assertio_,” are examined with

philological exactitude and with sobriety.

“Erasmus, in defending free-will,” writes A. Taube, a Protestant

theologian, “fights for responsibility, duty, guilt and repentance,

ideas which are essential to Christian piety. He vindicates the

capacity of the natural man for salvation, without which the identity

between the old and the new man cannot be maintained, and without

which the new life imparted by God’s grace ceases to be a result of

moral effort and becomes rather the last term of a magical process.

He combats the fatalism which is incompatible with Christian piety

and which Luther contrived to avoid only by his want of logic: he

vindicates the moral character of the Christian religion, to which,

from the standpoint of Luther’s theology, it was impossible to do

justice.”[744]

The work of Erasmus reached Wittenberg in September, 1524. Luther

treated it with contempt and ostentatiously repudiated it. He wrote

to Spalatin, on November 1, that it disgusted him; he had been able

to read only two pages of it; it was tedious to him to reply to so

unlearned a book by so learned a man.[745] All the same, he did write

a lengthy and detailed answer; that he delayed doing so until late in

the following year is to be accounted for by the Peasant-War with its

terrors, which entirely engrossed his attention; it was also the year

of his marriage. In estimating the value of the reply, upon which he

then set to work with great energy, we must bear in mind the state of

the author and the inward and outward experiences through which he had

just gone. The impression made on his mind by the events of those days

has left its stamp in the even more than usually extreme utterances

contained in his reply to Erasmus. When once he had begun the work

he carried it to its end with a rush; he himself admits that it was

composed in excessive haste. We also know to whose influence his final

decision to take the work in hand was due, viz. to Catherine Bora. “It

was only at her request” that he undertook the work, when she pointed

out to him, “that his foes might see in his obstinate silence an

admission of defeat.”[746]

_Luther’s Book “On the Enslaved Will” against Erasmus_

The title “_De servo arbitrio_,” “On the enslaved will,” was borrowed

by Luther from a misunderstood saying of St. Augustine’s.[747] While

the book which bears it was still in the press his friend Jonas

commenced a German version and entitled it: “Dass der freie Wille

nichts sei.”[748]

However grotesque and exaggerated some of the principal theses of the

famous work, Luther was at pains to declare therein that they were the

result of most careful deliberation and were not written in the heat of

controversy. Hence, as a Protestant historian says, “we must not seek

to hide or explain them away, as was soon done by Luther’s followers

and has been attempted even in our own day.”[749] Another Protestant

scholar, in the preface to his study on the work “_De servo arbitrio_,”

remarks that “quite rightly it caused great scandal and wonder,”

and goes on to point out that “the hard, offensive theory” which it

champions was “no mere result of haste or of annoyance with Erasmus,

coupled with the desire clearly to define his own position with regard

to the latter,” but really “expresses the matured conviction of the

Reformer.”[750]

In this lengthy, badly arranged and rather confused work we see,

first, that Luther gives the widest limits to his denial of free-will

and declares man to be absolutely devoid of freedom of choice,

even in the performance of works not connected with salvation, and

moral acts generally. He does, indeed, casually remark that man is

free “_in inferioribus_,” and that the question is whether he also

possesses free-will in respect of God (“_an erga Deum habeat liberum

arbitrium_”).[751] “But it is doubtful whether we are to take Luther

at his word.” For “as a matter of fact he shows clearly enough that

he does not wish this limitation to be taken literally.”[752] “That

his intentions are, on the contrary, of the most radical character, is

plain from many other passages where he attacks free-will everywhere,

and represents all that we do and everything that occurs (‘_omnia quæ

facimus et omnia quæ fiunt_’), as taking place in accordance with

inexorable necessity.”[753] He lays it down as a principle that God’s

omnipotence excludes all choice on man’s part, and again supports this

on an argument from the Divine omniscience; God from all eternity sees

all things, even the most insignificant, by virtue of His prescience,

hence they must happen. Even where God acts on man apart from the

influence of grace (“_citra gratiam spiritus_”), according to Luther,

it is He Who works all in all, as the Apostle says, “even in the

impious.” “All that He has made, He moves, impels and urges forward

(‘_movet, agit, rapit_’) with the force of His omnipotence which none

can escape or alter; all must yield compliance and obedience according

to the nature of the power conferred on them by God.”[754]

In the same way as he here speaks of a certain “power” in the creature,

so also, in the same connection, he refers to “our co-operation” in the

universal action of God (“_et nos ei cooperaremur_”). By this, however,

he does not mean any real free co-operation but, as he says darkly,

only an activity of the will corresponding to its nature and governed

by law, “whether in submission to the universal omnipotence of God in

matters which do not refer to His Kingdom, or under the special impulse

of His Spirit [grace] within His Kingdom.”

Luther’s main object in the book “_De servo arbitrio_” is undoubtedly

the vindication of religious determinism.

His denial of free-will had its root in his mistaken conviction that

man was entirely passive in the matter of his salvation and in his

attempt to destroy all personal merit, even that won by the help of

grace, as at variance with the merit of Jesus Christ. He is fond of

dwelling with emphasis on the absence of any co-operation on man’s

part in his justification, which is effected by faith alone, and on

the so-called “righteousness” which had been effected in man by God

alone even previous to man’s choice. Even that free-will for doing what

is good, which is given back to the man who is justified, does not

strictly co-operate--lest the merit of Christ should suffer.

“This, then, is what we assert: Man neither does nor attempts anything

whatever in preparation for his regeneration by justification or

for the Kingdom of the Spirit, nor does he afterwards do or attempt

anything in order to remain in this Kingdom, but both are the work

of the Spirit in us, Who, without any effort on our part, creates us

anew and preserves us in this state.... It is He Who preaches through

us, Who takes pity upon the needy and comforts the sorrowful. But

what part is there here for free-will to play? What is left for it to

do?--Nothing, absolutely nothing.”[755]

Here we have a renewal of the attack on his old bugbear,

self-righteousness, his dislike of which leads him to universal

determinism; from his mechanical doctrine of faith alone it was merely

a step to this mechanical view of everything.

We can only marvel at the ease with which, in his zeal for the

supposed glory of the Saviour, he closes his eyes to the devastation

which such teaching must work in the spiritual domain. He declares

that he is not in the least afraid of the consequences. He fancies

he has at last placed the whole motive force of human action in its

true light and estimated it at its real value. For “it is above

all else necessary and wholesome for the Christian to know that

God foresees nothing conditionally, but that He knows all things

beforehand unconditionally, determines them and carries them out by

His unchangeable, eternal and infallible Will.”[756] He builds up

piety, humility and all consolation on the basis of this abnegation

of the will. “Christian faith,” he says, would be “altogether

destroyed, God’s promises and the whole gospel would be trodden under

foot were we not to believe in God’s indispensable foreknowledge and

that all happens through necessity; on the other hand, the greatest

and only consolation for Christians in the trials they encounter is

to know, that God does not lie but invariably performs all things,

that there is no resisting His will and no possibility of change or

hindrance.”[757] Herein, according to him, lies “the only possibility

of leading man to entire self-abnegation, and to perfect humility

towards God.” Therefore “this truth must be proclaimed aloud,

everywhere and at all times”; here, as in the service of the Word

in general, any _prosopolepsia_, _topolepsia_, _tropolepsia_, or

_kœnolepsia_ is pernicious and damnable. The Protestant theologian

from whom the last sentences are taken remarks: “We have here a

peculiar form of piety, and it may remain an open question whether the

same is to be judged pathologically or not.”[758]

Luther seems to ignore--if indeed he ever was acquainted with

them--the reliable solutions to the problem of the Divine prescience

and omnipotence in relation to human free-will, furnished both by

philosophy and by theology from the times of the Fathers. He dismisses

with utter contempt the distinctions and definitions of the greatest

theologians of earlier ages.

On the other hand, he turns upon Erasmus and the theology of the

Church with the formal charge: “You have denied God Himself by taking

away faith in Him and fear of Him, you have shaken all God’s promises

and menaces.” Without being clearly conscious of the fact, he is

actually changing the true idea of God and seeking to set up a Being,

who governs with the blind force of fate, in the stead of a God Who

rules with wisdom, controlling His own power and restraining Himself

with goodness and condescension.[759] Free-will, he says, belongs to

God alone, Who alone is able to do what He wills in heaven and on

earth.

How the ideas of free-will and of God are treated in Luther’s “_De

servo arbitrio_” is made still more plain from the conclusions which he

draws in this work from the denial of free-will, and deals with without

the slightest reserve.

The first consequence is the absolute predestination of the reprobate

to hell.

Luther here throws to the winds the will of God Almighty for the

salvation of all men, and he does so, with regard to those who are

delivered over to eternal death, with a precision which is quite

shocking. They were incapable of being saved because God did not so

will it. Owing to the reprobate, God has “an ‘_æternum odium erga

homines_,’ not merely a hatred of the demerits and works of free-will,

but a hatred which existed even before the world was made.”[760]

Hence He inflicts eternal punishment upon those who do not deserve it

(“_immeritos damnat_”).[761] And if sinners are thereby confirmed in

their sins instead of being converted, this does not matter in the

least, for the Spirit of God will nevertheless, in due season, lay

hold of the elect and change them into children of God (“_electi tamen

manebunt_”).[762]

The severity of his doctrine does not here differ in any way from

Calvin’s cruel views, though, as the fact is less generally known,

Luther’s name has not been so closely associated with predestination

to hell as Calvin’s. Luther’s doctrine on this matter did not come

so much to the front as that of Calvin, because, unlike the latter,

he did not make capital out of it by means of popular and practical

exhortations, and because the early Lutherans, under the influence of

Melanchthon, who became an opponent of the rigid denial of free-will

and of Luther’s views on predestination, soon came to soften their

master’s hard sayings. Yet there can be no doubt that the book “_De

servo arbitrio_” does contain such teaching quite definitely expressed.

The decree according to which God from all eternity condemns

irrevocably to hell a great part of mankind, is, however, according

to Luther, His “Secret Will” which we cannot investigate. With this

His “Revealed Will” does not coincide. This distinction becomes a

pet one of Luther’s, by means of which he fancies he can escape the

embarrassment in which the many passages of the Bible concerning

God’s desire that all men be saved, involve him. The “_voluntas

occulta et metuenda_” of the “_Deus maiestatis_” determines man’s

fate irrevocably; upon this we must not speculate, for it is beyond

human investigation. We must, on the contrary, according to Luther,

not go beyond the “_voluntas Dei revelata_”--which he also speaks

of elsewhere as the “_voluntas prædicata et oblata_,” or “_voluntas

beneplaciti_”--which, it is true, strives after the salvation of all

men and the removal of sin.[763] “From this we must conclude that

God, as He is preached, is not in every instance the same as He Who

actually works, and that in some cases in His revelation He says what

is quite untrue.”[764]

Thus the author is no longer content to place another meaning upon

the biblical statements concerning God’s will that all men be saved,

as he did in the “_Assertio_,”[765] though even in the “_De servo

arbitrio_” he still “attempts to place a different interpretation

upon the passages of Scripture in question and to explain away by a

desperate exegesis God’s will for the salvation of the whole human

race as expressed in the New Testament.” Hence he takes refuge in the

“_voluntas revelata_,” which differs from the “_occulta_.” Should

the former not agree with the latter and revelation declare that God

wills, whereas the “_voluntas secreta_” really does not so will, then

the passages of the revealed word “are a proof that God is raised

above our code of morality.”[766] “The ‘_voluntas occulta_’ becomes

entirely arbitrary.” The demand, Luther says, that God should act as

we think right is tantamount to calling Him to account for being God.

We must believe that He is just and good even when He transgresses the

codes of Justinian and Aristotle. Is He, forsooth, only to condemn

that man whom we think deserving of condemnation? Shall we look upon

it as an absurdity, that He should condemn the man whose lot it is

to be declared deserving of damnation? Shall we consider it wrong

that He should harden whom He chooses to harden, and have mercy on

whom He wills to have mercy?[767] From the standpoint that we must

simply accept the “_secreta maiestatis_” even when apparently most

unreasonable, he pours out his scorn on the efforts of the olden

theologians to harmonise free-will with eternal election to grace.

His last word is that all we say of God is imperfect, inaccurate and

altogether inadequate. As a matter of fact, however, as a Protestant

critic already cited says,[768] “By the ‘_voluntas occulta_’

everything is called in question that Christian theology affirms

concerning God on the authority of the gospel. Luther not only saw,

but allowed, these consequences, yet as he was perfectly alive to the

danger which they constituted, he is careful to warn people against

going further into the question of the ‘_Deus maiestatis_.’ ‘_Non

est interrogandum, cur ita faciat, sed reverendus Deus, qui talia et

possit et velit...._’ Luther always held fast to the actuality and

rights of the Secret Will. That he never forsook this standpoint even

later, when the ‘_voluntas beneplaciti_’ alone was of interest to him,

has been established by recent research. In his practice, however, we

find but little trace of what was really an essential part of Luther’s

theology.”

The same theologian is of opinion that the inconsistencies in which

Luther at last finds himself entangled are the best refutation of his

denial of free-will and the powers of the natural man.[769]

A second consequence of his teaching may also be pointed out here. From

his theory of the enslaved will Luther was forced to deduce that God is

responsible for evil.

“It is indeed an offence to sound common sense and to natural reason

to hear that God is pleased to abandon men, to harden and to damn

them, as though He--He, the All-Merciful, the All-Perfect--took

delight in sin and torment. Who would not be horrified at this?... and

yet we cannot get away from this, notwithstanding the many attempts

that have been made to save the holiness of God.... Reason must always

insist upon the compulsion God imposes on man.”[770]

According to Luther it is quite wrong to wish to judge of God’s

secret, inscrutable action.[771] Fly, he repeats again and again,

from these stumbling-blocks to faith. “_Quærere non licet._”[772]

Adore the hidden ruling. “_Adorare decet._”[773]

It is true that the author, here as elsewhere, shows a certain

reluctance to credit to God Himself the performance of what is evil;

he prefers to speak of God’s action as though it merely supplied man,

whose own inclination is towards what is evil, with the power and

ability to act.[774] The same theory is to be met with in Calvin.[775]

But, the critics in Luther’s own camp objected:[776] “This does not

settle the question, Luther must go further.... He admits that, after

all, God not only has a part in the origin of sin, since owing to

His omnipotence He is the cause of all things (‘_causa principalis

omnium_’), but even made Adam to sin.[777] And yet, precisely on

account of the difficulty, faith will not relinquish it.” “Surely a

‘_credo_,’ not only ‘_quamquam_,’ but, ‘_quia, absurdum_.’”[778]

We may, in the third place, cast a glance at the ethical consequences

of the theory.

Luther refuses to admit what all people naturally believe, viz. that if

God gives commandments man must be able either to obey, or to disobey,

and thus incur guilt. What he teaches is, that God has a right and

reasons of His own to impose commandments even though there should be

no free-will; since without Him we are unable to keep the commandments

He gives them for the wise purpose of teaching us how little we are

capable of. The law is intended to awaken in us a sense of indigence,

a desire for redemption, and the consciousness of guilt. When once

this is present, God’s power does the rest; but the groundwork of

all salvation is that we should become conscious of our nothingness,

for which reason the belief in the enslaved will is to be proclaimed

everywhere as the supreme virtue.

“God,” he says, “has promised His grace first and foremost to the

abandoned and to those who despair. Man cannot, however, be completely

humbled so long as he is not conscious that his salvation is entirely

beyond his own powers, plans and efforts, beyond both his will and his

works, and depends solely upon the free choice, will and decree of

another (‘_ex alterius arbitrio, consilio, voluntate_’).”[779]

Hence, instead of a moral responsibility for not keeping the

commandments, all there is in man is a certain compunction for

being unable to keep them. But this is surely very different from

the consciousness of guilt. “Without free-will there is no guilt.”

“Luther can no longer assert that guilt is incurred by the rejection

of grace.” If a sense of guilt actually exists it cannot but be a

subjective delusion, nor can it fail to be recognised as such as soon

as we perceive the true state of the case, viz. that it is all due to

delusive suggestion. “When Luther instances Adam’s fall as a proof of

guilt, we can only see in this an admission of his perplexity. In this

matter Luther’s theology--I mean Luther’s own theology--is altogether

at fault.”[780]

The greatest stress is laid by the champion of the “enslaved will” on

the alleged importance of this doctrine for the personal assurance of

salvation.

It is this doctrine alone, he says, which can impart to timorous man

the pacifying certainty that he will find a happy eternity at the hands

of the Almighty, Who guides him; on the other hand, the assumption of

free-will shows man a dangerous abyss, ever yawning, into which the

abuse of his freedom threatens to plunge him. Better to trust to God

than to our own free-will.

“Since God,” he writes, “has taken my salvation upon Himself and

wills to save me, not by my own works but by His grace and mercy, I

am certain and secure (‘_securus et certus_’) that no devil and no

misfortune can tear me out of His hands.... This is how all the pious

glory in their God.”[781]

With enthusiasm he describes this consciousness, carefully refraining,

however, from looking at the other side, where perchance predestination

to hell, even without free-will, may lie.[782] When it presses on him

against his will he at once drowns the thought with the consoling

words of St. Paul on the greatness of the inscrutable ways of God. His

justice must indeed be unsearchable, otherwise there would be no faith,

but in the light of eternal glory we shall realise what we cannot now

understand.[783]

The not over-enthusiastic critic, whom we have frequently had occasion

to quote, remarks: “Seeing that faith according to Luther is no act of

our will, but a mere form given to it by God, ... Luther is right in

saying, that the very slightest deviation from determinism is fatal

to his whole position. His ‘_fides_’ is ‘_fides specialissima_.’” It

is the assurance of personal salvation. But even though “combined

with a courageous certainty of salvation, Luther’s views, taken as

they stand, would still offer no consolation to the tempted, so that

when Luther has to deal with such he is forced to put these views in

the background.” The critic goes on to wonder: “How if the thought,

which Luther himself is unable to overcome, should trouble a man and

make him believe that he is of the number of those whom the ‘_voluntas

maiestatis_’ wills to hand over to destruction?” His conclusion is:

“The certainty of salvation, about which Luther is so anxious, cannot

be reached by starting from his premises.”[784]

At the end of his “_De servo arbitrio_,” summing up all he had said,

Luther appeals to God’s rule and to His unchangeable predestination of

all things, even the most insignificant; likewise to the empire of the

devil and his power over spirits. His words on this matter cannot be

read without amazement.

“If we believe that Satan is the Prince of this world, who constantly

attacks the Kingdom of Christ with all his might and never releases

the human beings he has enslaved without being forced to do so by

the power of the Spirit of God, then it is clear that there can be

no free-will.”[785] Either God or Satan rules over men; to this pet

thought he adds: “The matter stands simply thus ... when God is in us,

the devil is absent and then we can will only what is good; but when

God is not there, the devil is, and then we can will only what is evil.

Neither God nor Satan leaves us with an indifferent will.”[786] “When

the stronger of the two comes upon us,”[787] he says, “and makes a prey

of us, snatching us away from our former ruler, we become servants and

prisoners to such an extent that we desire and do gladly what he wills

(‘_ut velimus et faciamus libenter quæ ipse velit_’). Thus the human

will stands,” Luther continues, using a simile which has become famous,

“like a saddle-horse between the two. If God mounts into the saddle,

man wills and goes forward as God wills ... but if the devil is the

horseman, then man wills and acts as the devil wills. He has no power

to run to one or the other of the two riders and offer himself to him,

but the riders fight to obtain possession of the animal.”[788]

With frightful boldness he declares this view to be the very core

and basis of religion. Without this doctrine of the enslaved will,

the supernatural character of Christianity cannot, so he says, be

maintained; the work of redemption falls to the ground, because

whoever sets up free-will cheats Christ of all His merit;[789] whoever

advocates free-will brings death and Satan into the soul.[790]

In such passages we hear the real Luther, with all his presumptuous

belief in himself: “To me the defence of this truth is a matter of

supreme and eternal importance. I am convinced that life itself should

be set at stake in order to preserve it. It must stand though the whole

world be involved thereby in strife and tumult, nay, even fall into

ruins and dissolve into nothing.”[791]

He ventures again to assert of Erasmus, that it had not been given him

from above to feel, as he himself does, how in this great question

“faith, conscience, salvation, the Word of God, the glory of Christ and

even God Himself are involved.”[792] Concerning himself, on the other

hand, he assures the reader that, with no earthly motives, he is waging

a great war “with a God-given courage and steadfastness which his foes

call obstinacy; that he holds fast to his cause in spite of so many

dangers to his life, so much hatred, so many persecutions, in short,

exposed as he is to the fury of man and of all the devils.”[793]

In various passages a lurid light is thrown on his inner state. In

language which recalls the pseudo-mysticism of his Commentary on Romans

ten years earlier, he says, that the predestination to hell which he

advocated was certainly terrifying, that he himself had frequently

taken great offence at it and had been brought to the abyss of despair,

so that he wished he had never been born; but then “he saw how

wholesome was this despair and how near to grace.”[794] “For whoever is

convinced that all things depend on God’s Will, in his despair of self

avoids making any choice and simply waits for God to act; such a one is

near to grace and to finding salvation.” He himself “attributes nothing

to himself, hopes for nothing and desires nothing” for his salvation;

in thus waiting on the action of God’s grace he is very nigh to

salvation, though he is as it were dead, stifled by the consciousness

of guilt, and spiritually buried in hell; “whoever has read our works

will be familiar with all this.”[795]

The echo of the pseudo-mystical ideas in which he had formerly steeped

himself is plainly discernible in these words which go to form one of

the most remarkable of the pictures he has left us of his state.

Even the “self-righteous,” whom he had at one time so bitterly

assailed, again rise from their graves. The admission of free-will,

he tells them, destroys all inward peace. After every work performed,

the question still rankles: “Is it pleasing to God, or does God

require something more? This is attested by the experience of all

self-righteous (_iustitiarii_), and I myself, to my cost, was familiar

with it for many long years.”[796]

On the same page he gives us a glimpse of the psychological source

whence his whole theory of the enslaved will springs. The doctrine

was born of personal motives and fashioned to suit his own state of

soul. None the less, he insists that it must also become the common

property of all the faithful which none can do without, nay, the

very basis of the new Christianity. “Without this doctrine I should

believe it necessary to plague myself with uncertainty and to beat the

air with hopeless efforts, even were there no perils for the soul,

no tribulations and no devils. Though I should live and work for all

eternity, my conscience would never attain to a real peace and be able

to say to itself, you have done enough for God.” He goes so far as to

say: “For myself I admit, that, were free-will offered me, I should not

care to have it; I should not wish to see anything placed within my

power by means of which I might work for my salvation, because I should

never be able to withstand and endure the trials and dangers of life

and the assaults of so many devils.”[797]

The last words of the book even exceed the rest in confidence, and

the audacity of his demand that his work should be accepted without

question almost takes away one’s breath: “In this book I have not

merely theorised; I have set up definite propositions, and these I

shall defend; no one will I permit to pass judgment on them, and

I advise all to submit to them. May the Lord Whose cause is here

vindicated,” he says, addressing himself to Erasmus, “give you light to

make of you a vessel to His honour and glory. Amen.”[798]

* * * * *

The great importance of the work “_De servo arbitrio_” for a knowledge

of the religious psychology of its author may warrant a description of

some of its other psychological aspects, and first of the connection

discernible between the denial of free-will and Luther’s so-called

inward experiences, which were supposed to be behind his whole

enterprise.

He always believed he was following the irresistible pull of grace,

and that he was merely treading the path appointed to him from

above. In this work he breaks out into a loud hymn in praise of the

irresistibility of the Divine action. “All that I have done,” he

exclaims, “was not the result of my own will; this God knows, and

the world, too, should have known it long ago. Hence, what I am and

by what spirit and council I was drawn into the controversy is God’s

business.”[799] In this explanation, so typical of his character and

way of thinking, is summed up his reply to that argument of Erasmus

against his doctrine, particularly of free-will, where the latter had

confronted him with the teaching of the whole of the Church’s past.

For more than ten years, Luther adds, he had to listen to the reproach

of his conscience: How dare you venture to overthrow the ancient

teaching of all men and of the Church, which has been confirmed by

saints, martyrs and miracles? “I do not think anyone has ever had to

fight with this objection as I had. Even to me it seemed incredible

that this impregnable stronghold which had so long withstood the

storms, should fall. I adjure God, and swear by my very soul, that,

had I not been driven, had I not been forced by my own insight and

the evidence of things, my resistance would not have ceased even to

this day.” But, under the higher impulse, he had suffered authorities

ancient and modern to pass like a flood over his head that God’s grace

might alone be exalted. “Since this is my only object, the spirit of

the olden saints and martyrs and their wonder-working power witness in

my favour.” The utter rigidity of his doctrine and line of thought,

and the connection between his present attack on freedom and his

own ostensible unfreedom in God’s hands could hardly be placed in a

clearer light than here in Luther’s reply to the argument of Erasmus.

In another passage he describes, perhaps unconsciously, his

experiences with his own will, so inclined to contradiction and

anger; he says: That the will is not free is evident from the fact

that, “it becomes the more provoked the greater the opposition it

encounters....[800] Whoever pursues an object passionately is not

open to correction, as experience shows. If he gives way, this is not

willingly, but under pressure, and because it serves his purpose. It

is only the man who has no interest whatever who allows things to take

their own course.”[801]

From time to time the several pet ideas which had played a part in his

previous development are harnessed to his argument and made to prove

the servitude of the will.

We are conscious, he says, that, pressed down to the earth by

concupiscence, we do not act as we should; hence man is not free to

do what is good. The “sting” of this inability remains, as experience

teaches, in spite of all theological distinctions. Natural reason,

which groans so loudly under it and seeks to resist God’s action,

would prove it even were it not taught in Holy Scripture. But Paul,

throughout the whole of his Epistle to the Romans, while vindicating

grace, teaches that we are incapable of anything, even when we fancy

we are doing what is good.[802]

And further, the desire of gaining merit for heaven--the supposed

error which he opposed quite early in his career owing to his distaste

for works generally--can only be finally vanquished when the idol of

free-will is overthrown. Then, too, he says, the fear of undeserved

damnation by God also vanishes; for if there be no merit for heaven,

then neither can there be any for hell; accordingly we may say without

hesitation what must otherwise be repellent to every mind, viz. that

God condemns to hell although man has not deserved it (“_immeritos

damnat_”);[803] this is the highest degree of faith, to hold fast to

the belief that “God is righteous when of His own will He makes us of

necessity to be worthy of damnation (‘_necessario damnabiles facit_’),

so that He would seem, as Erasmus says, to take delight in the

torments of the damned and be more worthy of hatred than of love.”[804]

Here another element of his earlier development and mental trend comes

into view, viz. a disregard for the rights of reason, based ostensibly

on the rights of faith.

The denial of free-will seems to him in this regard quite

attractive--such at least is the impression conveyed. For, when we

deny the freedom of the will, so much becomes contradictory and

mysterious to our reason. But so much the better! “Reason speaks

nothing but madness and foolishness, especially concerning holy

things.”[805] “Faith,” so he declares at great length, “has to do

with things that do not appear (Heb. xi. 1); in order that true faith

may enter in, everything that is to be believed must be wrapped in

darkness. But things cannot be more completely concealed than when

what is seemingly contradictory is presented to the mind, to the

senses and to experience.”[806] In the present case, according to

Luther, the apparent injustice of God in the “seemingly unjust”

punishment of sinners, who are not free agents, is a grand motive for

faith in His Justice.[807] Luther here displays his love of paradox.

Even more than in his other writings plentiful opportunity for paradox

presents itself in the “_De servo arbitrio_,” and of it he makes full

use. “God makes alive by putting to death,” he writes in the passage

under consideration, “He renders guilty and thereby justifies; He

drags down the soul to hell and thereby raises it to heaven.”

Among the forcible expressions by which, here as elsewhere, he

attempts to convince both himself and others, that he is in the right,

are the following: “Liberty of choice is a downright lie (‘_merum

mendacium_’).”[808] “Whoever assigns free-will to man, thereby makes

him Divine, and thus commits the worst form of sacrilege.”[809]

“To get rid altogether of the term free-will would be the best and

most pious work (‘_tutissimum et religiosissimum_’).”[810] Whoever

follows the road of Erasmus “is rearing within himself a Lucian--or

a hog of the breed of Epicurus.”[811] “Erasmus concedes even more to

free-will than all the sophists hitherto.”[812] “He denies Christ

more boldly than the Pelagians,”[813] and those who hold with him are

“double-dyed Pelagians, who merely make a pretence of being their

opponents.”[814] But he himself, Luther, had never fallen so low as to

defend free-will: “I have always, up to this very hour, advocated in

my writings the theory that free-will is a mere name.”[815]

In this last assertion he repudiates his Catholic days and refuses

even to take into account the works dating from that time; in his

Commentary on the Psalms he had expressly admitted free-will for doing

what is good and for the choice in the matter of personal salvation;

it is true, however, that he never published this work. But in many

of the writings composed and published even after his apostasy he

had clearly assumed free-will in man and made it the basis of his

practical exhortations, as shown above (p. 239). Now, however, he

prefers to forget all such admissions.[816]

On the other hand he pretends to recall that in his Catholic days,

“Christ had been represented as a terrible judge, Who must be placated

by the intercession of His mother and the saints; that the many works,

ceremonies, Religious Orders and vows were invented to propitiate

Christ and to obtain His grace.”[817] Out of this is forged a fresh

proof, drawn from his own experience, of the servitude of the will.

For had Christ not been regarded exclusively as a judge, but as a

“sweet mediator,” Who by His blood has redeemed all, then recourse

would not have been had to the empty works of a self-righteous

free-will. As it was, however, he had been made to feel strongly, that

this delusion of works and free-will could only lead to despair.--Yet

if, in his agony of soul, he really had sought and found peace of

conscience in the theory of the enslaved will, how can we explain

his many statements, made at almost that very time, concerning his

enduring inward anguish and doubts?[818] The Protestant theologian, O.

Scheel, the last to translate and expound the “_De servo arbitrio_,”

says of the comfort that Luther professed to have derived from the

absence of free-will and from the theory of predestination, that “in

the Reformer’s piety a tendency is discernible which militates against

the supposed whole-hearted and settled confidence of his faith in the

redemption.”[819]

Contradictions formed an integral part of Luther’s psychology. Long

pages of this work are full of them, though Luther seems quite unaware

of his inconsistencies, obscurities and confusion. Conflicting lines

of thought may be traced, similar to those which appeared in the

Commentary on Romans (vol. i., p. 256), while the author was still a

young man. They indicate a mentality singularly deficient in exactitude

and clearness. The workshop where his ideas were fashioned was

assuredly not an orderly one.

In the first place the main contention is very involved, while the

statements that the will of the man who does what is evil is moved by

God seem conflicting. The “_movet, agit, rapit_” in which the action

of God on the will usually consists, does not here assert its sway;

the Divine Omnipotence, which, as a rule, is the cause of all action,

interferes here, either not at all, or at least less strongly than

usual--God must not be made the direct author of sin. This illogical

twisting of his theory is particularly noticeable where great sins of

mighty consequence are in question. Is God to be regarded as having

caused the Fall of Adam and the treason of Judas? Luther certainly

does not answer this question in the affirmative so categorically as

Melanchthon in his “_Loci theologici_.”[820] Here he carefully avoids

speaking of an irresistible impulse of the will given by God; for the

time being we seem to lose sight altogether of God’s imperative and

exclusive action.

In the case of the betrayal of Judas, as Scheel points out, Luther

does not mention any necessity “which compelled Judas to act as he

did”; Luther seems, at least in certain passages, to look on that

act as necessary, only because, having been foreseen by God, it

“inevitably occurs at the time appointed.”[821] Yet elsewhere he

says: “His will [that of the traitor] was the work of God; God by

His Almighty Power moved his will as He does all that is in the

world.”[822]

A similar confusion is apparent in his statements concerning Adam’s

Fall. Adam was not impelled to his sin, but the Spirit of God forsook

him, and intentionally placed him in a position in which he could

not do otherwise than fall--even though his will was as yet free and

though as yet he felt no attraction towards evil as the result of

original sin. May we then say after all that God brought about the

Fall and was Himself the cause of the depravity of the whole human

race through original sin? To this question, which Luther himself

raises, the only answer he gives is: “He is God; of His willing there

is no cause or reason,” because no creature is above Him and He

Himself “is the rule of all things.”[823] Because He wills a thing, it

is good, “not because He must or ought so to will.” In the case of

the creature it is otherwise; “His will must have reason and cause,

not so, however, the will of the Creator.”[824] What seems to follow

from these Occamistic subtleties is, that Adam’s sin was after all

“brought about by God,”[825] and that Adam could not do otherwise

than sin, even though God merely placed him in a position where sin

was inevitable, but that he was nevertheless punished, and with him

all his descendants. But is it so certain that in Adam’s case Luther

excludes a real impulse, a real inner compulsion to transgress? The

fact is that certain of his statements on this question present some

difficulty. “Since God moves and does all, we must take it that He

moves and acts even in Satan and in the godless.”[826] It is true,

according to Luther, that He acts in them “as He finds them, i.e.

since they are turned away from God and are wicked, and are carried

away by the impulse of Divine Omnipotence (‘_rapiuntur motu illo

divinæ omnipotentiæ_’), they do only what is contrary to God and

evil.... He works what is evil in the wicked because the instrument,

which is unable to withdraw itself from the impelling force of His

might, is itself evil.”[827] If this means that the impulse on God’s

part must in every case have an effect conformable to the condition of

the instrument moved, then, in Adam’s case, its effect should surely

have been good, inasmuch as Adam, being without original sin, was

not inclined to evil by any passions. If then Adam fell we can only

infer that the Almighty allowed an entirely different impulse from

the ordinary one to take effect, one which led directly to the Fall.

How, in that case, could God be exonerated from being the author of

sin? Luther, unfortunately, was not in the habit of reconciling his

conflicting thoughts. According to him there is nothing unreasonable

in God’s punishing the first man so severely for no fault of his. Why?

It is mere “malice on the part of the human heart” to boggle at the

punishment of the innocent; it takes for granted the reward which,

without any merit on their part, is the portion of the saved, and yet

it dares to murmur when the matter is to its disadvantage and the

reprobate too receive a reward without any desert on their part.[828]

A reward is a reward, and the same standard should be applied freely

in both cases.

It is scarcely comprehensible how, after such wanderings out of

the right path and the exhibition of such mental confusion, Luther

could proclaim so loudly the victory of his “_servum arbitrium_.”

He describes his proof of the “unchanging, eternal and infallible

will by which God foresees, orders and carries out all things” as a

“thunderbolt” launched against the Erasmic and Popish heresy.

Even the editor of the Weimar edition of the “_De servo arbitrio_” is

unable to refrain from remarking in connection with one such passage:

“It cannot be denied that this mechanical conception of a God, Who

is constantly at work, reeks strongly of pantheism.”[829] He also

quotes the opinion of Kattenbusch: “Luther occasionally expresses his

idea [of God’s constant action] very imperfectly.” “God becomes to a

certain extent the slave of His own Power,” and all things “lose their

resistance when in His presence.” “There is no doubt that the whole

conception is strongly impregnated with pantheism.”[830] Kattenbusch

says further: “Relying on such an argument, Luther could not fail to

advocate the view that everything is determined by God, even what

has no bearing on morality or religion.” Finally he concludes: “We

were therefore right in refusing, as we did, to admit that Luther’s

proposition: ‘_Omnia necessario fiunt_’ (p. 134 in the Erl. ed.)

applied merely to the domain of morals, as Luther himself tries to

make us believe.”[831] This subsequent explanation given by Luther is

only a fresh proof of his mental confusion. Kattenbusch brings forward

other evidences of the conflicting currents in Luther’s train of

thought; for instance, in his conception of God and of destiny; into

these we have, however, no time to enter.[832]

The theoretical weakness of Luther’s attack on free-will and its

manifest bias in his own religious psychology caused the theologian O.

Scheel to exclaim regretfully: “Luther impressed a deterministic stamp

on the fundamental religious ideas which he put before the world.”

Luther’s determinism was vainly repudiated as a “reformed heresy” by

the later Protestants. It is true that Luther based his predestinarian

sayings on his “personal experience of salvation, which he felt to

have been a free gift,” but then his “religious state was not normal,”

as Kattenbusch already had “rightly pointed out.” Luther’s doctrine

of the distinction between the “_Deus absconditus_” and the “_Deus

revelatus_” Scheel ascribes to a false conception of God,[833] though

he is inclined to look with favour on Luther’s fatalism, finding

therein “nothing irreligious,” but merely Luther’s lively “trust in

God”; he even speaks of the “religious power and truth inherent in

this idea.”[834]

Under another aspect the work exhibits, better than any other, the

undeniable qualities of its writer, the elasticity of his mind, his

humour and imagination, and his startling readiness to turn every

circumstance to advantage; at the same time, undoubtedly because it was

a case of breaking a lance with Erasmus, the style is more polished

than usual and the language less abusive. The editor of the Weimar

edition speaks of the book as the “most brilliant of Luther’s Latin

polemics, nay, perhaps the most brilliant of all his controversial

works.”[835]

Luther would not have committed this great work to writing had not

his mind been full of the subject. How far calm deliberation had any

place in the matter it is as hard to determine here, as it is in so

many of his other productions, where feeling seems to hold the reins.

It is likewise difficult to understand how Luther, in practice,

managed to compromise with the ideas he expounds, more especially as

he was the leader of a movement on the banner of which was inscribed,

not the gloomy domination of fatalism, but the amelioration of

religious conditions by means of moral effort in all directions. The

contradiction between lack of freedom on the one hand, and practice

and the general belief in free-will on the other, was a rock which he

circumnavigated daily, thanks to his self-persuasion that the strands

drawn by the Divine Omnipotence around the will were of such a nature

as not to be perceptible and could therefore be ignored. We believe

ourselves to be free, and do not feel any constraint because we

surrender ourselves willingly to be guided to the right or to the left;

this, however, is merely due to the exceptional fineness of the threads

which set the machine in motion.

For an ennobling of human nature and of the Christian state such

a system was certainly not adapted. A tragic fate ordained that

the apostasy, of which the cause was ostensibly the deepening of

religious life and feeling, should bear this bitter fruit. Freedom

had been proclaimed for the examination of religious truth, and now,

the “submission of every man” is categorically demanded to doctrines

opposed to free-will and to the dignity of the Christian. Nevertheless,

both then and later, even to the present day, this curious, assertive

book, like the somewhat diffident one of Erasmus, to which it

was a reply--both of them so characteristic of the mind of their

authors--have drawn many to examine the spirit of that age and of its

two spokesmen.[836]

In the work “_De servo arbitrio_,” Luther speaks of Laurentius Valla

as one who had cherished similar views.[837] In his “Table-Talk”

he praises his opinions on free-will and the simplicity which he

cultivated both in piety and learning. “Laurentius Valla,” he says,

“is the best ‘Wal’ [Italian] I have ever come across in my life.”[838]

Opinions differ widely as to Valla’s views, which are expressed with

enigmatical obscurity in his Dialogue “_De libero arbitrio_.” At a

later date Erasmus took his part against Luther, rightly pointing out

that Valla was seeking to explain popularly how it is that the Divine

foreknowledge does not necessarily make all things happen without

freedom and of necessity.[839] Valla was a Humanist and critic, but

neither a theologian nor a philosopher. In the question at issue he

left the decision to faith, but laid great stress on the objections

raised by reason. According to a modern historian he did not deny

free-will, but merely left the problem, “which he neither could nor

would solve,” to the Omnipotence of God.[840]

_Luther’s Later Dicta on the Enslaved Will and on Predestination_

Luther always remained faithful to the position taken up in his great

work “_De servo arbitrio_,” as to both the absence of freedom and

predestination.

In the Disputations of which we have records, he frequently reverts to

his denial of free-will.

In a Disputation of December 18, 1537, for the sake of debate the

objection is advanced, that there is no purpose in making good

resolutions owing to the will not being free: “Man,” says the opposer,

“has no free-will, hence he can make no good resolutions, and sins

of necessity whether he wishes to or not.” The professor’s reply

runs: “_Nego consequentiam_. Man, it is true, cannot of himself alter

his inclination to sin; he has this inclination and sins willingly,

neither under compulsion nor unwillingly. Man’s will, not God, is the

author of sin.”[841] On another occasion, on January 29, 1536, the

objector refers to the opinions of great Churchmen of olden times,

that some freedom of the will exists. The reply is: “What such men

say is not to be accepted as gospel-truth; they often gave proof

of weakness and stood in need of additional purification by the

‘_remissio peccatorum_.’ You youngsters must not get into the habit of

deriding them, yet we esteem Holy Scripture more highly.”[842]--In the

same year we read the following in the theses of the School: “It is

godless philosophy, and censured by theology, to assert that ‘_liberum

arbitrium_’ exists in man for the forming of a just judgment and a

good intention, or that it is man’s business to choose between good

and evil, life and death, etc. He who speaks thus does not know what

man really is, and does not understand in the least what he is talking

about.”[843]

Melanchthon, however, found urgent reasons in the growing immorality

of the young men at the University and the sight of the evil results

in the religious life of the people produced by the new doctrine of

the will and good works to revise what he had said on free-will in his

“_Loci Theologici_.” In the course of time he took up an altogether

different standpoint, coming at last to acknowledge free-will

and a certain co-operation with grace (“_Synergismus_”).[844]

Luther, nevertheless, was loath to break with him on account of

this divergence in doctrine; out of esteem for so indispensable a

fellow-worker, he even recommended to his hearers the new edition of

the “_Loci_” without a word about the corrections in question.

But Luther himself never surrendered his favourite idea in spite of

his anxiety and horror at the effect his preaching produced on the

people, who seized upon his theory of human helplessness and the sole

action of grace as a pretext for moral indolence. In 1531 he was again

to be heard stating--this time in a public sermon, a very unusual

thing--that man lacks free-will. Here he connects this doctrine with

the impossibility of “keeping the Commandments without the grace of

the Spirit.” In Popery they indeed preached, as he himself had also

done at one time, “_quod homo habeat liberum arbitrium_,” to keep the

Commandments by means of his natural powers; but this was an error

which had grown up even in the time of the Apostles.[845]--As a matter

of fact, however, the Church did not teach that fallen man could, at

all times, keep all the Commandments without grace.

When, in August, 1540, someone said to him: “People are merely

getting worse through this preaching on grace,” he replied: “Still,

grace must be preached because Christ has commanded it; and though

it has been preached for a long time, yet at the hour of death the

people know nothing about it; it is to the honour of God that grace

should be preached; and, though we make the people worse, still God’s

Word cannot be set aside. But we also teach the Ten Commandments

faithfully, these must be insisted on frequently and in the right

place.”[846] The Antinomians had just then attacked the preaching of

the Decalogue on the pretext of Luther’s own doctrine regarding man’s

incapacity.

In his “Table-Talk” Luther elsewhere declares it to be his “final

opinion” that “whoever defends man’s free-will and says that it

is capable of acting and co-operating in the very least degree in

spiritual matters, has denied Christ.”[847] Absolute determinism,

or the entire absence of free-will everywhere, is here no longer

expressed. “I admit,” he says, “that you have free-will for

milking the cows, for building a house, etc., but not for anything

further.”[848] Of spiritual things, however, he says: “Man’s free-will

does not work or do anything towards his conversion ... but merely

suffers and is the material upon which the Holy Ghost works, as the

potter fashions the pot out of the clay, doing this even in those

who resist and are unruly like Paul. But after the Holy Ghost has

worked on such a rebellious will, He renders it pliable so that

it wills as He does.”[849] The example of those “whose bodies are

possessed by the devil, who rends them and drags them about, rides

and drives them,” he continues, shows how little “man’s will can

do” for his conversion.[850]--Johann Aurifaber (1566), the old

editor of the “Table-Talk,” says of Luther’s statement, referred

to above, concerning his “final opinion”: “There you see, dear

Christian brother, that it is a lie what some say and give out, more

particularly the Synergists, viz.: that the dear Man of God modified

in any way his opinion on free-will, which they term hard because

it is directly opposed to their heresy. And yet they boast of being

Luther’s disciples!”[851]