nobles rose in arms and besieged Stuttgart, and Duke Ulrich was driven
from the land he had disgraced.
[Illustration: Ulrich von Hutten.]
Again Hutten visited Italy, this time by a partial reconciliation with
his father, who would overlook his failure to become a priest if he
would study law at Rome. At about this time Luther visited Rome. He
came, at first, in a spirit of reverence; but, at last, he wrote:
"_Wenn es gibt eine Hölle, Roma ist darauf gebant_." ("If there is a
hell, Rome is built on it.")
The impression on Hutten was scarcely less vivid. Little by little he
began to see in the Pope of Rome a criminal greater that Professor
Lötz, greater than Duke Ulrich, one who could devour not one cousin
only, but the whole German people and nation. "For three hundred
years," said he, "the Pope and the schoolmen have been covering the
teachings of Christ with a mass of superstitious ceremonies and wicked
books." These feelings were poured out in an appeal to the German
rulers to shake off the yoke, and no longer send their money to "Simon
of Rome."
Hutten's friends tried to quiet him. He was a man not of free thought
only, but of free speech, and knew no concealment. Milder men in those
times, as later Melancthon and Erasmus, were full of admiration of
Hutten, and valued his skill and force. But they were afraid of him,
and fearful always that the best of causes should be wrecked in his
hands.
At this time, at the age of twenty-five, Hutten is described as a
small, thin man, of homely features, with blonde hair and black beard.
His pale face wore a severe, almost wild, expression. His speech was
sharp, often terrible. Yet with those whom he loved and respected his
voice had a frank and winning charm. He had but few friends, but they
were fast ones. His personal character, so far as records go, was
singularly pure, and not often in his writings does he strike a coarse
or unclean note.
In these days, the two most learned men in Germany were Erasmus and
Reuchlin. They were leaders of the Humanists, skilled in Greek, and
even in the Hebrew tongue, and were called by Hutten "the two eyes of
Germany." A Jew named Pfefferkorn, who had become converted to
Christianity, was filled with an unholy zeal against his fellow-Jews
who had not been converted. Among other things, he asked an edict from
the Emperor that all Jewish books in Germany should be destroyed.
Reuchlin was a Hebrew scholar. He had written a Hebrew grammar, and
was learned in the Old Testament, as well as in the Talmud, and other
deposits of the ancient lore of the rabbis. The Emperor referred
Pfefferkorn's request to Reuchlin for his opinion. Reuchlin decided
that there was no valid reason for the destruction of any of the
ancient Jewish writings, and only of such modern ones as might be
decided by competent scholars to be hostile to Christianity.
This enraged Pfefferkorn and his Obscurantist associates. Pamphlets
were written denouncing Reuchlin, and these were duly answered. A
general war of words between the Humanists and Obscurantists began,
which, in time, came before the Pope and the Emperor. Reuchlin was
regarded in those days as a man of unusual calmness and dignity. Next
to Erasmus, he was the most learned scholar in Europe. He would never
condescend in his controversies to the coarse terms used by his
adversaries. We may learn something of the temper of the times by
observing that, in a single pamphlet, as quoted by Strauss, the
epithets that the dignified Reuchlin applies to Pfefferkorn are: "A
poisonous beast," "a scarecrow," "a horror," "a mad dog," "a horse," "a
mule," "a hog," "a fox," "a raging wolf," "a Syrian lion," "a
Cerberus," "a fury of hell." In this matter Reuchlin was finally
triumphant. This triumph was loudly celebrated by his friend Hutten in
another poem, in which the Obscurantists were mercilessly attacked.
We have seen with Hutten's growth a gradual increase in the importance
of those to whom he declared himself an enemy. He began as a boy with
the obscure Professor Lötz. He ended with the Pope of Rome.
At this time Reuchlin published a volume called "_Epistolae Clarorum
Virorum_" ("letters of illustrious men"). It was made up of letters
written by the various learned men of Europe to Reuchlin, in sympathy
with him in his struggle. The title of this work gave the keynote to a
series of letters called "_Epistolae Obscurorum Virorum_" ("letters of
obscure men")--that is, of Obscurantists.
These letters, written by different persons, but largely by Hutten, are
the most remarkable of all satires of that time.
They are a series of imaginary epistles, supposed to be addressed by
various Obscurantists to a poet named Ortuinus. They are written with
consummate skill, in the degenerate Latin used by the priests in those
days, and they are made to exhibit all the secret meanness, ignorance,
and perversity of their supposed writers.
The first of these epistles of the "obscure men" were eagerly read: by
their supposed associates, the Obscurantists. Here were men who felt
as they felt, and who were not afraid to speak. The mendicant friars
in England had a day of rejoicing, and a Dominican friar in Flanders
bought all the copies of the letters he could find to present to his
bishop.
But in time even the dullest began to feel the severity of the satire.
The last of these letters formed the most telling blows ever dealt at
the schoolmen by the men of learning. In one of the earlier letters we
find this question, which may serve as a type of many others:
A man ate an egg in which a chicken was just beginning to form,
ignorant of that fact, and forgetting that it was Friday. A friend
consoles him by saying that a chicken in that stage counts for no more
than worms in cheese or in cherries, and these can be eaten even in
fasting-time. But the writer is not satisfied. Worms, he had been
told by a physician, who was also a great naturalist, are reckoned as
fishes, which one can eat on fast-days. But with all this, he fears
that a young chicken may be really forbidden food, and he asks the help
of the poet Ortuinus to a righteous decision.
Another person writes to Ortuinus: "There is a new book much talked of
here, and, as you are a poet, you can do us a good service by telling
us of it. A notary told me that this book is the wellspring of poetry,
and that its author, one Homer, is the father of all poets. And he
said there is another Homer in Greek. I said, 'What is the use of the
Greek? the Latin is much better.' And I asked, 'What is contained in
the book?' And he said it treats of certain people who are called
Greeks, who carried on a war with some others called Trojans. And
these Trojans had a great city, and those Greeks besieged it and stayed
there ten years. And the Trojans came out and fought them till the
whole plain was covered with blood and quite red. And they heard the
noise in heaven, and one of them threw a stone which twelve men could
not lift, and a horse began to talk and utter prophecies. But I can't
believe that, because it seems impossible, and the book seems to me not
to be authentic. I pray you give me your opinion."
Another relates the story of his visit to Reuchlin:
"When I came into his house, Reuchlin said, 'Welcome, bachelor; seat
yourself.' And he had a pair of spectacles ('_unum Brillum_') on his
nose, and a book before him curiously written, and I saw at once that
it was neither in German nor Bohemian, nor yet in Latin. And I said to
him, 'Respected Doctor, what do they call that book?' He answered, 'It
is called the Greek Plutarch, and it treats of philosophy.' And I
said, 'Read some of it, for it must contain wonderful things.' Then I
saw a little book, newly printed, lying on the floor, and I said to
him, 'Respected Doctor, what lies there?' He answered, 'It is a
controversial book, which a friend in Cologne sent me lately. It is
written against me. The theologians in Cologne have printed it, and
they say that Johann Pfefferkorn wrote it.' And I said, 'What will you
do about it? Will you not vindicate yourself?' And he answered,
'Certainly not. I have been vindicated long ago, and can spend no time
on these follies. My eyes are too weak for me to waste their strength
on matters which are not useful.'"
We next find Hutten high in the favor of the Emperor Maximilian, by
whose order he was crowned poet-laureate of Germany. The wreath of
laurel was woven by the fair hands of Constance Peutinger, who was
called the handsomest girl in Germany, and with great ceremony she put
this wreath on his head in the presence of the Emperor at Mainz.
Now, for the first time, Hutten seems to have thought seriously of
marriage. He writes to a friend, Friedrich Fischer: "I am overcome
with a longing for rest, that I may give myself to art. For this, I
need a wife who shall take care of me. You know my ways. I cannot be
alone, not even by night. In vain they talk to me of the pleasures of
celibacy. To me it is loneliness and monotony. I was not born for
that. I must have a being who can lead me from sorrows--yes, even from
my graver studies; one with whom I can joke and play, and carry on
light and happy conversations, that the sharpness of sorrow may be
blunted and the heat of anger made mild. Give me a wife, dear
Friedrich, and you know what kind of one I want. She must be young,
pretty, well educated, serene, tender, patient. Money enough give her,
but not too much. For riches I do not seek; and as for blood and
birth, she is already noble to whom Hutten gives his hand."
A young woman--Cunigunde Glauburg--was found, and she seemed to meet
all requirements. But the mother of the bride was not pleased with the
arrangement. Hutten was a "dangerous man," she said, "a
revolutionist." "I hope," said Hutten, "that when she comes to know
me, and finds in me nothing restless, nothing mutinous, my studies full
of humor and wit, that she will look more kindly on me." To a brother
of Cunigunde he writes: "Hutten has not conquered many cities, like
some of these iron-eaters, but through many lands has wandered with the
fame of his name. He has not slain his thousands, like those, but may
be none the less loved for that. He does not stalk about on yard-long
shin-bones, nor does his gigantic figure frighten travelers; but in
strength of spirit he yields to none. He does not glow with the
splendor of beauty, but he dares flatter himself that his soul is
worthy of love. He does not talk big nor swell himself with boasting,
but simply, openly, honestly acts and speaks."
But all his wooing came to naught; another man wedded the fair
Cunigunde, and the coming storm of Romish wrath left Hutten no
opportunity to turn his attention elsewhere.
The old Pope was now dead, and one of the famous family of Medici, in
Florence, had succeeded him as Leo the Tenth. Leo was kindly disposed
toward the Humanist studies, and Hutten, as poet of the Humanists,
addressed to him directly a remarkable appeal, which made the
turning-point in his life, for it placed him openly among those who
resisted the Pope.
Recounting to the new Pope Leo all the usurpations which in his
judgment had been made, one by one, by his predecessors--all the
robberies, impositions, and abuses of the Papacy, from the time of
Constantine down--he appeals to Leo, as a wise man and a scholar, to
restore stolen power and property, to correct all abuses, to abandon
all temporal power, and become once more the simple Bishop of Rome.
"For there can never be peace between the robber and the robbed till
the stolen goods are returned."
Now, for the first time, the work of Luther came to Hutten's attention.
The disturbances at Wittenberg were in the beginning treated by all as
a mere squabble of the monks. To Leo the Tenth this discussion had no
further interest than this: "Brother Martin," being a scholar, was most
probably right. To Hutten, who cared nothing for doctrinal points, it
had no significance; the more monkish strifes the better--"the sooner
would the enemies eat each other up."
But now Hutten came to recognize in Luther the apostle of freedom of
thought, and in that struggle of the Reformation he found a nobler
cause than that of the Humanists--in Luther a greater than Reuchlin.
And Hutten never did things by halves. He entered into the warfare
heart and soul. In 1520 he published his "Roman Trinity," his gage of
battle against Rome.
He now, like Luther, began to draw his inspiration, as well as his
language, not from the classics, but from the New Testament. A new
motto he took for himself, one which was henceforth ever on his lips,
and which appears again and again in his later writings: "_Jacta est
alea_" ("the die is cast"); or, in the stronger German, in which he
more often gave it, "_Ich hab's gewagt_" ("I have dared it").
"Auf dasz ichs nit anheb umsunst
Wolauf, wir haben Gottes Gunst;
Wer wollt in solchem bleiben dheim?
Ich hab's gewagt! das ist mein Reim!"
"Der niemand grössern Schaden bringt,
Dann mir als noch die Sach gelingt
Dahin mich Gott und Wahrheit bringt,
Ich hab's gewagt."
"So breche ich hindurch, durch breche ich, oder ich falle,
Kämpfend, nach dem ich einmal geworfen das Loos!"
(So break I through the ranks else I die fighting--
Fighting, since once and forever the die I have cast!)
In this motto we have the keynote to his fiery and earnest nature.
Convinced that a cause was right, he knew no bounds of caution or
policy; he feared no prison or death. "I have dared it!"
"To all free men of Germany," he speaks. "Their tyranny will not last
forever; unless all signs deceive me, their power is soon to fail--for
already is the axe laid at the root of the tree, and that tree which
bears not good fruit will be rooted out, and the vineyard of the Lord
will be purified. That you shall not only hope, but soon see with your
eyes. Meanwhile, be of good cheer, you men of Germany. Not weak, not
untried, are your leaders in the struggle for freedom. Be not afraid,
neither weaken in the midst of the battle, for broken at last is the
strength of the enemy, for the cause is righteous, and the rage of
tyranny is already at its height. Courage, and farewell! Long live
freedom! I have dared it!" ("_Lebe die Freiheit; ich hab's gewagt_.")
Warnings and threats innumerable came to Hutten, from enemies who
feared and hated, from friends who were fearful and trembling; but he
never flinched: He had "dared it." The bull of excommunication which
came from the Pope frightened him no more than it did Luther. But at
last he was compelled to retire from the cities, and he took up his
abode in the Castle of Ebernburg, with Franz von Sickingen.
Franz von Sickingen was one of the great nobles of Germany, and he
ruled over a region in the bend of the Rhine between Worms and Bingen.
His was one of the bravest characters of that time. A knight of the
highest order, he became a disciple of Hutten and Luther, and on his
help was the greatest reliance placed by the friends of the growing
reform. His strong Castle of Ebernburg, on the hills above Bingen, was
the refuge of all who were persecuted by the authorities. The "Inn of
Righteousness" ("_Herberge von Gerechtigkeit_"), the Ebernburg was
called by Hutten.
The Humanists who had stood with Hutten in the struggle between
Reuchlin and Pfefferkorn saw with growing concern the gradual transfer
of the field of battle from questions of literature to questions of
religion. Reuchlin, growing old and weak, wrote a letter, disavowing
any sympathy with the new uprisings against the time-honored authority
of the Church. This letter came into Hutten's hands, and, with all his
reverence for his old friend and master, he could not keep silence.
"Eternal Gods!" he writes. "What do I see? Have you sunk so deep in
weakness and fear, O Reuchlin! that you cannot endure blame even for
those who have fought for you in time of danger? Through such shameful
subservience do you hope to reconcile those to whom, if you were a man,
you would never give a friendly greeting, so badly have they treated
you? Yet reconcile them; and if there is no other way, go to Rome and
kiss the feet of Leo, and then write against us. Yet you shall see
that, against your will, and against the will of all the godless
courtesans, we shall shake off the shameful yoke, and free ourselves
from slavery. I am ashamed that I have written so much for you--have
done so much for you,--since when it comes to action you have made such
a miserable exit from the ranks. From me shall you know henceforth
that whether you fight in Luther's cause or throw yourself at the feet
of the Bishop of Rome, I shall never trust you more." The poor old
man, thus harassed on all sides, found no longer any rest or comfort in
his studies. Worn-out in body, and broken in spirit, he soon died.
The great source of Luther's hold on Germany lay in his direct appeal
to the common people. For this he translated the Bible into
German--even now the noblest version of the Bible in existence. For in
translating a work of inspiration the intuition of a man like Luther,
as Bayard Taylor has said, counts for more than the combined
scholarship of a hundred men learned in the Greek and Hebrew. "The
clear insight of one prophet is better than the average judgment of
forty-seven scribes." The German language was then struggling into
existence, and scholars considered it beneath their notice. It was
fixed for all time by Luther's Bible. Luther often spent a week on a
single verse to find and fix the idiomatic German. "It is easy to plow
when the field is cleared," he said. "We must not ask the letters of
the Latin alphabet how to speak German, but the mother in the kitchen
and the plowman in the field, that they may know that the Bible is
speaking German, and speaking to them. Out of the abundance of the
heart the mouth speaketh. No German peasant would understand that. We
must make it plain to him. '_Wess das Herz voll ist, dess geht der
Mund über_.' ('Whose heart is full, his mouth runs over.')"
The same influence acted on Hutten. All his previous writings were in
Latin, and were directed to scholars only. Henceforth he wrote the
language of the Fatherland, and his appeals to the people were in
language which the people could and did read. No Reformation ever came
while only the learned and the noble were in the secret of it.
"Latein, ich vor geschrieben hab
Das war ein jeden nicht bekannt;
Jetzt schrei ich an das Vaterland,
Teutsch Nation in ihrer Sprach
Zu bringen diesen Dingen Rach."
("For Latin wrote I hitherto,
Which common people did not know.
Now cry I to the Fatherland,
The German people, in their tongue,
Redress to bring for all these wrongs.")
A song for the people he now wrote, the "New Song of Ulrich von
Hutten," a song which stands with Luther's "Em feste Burg" in the
history of the Reformation:
"Ich hab's gewagt mit Sinnen,
Und trag des noch kein Reu,
Mag ich nit dran gewinnen,
Noch muss man spüren Treu.
"Darmit ich mein
Mit eim allein,
Wenn Man es wolt erkennen
Dem Land zu gut
Wiewol man thut
Ein Pfaffenfeind mich nennen."
Part of this may be freely translated--
"With open eyes I have dared it;
And cherish no regret,
And though I fail to conquer,
The Truth is with me yet."
Hutten's dream in these days was of a league of nobles, cities, and
people, aided by the Emperor if possible, against the Emperor if
necessary, which should by force of arms forever free Germany from the
rule of the Pope. Luther had little faith in the power of force.
"What Hutten wishes," he wrote to a friend, "you see. But I do not
wish to strive for the Gospel with murder and violence. Through the
power of the Word is the world subdued; through the Word the Church
shall be preserved and freed. Even Antichrist shall be destroyed by
the power of the Word."
Now came the Great Diet at Worms, whither Luther was called before the
Emperor to answer for his heretical teachings, and before which he
stood firm and undaunted, a noble figure which has been a turning-point
in history. "Here I stand. I can do nothing else. God help me."
Hutten, on his sick-bed at Ebernburg, not far away, was full of wrath
at the trial of Luther. "Away!" he shouted, "away from the clear
fountains, ye filthy swine! Out of the sanctuary, ye accursed
peddlers! Touch no longer the altar with your desecrating hands. What
have ye to do with the alms of our fathers, which were given for the
poor and the Church, and you spend for splendor, pomp, and foolery,
while the children suffer for bread? See you not that the wind of
Freedom[2] is blowing? On two men not much depends. Know that there
are many Luthers, many Huttens here. Should either of us be destroyed,
still greater is the danger that awaits you; for then, with those
battling for freedom, the avengers of innocence will make common cause."
I have wished, in writing this little sketch, that I could have a
novelist's privilege of bringing out my hero happily at the end. I
have hitherto had the struggles of a man living before his time to
relate; the voice of one crying in the wilderness. If this were a
romance, I might tell how, with Hutten's entreaties and Luther's
exhortations, and under the wise management of Franz von Sickingen, the
people banded together against foreign foes and foreign domination, and
German unity, German freedom, and religious liberty were forever
established in the Fatherland. But, alas! the history does not run in
that way; at least not till a hundred years of war had bathed the land
in blood.
For Hutten henceforth I have only misery and failure to relate. The
union of knights and cities resulted in a ruinous campaign of Franz von
Sickingen against Trèves. Sickingen's army was driven back by the
Elector. His strong Castle of Landstühl was besieged by the Catholic
princes, and cannon was used in this siege for the first time in
history. The walls of Landstühl, twenty-five feet thick, were battered
down, and Sickingen himself was killed by the falling of a beam. The
war was over, and nothing worthy had been accomplished.
When Luther heard of the death of Sickingen, he wrote to a friend:
"Yesterday I heard and read of Franz von Sickingen's true and sad
history. God is a righteous but marvelous Judge. Sickingen's fall
seems to me a verdict of the Lord, that strengthens me in the belief
that the force of arms is to be kept far from matters of the Gospel."
Hutten was driven from the Ebernburg. He was offered a high place in
the service of the King of France; but, as a true German, he refused
it, and fled, penniless and sick, to Basle, in Switzerland.
Here the great Humanist, Erasmus, reigned supreme. Erasmus disavowed
all sympathy with his former friend and fellow-student. He called
Hutten a dangerous and turbulent man, and warned the Swiss against him.
Erasmus had noticed, with horror, in those who had studied Greek, that
the influence of Lutheranism was fatal to learning; that zeal for
philology decreased as zeal for religion increased. Already Erasmus,
like Reuchlin, was ranged on the side of the Pope. So, in letters and
pamphlets, Erasmus attacked Hutten; and the poet was not slow in giving
as good as he received. And this war between the Humanist and the
Reformer gave great joy to the Obscurantists, who feared and hated them
both.
"Humanism," says Strauss, "was broad-minded but faint-hearted, and in
none is this better seen than in Erasmus. Luther was a narrower man,
but his unvarying purpose, never looking to left nor right, was his
strength. Humanism is the broad mirror-like Rhine at Bingen. It must
grow narrower and wilder before it can break through the mountains to
the sea."