Apostles; prayer at the holy places of Rome, the immediate proximity
of the Vicar of Christ and of the world-embracing government of the
Church made them feel what they had never felt before, the pulse-beat
of the heart of Christendom, and they returned full of enthusiasm,
strengthened and inspirited, and with the desire of working for souls
in accordance with the mind of the Church.
With Luther this was not the case.
He was much less impressed by the Rome of the Saints than by the
corruption then rampant in ecclesiastical circles.
On first perceiving Rome from the heights of Monte Mario, he devoutly
greeted the city, as all pilgrims were wont to do, overjoyed at
having reached the goal of their long pilgrimage.[67] After that, he
untiringly occupied himself, so far as his chief business permitted,
in seeing all that Rome had to show. He assures us that he believed
everything that was told him of the real or legendary reminiscences
of the holy places both above and under ground. He does not, however,
appear to have been very careful in his choice of guides and
acquaintances, for the anecdotes concerning the condition of things at
Rome which he brought back with him to his own country were, if not
untrue, at least exceedingly spiteful. The Augustinians whom he there
met had not the spirit of the reform inaugurated by Proles. Their
southern freedom and lack of restraint found all too strong an echo
in Luther’s character. The general confession he had projected was
probably never made,[68] for, as he asserts later, he had not found
among the clergy a single suitable, worthy man. During his distracting
stay in the Eternal City he said Mass, so he tells us, perhaps once,
perhaps ten times, i.e. occasionally, not regularly.[69] He was
greatly scandalised at much he heard and saw, partly owing to his
looking at things with the critical eye of a northerner, partly owing
to the really existing moral disorders.
The Rome of that day was the Rome of Julius II, the then Pope, and
of his predecessor Alexander VI; it was the Rome of the Popes of the
height of the Renaissance, glorified by art, but inwardly deeply
debased. The capital of Christendom, under the influence of the
frivolity which had seized the occupants of the Papal throne and
invaded the ranks of the higher clergy, had proved false to her dignity
and forgetful of the fact that the eyes of the Faithful who visited
Rome from every quarter of the globe were jealously fixed upon her in
their anxiety lest the godless spirit of the world should poison the
very heart of the Church.
Instead of being edified by the good which he undoubtedly encountered
and by the great ideal of the Church which no shadow can ever darken,
Luther, with his critically disposed mind, proved all too receptive to
the contrary impressions and allowed himself to be unduly influenced by
the dark side of things, i.e. the corruption of morals. Subsequently,
in his public controversies and private Table-Talk, he tells quite
a number of disreputable tales,[70] which, whether based on fact or
not, were all too favourable to his anti-Roman tendencies. He was in
the habit of saying, in his usual tone, that whoever looked about him
a little in Rome, would find abominations compared to which those of
Sodom were mere child’s play. He declares that he heard from the mouth
of Papal courtiers the statement: “It cannot go on much longer, it must
break up.” In the company in which he mixed he heard these words let
fall: “If there be a Hell, then Rome is built over it.” He says that
he had heard it said of one, who expressed his grief at such a state
of things, that he was a “_buon cristiano_” which meant much the same
as a good-natured simpleton. In his proneness to accept evil tales
he believed, at least so he asserts later, the statement made in his
presence, that many priests were in the habit of repeating jokes at
Mass in place of the words of consecration. He relates that he even
questioned whether the bishops and priests at Rome, the prelates of the
Curia, aye, the Pope himself, had any Christian belief left. It is not
worth while to go into the details of the scandals he records, because,
as Hausrath justly remarks, “it is questionable how much weight is due
to statements which, in part, date from the later years of his life,
when he had so completely altered.”[71]
In his accounts the share which he himself actually took in the pious
pilgrim-exercises of the time is kept very much in the background.
He came to the so-called Scala Santa at the Lateran, and saw the
Faithful, from motives of penance, ascending the holy steps on their
knees. He turned away from this touching popular veneration of the
sufferings of the Redeemer, and preferred not to follow the example
of the other pilgrims. An account given by his son Paul in 1582
says that he then quoted the Bible verse: “The just man liveth by
faith.” If it be a fact that he made use of these words which were to
assume so great importance and to be so sadly misinterpreted in his
subsequent theology, it was certainly not in their later sense. In
reality we have here in all probability an instance of a later opinion
being gratuitously anticipated, for Luther himself declares that he
discovered his gospel only after he had taken his Doctor’s degree, and
this we shall show abundantly further on. Older Protestant writers
have frequently represented the scene at the steps of the Lateran
in unhistorical colours owing to their desire to furnish a graphic
historical beginning of the change in Luther’s mind. Mylius of Jena was
one of the first to do this.[72] Mylius, in 1595, quite falsely asserts
that Luther had already commented on the Epistle to the Romans previous
to his journey to Rome, and adds that he had already then noted the
later interpretation of the Bible text in question. It is true that
his son Paul, where he speaks of Luther’s exclamation as having been
communicated to him by his father, expressly states that “he had
_then_, through the spirit of Jesus, come to the knowledge of the
truth of the holy gospel.” But Köstlin’s Biography of Luther rightly
denies this, and describes it as an “exaggeration”[73]—“error” would
have been better—for the assumption to which Luther’s friends still
cling with such affection, namely, that from the very commencement of
his journey to Rome he had been “haunted by the Bible text concerning
justification by faith,” at a time “when he still was striving to
serve God by his own works,” must be struck out of history as a mere
fiction.[74]
At Rome Luther’s conviction of the authority of the Holy See was in
no wise shaken, in spite of what some people have thought. All the
scandals had not been able to achieve this. As late as 1516 he was
still preaching in entire accordance with the traditional doctrine
of the Church on the power of the Papacy, and it is worth while to
quote his words in order to show the Catholic thoughts which engaged
him while wandering through the streets of Rome. “If Christ had not
entrusted all power to one man, the Church would not have been perfect
because there would have been no order and each one would have been
able to say he was led by the Holy Spirit. This is what the heretics
did, each one setting up his own principle. In this way as many
Churches arose as there were heads. Christ therefore wills, in order
that all may be assembled in one unity, that His Power be exercised
by one man to whom also He commits it. He has, however, made this
Power so strong that He looses all the powers of Hell (without injury)
against it. He says: ‘The gates of Hell shall not prevail against it,’
as though He said: ‘They will fight against it but never overcome it,’
so that in this way it is made manifest that this power is in reality
from God and not from man. Wherefore whoever breaks away from this
unity and order of the Power, let him not boast of great enlightenment
and wonderful works, as our Picards and other heretics do, ‘for much
better is obedience than the victims of fools who know not what evil
they do’ (Eccles. iv. 17).”[75] That, when in Rome, he was still full
of reverence for the Pope, Luther shows in his Table-Talk, though his
language on this occasion can only be described as filthy.[76]
His ideas with regard to the Church’s means of Grace, the Mass,
Indulgences and Prayer had not, at the time of his return to Germany,
undergone any theoretical change, though it is highly probable that his
practical observance of the Church’s law suffered considerably. The
fact is, his character was not yet sufficiently formed when he started
on his journey; he was, as Oldecop says, “a wild young fellow.”[77]
Luther later on relates it as a joke, that, when at Rome, he had been
so zealous in gaining Indulgences that he had wished his parents
were already dead so that he might apply to their souls the great
Indulgences obtainable there.[78] Of the Masses which he celebrated
in the Holy City he assures us—again more by way of a joke than as
an exact statement of fact—that he said them so piously and slowly
that three, or even six, Italian priests or monks had finished all
their Masses in succession before he had come to the end of one. He
even declares that in Rome Mass is said so rapidly that ten, one after
another, occupied only one hour, and that he himself had been urged
on with the cry: “Hurry up, Brother, hurry up.” Whoever is familiar
with the older Luther’s manner of speech, will be on his guard against
taking such jests seriously or as proof of scrupulosity; he is, in
reality, merely laying stress on the blatant contrast between his own
habit and the precipitation of the Italians.
In 1519, i.e. not yet ten years after Luther’s visit, his pupil Oldecop
came to Rome and set to work to make diligent enquiries concerning the
stay there of his already famous master, with whose teaching, however,
he did not agree. As he says in his “Chronik,” published not long
since, he learned that Luther had taken lessons in Hebrew from a Jew
called Jakob, who gave himself out to be a physician. He sought out the
Jew, probably a German, and heard from him that “Martinus had begged
the Pope to be allowed to study in Italy for ten years in secular
dress,” but that, owing to the absence of any authorisation from his
Superiors, his request had been refused, and Martinus, instead of being
privileged to dress as a secular priest, had been obliged to retain
his “cowl,” i.e. the habit of his Order. Oldecop then betook himself
to the official who, as he learnt, had drafted the monk’s petition,
and who fully confirmed the Jew’s statement. There is no reason for
doubting these new tales,[79] notwithstanding the fact that in some
of the other statements made by Oldecop, especially those in which he
had no personal concern, some unintentional errors occur. According to
the character given him by his editor Carl Euling, he was “an educated
and honourable man, with good judgment.”[80] Notice deserves to be
taken of a minor detail of the incident which confirms the truth of
this account, namely, that the official, affrighted at the mention of
Luther’s name, was at first unwilling to speak, and then begged that
the fact of his having had dealings with him should not be betrayed.
The man, who is here portrayed to the life, after he became more
loquacious, also expressed the opinion that had Luther been allowed
to take off the cowl he would never have put it on again; a view, of
course, merely based on the later course of events. Luther’s desire
for learning was so great, and his impulsive character so marked, that
it is quite possible that he cherished such a project. Nor was there
anything so very singular in the plan, for about that time other monks
had been secularised at their own request. In a Brief dated January
26, 1517, Erasmus, who was an Augustinian canon, received permission
to wear the dress of a secular priest, a fact to which Luther, on
occasion, makes allusion. As such a privilege, even though restricted
as to duration, would without doubt have appealed to the freedom of
thought which at that time Luther was beginning to cultivate, the
fact that it was refused owing to the lack of authorisation by his
German Superiors assuredly cannot have sweetened his recollection of
the Roman Curia; its only effect was probably to wound his vanity. He
himself never speaks of this petition; he had no cause to do so, and
indeed it ill agreed with the legend which, with advancing years, he
began to weave about his life in the monastery. On the other hand, we
have probably a distorted version of the incident in an assertion,
circulated later by his opponents, viz. that during his stay at Rome he
had sought secularisation in order to be able to marry.[81]
Regarding the morals of the Italians and not the Romans only, he makes
many unfavourable and even unfair statements in his later reminiscences
of his wanderings through their country. The only things which found
favour in his eyes were, in fact, their charity and benevolence as
displayed in some of the hospitals, particularly in Florence, the
sobriety of the people and, at Rome, the careful carrying out of
ecclesiastical business. An evil breath of moral laxity was passing
over the whole country, more especially, however, over the rich and
opulent towns and the higher classes, infected as they were with
the indifferentism of the Humanists. Those travelling alone found
themselves exposed in the inns to the worst moral dangers. We must
also call to mind that, in those very years the Neapolitan, or French
disease, as syphilis was then called, infested a wide area of this
otherwise delightful country, having been introduced by the troops
who came to southern Italy. The places where strangers from other
lands were obliged to spend the night on their travels were hotbeds of
infection for both body and soul.
Luther returned to Germany towards the month of February, 1511, though
he was no longer the same man as when he set out. He said, after his
apostasy: “I, like a fool, carried onions to Italy and brought garlic
(i.e. worse stuff) back with me.” As a controversialist he declared
that he would not take 100,000 gulden to have missed seeing Rome, as
otherwise he would feel that he was doing the Papacy an injustice; he
only wished that everyone who was about to become a priest would visit
Rome.
A notable result of his stay in Italy was, that Luther, after his
return to the monastery, immediately changed his standpoint regarding
the “observance.” Sent to Rome for the defence of the “observance,” he
now unexpectedly veered round and became its opponent. “He deserted
to Staupitz” as Cochlæus puts it, evidently using the very words of
the Observantines, and soon Luther was seen passionately assailing
the Observantines, whose spokesman he had been shortly before. In all
likelihood his changed view stood in some connection with a change in
his domicile. No sooner had he returned to the Observantine monastery
of Erfurt, than he left it for Wittenberg, where he was to take his
degree of Doctor of Divinity and then ascend the professorial chair.
Doubtless under Staupitz’s influence the fulfilment of those great
hopes which he had formerly cherished now arose on the horizon of his
mind. To continue to withstand Staupitz in the matter of the observance
could but prove a hindrance to his advance, especially as the
Wittenberg community was for the most part opposed to the observance.
Nothing further is, however, known with regard to this strange change
of front. It was of the greatest importance for his future development,
as will appear in the sequel; the history of his warfare against the
Observantines, to which as yet little attention has been paid, may also
be considered as a new and determining factor in his mental career.
4. The Little World of Wittenberg and the Great World in Church and
State
Since the spring 1511, Luther had been qualifying, by diligent study in
his cell in the great Augustinian monastery at Wittenberg, to take his
degree of Doctor in Divinity in the University of that city.
In his later statements he says that he had small hopes of success
in his new career on account of his weak health; that he had in vain
opposed Staupitz’s invitation to take his doctorate, and that he had
been compelled by obedience to comply with his Superior’s orders. After
passing brilliantly the requisite tests, the University bestowed upon
him the theological degree on October 1, 1512. Luther at once commenced
his lectures on Holy Scripture, the subject of this, his first course,
being the Psalms (1513-16). His audience consisted mainly of young
Augustinians, to whom a correct understanding of the Psalms was a
practical need for their services in choir.
He displayed already in these early lectures, no less than in those of
the later period, the whole force of his fancy and eloquence, his great
ability in the choice of quotations from the Bible, his extraordinary
subjectivity, and, however out of place in such a quarter, the
vehemence of his passion; in our own day the sustained rhetorical tone
of his lectures would scarcely appeal to the hearer.
The fiery and stimulating teacher was in his true element at
Wittenberg. The animation that pervaded students and teachers, the
distinction which he enjoyed amongst his friends, his unlimited
influence over the numerous young men gathered there, more especially
over the students of his own Order, no less than the favour of the
Elector of Saxony for the University, the Order, and, subsequently,
for his own person, all this, in spite of his alleged unwillingness
to embrace the profession, made his stay at Wittenberg, and his work
there, very agreeable to him. He himself admits that his Superiors had
done well in placing him there. Wittenberg became in the sequel the
citadel of his teaching. There he remained until the evening of his
days as Professor of Holy Scripture, and quitted the town only when
forced by urgent reasons to do so.
As with all men of great gifts, who make a deep impression on their
day, but are, all the same, children of their time, so was it with
Luther. In his case, however, the influence from without was all the
deeper because his lively and receptive temperament lent itself to a
stronger external stimulus, and also because the position of so young
a man in a professorial chair in the very heart of Germany did much to
foster such influences.
Martin Pollich of Mellerstadt, formerly Professor at Leipzig, a
physician, a jurist and a man of humanistic tendencies who had helped
Staupitz to organise the new University, enjoyed a great reputation in
the Wittenberg schools. Alongside him were the theologians Amsdorf,
Carlstadt, Link, Lang and Staupitz. Nicholas von Amsdorf, who was
subsequently said to be “more Luther than Luther himself,” had been
since 1511 licentiate of theology, and had at the same time filled,
as a secular priest, the office of Canon at the Castle Church. Andreas
Bodenstein von Carlstadt, usually known as Carlstadt, occupied a
position amongst the Augustinians engaged in teaching. He had taken
his degree at Wittenberg in 1510, and was at the outset a zealous
representative of Scholasticism, though he speedily attached himself
to Luther’s new teaching. He was the first to proclaim the solubility
of religious vows. Wenceslaus Link worked at the University from
1509 to about 1516, eventually succeeding Staupitz as Augustinian
Vicar-General, and, later, by his marriage in 1523, gave the last
Augustinians of the unfortunate Congregation the signal for forsaking
the Order. Another Augustinian, Johann Lang, who had been Luther’s
friend since the days of his first studies at Erfurt, had come to
Wittenberg about 1512 as teacher at the “Studium” of the Order, though
he soon left it to return to Erfurt. Johann Staupitz, the Superior of
the Congregation, resigned in 1512 his Professorship of Holy Scripture
at Wittenberg, being unable to attend to it sufficiently owing to his
frequent absence, and made over the post to Luther, whom, as he says in
his eulogistic speech to the Elector of Saxony, he had been at pains to
form into a “very special Doctor of Holy Scripture.”
The teaching in the University at that time was, of course, from the
religious standpoint, Catholic. Its scholarship was, however, infected
with the humanistic views of the Italian naturalism, and this new
school had already stamped some of the professors with its freethinking
spirit.[82]
The influence of Humanism on Luther’s development must be admitted,
though it is frequently overrated, the subsequent open alliance of the
German Humanists with the new gospel being set back, without due cause,
to Luther’s early days. As a student he had plunged into the study of
the ancient classics which he loved, but there was a great difference
between this and the being in complete intellectual communion with
the later Humanists, whose aims were in many respects opposed to the
Church’s. Thanks to the practical turn of his mind, the study of the
classics, which he occasionally continued later, never engaged his
attention or fascinated him to the extent it did certain Humanists
of the Renaissance, who saw in the revival of classic Paganism the
salvation of mankind. As a young professor at the University he was
not, however, able to escape entirely the influence of the liberalism
of the age, with its one-sided and ill-considered opposition to so many
of the older elements of culture, an opposition which might easily
prove as detrimental as a blind and biassed defence of the older order.
It is not necessary to demonstrate here how dangerous a spirit of
change and libertinism was being imported in the books of the Italian
Humanists, or by the German students who had attended their lectures.
With regard to Luther personally, we know that he not only had some
connection with Mutian, the leader of a movement which at that time was
still chiefly literary, but also that Johann Lang at once forwarded to
Mutian a lecture against the morals of the “little Saints” of his Order
delivered by Luther at Gotha in 1515.[83] Luther also excused himself
in a very respectful letter to this leader of the Humanists for not
having called on him when passing through Gotha in 1516.[84] Luther’s
most intimate friend, Lang, through whom he seems to have entered
into a certain exchange of ideas with Humanism, was an enthusiastic
Humanist and possessed of great literary connections. Lang, for his
part, speaks highly to Mutian of the assistance rendered him in his
studies by Luther.[85] There can therefore be no doubt that Luther was
no stranger to the efforts of the Humanists, to their bold and incisive
criticism of the traditional methods, to their new idealism and their
spirit of independence. Many of the ideas which filled the air in those
days had doubtless an attraction for and exerted an influence on the
open-hearted, receptive disposition of the talented monk.
Luther’s friendship with Spalatin, which dated from his Erfurt days,
must also be taken into account in this regard. For Spalatin, who came
as tutor and preacher in 1508 to the Court of the Elector of Saxony,
was very closely allied in spirit with the Humanists of Erfurt and
Gotha. It was he who asked Luther for his opinion respecting the famous
dispute of the Cologne Faculty with the Humanist Reuchlin, a quarrel
which engaged the sympathy of scholars and men of education throughout
the length and breadth of Germany. Luther, in his reply, which dates
from January or February, 1514, had at that time no hesitation in
emphatically taking the side of Reuchlin, who, he declared, possessed
his love and esteem. God, he says, would carry on His work in spite of
the determined opposition of one thousand times one thousand Cologne
burghers, and he adds meaningly that there were much more important
matters with the Church which needed reform; they were “straining at
gnats and swallowing camels.”[86] The conservative attitude of the
authorities at Cologne was at that time not at all to his taste. Not
long after Luther writes very strongly to Spalatin, again in favour
of Reuchlin, against Ortwin de Graes of Cologne, and says among other
things that he had hitherto thought the latter an ass, but that he must
now call him a dog, a wolf and a crocodile, in spite of his wanting
to play the lion,[87] expressions which are quite characteristic of
Luther’s style.
On the appearance of the “Letters of Obscure Men,” and a similar
satirical writing which followed them, and which also found its way
into Luther’s hands, the young Wittenberg professor, instead of taking
the field against the evil tendency of these attacks of the Humanist
party on the “bigots of Scholasticism and the cloister” as such
diatribes deserved, and as he in his character of monk and theologian
should have done, sought to take a middle course: he approved of the
purpose of the attacks, but not of the satire itself, which mended
nothing and contained too much invective. Both productions, he says,
must have come out of the same pot; they had as their author, if not
the same, at least a very similar comedian. It is now known that the
real author of the letters which caused such an uproar was his former
University friend, Crotus Rubeanus.[88]
On what terms did Luther stand with respect to Erasmus, the leader
of the Humanists, before their great and final estrangement? As he
speaks of Erasmus in a letter of 1517 to Lang as “our Erasmus,” we may
infer that until then he was, to a certain extent, favourably disposed
towards him. He rejoiced on reading his humanistic writings to find
that “he belaboured the monks and clergy so manfully and so learnedly
and had torn the veil off their out-of-date rubbish.”[89] Yet, on the
same occasion, he confesses that his liking for Erasmus is becoming
weaker. It was not the attitude of Erasmus to the Church in general
which even then separated Luther from him, but his new teaching on
Grace, the origin of which will be treated of later. It is true Luther
conveyed to him through Spalatin his good wishes for his renown and
progress, but in the same message he admonished him not to follow the
example of nearly every commentator in interpreting certain passages
where Paul condemns “righteousness by works” as referring only to
the Mosaic ceremonial law, and not rather to all the works of the
Decalogue. If such are performed “outside the Faith in Christ,” then
though they should make of a man a Fabricius, a Regulus, or a paragon
of perfection, yet they have as little in common with righteousness
as blackberries have with figs”; it is not the works which justify a
man, but rather our righteousness which sanctifies the works. Abel was
more pleasing to God than his works.[90] The exclusive sense in which
Luther interprets these words, according to which he does not even
admit that works of righteousness are of any value for the increase of
righteousness, is a consequence of his new standpoint, to which he is
anxious to convert Erasmus and all the Humanists.
He had the Humanists in his mind when he wrote as follows to Johann
Lang: “The times are perilous, and a man may be a great Greek, or
Hebrew [scholar] without being a wise Christian.... He who makes
concessions to human freewill judges differently from him who knows
nothing save Grace alone.”[91] But this is to forestall a development
of his error, which will be described later. At the time that his new
doctrine originated he was far more in sympathy with the theories
of certain groups of late mediæval mystics than with the views of
the Humanists, because, as will appear later, he found in them the
expression of that annihilation of the human by means of Grace, of
which the idea was floating before his mind, and because he also
discovered in them an “inwardness” which agreed with his own feelings
at that time.
From Erasmus and his compeers he undoubtedly borrowed, in addition
to a spirit of justifiable criticism, an exaggerated sentiment of
independence towards ecclesiastical antiquity. The contact with their
humanistic views assuredly strengthened in him the modern tendency to
individualism. Not long after a change in the nature of his friendship
necessarily took place. His antagonism to Erasmus in the matter of his
doctrine of Grace led to a bitter dispute between the two, to which
Luther’s contribution was his work on “The Servitude of the Will” (_De
servo arbitrio_); at the same time his alliance with the Humanists
remained of value to him in the subversive movement which he had
inaugurated.
Mighty indeed were the forces, heralds of a spiritual upheaval, which,
since the fifteenth century, had streamed through the Western world in
closer or more distant connection with the great revival of the study
of classical antiquity. They proclaimed the advent of a new cycle in
the history of mankind. This excited world could not fail to impart its
impulse to the youthful Luther.
The recently discovered art of printing had, as it were at one blow,
created a world-wide community of intellectual productions and literary
ideas such as the Middle Ages had never dreamed of. The nations were
drawn closer together at that period by the interchange of the most
varied and far-reaching discoveries. The spirit of worldly enterprise
awoke as from a long slumber as a result of the astonishing discovery
of great and wealthy countries overseas.
With the greater facilities for intellectual intercourse and the
increase of means of study, criticism set to work on all branches of
learning with greater results than ever before. The greater States
now did what they had been willing but unable to do before; they freed
themselves more and more from the former tutelage of the Church; they
aimed at securing freedom and shaking off that priestly influence to
which, in part at least, they owed their stability and their growth;
nor was this movement confined to the greater States, for, in Germany,
at any rate, the wealthy cities, the great landed proprietors and
princes were all alike intent on ridding themselves of the oppression
under which they had hitherto laboured and on securing for themselves
an increase of power. In brief, everywhere the old restraints were
breaking down, everywhere a forward movement of individualism was in
progress at the expense of the commonweal and the traditional order
of the Middle Ages; but, above all, at the expense of the Church’s
religious authority, which, alone till then, had kept individualism in
check to the profit of humanity.
It would indeed have been well had at least the Catholic Church at that
critical period been free from weakness and abuse. Her Divine power
of blessing the nations, it is true, still survived, her preaching
of the truth, her treasure of the Sacraments, in short, her soul,
was unchanged; but, because she was suffering from many lamentable
imperfections, the disruptive forces were able to come into play with
fatal results. The complaints of eloquent men full of zeal for souls,
both at that time and during the preceding decades, particularly in
Germany, over the decline of religious life among the Faithful and the
corruption in the clergy, were only too well founded, and deserved to
have met with a much more effectual reception than they did. What the
monk of Wittenberg, with unbridled passion and glaring exaggeration,
was about to thunder forth over the world in his mighty call for
reform, had already for the most part been urged by others, yea, by
great Saints of the Church who attacked the abuses with the high-minded
zeal of ripe experience. Strict, earnest and experienced men had set to
work on a Catholic reform in many parts of the Church, not excepting
Germany, in the only profitable way, viz. not by doctrinal innovation,
but by raising the standard of morality among both people and clergy.
But progress was slow, very slow, for reasons which cannot be dealt
with here. The life-work of the pious founder of his own Congregation
might well have served Luther as an admirable example of moral
regeneration and efficiency; for the aim of Andreas Proles was, as a
Protestant writer remarks: “A strong and mighty Reformation”; he lived
in hopes that God would shortly raise up a hero capable of bringing it
about with strength and determination, though the Reformation he had in
his mind, as our historian allows, could only have been a Reformation
in the Catholic sense.[92] Another attractive example of reforming zeal
was also given under Luther’s very eyes by the Windesheim Congregation
of the Brethren of the Common Life, with whom he had been in friendly
intercourse from his boyish days.
The disorders in Germany had an all too powerful stronghold in
the higher ranks of ecclesiastical authority. Not until after the
Council of Trent did it become apparent how much the breaking down
of this bulwark of corruption would cost. The bishops were for the
most part incapable or worldly. Abbots, provosts, wealthy canons
and dignitaries vied with and even excelled the episcopate in their
neglect of the duties of their clerical state. In the filling of
Church offices worldly influence was paramount, and in its wake
followed forced nominations, selfishness, incompetence and a general
retrograde movement; the moral disorders among the clergy and the
people accumulated under lazy and incompetent superiors. The system of
indulgences, pilgrimages, sodalities and numerous practices connected
with the veneration of the Saints, as well as many other details of
worship, showed lamentable excesses.
Of the above-mentioned evils within the German Church, two will be
examined more closely: the interference of the Government and the
worldly-minded nobility in Church matters, and the evil ways of the
higher and lower grades of the clergy.
Not merely were the clerical dues frequently seized by the princes
and lesser authorities, but positions in the Cathedral chapters
and episcopal sees were, in many cases, handed over arbitrarily to
members of the nobility or ruling houses, so that in many places the
most important posts were held by men without a vocation and utterly
unworthy of the office. “When the ecclesiastical storm broke out at
the end of the second decade of the sixteenth century the following
archbishoprics and bishoprics were filled by the sons of princes:
Bremen, Freising, Halberstadt, Hildesheim, Magdeburg, Mayence,
Merseburg, Metz, Minden, Münster, Naumburg, Osnabrück, Paderborn,
Passau, Ratisbon, Spires, Verden and Verdun.”[93] The bishops drawn
from the princely houses were, as a rule, involved in worldly business
or in Court intrigues, even where, as was the case, for instance, with
the powerful Archbishop of Mayence, Albrecht of Brandenburg, their
early education had not been entirely anti-ecclesiastical.
Another evil was the uniting of several important bishoprics in the
hands of one individual. “The Archbishop of Bremen was at the same time
Bishop of Verden, the Bishop of Osnabrück also Bishop of Paderborn,
the Archbishop of Mayence also Archbishop of Magdeburg and Bishop of
Halberstadt. George, Palsgrave of the Rhine and Duke of Bavaria, had
already in his thirteenth year been made Cathedral Provost of Mayence
and afterwards became a Canon of Cologne and Treves, Provost of St.
Donatian’s at Bruges, patron of the livings of Hochheim and Lorch on
the Rhine and finally, in 1513, Bishop of Spires. By special privilege
of Pope Leo X, granted June 22, 1513, he, an otherwise earnest and
pious man, was permitted to hold all these benefices in addition to
his bishopric of Spires.”[94] A contemporary, reviewing the condition
of the worldly-minded bishops, complains “that the higher clergy are
chiefly to blame for the careless way in which the cure of souls is
exercised. They place unsuitable shepherds over the people, while they
themselves draw the tithes. Many seek to unite in their grasp the
greatest possible number of livings without fulfilling the duties they
entail and waste the revenues of the Church in luxury, on servants,
pages, dogs and horses. One seeks to outvie the other in ostentation
and luxury.”[95] One of the most important explanations of the fact,
that, at the very outset of the religious innovation, the falling away
from the Church took place with such astonishing celerity, is to be
found in the corruption and apathy of the episcopate.[96]
Bertold Pirstinger, Bishop of Chiemsee and author of the lament
“_Onus ecclesiæ_,” wrote sadly in 1519: “Where does the choice fall
upon a good, capable and learned bishop, where on one who is not
inexperienced, sensual and ignorant of spiritual things?... I know
of some bishops who prefer to wear a sword and armour rather than
their clerical garb. It has come to this, that the episcopate is now
given up to worldly possessions, sordid cares, stormy wars, worldly
sovereignty.... The prescribed provincial and diocesan synods are
not held. Hence many Church matters which ought to be reformed are
neglected. Besides this, the bishops do not visit their parishes at
fixed times, and yet they exact from them heavy taxes. Thus the lives
of the clergy and laity have sunk to a low level and the churches are
unadorned and falling to pieces.” The zealous bishop closes his gloomy
description, in which perhaps he is too inclined to generalise, with a
touching prayer to God for a true reformation from within: “Therefore
grant that the Church may be reformed, which has been redeemed by
Thy Blood and is now, through our fault, near to destruction.”[97]
He considers, however, that a reform of the Church undertaken from
within and preserving her faith and institutions is what is needed. The
deterioration was in his eyes, and in those of the best men of the day,
undoubtedly very great, but not irreparable.
A glance at the work of many excellent men, such as Trithemius,
Wimpfeling, Geiler of Kaysersberg and others, may serve as a warning
against an excessive generalisation with regard to the deterioration
in the ranks of the higher and lower clergy. Weaknesses, disorders and
morbid growths are far more apparent to the eyes of contemporaries than
goodness, which usually fails to attract attention. Even Johann Nider,
the Dominican, who, as a rule, is unsparing in lashing the weaknesses
of the clergy of his day, is compelled to speak a word of warning:
“Take heed never to pass a universal judgment when speaking only of
many, otherwise you will never, or hardly ever, escape passing an
unjust one.”[98]
That there was, however, the most pressing need of a reform in the
lives of both higher and lower clergy is proved by a glance at the
state of the priesthood. The position of the lower clergy, in
comparison with that of their betters “who rolled in riches and
luxury,” was one not in keeping with the dignity of their state.
“Apart from the often very precarious tithes and stole-fees they
had no stipend, so that their poverty, and sometimes also their
avarice, obliged them to turn to other means of livelihood, which ...
necessarily exposed them to the contempt of the people. There can be
no doubt that ‘a very large portion of the lower clergy had fallen
so far from the ideal of their calling, that one may speak of the
priestly proletariat of that day, using the word in both its ordinary
and its literal sense.’ This clerical proletariat was ready to join any
movement which promised to promote its own low aims.”[99]
The number of clergy, largely owing to the excessive multiplication
of small foundations without any cure of souls, had increased to such
an extent that among so many there must necessarily have been a very
large number who had no real vocation, while their lack of employment
must have spelt a real danger to their morals. Attached to two churches
at Breslau at the end of the fifteenth century were 236 clerics, all
of them mere Mass-priests, i.e. ordained simply to say Mass in the
chantry chapels founded with very small endowments. Besides the daily
celebration, these Mass-priests had as their only obligation the
recital of the Breviary. In the Cathedral at Meissen there were, in
1480, besides 14 canons, 14 Mass-priests and 60 curates. In Strasburg
the Cathedral foundation comprised 36 canonries, that of St. Thomas 20,
Old St. Peter’s 17, New St. Peter’s 15 and All Saints’ 12. In addition
to these were also numerous deputies who were prepared to officiate
at High Mass in place of the actual beneficiaries. Of such deputies
there were no fewer than 63 attached to the Cathedral, where there
were also 38 chaplaincies. In Cologne Johann Agricola gives the number
of “priests and monks” (though he adds “so it is said”) as 5000; on
another occasion he estimates the number of monks and nuns only, at
5000. What is certain is that the “German Rome” on the Rhine numbered
at that time 11 collegiate foundations, 19 parish churches, over 100
chapels, 22 monasteries, 12 hospitals and 76 religious houses.[100]
The above-mentioned Bishop of Chiemsee attributes the corruption of
the priesthood principally to the misuse by clergy and laity of their
right of patronage both in nominations and by arbitrary interference.
Geiler of Kaysersberg is of the same opinion; he attributes to the
laity, more particularly to the patrons among the nobility, the sad
condition of the parishes. Uneducated, bad, immoral men were now
presented, he says, not the good and virtuous.[101] Cardinal Nicholas
of Cusa, who did so much service to Germany, had declared quite openly
the cause of the deformation of the clerical system to be the admission
to Holy Orders of unworthy candidates, the concubinage of the clergy,
plurality of benefices, and simony. Towards the end of the fifteenth
century the complaints increased, more especially with regard to the
immorality of the clergy. “The numerous regulations of bishops and
synods leave no doubt about the fact that a large portion of the
German clergy transgressed the law of celibacy in the most flagrant
manner.”[102] A statement which was presented to the Dukes of Bavaria
in 1477 declared that in the opinion of many friends and advocates of
a healthy reform, an improvement in the morals of the clergy, where
the real cause of all the Church’s evils lay, must be taken in hand.
It is true there were districts where a blameless and praiseworthy
clergy worked, as, for example, the Rhine-Lands, Schleswig-Holstein
and the Algäu. On the other hand, in Saxony, Luther’s home, and in
Franconia and Bavaria great disorders were reported in this respect.
The “_De ruina ecclesiæ_,” an earlier work, attributed to Nicholas of
Clémanges, tells us of bishops in the commencement of the fifteenth
century who, in consideration of a money payment, permitted concubinage
to their clergy, and Hefele’s “History of the Councils” gives numerous
synodical decrees of that date forbidding the bishops to accept money
or presents in return for permitting or conniving at concubinage.[103]
Along with concubinage many of the higher clergy displayed a luxury and
a spirit of haughty pride which repelled the people, especially the
more independent burghers. Members of the less fortunate clergy gave
themselves up to striving after gain by pressing for their tithes and
fees and rents, a tendency which was encouraged both in high and low
by the excessive demands made by Rome. Worthless so-called courtisans,
i.e. clerks furnished with briefs from the Papal Court (_corte_),
seized upon the best benefices and gave an infectious example of greed,
while at the same time their action helped to add fuel to the prejudice
and hatred already existing for the Curia.[104]
Innumerable were the causes of friction in the domain of worldly
interests which gave rise to strife and enmity between laity and
clergy. Laymen saw with displeasure how the most influential and
laborious posts were filled, not by the beneficiaries themselves, but
by incapable representatives, while the actual incumbents resided
elsewhere in comfortable ease and leisure at the expense of the old
foundations endowed by the laity. On the other hand, the churches and
monasteries complained of the rights appropriated or misused by the
princes and nobility, an abuse which often led to the monasteries
serving as homes for worn-out officials, or to the vexatious seizure
and retention of the estates of deceased priests or abbots. It is clear
that such a self-seeking policy on the part of the powerful naturally
resulted in the most serious evils and abuses in Church matters, quite
apart from the bad feeling thus aroused between the clerical and lay
elements of the State.
The richer monasteries in particular had to submit to becoming the
preserves of the nobles, who made it their practice to provide in this
way for the younger scions of their family, and for that reason sought
to prevent members of the middle classes being admitted to profession.
The efforts to reform lax monasteries, which are often met with about
the close of the Middle Ages, were frequently stifled by these and
similar worldly influences.
In the disintegration of ecclesiastical order, the power and influence
of the rulers of the land with regard to Church matters was, as might
be expected, constantly on the increase.
Many German princes, influenced by the ideas with regard to the dignity
of the State which came into such vogue in the fifteenth century, and
dissatisfied with the concessions already made to them by the Church,
arrogated still further privileges, for example, the taxation of Church
lands, the restriction of ecclesiastical jurisdiction, the so-called
Government Placet and an oppressive right of visiting and supervising
the parishes within their territories. There had thus grown up in
many districts a system of secular interference in Church matters
long before the religious apostasy of the sixteenth century resulted
in the total submission of the Church to the Protestant princes of
the land. The Catholic ruler recognised in principle the doctrines
and rights of the Church. What, however, was to happen if rulers,
equipped with such twofold authority, altered their attitude to the
Church on the outbreak of the schism? Their fidelity was in many cases
already put to a severe test by the disorders of the clergy, which
were doing harm to their country and which Rome made no attempt to
suppress. The ecclesiastico-political complaints of the princes (the
famous Gravamina) against Rome are proofs of their annoyance; for
these charges, as Dr. Eck pointed out, were for the most part well
founded; Eck’s opinion was shared by other authorities, such as Bertold
von Henneberg, Wimpfeling, Duke George of Saxony, and Aleander the
Papal Nuncio, who all express themselves in the same manner regarding
the financial grievances against Rome, which were felt in Germany
throughout all ranks and classes down to the meanest individual.[105]
“On account of these and other causes the irritation and opposition
to the Holy See had, on the eve of the great German schism, reached
boiling point; this vexation is explained, as the _’Gravamina nationis
Germanicæ_’ clearly prove, by the disorders of the Curia, and still
more by its unceasing demands.” “That the smouldering discontent
broke into open flame was the doing of those scoffers without faith
or conscience, such as the Humanists, who persisted in pouring on the
fire the oil of their sophistries.”[106] The Catholic historian from
whom these words are borrowed rightly draws attention to the “mistaken
policy” entered on by Luther’s followers when they attacked the
hierarchical order on account of the disorders rampant in the life and
administration of the Church. The success of their “mistaken policy”
was a “speaking proof of the coarseness, blindness and passion of the
German people at that time,” but in its practical results their policy
helped to bring about an ever-to-be-regretted alteration and to open
a yawning chasm which still exists to-day. “That the vexation was not
altogether without cause no honest historian can deny, whatever his
enthusiasm for the Catholic Church,” for “the action of Churchmen,
whether belonging to the hierarchy or to the regular or secular clergy,
cannot be misunderstood. Throughout the whole of Christendom, and
particularly in Germany, the general state of things was deplorable....
Even though the evils of the waning Middle Ages may have been, and
still continue to be, grossly exaggerated by Protestants, and though in
the fifteenth century we see many cheering examples and some partially
successful attempts at reform, yet there still remains enough foulness
to account psychologically for the falling away.”[107]
And yet the disorders in matters ecclesiastical in Germany would
not have entailed the sad consequences they did had they not been
accompanied by a great number of social evils, especially the intense
discontent of the lower classes with their position and a hostile
jealousy of the laity against the privileges and possessions of the
clergy. Savage outbreaks of rebellion against the old traditional order
of things were of frequent occurrence. In many localities the peasants
were in arms against their princes and masters for the improvement of
their conditions; the knights and the nobility, to say nothing of the
cities, gave themselves up to the spirit of aggrandisement referred
to above. It was just this spirit of unrest and discontent of which
the coming mighty movement of intellectual and religious reform was to
avail itself.
If we look more closely at Italy and Rome we find that in Italy,
which comprised within its limits the seat of the supreme authority
in the Church and of which the influence on civilisation everywhere
was so important, complete religious indifference had taken root among
many of the most highly cultured. The Renaissance, the famed classic
regeneration, had undergone a change for the worse, and, in the name of
education, was promoting the most questionable tendencies. After having
been welcomed and encouraged by the Papacy with over-great confidence
it disappointed both the Popes and the Church with its poisonous fruits.
At the time that the Holy See was lavishing princely gifts on art and
learning, the pernicious system of Church taxation so often complained
of by the nations was becoming more and more firmly established.
This taxation, which had started at the time of the residence of the
Popes at Avignon in consequence of the real state of need in which
the central government of the Church then stood, became more and more
an oppressive burden, especially in Germany. It was exploited by
Luther in one of his earliest controversial writings where, voicing
the popular discontent in that spiteful language of which he was a
master, he joined his protest to that of the German Estates of the
realm. Combining truth and fancy, the administration of the Papal
finances became in his hands a popular and terribly effective weapon.
It has frequently been pointed out how much the authority of the Holy
See suffered in the preceding age, not only on account of the Western
Schism when three rival claimants simultaneously strove for the tiara,
but also through the so-called reforming councils and their opposition
to the constitution of the Church, through the political mistakes of
the Popes since they established their headquarters in France, through
the struggle they waged to assert their power in Italy, that apple of
discord of rising nations, and also, in the case of the Avignon Popes,
through their lack, or, at any rate, suspected lack, of independence.
To this we must add the shocking behaviour of the Curial officials and
of several of the cardinals in the Eternal City, especially at the
turn of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, also the disgraceful
example of Alexander VI and the Borgia family, the bearing of his
successor Julius II, more befitting a soldier than an ecclesiastic,
and the very worldly spirit of Leo X and his Court. Ostentation and
the abuse of worldly possessions and Church revenues which Alvarez
Pelayo, the Spanish Franciscan, had already bewailed in his “_De
planctu ecclesiæ_” had risen to still greater heights at Rome. The
work of this severe critic, who, in spite of his fault-finding, was
nevertheless well disposed to the Curia, was in general circulation
just previous to Luther’s appearance on the field; it was several
times reprinted, for instance, at Ulm in 1474, and again at Lyons in
1517, with a dedication to the later Pope Hadrian VI. It is there we
find the indignant assertion, that those who bear the dignity of the
primacy are God’s worst persecutors.[108] In the work “_De squaloribus
Romanæ curiæ_” various well-founded complaints were adduced, together
with much that was incorrect and exaggerated. The book “_De ruina
ecclesiæ_” (see above, p. 50) contained accusations against the Popes
and the government of the Church couched in rude and violent language,
and these too gained new and stronger significance at the end of the
fifteenth and commencement of the sixteenth century. We actually read
therein that the number of the righteous in the Church is diminutive
compared with that of the wicked.[109]
There is no doubt that the state of things, so far as it was known from
the above-mentioned books, or from observation or rumour, was busily
and impatiently discussed in the company frequented by Luther at the
University of Wittenberg. What Luther had himself seen at Rome must
have still further contributed to increase the bitterness among his
friends.
When the Monk of Wittenberg openly commenced his attacks on the Papacy,
it became apparent how far the disorders just alluded to had prepared
the way for his plans. It was clear that all the currents adverse to
the Papacy were, so to speak, waiting for the coming of one man, who
should unchain them with his powerful hand. Amongst those who hitherto
had been faithful adherents of the Church, Luther found combustible
material—social, moral and political—heaped up so high that a
stunning result was not surprising. Had there arisen a saint like St.
Bernard, on whose words the world of the Middle Ages had hung, with the
Divine gift of teaching and writing as the times demanded, who can say
what course events would have taken? But Luther arrived on the scene
with his terrible, mighty voice, pressed all the elements of the storm
into his service, and, launching a defiance of which the world had
never before heard the like, succeeded in winning an immense success
for the standard he had raised.[110]
Luther from the very outset of his career was too liberal in his blame
of the customs and conditions in the Church which happened to meet with
his disapproval.
Scarcely had he finished his course of studies as a learner than
he already began to wax eloquent against various abuses. In his
characteristic love of exaggeration of language he did not fear to use
the sharpest epithets, nor to magnify the evil, whether in his academic
lectures or in the pulpit, or in his letters and writings. He wrote,
for instance, to Spalatin in 1516 to dissuade the Elector of Saxony,
Frederick the Wise, from promoting Staupitz to a bishopric: he who
becomes a bishop in these days falls into the most evil of company,
all the wickedness of Greece, Rome and Sodom were to be found in the
bishops; Spalatin should compare the carryings-on of the present
bishops with those of the bishops of Christian antiquity; now a pastor
of souls was considered quite exemplary if he merely pursued his
worldly business and built up for himself with his riches an insatiable
hell.[111]
In his first lectures at Wittenberg he complains that “neither
monasteries nor colleges, nor Cathedral churches will in any sort
accept discipline.”[112] The clergy, he says, in another place,
generalising after the fashion common among preachers, should be the
eyes of the Church, but to-day they do not direct the body, i.e. the
Faithful, for they are blinded: they are the soul, but they do not
give life, but rather kill by their deadly example; about nothing do
they trouble less than about souls.[113] In similar language he, in
these lectures, represents the bishops and priests as simply “full of
the most abominable unchastity”; according to him, they bring to the
pulpit nothing but “their views and fables, nothing but masquerading
and buffoonery,” so that the Church can do nothing but cry aloud over
the misery in which it is sunk. “The strength of her youth has forsaken
her.”[114]
One of the earliest portions of Luther’s correspondence which has been
preserved and which takes us back to his little world at Wittenberg,
throws a clearer light on his character at that time. It deals with an
unpleasant dispute with his brother monks at Erfurt, which he became
involved in owing to his having taken his doctorate at Wittenberg
instead of at Erfurt. The Erfurt monastery reproached him with a
serious infringement of the rules and disrespect for the Theological
Faculty there; he had, they said, entered the teaching Corporation
of Erfurt in virtue of the oath which he had taken in the customary
manner on his appointment as Sententiarius, and was therefore under
strict obligation to take his degree of Doctor in this Faculty and not
elsewhere. Other unknown charges were also made against him, but were
speedily withdrawn. It is highly probable that the tension between
Observantines and Conventuals increased the misunderstanding.
Nathin, the Erfurt Augustinian, first wrote a rather tactless letter
to Luther about it all, as it would appear in the name of the
council of the monastery. Luther was extremely angry and allowed his
excitement free play. He first expresses his surprise in two letters
to the Prior and the council, and was about to despatch a third when
he learnt that the accusations against him, with the exception of that
regarding his doctorate, had been withdrawn. While Nathin’s letter and
also the two passionate replies of the young Doctor have been lost,
two other letters of the latter regarding the matter exist, and are
professedly letters of excuse. The first is in reality nothing of the
kind, but rather the opposite. In this letter, dated June 16, 1514,
and addressed to the Prior and the council, Luther to begin with
complains vehemently of the evil reports against his person which,
according to his information, some of those he was addressing at
Erfurt had circulated previously. Nathin’s letter had, however, been
the last straw. “This letter,” he says, which was written in the name
of all, angered him so much with its lies and its provoking, poisonous
scorn, that “I had almost poured out the vials of my wrath and
indignation on his head and the whole monastery, as Master Paltz did.”
They had probably received the two “amazed replies”; as however the
other charges had been withdrawn, he would hold the majority of those
he was addressing as excused; they must now, on their part, forget
any hurt they had felt at his previous replies; “Lay all that I have
done,” these are his words, “to the account of the furious epistle
of Master Nathin, for my anger was only too well justified. Now,
however, I hear still worse things of this man, viz. that he accuses
me everywhere of being a dishonourable perjurer on account of the
oath to the Faculty which I am supposed to have taken and not kept.”
He goes on to explain that he had been guilty of no such crime, for
the Biblical lectures at the commencement of which he was supposed to
have taken the oath, and at which, it is true, in accordance with the
customs of the University, such an oath was generally taken, had not
been begun by him at Erfurt; at his opening lecture on the Sentences
in that town he had, so far as he remembers, taken no oath, nor could
he recall having ever taken any oath in the Faculty at Erfurt. He
closes with an expression of respect and gratitude to the Erfurt
Faculty. Though he was the injured party, he was calm and contented
and joyful, for he had deserved much worse of God: they too should
lay their bitterness aside, “as God has clearly willed my departure
(_excorporatio_) from Erfurt, and we must not withstand God.”[115]
This letter and Luther’s previous steps cannot be regarded as giving
proof of a harmoniously attuned disposition. He may have been in the
right in the matter of the oath, a question of which it is difficult
to judge. It was not, however, very surprising that the Erfurt monks
took steps to force Luther to make more satisfactory amends to the
Faculty than the strange letter of excuse given above. It is plain
that under pressure of some higher authority invoked by them, a second
letter, this time of more correct character, was despatched by the
Wittenberg Doctor. In judging of this academic dispute, we must bear
in mind the store that was set in those days on University traditions.
The second letter in question, dated December 21, 1514, is addressed
to the “excellent Fathers and Gentlemen, the Dean and other Doctors of
the Theological Faculty of Studies at Erfurt” and in the very first
words shows itself to be a humble apology and request for pardon.
It contains further information regarding the affair. He begs them
at least not to deem him guilty of a fault committed knowingly and
out of malice; if he had done anything unseemly, at least it was
unintentionally (“_extra dolum et conscientiam_”); he begs them to
dispense and ratify, to supply what is wanting and to remit, if not
the penalty, at least the fault.[116]
We learn nothing further about the dispute. The negotiations did not
lead to the renewal of the good relations with Erfurt, which had been
interrupted by his brusque departure. The people of Erfurt were amongst
the first to object to the new, so-called Augustinism and Paulinism of
the Wittenberg Professor.