A REFORMATION ESTABLISHED UNDER THE REIGN OF LIBERTY.
(1524-1527.)
[Sidenote: Frederick, Duke Of Holstein.]
Christian I. of Denmark, the first king of the house of Oldenburg,
grandfather of Christian II., had left two sons, John and Frederick.
John succeeded him in the sovereignty of the three kingdoms. Frederick,
for whom the queen Dorothea, wife of Christian I., felt a warm
predilection, had not the genius of his nephew Christian II. He was
destitute of the intelligence which embraced at once so many objects,
the swift and accurate glance, and the indefatigable activity which
distinguished that strange monarch. Frederick had a tranquil soul, a
prudent and moderate temper, a serenity and liveliness which charmed his
mother and his connections, but which were not qualifications sufficient
for a king. Now, if he did not possess the good qualities of his nephew,
he was at the same time without his cruelty or his violence; or at least
he showed these only towards that unfortunate prince. The queen Dorothea
had a passionate longing to give a throne to her favorite son, and urged
her husband to assign to him Holstein and Schleswig. Christian yielded
to her wishes and gave the sovereignty of these duchies to her second
son, then of the age of eleven. He did this only by word of mouth,
having left no will.[245] The inhabitants of these provinces were
satisfied, preferring a sovereign of their own to dependence on the king
of the three northern realms.
It was otherwise with King John. As he was unwilling to renounce these
provinces, he resolved to get his brother to enter the Church. He
therefore sent him to study at Cologne and procured him a canonry in
that town. But Frederick was not inclined for this. The barrenness of
the scholastic theology disgusted him and the Reformation attracted him.
Instigated by the queen, his mother, he quitted Cologne, renouncing his
canonry, his office, his prebend, his breviary, and his easy life. He
preferred a crown, even with its toils and weariness, and demanded of
his brother, the king, his portion of the duchies, which, said he, ought
at least to be divided between them. The king consented. Frederick
settled in Holstein and ruled his subjects in peace. He held intercourse
with some disciples of Luther, took an interest in their evangelical
labors, and gave them permission to diffuse the doctrine of the
Reformation among the Cimbri.[246]
His brother being dead, and his nephew Christian having succeeded to the
three Scandinavian kingdoms, the peaceful Frederick found himself called
to higher destinies. His gentleness was as widely known as his nephew’s
violence. Could the Danes find a better king?
At the time of Christian’s misfortunes, the bishops of Jutland, as we
have stated, actually offered the crown to Frederick. The Council of the
Kingdom did the same and declared that if he rejected it they would
invite a foreign prince. The duke, at this time fifty-two years of age,
foresaw the anxieties and the struggles to which he was about to expose
himself. Nevertheless, the kingdoms of his father were offered to him,
and he could not bear the thought of seeing them pass to another
dynasty. He therefore accepted the crown. Some portions of the kingdom,
and particularly Copenhagen, remained in the power of the former king.
No sooner had Frederick received the crown than he tasted the bitterness
of the golden cup which had just been offered him. The priests and the
nobles required of him the maintenance and even the enlargement of the
privileges of which Christian had intended to deprive them. Frederick
had to promise ‘that he would never permit a heretic, whether a disciple
of Luther or not, to preach or teach secretly or publicly doctrines
contrary to the God of heaven or to the Roman Church,’ and to add ‘that
if any were found in his kingdom he would deprive them of life and
goods.’[247] This was hard. Frederick inclined to the evangelical
doctrines, and he knew that many of his subjects did the same. Should he
forbid them? But the crown was only to be had at this price.
Henry IV. paid dearer for Paris; he abandoned his creed and professed
himself a Roman Catholic. Frederick meant to keep his faith; it is even
possible that, full of confidence in the power of truth, he hoped to see
it, in spite of the bishops, win the victory. However this might be, he
confined himself, when writing to the Pope, to a brief announcement of
his accession, without making any promise. Clement VII., offended at
this silence, reminded him of the promise which he had made at the time
of his election, adding a grain of flattery to his exhortations. ‘I am
well acquainted,’ he said, ‘with that royal virtue of which you gave
proof by avowing your resolution to persecute with fire and sword the
heresy of Luther.’[248] This was a thoroughly papal speech.
[Sidenote: Frederick’s Liberal Leanings.]
Frederick felt the difficulty of his position; and after a thorough
investigation he came to a decision in favor of religious liberty. Must
we suppose that he repented of the engagement which he had made? Did he
believe that if a man has taken an oath to commit a crime (persecution
assuredly would have been one), it is a sin to fulfil it? We cannot
tell. Naturally circumspect and reflective, Frederick would require time
to pass from the first doubts excited in him by the Romish doctrines to
a firm belief in evangelical truth.
He could not all at once throw off convictions which were dear to him
and accept contrary opinions. Believing, however, that it was no
business of his to regulate matters of faith, he determined to hold the
balance even, and in his capacity of king to lean neither to one side
nor to the other. There were some points of resemblance between this
prince and Frederick the Wise, Elector of Saxony, who, though he did not
immediately declare for the Reformation, allowed full liberty to
Luther’s teaching. Christian’s uncle felt himself free to keep the
promises which he had made to the nobles, and he thereby won their
liking. He did not deprive the clergy of their pomp or their wealth; and
with respect to the reformers and their disciples, instead of
persecuting them with fire and sword as the Pope required him to do, he
let them alone, and did them neither good nor harm. If the Reformation
was to be established in Denmark, it would be so not by the power of the
king, but by the power of God and of the people. The state would not
interfere. Frederick as king, moreover, thus continued what he had begun
as duke.
Before Frederick was seated on the throne of Denmark, the Reformation
had begun in the duchies.[249] Husum, a town situated on the coast of
the North Sea, at a distance of six or seven leagues from Schleswig, had
seen this light arise which was afterwards to make glad so many souls in
these lands. The chapter of Husum was dependent on the cathedral church
of Schleswig, in which twenty-four vicars discharged the functions of
the idle or absent prebendaries. One of them, Herrmann Tast, awakened by
the earliest sound of the Reformation, had seized the Bible and read the
works of Luther; and about 1520 he publicly professed the truth which he
had discovered. He gained over one of his colleagues. One of the
principal men of the town, a learned man and the son of a natural
daughter of Duke Frederick, took Tast under his protection, and assigned
him a room in his own house in which he might set forth the riches which
he had discovered. The number of his hearers increased to such an extent
that, in 1522, he was obliged to hold his meetings in the open air, in
the cemetery. He used to take his stand under a lime-tree, and begin by
singing Luther’s psalm _Eine feste Burg_; and there, on that field of
the dead, he proclaimed the words of the Son of God. Many of those who
had heard them had received the new life. Tast did not long confine
himself to preaching the Gospel at Husum, but began to visit the country
districts, the towns and villages, diffusing the knowledge [Sidenote:
Edict Of Toleration.] of the Saviour in all the country round. Many of
the townsmen and the nobles believed. The old bishop of Schleswig, a
tolerant man, and acquainted with the views of Frederick, winked at the
progress of evangelical doctrine. Frederick, as soon as he became king,
promulgated an edict by which religious liberty was formally established
for the two opposing parties. Offering due homage to the sovereignty of
God in matters of the soul, he suppressed in its presence his own kingly
authority. ‘Let no one,’ said he, ‘do any injury to his neighbor in his
estate, his honor, or his body, on account either of papist or Lutheran
doctrine; but let every one act with respect to religion as his own
conscience dictates and in such a manner that he may be able to give a
good account to Almighty God.’[250]
One work there was, however, essential to the progress of the Gospel,
which the Danish clergy would not have allowed to be done. This was the
translation and printing of the Holy Scriptures in the vulgar tongue. If
Frederick had sanctioned it, he would have violated his neutrality. How
to overcome this difficulty? It was got over in a surprising way. It was
Frederick’s opponent, his terrible and unfortunate nephew, formerly the
ally of the Pope, who accomplished this work, or at least who caused it
to be done by those about him. Michelsen, the burgomaster of Malmoe, had
followed the king in his disgrace, leaving behind him his wife, his
daughter, and his property. The latter was confiscated. Christian II.,
who, since he heard Luther, was full of zeal for evangelical doctrine,
and perhaps also saw that it was the most powerful weapon for the
humiliation of his enemy, the Roman hierarchy, urged the ex-burgomaster,
who had become his private secretary, to complete and to publish the
Danish translation of the New Testament which was already began. The
translators had made use of the Vulgate and of the translations of
Erasmus and Luther. Luther’s, especially, had been followed by Michelsen
in the translation of the apostolical epistles, with which he was
entrusted. This Danish translation was printed at Leipzig in small
quarto, in 1524, under the sanction and with the assistance of
Christian; and it was sent into Denmark from one of the ports of the
Netherlands, probably from Antwerp, whence likewise Tyndale’s English
translation had gone forth. There were three prefaces; two of them were
translated from Luther, and the third was written by Michelsen.
In this preface the ex-burgomaster did not spare the priests. The famous
placards published in France, in 1534, were not more severe. Michelsen
believed that in order to make known the Gospel of Christ it was
necessary to destroy the power of the clergy. ‘These blasphemers,’ he
said, ‘by publishing their anti-christian bulls and their ecclesiastical
laws, have obscured the Holy Scriptures, and blinded the simple flock of
Christ. With lying lips and hearts callous to the miseries of others,
they have so preached to the people their useless verbiage that we have
been unable to learn any thing except what their pretended sanctity
deigned to tell us. But now God, in his unsearchable grace, has taken
pity on our wretchedness, and has begun to reveal to his people his holy
word, so that, as he had foretold by one of his prophets, their errors,
their perfidy, and their tyranny shall be known to all the world.’[251]
At the same time Michelsen exhorted the Danes to make use of their
rights and liberty in drawing at the very fountain-head of the truth.
It was a strange thing to see the two rival kings both favoring the
Reformation, the bad man by his activity, the good by his neutrality.
The Danish clergy perceived the blow which was struck at them, and they
endeavored to evade and to return it. They could no longer resort to
force, for the liberal principles of Frederick were opposed to it. A man
was therefore sought who could maintain the contest by speech and by
writing. Such a man they thought they had found in Paul Eliæ. No one in
Denmark was better acquainted with the Reformation than he was; he had
for some time gone with it, and afterwards had abandoned it and been
rewarded by the favor of the bishops. He was summoned from Jutland,
where he then was, to Zealand; and he began at once to act and to preach
against the Wittenberg doctrine. But people remembered his antecedents
and they had no confidence in him. Instead, therefore, of attacking the
friends of the Holy Scriptures, he was obliged to defend himself.[252]
[Sidenote: The King’s Son In Germany.]
If it was a happy circumstance for the Reformation that the king
remained neutral between the two religious parties, it was still much to
be wished that he should attain to more decision in his faith and in his
personal profession of the Gospel. A domestic event occurred to set him
free from all fear and all embarrassment. His eldest son, named
Christian like the last king, was a young man full of ardor,
intelligence, activity and energy. Two or three years before, his father
wishing him to see Germany, to reside at a foreign court, and to become
better acquainted with the men and the movements of Europe, sent him (in
1520) to his uncle the elector of Brandenburg, appointing for his
governor John Rantzau, a man distinguished for his knowledge and his
extensive travels. Unfortunately the elector was one of the most violent
adversaries of Luther. It might well be feared that the young prince
would catch the air, the temper, and the tone of this court, filled as
it was with prejudice against the Reformation. The very reverse
happened. The severity of the elector and the blind hatred which the
prince and his courtiers bore to the Reformation galled the young duke.
In the following year his uncle took him with him to Worms, fancying
that the condemnation of the heretic by the emperor and the diet would
make a powerful impression on the young man. But when Luther spoke and
courageously declared that he was ready to die rather than renounce his
faith, Christian’s heart beat high and his enthusiastic soul was won to
the cause which had such noble champions. This cause became still dearer
to him when his uncle the elector joined with the bishops in demanding
the violation of the safe-conduct given to Luther. His astonishment and
indignation were at their height. Rantzau himself, who had seen the
court of Rome, and who in the course of his travels had continual
opportunities of making himself intimately acquainted with the
corruption of the Church, was completely won over to the cause which was
vanquished at Worms. In this town Christian formed an acquaintance with
a young man, Peter Svave, who was studying at Wittenberg, and who by his
own desire had accompanied Luther to the Diet, and was full of love for
the Gospel. Christian obtained leave from his father to attach him to
his person, and gave him his entire confidence. As soon as he returned
to Holstein Christian declared himself openly for the Reformation. The
warmth of his convictions, the eloquence of his faith, his decision of
character, and the simplicity and affability of his manners, which won
him all hearts, exerted a wholesome influence on the king. At the same
time, the prudence, experience, and varied knowledge of Rantzau gave the
monarch confidence in the work of which his son’s governor showed
himself a zealous partisan.[253]
[Sidenote: The King’s Declaration Of Faith.]
Copenhagen was still in the hands of Christian II.; and Henry Gjoë was
in command there, awaiting the succor necessary to enable him to hold
his ground. Frederick sent his son to Zealand to press the surrender of
the place; and he himself went to Nyborg, in the island of Fionia. Gjoë,
finding that further resistance was useless, offered to capitulate. It
was agreed that Copenhagen should be given up to King Frederick on the
6th February (1524), and that the garrison should withdraw to any place
which it might choose. The young duke Christian signed these articles in
the name of the king his father, and had the good news immediately
communicated to him. Ten days after the surrender of the capital, on the
16th February, the king made his entry, to the great joy of the
inhabitants, who were wearied with an eight months’ siege. Frederick,
without making any attack on the dominant Church, at once avowed frankly
and fearlessly the evangelical faith. One man of high standing, the
councillor of the kingdom, Magnus Gjoë, had embraced the Reformation,
and even had a minister in his own house. The king went to the modest
meeting which was held there and received the Lord’s Supper in both
kinds. He dispensed with all the trivial practices imposed by Rome; and
the nobles of Holstein who formed part of his suite and many Danish
lords followed his example. The clergy day by day lost the respect which
they had enjoyed; and a large number of persons deserted the
confessional, sought pardon of God alone, and ceased from their evil
ways.[254]
The Danes had been as much offended as the Germans by the quackery of
indulgences. They had opened their eyes and condemned this traffic and
the religion which carried it on; but they had remained silent. This
silence, however, was not that of indifference. There was perhaps in
these northern nations more slowness than in those of the south; but
they made up for this defect by greater reflectiveness, deeper
convictions and stronger characters. Indignant that the court of Rome
should look on them as a crowd of people born blind, doomed by their
very nature to perpetual darkness, they were ere long to awake and
proclaim their liberation.
It was Tausen who gave the signal for this awakening. He was all this
time in the monastery of Antwerskow. His piety and his virtues diffused
light there in the midst of the darkness of the age; but most of the
monks, carried away by their vices and their hatred of the Gospel,
endeavored to extinguish it. In vain he sought to lead them to the truth
by kindly speech and by patient setting forth of the Gospel. He tried to
catch them separately, to open to them the errors of the Romish religion
and to show them how far they were removed from the way of
salvation.[255] These representations were very unwelcome to the monks.
Tausen resolved to avail himself of the approaching festival of Easter
solemnly to call his hearers to the faith, even at the risk of an
explosion. He obtained leave of the prince to preach on Good Friday,
March 25, 1524. The young Johannite entered the pulpit determined to
utter on this occasion all his thought without any reserve prompted by
worldly prudence. He pointed out to his hearers that man is powerless;
that his good works and pretended satisfactions are poverty itself.[256]
He set forth the merits of Christ and all the greatness of this mystery;
he urged them to condemn the depraved and profane life which they had
hitherto lived, and to come to Christ who would cover them with his
righteousness. The blow was struck.
This preaching gave rise to great excitement, and the audience were
scandalized by a doctrine which appeared to them entirely new. All the
monks, his superiors, blinded by papal superstition, thought only of how
to get rid of such a heretic.[257] The prior had hardly patience to wait
for the end. He was indignant that a young man to whom he had shown so
much kindness had the audacity publicly to profess the doctrines of the
reformer; and he saw with alarm his convent falling under suspicion of
Lutheranism. He determined therefore to get rid of such a dangerous
guest. He summoned Tausen into his presence, and after censuring him for
his fault told him that he was very desirous of not inflicting on him a
penalty too severe, and would therefore confine himself to sending him
to the second house of the order, at Viborg, which he could enter under
the _surveillance_ of the provost Peter Jansen, until he had retrieved
his errors. Tausen set out for his place of exile.
[Sidenote: Tausen At Viborg.]
Viborg, a very old town, is situated in the north of Jutland. The
climate of the district is more inclement, the winds colder and more
violent, the people more coarse and ignorant. The fiords with which the
son of the peasant of Kiertminde had been familiar were there of larger
extent, sometimes separated from the sea merely by a low line of sand,
which in a storm seemed as if it must be swept away by the rush of the
waters. But the young man had to encounter something ruder than the
severe climate. According to the rules he was to be confined as a
heretic in a prison the gates of which would never be opened. The prior
of the monastery, however, when his prisoner arrived, was touched at
seeing, instead of the terrible heretic that he looked for, a young man,
gentle, intelligent, and amiable. His heart was won and he allowed him a
good deal of liberty, particularly that of associating with the other
monks. Could Tausen be silent? He knew well that if he spoke he would
bring on himself fresh persecution. But how could he give up the hope of
doing good to those about him? He remembered what Luther used to say;
‘When the apples are ripe they must be gathered; if we delay they spoil.
The great point is to seize the opportunity.’ _In tempore veni quod est
omnium primum._ It seemed to Tausen as if he were still reading those
words which the good Wittenberg doctor had written in chalk over his
fireplace—‘Who lets slip an hour lets slip a day.’[258]
Tausen therefore resolved not to lose a moment, and he resumed in the
cloisters of Viborg the work which he had been doing in the cloisters of
Antwerskow. He openly avowed there the doctrine of free salvation, of
justification by grace. The astonished friars at first vigorously
opposed the new-comer. Frequent discussions took place; and that
monastery of the North, in which for so long a time a dead calm had
prevailed, was agitated with great waves white with foam, like the sea
on whose shores it stands. The prior at first shut his eyes. He hoped
that Tausen would be brought back by himself and his monks to the
doctrine of the church; but he was mistaken. Many of the monks were
unsettled, and agitation was beginning in the town. One of the friars,
whose name was Tœger, had his heart touched by the doctrine of Christ;
and opening his mind privately to Tausen begged him to instruct him in
the whole truth. The two friends, taking great precautions and carefully
concealing themselves from their superiors, spent together many blessed
hours in meditation on the Scriptures of God. But no long time elapsed
before persecution broke out.[259]
[Sidenote: Reform At Copenhagen.]
Nor was it only in these remote and solitary regions that it was in
preparation. The higher clergy began to discover that the neutrality of
Frederick was as dangerous as the violence of Christian. The new king
was to be crowned in his capital in the mouth of August, 1524, and the
council of the kingdom was to assemble beforehand. This was the moment
chosen by the prelates for settling that Denmark should remain faithful
to the pope. Not one of the ecclesiastical members was missing at the
convocation. Not only all the bishops, but many other dignitaries
besides, mitred abbots, provosts and others, arrived at Copenhagen. The
bishop of this town, Lago Urne, who was grieved to see around him the
altars of Rome more and more forsaken, and masses for the dead and the
money which the priests got by them daily falling off, pointed out to
his colleagues that the opinions of Luther were fast gaining ground,
that not only did the revenue of churchmen suffer thereby, but that
their respect and authority even among the common people were
undermined, and that these novel doctrines would ere long spread from
the capital all over the kingdom. Thirty-six lords, members of the
Council, were present on the occasion. They assembled on the 28th June,
the eve of the festival of the Apostles Peter and Paul. ‘The bishops,’
said the terrified partisans of the papacy, ‘must oppose the Lutheran
heresy with greater earnestness than they have done; whosoever teaches
it must be punished by imprisonment or other inflictions (they had even
proposed death); the dangerous writings which come in every day from
Antwerp and other places must be proscribed: and there must be no kind
of innovation until the council convoked by the pope decide on the
matter.’ These resolutions were adopted by the members of the council,
both lay and ecclesiastical; and the consequence was that the prohibited
books were sought after and read with more eagerness than before.
What will the king do? Will he oppose or confirm these resolutions? He
left the council free. But on the day fixed for his coronation, he
arrived at Copenhagen accompanied by an evangelical minister who was
appointed to discharge in his household the duties of chaplain. The
spectacle of this humble pastor making his appearance in the midst of
the royal pomp shocked the worldlings and sorely offended the bishops.
When they saw the prince thus publicly reserving to himself, simply but
decidedly, the free practice of evangelical religion, they were afraid
that it would be no easy matter to deprive the people of the same
freedom. They did not dare however to resist the king. The archbishop
elect of Lund not having yet received consecration, Gustavus Troll,
archbishop of Upsala, presided at the ceremony of consecration. The
proceedings having been gone through without any disturbance, the
bishops, discontented and restless, returned to their dioceses, resolved
to do all they could to check what they called the progress of the
mischief; and persecution on the part of the clergy was set down in the
order of the day throughout the kingdom.[260]
[Sidenote: Tausen In Prison.]
It was impossible that Tausen should escape. The bishop of Viborg,
George Friis, was determined to extirpate the Reformation. The young
reformer was apprehended, tried, and sentenced to imprisonment. He was
confined in the underground part of a tower in the town, a doleful abode
to which a little air and daylight found access only through an opening
contrived in the lower part of the building. Of this air-hole, which
sustained the life of the poor prisoner, he was to avail himself to give
life to others, and thus alleviate the misery of his captivity. Those
persons, at least, who were beginning to love the Gospel, filled with
compassion for his misfortune, furtively approached the aperture, which
seems to have looked on an isolated piece of waste ground. They called
to him in low tones; he answered these friendly voices, and the
conversations of the cloisters began again at the foot of the isolated
tower. Some of the burgesses of the town, who had taken a liking to the
Gospel, having heard of these secluded conferences, crept likewise
noiselessly and secretly to the foot of the tower. The pious Johannite
approached the aperture and joyfully proclaimed the Gospel to this
modest audience. A prisoner, in distress, deprived of every thing,
liable to the penalty imposed by the royal capitulation on all the
disciples of Luther, Tausen declared from the depths of his dungeon that
it was nevertheless true that a living faith in the Saviour alone
justifies the sinner. His hearers increased in number from day to day;
and this dungeon, in which it was intended to bury Tausen’s discourse as
in a tomb, was transformed into a pulpit, a strange pulpit indeed, but
one which became more precious to him than that of Antwerskow, from
which he was banished. He was no longer alone in propagating the divine
word. Tœger and the Minorite Erasmus, to whom the young man had made it
known, were zealously diffusing it. They went about from house to house,
and repeated to the families to which they had access, the instructions
which the humble prisoner imparted to them through the vent-hole.[261]
The magistrates shut their eyes to what was going on; and many nobles
who were on terms of friendship with the evangelical lords of Schleswig
declared for the Reformation. They encouraged one another by saying that
the king would not allow the reformers to be put down. The prince was
about, ere long, to go further still.
When Frederick went in the autumn into Jutland he heard of the
imprisonment and the preaching of Tausen. He had made up his mind not to
put the Roman Catholics in prison, but at the same time he did not
intend that the Catholics should imprison the reformed Christians. He
therefore addressed a rescript on the subject to the council and to the
townsmen of Viborg; in consequence of which the bolts were drawn and the
gates opened to the pious reformer. Frederick went further. After
drawing the poor prisoner from the tower, from his low abode he lifted
him up beside the throne and named him his chaplain. _God raiseth up the
poor from the dunghill and maketh him to sit among princes._ Desirous
still further of marking the decision of his faith, he conferred the
same honor on Tast of Husum. Frederick did not however intend, for the
present at least, to deprive Viborg of the lights which shone there.
Tausen, Tœger, and Erasmus had preached there the kingdom of God. It was
the king’s intention that the Gospel, which was here and there springing
forth as from living fountains in Jutland, should have in this town a
fortress. He, therefore, allowed its inhabitants to retain Tausen as
their pastor; but he set him free from all monastic subordination.[262]
Although the reformer continued for a year or two longer to wear the
dress and to reside in the house of the Johannites, he enjoyed full
liberty; and of this he availed himself to diffuse everywhere the
doctrine which the heads of his order hated. Others came to his aid.
[Sidenote: Sadolin.] A young man of Viborg, named Sadolin, sometimes
called after his native place Viburgius, had studied, in 1522, under
Luther; and after his return to his own country he had professed the
principles of sound doctrine. The bishop having immediately checked his
endeavors, Sadolin had appealed to the king, and had asked permission to
establish in the town an evangelical school. The prince, perceiving that
such an institution would furnish a solid basis for the religious
movement, readily consented and founded at Viborg a great free school,
in which Sadolin was the first professor. The youth and the adults of
the town and of other parts of the country were there instructed in the
principles of the Gospel. In Jutland, which thus received the light at
the same time from Viborg on the one hand and from Schleswig on the
other (Schleswig had embraced the Reformation as early as 1526), the
number of those who desired no other Saviour than Jesus Christ was daily
increasing.[263]
[Sidenote: Progress Of Reform At Malmoe.]
While the Reformation had thus one basis of action at Viborg in Jutland,
it found a second in quite a different quarter, at Malmoe, opposite to
Copenhagen, on the other shore of the Sound. At Viborg the reformation
was of a more inward and more spiritual character; at Malmoe it was more
polemical. The ex-burgomaster, Michelsen, who published at this time in
Saxony the Danish New Testament, had already labored in this town to
dispel the abuses of the Roman hierarchy. A priest endowed with a
handsome person, a powerful voice, great eloquence and decision of
character, and whom his enemies accused of a certain overbearing spirit,
was boldly preaching there the doctrines of the Reformation. His
audience steadily increased in numbers, and included some influential
men; among others Jacob Nielsen and George Kok, the latter of whom had
succeeded Michelsen, as burgomaster. Alarmed at the progress which the
Reformation was making, its adversaries denounced the heretical
preacher, who was usually called by his Christian name, Claus.[264] The
burgomaster remained firm. In front of the town was a piece of pasture
ground which belonged to the magistrate. ‘You will preach there,’ said
he to the eloquent Tondebinder; ‘but be cautious; preach evangelical
truth, but do not baptize it with the name of Luther.’ It was now the
month of June. It soon became known all over the town that there would
be preaching in the open air. Sincere Christians impelled by the desire
to hear the Gospel, adversaries of the priests by reason of the very
prohibition by the archbishop, and neutrals attracted by the novelty of
the circumstances, flocked in a crowd to the place. They remained
standing, pressed close together and piled up in a heap, for they did
not dare to pass beyond the _free_ soil. One step beyond, and the rash
intruder might be delivered into the hands of the archbishop and his
court. The townsmen demanded a church; and they gave them, not
undesignedly, the chapel of the Holy Cross, which was the smallest in
Malmoe. It was instantly crowded, and many people who had to remain at
the door began complaining again. The king then interposed and assigned
to the eloquent preacher the church of St. Simon and St. Jude. But even
this was not large enough. The audience wished for the largest church,
that of St. Peter; and the rector granted this for Sunday
afternoons.[265]
Instead of one orator, there were now two. Spandemayer, a priest of the
order of the Holy Ghost, a learned man, encouraged by the favorable
reception of the Gospel, began to lift up his voice; and these two men,
strengthening one another, said boldly—‘The true Christian doctrine has
not been preached since the days of the Apostles. All those whom the
church has decried as heretics were true Christians. All the popes of
Rome have been antichrists; and those who trust in their own works are
hypocrites, who thereby close to themselves the way of salvation.’ The
two ministers rejected fasts, distinction of meats, monastic vows, and
the mass. The churches were cleared of the vain ornaments which had till
this time been exhibited in them; a plain table took the place of the
high altar; and the Lord’s Supper was observed there in a simple manner.
All the inhabitants of this important town soon professed the
evangelical faith.
The monks, however, had still their own churches, from which, as from
fortresses, they stoutly contended against Reform. The Franciscans
especially were unwearied in the contest. Claus determined to attack
them in their own entrenchments. He went one day into their church at
the time of vespers; entered the pulpit, and there proclaimed the truth,
and fought against monachism. Is not this system the sink in which the
most crying abuses come together? Are not the compulsory vows, idleness,
sensuality and, above all, scandalous licentiousness, the impure waters
which run into this reservoir? A Franciscan who heard him entered the
pulpit immediately afterwards and endeavored to refute him. Hardly had
he concluded when Claus began again. This singular contest lasted
through the rest of the day, nor was the mouth of either of the
champions closed by the blows which they struck at each other.[266]
The two ministers preached, with ever-increasing earnestness, that it is
neither masses, nor vows, nor fast-days, nor the administration of the
Romish sacrament, nor meritorious works, that save the sinner; but faith
alone in the Saviour who takes away our sins and changes our hearts. The
archbishop of Lund, Aage Sparre, being much incensed, summoned the two
preachers before him to give account of their proceedings. He awaited
them day after day, but in vain. At length, his patience was exhausted,
and he betook himself to Malmoe, determined to reduce to silence these
insolent priests who did not submit to his orders. ‘These heretics,’ he
said to the magistrates, ‘allege that man is saved by faith alone; that
there is a universal priesthood which belongs to all Christians, women
included. They celebrate the mass in both kinds, and cannot fail to draw
down on themselves the vengeance of the Almighty.’[267]
The complaints and the menaces of the archbishop were ineffectual. The
two ministers, on the other hand, received further assistance. A
Carmelite monk, named Francis Wormorsen, a native of Amsterdam, inflamed
with love for the truth, joined them, and became afterwards the first
evangelical bishop of Lund.[268]
The evangelicals took a further step. They adopted, both at the Lord’s
Supper and in the general service, Danish hymns instead of the Latin,
which the people could not understand. For this purpose they translated
some German hymns, especially those of Luther; and in 1528 they
published the first evangelical hymns in Danish.[269] Editions rapidly
succeeded each other. Every one wished to sing the hymns, not only at
church but in their homes. In a short time the whole town was gathered
around the Word of God. Some of the monks who behaved ill were expelled
by the townsmen. Convents given by the king were transformed into
hospitals. The people now heard nothing in the churches but the
preaching of Jesus Christ. A school of theology was founded in 1529; and
the priests, indignant, exclaimed—‘Malmoe is become a den of thieves, a
refuge for apostates and desperadoes.’[270] On the contrary, it was _a
city set on a hill whose light could not be hid_.
It was not only at Malmoe and at Viborg that the Reformation was making
progress. Everywhere the pillars of the papacy were giving way, and the
temple was threatening to fall to the ground. The Word of God and the
writings of Luther and other reformers were sought after and read. Many
Christians who had hitherto contented themselves with paying the priests
for taking care of their souls, began to be concerned about them
themselves. They perceived that what is essential in Christianity is not
the pope, nor the bishops, nor the priests, as they had hitherto been
accustomed to believe; but the Father who is in heaven, the Son who died
and rose again to save his people, and the Holy Spirit who changes the
heart and leads into all truth. When the begging friars presented
themselves at the people’s houses, with their wallets on their backs,
they heard in educated families, instead of the idle tittle-tattle of
other days, discussions carried on which greatly perplexed them. From
the common people too they got, instead of eggs and butter, only rude
attacks. When they attempted to meddle as formerly in family affairs,
people shut their doors against them; and when agents of the wealthy
bishops of Jutland made their appearance for the purpose of receiving
their tithes, the peasants turned their backs on them. From all these
matters the king held himself aloof and did not interfere. In some
cases, it is true, he confirmed the privileges of the clergy; but the
people had taken the business in hand, and it was the people and not the
king who reformed Denmark.[271]
[Sidenote: Invitation To Eck And Cochlaeus.]
The bishops were growing alarmed; they saw Roman Catholicism ready to
perish, and there was not a man, either of their own number or among the
priests, who was competent to defend it. Addressing themselves,
therefore, to one of their devoted adherents named Henry Gerkens, they
said to him—‘Go into Germany to Doctor Eck or to Cochlaeus, those
illustrious champions of the papacy, and by the most urgent entreaties
and the most liberal promises induce them to come, one or other of them,
or if possible both, to Denmark, for two or three years, in order to
confute, to perplex, and to plague the heretical teachers by sermons,
disputations, and writings. We do not know where these valiant
combatants are to be found; but go to Cologne, and there you will learn.
To facilitate the accomplishment of your mission, here is a letter of
recommendation addressed to every ecclesiastic and every lay member of
the Roman church; together with special letters to each of those great
doctors.’[272]
Gerkins set out in May, 1527, and began his search for the two men who
were to save Roman Catholicism in Denmark. Eck was first found. There
was something tempting in the occasion to a man so vain as he was; for
the letter written to him contained flattery of the most exaggerated
kind. The salvation of the Scandinavian church, said the bishops,
depended solely on him; but the famous doctor thought that he was too
much wanted in Germany to be able to leave it. The Danish delegate next
went to Cochlaeus. He felt flattered by the part which was offered him;
but he thought it prudent to consult Erasmus. The latter replied that
Denmark was a very long way off; that the nation, as he had been
informed, was very barbarous; and that all he could say was that this
was a matter which concerned not men, but Jesus Christ.[273] Cochlaeus,
like Eck, refused to go.
In the absence of theological debates, there were disputes of another
kind. The evangelicals, who had become more and more numerous in the
towns, used to meet together for their worship; but the bishops opposed
them, and collisions more or less frequent were the consequence. It was
to be feared that the agitation would extend. Without being _barbarous_
(as Erasmus called them) the Danes had that energetic nature, sometimes
terrible, of which Christian II. was the type. A prudent government was
bound to attempt the prevention of violent conflicts; and for this
purpose to establish some _modus vivendi_. This is what the king
undertook to do; and with this end in view he convoked a diet at
Odensee, for the 1st of August, 1527. The clergy heard the news with
delight, and resolved to take advantage of the occasion to extirpate the
Reformation. They had some ground for hoping to succeed. The nobles were
to take the side of the bishops; and these two classes united were to
win the victory. Two courses were open: to secure religious liberty to
all the Danes, or to suppress one of the two parties. The evangelicals
desired the former, the bishops [Sidenote: The King’s Speech To The
Bishops.] aimed at the latter. Frederick I. did not hesitate; he opened
the assembly with a Latin speech full of frankness, and especially
addressed to the clergy. ‘You, bishops,’ said he, ‘who have been raised
to a dignity so high, to the end that you may feed the Church of Christ
by distributing to it the wholesome word of God, I exhort you to see to
it with all your energy that this be done, in order that the pure and
incorruptible voice of the Gospel may resound in your dioceses, and may
nourish souls and keep them from evil. You know what a multitude of
papal superstitions have been abolished in Germany by the intervention
of Luther; you know that in other countries also the tricks and
impositions of the priests have been exposed before the people, and that
even among ourselves a general outcry has arisen. Complaint is made that
the servants of the Church, instead of drawing the pure word of the Lord
at the clear fountains of Israel, go away to the turbid and stagnant
ponds of human tradition and pretended miracles, to ditches so foul that
the people are beginning to turn aside from their pestilential
exhalations. I have, I know, given you my promise on oath to maintain
the Roman Catholic religion in this kingdom; but do not suppose that I
mean to shield under my authority the worthless fables which have crept
into it; neither I, as king of Denmark and of Norway, nor yourselves are
bound to maintain decrees of the Roman Church which are not based on the
immovable rock of the word of God. I have pledged myself to preserve
your episcopal dignity so long as you devote all your energies to the
fulfilment of your duties. And, seeing that the Christian doctrine as
set forth in conformity with the Reformation of Luther has struck its
roots so deep in this realm that it would be impossible to extirpate it
without bloodshed, my royal will is that the two religions, the Lutheran
and the papal, should enjoy equal liberty until the meeting of the
general council which is announced.’[274] This northern monarch thus
realized the saying of Tertullian—_Certe non est religionis cogere
religionem_.[275] Unhappily the Reformation was not always faithful to
its own principles.
When they heard these words, the bishops were in consternation. They
were too well acquainted with the people not to be certain that under
the _régime_ of liberty the Reformation would gain the ascendency. It
was all over with them and their episcopate. They believed that the only
hope for the clergy lay in a close union with the nobility. They said to
the lords, ‘Pray defend the Church;’ and they began to labor with might
and main[276] to prevent the will of the king from being carried into
execution. They depicted in the most glaring colors the dangers to which
the Reformation exposed the state. They complained of the ill-treatment
to which some of the begging friars had been subjected; and they made a
deep impression on the minds of many lords and dignitaries of the state.
To liberty they immediately set themselves to oppose persecution. The
royal council demanded that the letters which authorized the new
doctrines should be revoked, that the preachers should be expelled the
kingdom, that the monks should be restored to their convents, and that
the bishops should establish in their dioceses learned clerks competent
to confute the reformers. ‘I am not able to compel consciences,’ said
the king, ‘but if any one ill treats the monks he shall be
punished.’[277]
The people were excited, for they were for reform. Even among the nobles
and the influential rich men there was a party, at the head of which was
Magnus Gjoë, which was determined to maintain evangelical liberty. These
enlightened men made their voice heard. The king, finding that his
throne was strengthened, and that public opinion became more and more
decided in favor of the Reformation, took one more step. Strengthened by
the support of Gjoë, his friends, and the people, he caused a
constitution to be drawn up respecting matters of religion, and this was
presented to the diet at Odensee in 1527. It alarmed the bishops and
astonished the nobles.
[Sidenote: Royal Ordinances.]
This assembly, which included the most zealous partisans of the papacy,
being constituted, the delegate of the king read aloud the following
articles:
1st. Every one shall be free to attach himself to either religion; no
inquiry shall be made concerning conscience.
2d. The king will protect equally the papists and the Lutherans, and
will give to the latter the security which they have not hitherto
enjoyed.
3d. Marriage, which has been for centuries prohibited to canons, monks,
and other ministers of the church, is henceforth permitted to them.
4th. Bishops instead of going to Rome for the _pallium_, shall be bound
to ask for confirmation by the king.[278]
A great religious revolution was hereby brought about in the kingdom. By
the abolition of celibacy the hierarchy was destroyed; by the abolition
of the _pallium_ relations with the papacy were suppressed; and the
first two articles allowed the evangelical church to be built up on the
ruins of Rome.
The first impulse of the clergy was to reject the whole of the articles;
but the dread in which the bishops stood of Christian, the fear lest
some foreign power should reinstate him on the throne, made them
tremble. If the king did place himself on the side of the Gospel, he was
at least moderate, while Christian was violent and cruel. The prelates
held their peace. In accepting the liberty which was left them, they had
indeed somewhat of the air of men who were being put in chains; but far
from crying out very loudly, they showed some eagerness to submit. They
had, it is true, one consolation; their tithes, their property were
secured to them, _so long as they should not be called in question by
lawful trial_. Nevertheless, beneath this apparent submission lay hidden
an immovable resolution. All the prelates were determined to defend
energetically the doctrine and the constitution of the papacy, and to
seize the first favorable opportunity to fall on the Reformation and to
drive it out of Denmark.[279]
Footnote 245:
Schlegel, _Geschichte des Oldenburgischen Stammes_, i. p. 53.
Footnote 246:
‘Ut doctrina evangelica per Lutheri quosdam discipulos Cimbrorum
animis instillaretur indulserat.’—Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 353.
Footnote 247:
Munter, _Kirchengeschichte von Dänemark und Norwegen_, iii. pp. 101,
145.
Footnote 248:
‘Propriæ virtutis vestræ memores qua Lutheranam hæresin ferro et
gladio persequendam semper duxistis.’—Raynaldi, _Ann._ 1525, No. 29.
Munter, _Kirchengeschichte_, iii. p. 115.
Footnote 249:
Munter, _Kirchengeschichte_, iii. p. 592.
Footnote 250:
Munter, _Kirchengeschichte_, iii. p. 565.
Footnote 251:
Michelsen’s Preface. See Henderson’s ‘Dissertation on Mikkelsen’s
Translation.’ Dänische Bibliothek, i. p. 120. Munter,
_Kirchengeschichte_, iii. pp. 128-144. Gerdesius, _Annales
Reformationis_, iii. pp. 356-362.
Footnote 252:
Olivarii _Vita Pauli Eliæ_, p. 169. Munter, iii. p. 142.
Footnote 253:
Munter, iii. pp. 560, 585, 599.
Footnote 254:
A: M. Mallet, _Histoire de Danemark_, iv. p. 27. Munter,
_Kirchengeschicte_, iii., p. 169. Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 360.
Footnote 255:
‘Quantum huc usque a vera salutis via deflexerant
monstrando.’—Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 357.
Footnote 256:
‘Virium humanarum defectum, omniumque bonorum operum indigentiam
monstrans.’—Gerdesius, _Ann._ p. 357.
Footnote 257:
‘Occæcatos pontificia superstitione superiores totos in se
armaret’—_Ibid._ and _Dan. Bibl._, i. p. 5.
Footnote 258:
Luther, _Opp._ xxii. (Walch) von der Beruf, p. 2378 et seq.
Footnote 259:
Gerdesius, iii. p. 358.
Footnote 260:
Schlegel, _Geschichte des Oldenburgischen Stammes_, i. p. 148. Munter,
iii. p. 101.
Footnote 261:
Munter, iii. p. 161.
Footnote 262:
Gerdesius, iii. _Monum._, p. 202.
Footnote 263:
Munter, _Kirchengeschichte_, iii. p. 171. Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p.
354.
Footnote 264:
Gerdesius (iii. p. 626) calls him—Nicolaus Martini cognomine
Tondebinder; and says in a note—Claus Martensen dictus Vascularius.
Footnote 265:
Munter, iii. p. 190.
Footnote 266:
Munter, iii. p. 191.
Footnote 267:
_Danske Magazin_, ch. iii. p. 236, et seq. Munter,
_Kirchengeschichte_, iii. p. 222.
Footnote 268:
Gerdesius, iii. p. 411. Munter, iii. p. 503.
Footnote 269:
Rabbek, _De ecclesiæ Danicæ hymnariis_.
Footnote 270:
‘Latronum speluncam, desperatorum et apostatarum
asylum.’—_Schibbyische Chronik._ Munter, iii. pp. 226, 255.
Footnote 271:
_Danske Magazin_, v. pp. 289, 312.
Footnote 272:
Gerdesius, iii. _Monum._ pp. 204, 206. Pontoppidanus, _Ann. Eccles.
Dan._ ii. pp. 808, 817. Munter, iii. p. 195.
Footnote 273:
‘Nisi ut spectetur non hominum sed Christi negotium.’—Erasmi, _Epp._
1. xix. Munter, iii. p. 196.
Footnote 274:
‘Religionem tam Lutheranam quam Pontificiam libere permittendam
esse.’—Pontoppidanus, _Reform._ p. 172. Gerdesius, iii. p. 364.
Footnote 275:
Tertullian adds, ‘_Religio sponte suscipi debet_.’
Footnote 276:
‘Manibus pedibusque agebant.’—Gerdesius, iii. p. 364.
Footnote 277:
Munter, _Reformationgeschichte_, iii. p. 205.
Footnote 278:
Pontoppidanus, _Reform._ p. 175. Gerdesius, _Ann._ iii. p. 365.
Footnote 279:
Munter, iii. pp. 209, 211.