hero of many battles, said to him kindly: “Poor monk, poor monk, thou art
now going to make a nobler stand than I or any other captains have ever
made in the bloodiest of our battles. But if thy cause is just, and thou
art sure of it, go forward in God’s name, and fear nothing. God will not
forsake thee.”(213)
At length Luther stood before the council. The emperor occupied the
throne. He was surrounded by the most illustrious personages in the
empire. Never had any man appeared in the presence of a more imposing
assembly than that before which Martin Luther was to answer for his faith.
“This appearance was of itself a signal victory over the papacy. The pope
had condemned the man, and he was now standing before a tribunal which, by
this very act, set itself above the pope. The pope had laid him under an
interdict, and cut him off from all human society; and yet he was summoned
in respectful language, and received before the most august assembly in
the world. The pope had condemned him to perpetual silence, and he was now
about to speak before thousands of attentive hearers drawn together from
the farthest parts of Christendom. An immense revolution had thus been
effected by Luther’s instrumentality. Rome was already descending from her
throne, and it was the voice of a monk that caused this humiliation.”(214)
In the presence of that powerful and titled assembly, the lowly-born
Reformer seemed awed and embarrassed. Several of the princes, observing
his emotion, approached him, and one of them whispered, “Fear not them
which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul.” Another said,
“When ye shall be brought before governors and kings for My sake, it shall
be given you, by the Spirit of your Father, what ye shall say.” Thus the
words of Christ were brought by the world’s great men to strengthen His
servant in the hour of trial.
Luther was conducted to a position directly in front of the emperor’s
throne. A deep silence fell upon the crowded assembly. Then an imperial
officer arose, and pointing to a collection of Luther’s writings, demanded
that the Reformer answer two questions,—whether he acknowledged them as
his, and whether he proposed to retract the opinions which he had therein
advanced. The titles of the books having been read, Luther replied that as
to the first question, he acknowledged the books to be his. “As to the
second,” he said, “seeing that it is a question which concerns faith and
the salvation of souls, and in which the word of God, the greatest and
most precious treasure either in heaven or earth, is interested, I should
act imprudently were I to reply without reflection. I might affirm less
than the circumstance demands, or more than truth requires, and so sin
against this saying of Christ: ‘Whosoever shall deny Me before men, him
will I also deny before My Father which is in heaven.’(215) For this
reason I entreat your imperial majesty, with all humility, to allow me
time, that I may answer without offending against the word of God.”(216)
In making this request, Luther moved wisely. His course convinced the
assembly that he did not act from passion or impulse. Such calmness and
self-command, unexpected in one who had shown himself bold and
uncompromising, added to his power, and enabled him afterward to answer
with a prudence, decision, wisdom, and dignity that surprised and
disappointed his adversaries, and rebuked their insolence and pride.
The next day he was to appear to render his final answer. For a time his
heart sunk within him as he contemplated the forces that were combined
against the truth. His faith faltered; fearfulness and trembling came upon
him, and horror overwhelmed him. Dangers multiplied before him; his
enemies seemed about to triumph, and the powers of darkness to prevail.
Clouds gathered about him, and seemed to separate him from God. He longed
for the assurance that the Lord of hosts would be with him. In anguish of
spirit he threw himself with his face upon the earth, and poured out those
broken, heart-rending cries, which none but God can fully understand.
“O almighty and everlasting God,” he pleaded, “how terrible is this world!
Behold, it openeth its mouth to swallow me up, and I have so little trust
in Thee.... If it is only in the strength of this world that I must put my
trust, all is over.... My last hour is come, my condemnation has been
pronounced.... O God, do Thou help me against all the wisdom of the world.
Do this, ... Thou alone; ... for this is not my work, but Thine. I have
nothing to do here, nothing to contend for with these great ones of the
world.... But the cause is Thine, ... and it is a righteous and eternal
cause. O Lord, help me! Faithful and unchangeable God, in no man do I
place my trust.... All that is of man is uncertain; all that cometh of man
fails.... Thou hast chosen me for this work.... Stand at my side, for the
sake of Thy well-beloved Jesus Christ, who is my defense, my shield, and
my strong tower.”(217)
An all-wise Providence had permitted Luther to realize his peril, that he
might not trust to his own strength, and rush presumptuously into danger.
Yet it was not the fear of personal suffering, a dread of torture or
death, which seemed immediately impending, that overwhelmed him with its
terror. He had come to the crisis, and he felt his insufficiency to meet
it. Through his weakness the cause of truth might suffer loss. Not for his
own safety, but for the triumph of the gospel did he wrestle with God.
Like Israel’s, in that night struggle beside the lonely stream, was the
anguish and conflict of his soul. Like Israel, he prevailed with God. In
his utter helplessness his faith fastened upon Christ, the mighty
deliverer. He was strengthened with the assurance that he would not appear
alone before the council. Peace returned to his soul, and he rejoiced that
he was permitted to uplift the word of God before the rulers of the
nation.
With his mind stayed upon God, Luther prepared for the struggle before
him. He thought upon the plan of his answer, examined passages in his own
writings, and drew from the Holy Scriptures suitable proofs to sustain his
positions. Then, laying his left hand on the Sacred Volume, which was open
before him, he lifted his right hand to heaven, and vowed “to remain
faithful to the gospel, and freely to confess his faith, even should he
seal his testimony with his blood.”(218)
When he was again ushered into the presence of the Diet, his countenance
bore no trace of fear or embarrassment. Calm and peaceful, yet grandly
brave and noble, he stood as God’s witness among the great ones of the
earth. The imperial officer now demanded his decision as to whether he
desired to retract his doctrines. Luther made his answer in a subdued and
humble tone, without violence or passion. His demeanor was diffident and
respectful; yet he manifested a confidence and joy that surprised the
assembly.
“Most serene emperor, illustrious princes, gracious lords,” said Luther,
“I appear before you this day, in conformity with the order given me
yesterday, and by God’s mercies I conjure your majesty and your august
highnesses to listen graciously to the defense of a cause which I am
assured is just and true. If, through ignorance, I should transgress the
usages and proprieties of courts, I entreat you to pardon me; for I was
not brought up in the palaces of kings, but in the seclusion of a
convent.”(219)
Then, proceeding to the question, he stated that his published works were
not all of the same character. In some he had treated of faith and good
works, and even his enemies declared them not only harmless but
profitable. To retract these would be to condemn truths which all parties
confessed. The second class consisted of writings exposing the corruptions
and abuses of the papacy. To revoke these works would strengthen the
tyranny of Rome, and open a wider door to many and great impieties. In the
third class of his books he had attacked individuals who had defended
existing evils. Concerning these he freely confessed that he had been more
violent than was becoming. He did not claim to be free from fault; but
even these books he could not revoke, for such a course would embolden the
enemies of truth, and they would then take occasion to crush God’s people
with still greater cruelty.
“Yet I am but a mere man, and not God, he continued; “I shall therefore
defend myself as Christ did: ‘If I have spoken evil, bear witness of the
evil.’... By the mercy of God, I conjure you, most serene emperor, and
you, most illustrious princes, and all men of every degree, to prove from
the writings of the prophets and apostles that I have erred. As soon as I
am convinced of this, I will retract every error, and be the first to lay
hold of my books and throw them into the fire.”
“What I have just said plainly shows, I hope, that I have carefully
weighed and considered the dangers to which I expose myself; but far from
being dismayed, I rejoice to see that the gospel is now, as in former
times, a cause of trouble and dissension. This is the character, this is
the destiny, of the word of God. ‘I came not to send peace on earth, but a
sword,’ said Jesus Christ. God is wonderful and terrible in His counsels;
beware lest, by presuming to quench dissensions, you should persecute the
holy word of God, and draw down upon yourselves a frightful deluge of
insurmountable dangers, of present disasters, and eternal desolation.... I
might quote many examples from the oracles of God. I might speak of the
Pharaohs, the kings of Babylon, and those of Israel, whose labors never
more effectually contributed to their own destruction than when they
sought by counsels, to all appearance most wise, to strengthen their
dominion. ‘God removeth mountains, and they know it not.’ ”(220)
Luther had spoken in German; he was now requested to repeat the same words
in Latin. Though exhausted by the previous effort, he complied, and again
delivered his speech, with the same clearness and energy as at the first.
God’s providence directed in this matter. The minds of many of the princes
were so blinded by error and superstition that at the first delivery they
did not see the force of Luther’s reasoning; but the repetition enabled
them to perceive clearly the points presented.
Those who stubbornly closed their eyes to the light, and determined not to
be convinced of the truth, were enraged at the power of Luther’s words. As
he ceased speaking, the spokesman of the Diet said angrily, “You have not
answered the question put to you.... You are required to give a clear and
precise answer.... Will you, or will you not, retract?”
The Reformer answered: “Since your most serene majesty and your high
mightinesses require from me a clear, simple, and precise answer, I will
give you one, and it is this: I cannot submit my faith either to the pope
or to the councils, because it is clear as the day that they have
frequently erred and contradicted each other. Unless therefore I am
convinced by the testimony of Scripture or by the clearest reasoning,
unless I am persuaded by means of the passages I have quoted, and unless
they thus render my conscience bound by the word of God, _I cannot and I
will not retract_, for it is unsafe for a Christian to speak against his
conscience. Here I stand, I can do no other; may God help me. Amen.”(221)
Thus stood this righteous man, upon the sure foundation of the word of
God. The light of heaven illuminated his countenance. His greatness and
purity of character, his peace and joy of heart, were manifest to all as
he testified against the power of error, and witnessed to the superiority
of that faith that overcomes the world.
The whole assembly were for a time speechless with amazement. At his first
answer, Luther had spoken in a low tone, with a respectful, almost
submissive bearing. The Romanists had interpreted this as evidence that
his courage was beginning to fail. They regarded the request for delay as
merely the prelude to his recantation. Charles himself, noting, half
contemptuously, the monk’s worn frame, his plain attire, and the
simplicity of his address, had declared, “This monk will never make a
heretic of me.” The courage and firmness which he now displayed, as well
as the power and clearness of his reasoning, filled all parties with
surprise. The emperor, moved to admiration, exclaimed, “This monk speaks
with an intrepid heart and unshaken courage.” Many of the German princes
looked with pride and joy upon this representative of their nation.
The partisans of Rome had been worsted; their cause appeared in a most
unfavorable light. They sought to maintain their power, not by appealing
to the Scriptures, but by a resort to threats, Rome’s unfailing argument.
Said the spokesman of the Diet, “If you do not retract, the emperor and
the states of the empire will consult what course to adopt against an
incorrigible heretic.”
Luther’s friends, who had with great joy listened to his noble defense,
trembled at these words; but the doctor himself said calmly, “May God be
my helper, for I can retract nothing.”(222)
He was directed to withdraw from the Diet, while the princes consulted
together. It was felt that a great crisis had come. Luther’s persistent
refusal to submit, might affect the history of the church for ages. It was
decided to give him one more opportunity to retract. For the last time he
was brought into the assembly. Again the question was put, whether he
would renounce his doctrines. “I have no other reply to make,” he said,
“than that which I have already made.” It was evident that he could not be
induced, either by promises or threats, to yield to the mandate of Rome.
The papal leaders were chagrined that their power, which had caused kings
and nobles to tremble, should be thus despised by a humble monk; they
longed to make him feel their wrath by torturing his life away. But
Luther, understanding his danger, had spoken to all with Christian dignity
and calmness. His words had been free from pride, passion, and
misrepresentation. He had lost sight of himself, and of the great men
surrounding him, and felt only that he was in the presence of One
infinitely superior to popes, prelates, kings, and emperors. Christ had
spoken through Luther’s testimony with a power and grandeur that for the
time inspired both friends and foes with awe and wonder. The Spirit of God
had been present in that council impressing the hearts of the chiefs of
the empire. Several of the princes boldly acknowledged the justice of
Luther’s cause. Many were convinced of the truth; but with some the
impressions received were not lasting. There was another class who did not
at the time express their convictions, but who, having searched the
Scriptures for themselves, at a future time became fearless supporters of
the Reformation.
The elector Frederick had looked forward anxiously to Luther’s appearance
before the Diet, and with deep emotion he listened to his speech. With joy
and pride he witnessed the doctor’s courage, firmness, and
self-possession, and determined to stand more firmly in his defense. He
contrasted the parties in contest, and saw that the wisdom of popes,
kings, and prelates had been brought to naught by the power of truth. The
papacy had sustained a defeat which would be felt among all nations and in
all ages.
As the legate perceived the effect produced by Luther’s speech, he feared,
as never before, for the security of the Romish power, and resolved to
employ every means at his command to effect the Reformer’s overthrow. With
all the eloquence and diplomatic skill for which he was so eminently
distinguished, he represented to the youthful emperor the folly and danger
of sacrificing, in the cause of an insignificant monk, the friendship and
support of the powerful see of Rome.
His words were not without effect. On the day following Luther’s answer,
Charles caused a message to be presented to the Diet, announcing his
determination to carry out the policy of his predecessors to maintain and
protect the Catholic religion. Since Luther had refused to renounce his
errors, the most vigorous measures should be employed against him and the
heresies he taught. “A single monk, misled by his own folly, has risen
against the faith of Christendom. To stay such impiety, I will sacrifice
my kingdoms, my treasures, my friends, my body, my blood, my soul, and my
life. I am about to dismiss the Augustine Luther, forbidding him to cause
the least disorder among the people; I shall then proceed against him and
his adherents as contumacious heretics, by excommunication, by interdict,
and by every means calculated to destroy them. I call on the members of
the states to behave like faithful Christians.”(223) Nevertheless the
emperor declared that Luther’s safe-conduct must be respected, and that
before proceedings against him could be instituted, he must be allowed to
reach his home in safety.
Two conflicting opinions were now urged by the members of the Diet. The
emissaries and representatives of the pope again demanded that the
Reformer’s safe-conduct should be disregarded. “The Rhine,” they said,
“should receive his ashes, as it had received those of John Huss a century
ago.”(224) But princes of Germany, though themselves papists and avowed
enemies to Luther, protested against such a breach of public faith, as a
stain upon the honor of the nation. They pointed to the calamities which
had followed the death of Huss, and declared that they dared not call down
upon Germany, and upon the head of their youthful emperor, a repetition of
those terrible evils.
Charles himself, in answer to the base proposal, said, “Though honor and
faith should be banished from all the world, they ought to find a refuge
in the hearts of princes.”(225) He was still further urged by the most
bitter of Luther’s papal enemies to deal with the Reformer as Sigismund
had dealt with Huss,—abandon him to the mercies of the church; but
recalling the scene when Huss in public assembly had pointed to his chains
and reminded the monarch of his plighted faith, Charles V. declared, “I
should not like to blush like Sigismund.”(226)
Yet Charles had deliberately rejected the truths presented by Luther. “I
am firmly resolved to imitate the example of my ancestors,”(227) wrote the
monarch. He had decided that he would not step out of the path of custom,
even to walk in the ways of truth and righteousness. Because his fathers
did, he would uphold the papacy, with all its cruelty and corruption. Thus
he took his position, refusing to accept any light in advance of what his
fathers had received, or to perform any duty that they had not performed.
There are many at the present day thus clinging to the customs and
traditions of their fathers. When the Lord sends them additional light,
they refuse to accept it, because, not having been granted to their
fathers, it was not received by them. We are not placed where our fathers
were; consequently our duties and responsibilities are not the same as
theirs. We shall not be approved of God in looking to the example of our
fathers to determine our duty instead of searching the Word of truth for
ourselves. Our responsibility is greater than was that of our ancestors.
We are accountable for the light which they received, and which was handed
down as an inheritance for us, and we are accountable also for the
additional light which is now shining upon us from the word of God.
Said Christ of the unbelieving Jews, “If I had not come and spoken unto
them, they had not had sin: but now they have no cloak for their
sin.”(228) The same divine power had spoken through Luther to the emperor
and princes of Germany. And as the light shone forth from God’s word, his
Spirit pleaded for the last time with many in that assembly. As Pilate,
centuries before, permitted pride and popularity to close his heart
against the world’s Redeemer; as the trembling Felix bade the messenger of
truth, “Go thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will
call for thee;” as the proud Agrippa confessed, “Almost thou persuadest me
to be a Christian,”(229) yet turned away from the Heaven-sent message,—so
had Charles V., yielding to the dictates of worldly pride and policy,
decided to reject the light of truth.
Rumors of the designs against Luther were widely circulated, causing great
excitement throughout the city. The Reformer had made many friends, who,
knowing the treacherous cruelty of Rome toward all who dared expose her
corruptions, resolved that he should not be sacrificed. Hundreds of nobles
pledged themselves to protect him. Not a few openly denounced the royal
message as evincing a weak submission to the controlling power of Rome. On
the gates of houses and in public places, placards were posted, some
condemning and others sustaining Luther. On one of these were written
merely the significant words of the wise man, “Woe to thee, O land, when
thy king is a child.”(230) The popular enthusiasm in Luther’s favor
throughout all Germany convinced both the emperor and the Diet that any
injustice shown him would endanger the peace of the empire, and even the
stability of the throne.
Frederick of Saxony maintained a studied reserve, carefully concealing his
real feelings toward the Reformer, while at the same time he guarded him
with tireless vigilance, watching all his movements and all those of his
enemies. But there were many who made no attempt to conceal their sympathy
with Luther. He was visited by princes, counts, barons, and other persons
of distinction, both lay and ecclesiastical. “The doctor’s little room,”
wrote Spalatin, “could not contain all the visitors who presented
themselves.”(231) The people gazed upon him as if he were more than human.
Even those who had no faith in his doctrines, could not but admire that
lofty integrity which led him to brave death rather than violate his
conscience.
Earnest efforts were made to obtain Luther’s consent to a compromise with
Rome. Nobles and princes represented to him that if he persisted in
setting up his own judgment against that of the church and the councils,
he would soon be banished from the empire, and then would have no defense.
To this appeal Luther answered: “The gospel of Christ cannot be preached
without offense.... Why then should the fear or apprehension of danger
separate me from the Lord, and from that divine word which alone is truth?
No; I would rather give up my body, my blood, and my life.”(232)
Again he was urged to submit to the judgment of the emperor, and then he
would have nothing to fear. “I consent,” said he in reply, “with all my
heart, that the emperor, the princes, and even the meanest Christian,
should examine and judge my works; but on one condition, that they take
the word of God for their standard. Men have nothing to do but to obey it.
Do not offer violence to my conscience, which is bound and chained up with
the Holy Scriptures.”(233)
To another appeal he said, “I consent to renounce my safe-conduct. I place
my person and my life in the emperor’s hands, but the word of
God—never!”(234) He stated his willingness to submit to the decision of a
general council, but only on condition that the council be required to
decide according to the Scriptures. “In what concerns the word of God and
the faith,” he added, “every Christian is as good a judge as the pope,
though supported by a million councils, can be for him.”(235) Both friends
and foes were at last convinced that further effort for reconciliation
would be useless.
Had the Reformer yielded a single point, Satan and his hosts would have
gained the victory. But his unwavering firmness was the means of
emancipating the church, and beginning a new and better era. The influence
of this one man, who dared to think and act for himself in religious
matters, was to affect the church and the world, not only in his own time,
but in all future generations. His firmness and fidelity would strengthen
all, to the close of time, who should pass through a similar experience.
The power and majesty of God stood forth above the counsel of men, above
the mighty power of Satan.