_Mr. Editor_,—Public attention has recently been attracted, with great
justice, to the Memoirs of Luther, by Professor Michelet of Paris; a
work remarkable, first, as composed almost entirely of the Reformer's
own words, and, secondly, as proceeding from a Roman Catholic. You
will not, I trust, deem it unseasonable to accept the translation of a
very rare and entertaining document, relating some scenes eminently
illustrative of this great man's private manners. Allow me to premise,
by way of refreshing the reader's memory, that after the celebrated
appearance of Luther at the Diet of Worms, he was secretly snatched
away by his friend the Elector, and kept for some months in the castle
of Wartburg. The paper which follows gives some account of his return.
It is from the pen of an honest Swiss, and is written in the
Swiss-German dialect, but is so full of racy diction and inimitable
naïveté, that it cannot fail to gratify every lover of ancient story.
I have availed myself, here and there, of an antique idiom or phrase,
as remarkably comporting with the rude original.[1]
Respectfully, &c.
JAMES W. ALEXANDER.
[Footnote 1: The document may be seen In Marheineke's History of the
German Reformation, vol. i, p. 319. Berlin, 1831.]
* * * * *
I cannot forbear to relate, though it may chance to seem trifling and
even childish, how I, John Kessler, and my comrade John Reutiner, fell
into company with Martin Luther, at the time when he was enlarged from
his captivity, and was on his way back to Wittenberg. For as we were
journeying thither, for the sake of studying the holy scriptures, we
came to Jena, in the Thuringian territory, (and God knows in a dismal
storm,) and after much inquiry in the city for an inn where we might
lodge for the night, we were utterly unable to find any. The taverns
were shut against us on every side, for it was carnival-time, at which
season there is little care for wayfaring people. So we had come to
the outskirts of the town, thinking to go on further, to find if
possible some hamlet where we might be entertained. Under the very
gate of the town, as {700} we went out, there met us a reverend man,
who greeted us kindly, and asked whither we were bound at so late an
hour. For he said there was neither house nor court-yard offering us
lodging, which we could reach before the dead of night, and that the
way was intricate; therefore he counselled us to abide where we were.
We answered, “Good sir, we have been to every hostelry which has been
shown to us, but every where we have been denied entrance; we must
needs go further.” Then he asked whether we had inquired at the Black
Bear. To which we replied, “No such inn have we seen, pray tell us
where we may find it.” He then pointed out the place, a little without
the town. And though all the innkeepers had dismissed us, yet no
sooner had we reached the Black Bear, than the host came to the door,
helped us in, and gave us the kindest welcome, taking us into the
common room. There we found a man sitting alone at a table, with a
little book lying before him, who saluted us in a friendly manner, and
invited us to come forward and seat ourselves by him at the table. Now
(under favor be it spoken) our shoes were so clogged with the filth of
the roads, that we dared not to enter with freedom, but crept in
softly, and sat upon a bench by the door. But he invited us to drink
with him, which indeed we could not refuse.
After we had accepted his friendly and courteous advances, we placed
ourselves, as he desired, at the table near him, and ordered some wine
that we might drink to his honor; having no other thought than that he
was a trooper, for he sat, after the manner of the country, in a red
cloak, with doublet and hose, a sword by his side, with his right hand
upon the pommel and his left grasping the hilt. He soon began to ask
the place of our birth, and then, answering his own question, added,
“You are Switzers. From what part of Switzerland come you?” We
answered, “From St. Gallen.” “You will find,” said he, “at Wittenberg,
whither I understand you are going, some excellent people, such as
Doctor Jerome Schurf, and his brother Doctor Augustin.” We replied,
that we had letters to them; and then proceeded to ask in turn, “Sir,
can you certainly inform us whether Martin Luther is now at
Wittenberg, or in what place he is?” “I have sure information,” said
he, “that Luther is not in Wittenberg at this time; but he is to be
there shortly. Philip Melancthon however is there; he teaches the
Greek tongue, as there are others who teach the Hebrew, both which
languages I earnestly exhort you to study; for they are necessary
preparations to the understanding of the scriptures.” We answered,
“God be praised, if our lives are spared, we shall not rest until we
see and hear that man; on his account it is that we have undertaken
this journey; for we understood that he was minded to set aside the
priesthood, with the mass, as an unauthorized service. Now, inasmuch
as we have, from our youth up, been trained and set apart, by our
parents, to become priests, we desire to hear what reason he can show
for such a design.”
After some conversation of this kind, he asked, where we had already
studied. We answered, “At Basle.” “How fares it,” said he, “at Basle?
Is Erasmus Roterodamus there at present? What is he doing?” “Sir,”
replied we, “so far as we know all things go on well. But what Erasmus
is doing there is no one can tell, for he keeps himself quiet and
aloof.” Now it struck us with great surprise that the trooper should
talk thus, and that he was able to discourse about Schurf, and Philip,
and Erasmus, and about the importance of both Greek and Hebrew.
Moreover, he would now and then let slip a Latin word, which made us
suspect that he was something different from an ordinary cavalier.
“Prithee,” said he, “what is thought of Luther in Switzerland?” “Sir,”
said I, “there, as elsewhere, there are diversities of opinion. Some
there are who cannot enough extol him, and thank God that by his means
he has revealed his truth and discovered error; but others denounce
him as an intolerable heretic; and such are chiefly the clergy.” “Ah,”
said he, “I could warrant it was the parsons.” In such talk he
continued to be very sociable, so that my comrade made free to take up
the little book which lay before him and open it. It was a Hebrew
Psalter. He then laid it down, and the trooper took it up. Hereupon we
fell into still greater doubt as to who he might be. Then said my
comrade, “I would give a finger off my hand, if I could thereby
understand this language.” The man replied, “You may attain it, if you
will only bestow labor; I also desire this attainment greatly, and am
exercising myself every day to make greater proficiency.”
By this time the day was declining and it had become quite dark, and
the host entered lo look to the table. As he saw our eager curiosity
about Martin Luther, he said, “My good fellows, had you been here two
days sooner, you might have been gratified, for he was then sitting at
this very table.” And with this he pointed out the place. We were now
chagrined and vexed at our own delay, and provoked at the bad roads
which had been our hinderance; but we said, “It rejoices as to be in
the house, and at the very table where he has lately sat.” At this the
host could not but laugh, and went immediately out. After a little
while, he called me to the outside of the door. I was alarmed, and
began to think with myself in what I had been unseemly, or of what I
could be suspected. The host then said to me, “Since I perceive in
very truth that you long to see and hear Luther—the man who sits by
you is he.” This I took in jest, and said, “Ay, sir host, you would
fain mock me, and stay my curiosity with Luther's lodging.” He
replied, “It is assuredly he; nevertheless, do nothing to show that
you recognize him.” I straightway left the host, still being
incredulous, and returning to the room seated myself at the table, and
was very desirous to let my companion know what the host had
disclosed. I therefore turned myself towards the door and at the same
time towards him, saying softly, “The host says that this is Luther.”
Like myself he could not believe it, and said, “Perhaps he said it was
_Hutten_[2] and you have misunderstood him.” Now, as the horseman's
dress suited better with Hutten, than with Luther, who was a monk, I
persuaded myself that the host had said, “It is Hutten;” for the
beginning of both names sounds alike. All that I said, therefore, was
under the supposition that I was conversing with Ulrich ab Hutten.
[Footnote 2: Ulrich von Hutten; a celebrated knight and statesman, and
a friend of Luther, who died two years after these events, in 1523.]
In the midst of these things there came in two merchants, who wished
to pass the night, and when they {701} had laid aside their habits and
spurs, one of them placed beside him a small unbound book. Martin
asked what book it was. “It is Doctor Luther's exposition of sundry
gospels and epistles, just printed and published; have you never seen
it?” At this time the host appeared and said, “Draw near to the table,
for we are about to eat.” We however spoke to him and begged that he
would bear with us so far as to give us something by ourselves. But
the host said, “Dear fellows, seat yourselves by the gentleman at the
table, I will give you good cheer.” And when Martin heard this, he
said, “Come along, I will pay the reckoning.”
During the meal Martin gave us much friendly and godly discourse, so
that both we and the tradespeople paid more attention to his words
than to all our food. Among other things he lamented with a sigh, that
while the princes and nobles were now assembled at the Diet at
Nuremberg, on account of God's word, and the impending affairs and
grievances of the German nation; yet they undertake nothing but to
spend their time in expensive jousts, cavalcades, frolics and
debauchery. “But such,” said he, “are our Christian princes!”
He further said that it was his hope that gospel truth would bring
forth fruit among our children and descendants, who are not poisoned
by popish error, but are now grounded in the pure truth of God's word,
more than among their parents, in whom error is so rooted that it
cannot be easily eradicated. Upon this the tradespeople united in
expressing their opinion, and the elder of them said, “I am a plain,
simple layman; I have no particular knowledge of this business. But
this I say, as the matter seems to me, Luther must be either an angel
from heaven or a devil out of hell. I have here ten gulden that I
would gladly give that I might confess to him; for I believe he is the
man that can and would direct my conscience.”
Meanwhile the host came to us and said privately, “Do not trouble
yourselves about the reckoning; Martin has settled for your supper.”
This gave us great joy, not for the sake of the money or the cheer,
but that we had been entertained by such a man. After supper the
merchants arose, and went into the stable to see to their horses;
while Martin was left alone with us in the room. We then thanked him
for his favor, and at the same time let him understand that we took
him for Ulrich ab Hutten. But he answered, “I am not he.” Here the
host came near, to whom Martin said, “I have to-night been made a
nobleman, for these Switzers take me to be Ulrich ab Hutten.” “And you
are no such person,” said the host, “but Martin Luther.” At which he
laughed, and said with great glee, “These take me for Hutten, and you
for Martin Luther; I shall soon be called Martinus Marcolfus.” And
after some such discourse, he took a high beer-glass, and said, after
the custom of the country, “Switzers, join me in a friendly glass to
your health.” And as I was about to take the glass, he changed it, and
ordered instead of it a flask of wine, saying, “The beer is to you an
unaccustomed beverage; drink wine.”
With that he arose, threw his knight's cloak over his shoulder, and
bid us good night, giving us his hand as he said, “When you arrive at
Wittenberg commend me to Dr. Jerome Schurf.” We said, “We will
cheerfully do so, but how shall we name you, that he may understand
your greeting?” “Only say,” said he, “that he who is on his way greets
you; he will soon understand you.” And so saying he went to bed. After
this the tradespeople returned, ordered the host to bring them
something to drink, and had much conversation concerning the unknown
guest who had been sitting by them. The host made known that he took
him to be Luther, which the merchants believing, lamented very much
that they had behaved themselves so rudely in his presence; saying
that they would on this account rise so much earlier the next morning
before he departed, in order to beg that he would not take it in ill
part, nor be offended, as they had not known his person. This they
accordingly did, finding him next morning in the stable. Martin
answered them: “You said last night at supper, that you would
willingly give ten florins that you might confess to Luther. When
therefore you confess to him you will discover whether I am he.” And
without betraying himself any further he mounted and rode on his way
towards Wittenberg. On the same day we set out on the same road, and
arrived at a village lying at the foot of a mountain; I think the
mountain is called Orlamund, and the village Nasshausen. The stream
which flows through this was swollen by the rains, and the bridge
being in part carried away so that horses could not pass, we turned
aside into the village, where we chanced to fall in with the same
merchants, who entertained us there free of cost for Luther's sake. On
the Saturday after, being one day after Luther's arrival, we called
upon Doctor Jerome Schurf, in order to present our letters. When we
were ushered into the room, whom should we see but Martin Luther, the
same as at Jena, together with Philip Melancthon, Justus Jodocus
Jonas, Nicholas Amsdorf, and Doctor Augustin Schurf, relating what had
befallen him in his absence from Wittenberg. He greeted us and said,
laughing as he pointed with his finger, “This is the Philip Melancthon
of whom I told you.” Upon which Philip turned to us, and asked us many
questions, which we answered according to our knowledge. And thus we
passed the day on our part with great joy and satisfaction.
LINES
WRITTEN AT THE GRAVE OF A FRIEND.
It is a lovely spot they chose,
This green and grassy dell!
And here in death's long, last repose,
Eudora now sleeps well:
Escaped from all her mortal pain,
She sleeps—and will not wake again.
Oh! who that knew her can forget
That highly polished mind?
Those charms that Love must cherish yet,
In that fair form enshrined?
And that warm heart that felt the flame
Of friendship—worthy of the name?
Yes, she was one of those—the few—
That decorate the earth;
A diamond of the purest dew;
Nor knew I half its worth {702}
Till death had stolen the precious gem
That would have graced a diadem.
But why am I lamenting here,
When she is now at rest;
And, happy in her heavenly sphere,
Her soul is with the blest?
No, no, I will not, will not weep:
Enjoy, sweet saint, thy sacred sleep.
* *
_Norfolk_.