The Letter to the Pope, like an earlier letter dated March 3, 1519,
was written at the suggestion of Carl von Miltitz. Sent to Germany to
bring Luther to Rome, this German diplomat knew German conditions and
to some extent sympathized with Luther's denunciation of Tetzel and
the sellers of indulgences. He preferred, therefore, to try to settle
the controversy and to leave Luther in Germany. Although the pope
insisted that Luther must come to Rome and recant, Miltitz arranged
for a hearing of the case before a German bishop. Evidently Miltitz
was far too optimistic in his representations both to Luther and to
the pope. The pope, in a writing dated March 29, 1519, spoke in
friendly terms to Luther, and urged him to come to Rome immediately
and to make his recantation there. Luther, in the letter dated March
3, 1519, writes in most humble language to the pope, but declares it
impossible for him to recant what he had written in the XCV Theses.
The pope's letter did not reach Luther; Luther's letter was not
forwarded to the pope.
Luther had promised to keep silent if his opponents would do the same,
and had devoted himself to the study of the Scriptures. John Eck,
however, had no such occupation to keep him from controversy, and
Luther was not averse to a debate. At the Leipzig disputation, June
27-July 15, 1519, Luther learned more of the logical implications of
his position. The plan of Miltitz had failed, but he would not be
discouraged.
When Miltitz went to Germany, it was under the pretence of a mission
"to deliver to his elector the papal golden rose, which the latter had
coveted in vain for two years."[1] Now he decided to go in person to
Augsburg, where it had been deposited with the Fuggers, and present it
to Frederick. This also gave an opportunity for a second meeting with
Luther at Liebwierde, October 9, 1519. Luther, although placing little
confidence in Miltitz, consented to argue his case before the
archbishop of Treves. The plan failed, partly because there was no
citation for Luther to appear, partly because the Elector would not
allow Luther to go without proper safe-conduct, and partly because
Miltitz had not tried to prevent Luther's opponents from challenging
him.
In spite of the evident lack of confidence on both sides, and in spite
of Luther's constant progress in opposition to the Roman Church,
Miltitz insisted that "the case is not as black as we priests make
it," even when a papal bull was issued against Luther on June 15,
1520. On August 28th Miltitz attended a meeting of the Augustinian
monks in Eisleben, and obtained their promise that Luther should be
requested to write a letter to the pope assuring him that he had never
attacked the pope's person. On September 11th Luther reported to
Spalatin what he had done, and said that, although neither he nor his
fellow-monks had any confidence in the plan, he would do Miltitz the
favor of writing such a letter. This promise seemed meaningless to him
after the bull against him had been published. The papal bull had been
obtained by Eck, whom Miltitz now considered to be substituted for
himself in dealing with Luther, in spite of the authority he had
received. That the bull was ignored in some places and despised in
others, pleased him and gave him new courage. There might, after all,
be some chance for him to make use of his diplomatic skill.
Again he invited Luther to meet him in Lichtenberg. They met in the
monastery of St. Anthony on October 12th, and Luther renewed his
promise to write to the pope, to send the letter within twelve days,
and to date it back to September 6th, that the appearance of
intimidation by the papal bull might be avoided. It was agreed that
Luther should send with the letter an historical account of his
difficulties with the Roman Church which would show that Eck was the
chief instigator, and that Luther had been forced to take the
positions he defended. In writing, however, the historical review
became a part of the letter, and a treatise of far different tone was
sent as a gift to the pope, and as an evidence of the kind of work
Luther would prefer to do if his opponents permitted him to
choose--the Treatise on Christian Liberty.
It is again a question whether the pope received this letter. It has
been an interesting speculation for more than one writer, what the
thoughts and feelings of Leo the Tenth might have been if he did
receive and read it. Schaff traces the progress of Luther in the three
letters he wrote to the pope: "In his first letter to the pope, 1518,
Luther had thrown himself at his feet as an obedient son of the vicar
of Christ; in his second letter, 1519, he still had addressed him as a
humble subject, yet refusing to recant his conscientious convictions;
in his third and last letter he addressed him as an equal, speaking to
him with great respect for his personal character even beyond his
deserts, but denouncing in the severest terms the Roman See, and
comparing him to a lamb among wolves, and to Daniel in the den of
lions."[2] If the pope ever read it, "it must have filled him with
mingled feelings of indignation and disgust."
We may go even farther. Luther thinks of St. Bernard's attitude toward
Pope Eugene, and Bernard was Eugene's superior in the Cistercian order
and had been looked up to as "father." Luther writes as a father
confessor to a friend in trouble, and might have quoted Bernard's
words: "I grieve with you. I should say, I grieve with you if, indeed,
you also grieve. Otherwise I should have rather said, I grieve for
you; because that is not grieving with another when there is none who
grieves. Therefore if you grieve, I grieve with you; if not, still I
grieve, and then most of all, knowing that the member which is without
feeling is the farther removed from health and that the sick man who
does not feel his sickness is in the greater danger."[3]
The pope was a humanist, not a spiritually minded priest; we may,
therefore, believe that Charles Beard is not far wrong in his estimate
of the possible effect of this letter upon him: "If Giovanni de
Medici, the head of a house which had long come to consider itself
princely, and the occupant of the Fisherman's chair, when it claimed
to be the highest of earthly thrones, read this bold apostrophe,
addressed to him by a 'peasant and a peasant's son,' he must have
thought him mad with conceit and vanity. He was incapable of being
touched by the moral nobleness of the appeal, and so audacious a
contempt of merely social distinctions the world has rarely seen."[4]
After the mighty thunder of the Address to the Christian Nobility and
the Babylonian Captivity of the Church, the Treatise on the Liberty of
a Christian Man is, indeed, like a still, small voice. Luther himself
says: "Unless I am deceived, it is the whole of Christian living in a
brief form." Perhaps we may trace here also the influence of St.
Bernard's _De Consideratione_, which was written as a devotional book
for the pope and was a manual of Christian living for the pope, as
this is a manual of Christian living or all Christians.
It has been rather difficult for the enemies of Luther to find much
fault with this book. The Catholic historians, Janssen and
Hergenrother, do not mention it. Grisar characteristically devotes a
little space to each of the three great writings of 1520, and
considers the book on Christian Liberty as the most mischievous of
them all. "It does, indeed, frequently bring its false thoughts in the
form of that mystical, heart-searching style which Luther learned from
older German models."[5] The French Catholic, Leon Cristiani, is far
more generous in his estimate: "A truly religious spirit breathes in
these pages. Provoking polemic is almost entirely avoided. Here one
finds again the inspiration of the great mystics of the Middle Ages.
Does not the 'Imitation' continually describe the powerlessness of man
when left to himself, the infinite mercy of God, the great benefit of
the redemption of Christ? Does it not preach the necessity of doing
all things through love, nothing of necessity? He is not a true
Christian who would venture to disapprove the passages in which Luther
speaks so eloquently of the goodness of God, of the gratitude which it
should inspire in us, of the spontaneity which should mark our
obedience, of the desire of imitating Christ which should inspire
us."[6]
Protestants consider this book "perhaps the most beautiful of Luther's
writings, the result of religious contemplation rather than of
theological labor."[7] "It takes rank with the best books of Luther,
and rises far above the angry controversies of his age, during which
he composed it, in the full possession of the positive truth and peace
of the religion of Christ."[8] The clear presentation of the thought
of the liberty of a Christian man occurs at the close of the
Tessaradecas.[9] In the Babylonian Captivity Luther had promised to
publish a treatise on the subject after he had seen the effect of that
treatise.[10] But the promise to send a treatise to the pope gave him
an earlier opportunity, so that barely a month and a half intervened
between the publication of the Captivity, October 6th, and that of the
Liberty, middle of November. The German, although a translation in
part and in part an abbreviation and rewriting of the Latin, appeared
first, before November 16th. The publisher, seeing his opportunity,
had, however, issued the Letter to the Pope in German separately
before November 4th,[11] so that a new dedicatory letter, addressed to
Hieronymus Mulphordt (Muhlpfort), of Zwickau, was prefixed to the
German edition.
Our translation is made from the Latin, although the German has been
compared wherever it is a real translation.
Two translations into English appeared in the sixteenth century: one
printed by John Byddell before 1544, the translation being, according
to Preserved Smith,[12] by John Tewkesbury; the other, prepared by
James Bell and printed by Ralph Newbery and H. Bynneman, in 1579.
Unfortunately, neither of these was accessible to the present
translators. Modern translations, into English by Wace and Buchheim,
and into German by Lemme, have been consulted.