Lord, shield us with Thy Word, our Hope,

And smite the Moslem and the Pope.

When a tax was levied for the war with the Turks, Luther himself

begged the Elector not to exempt him with his scanty goods. He would

gladly, he said, if not too old and too infirm, 'be one of the army

himself.' In 1542 he brought out for his countrymen a refutation of

the Koran, written in earlier days, that they might learn what a

shameful faith was Mahomed's, and not suffer themselves to be

perverted, in case by God's decree they should see the Turks

victorious, or even fall into their hands.

CHAPTER VI.

PROGRESS AND INTEENAL TROUBLES OF PROTESTANTISM. 1541-44.

The Reformation, against which the Emperor had so repeatedly to

promise his interference, and with which he was compelled to seek

for a peaceful understanding, continued meanwhile to gain ground in

various parts of Germany.

[Illustration: Fig. 45.--JONAS. (From a portrait by Cranach, in his

Album at Berlin, 1543.)]

Luther hailed with especial joy its victory in the town of Halle,

which had formerly been a favourite seat of the Cardinal Albert and

the chief scene of his wanton extravagances, and where now one of

Luther's most intimate and most learned friends from Wittenberg,

Justus Jonas, was installed as reformer and Evangelical pastor. Here

the final impetus was given to the movement, among the mass of the

population, of whom the large majority had long espoused the cause

of Luther, by those money difficulties which played such a serious

and grievous part in the life of Albert. When, in the spring of

1541, the town was called on to pay taxes to the amount of 22,000

gulden, to defray the Cardinal's debts, the citizens made the

payment conditional on their Council appointing an Evangelical

preacher. Jonas was accordingly invited to the town, and received at

once, on his arrival, a regular appointment through the magistracy

and a committee of the congregation. In Passion Week, when Luther

was recovering from his illness and Albert had to attend the Diet at

Ratisbon, Jonas for the first time took his place in the principal

church in the town, then recently rebuilt, in the pulpit which the

Archbishop had had erected with elaborate carvings in stone. Soon

after the two other churches in the town received Evangelical

preachers. The general regulation of Church matters was entrusted to

Jonas, and remained under his control. Luther, however, supported

his friend with his advice, and continued on terms of trusted

intimacy with him till his death. He did not conceal his joy that

the 'wicked old rogue,' Albert, should have had to live to see this,

and praised God for upholding His judgment upon earth. The

collection of countless and wonderful relics with which the

Cardinal, twenty years before, had sought to carry on the traffic in

indulgences, so hateful to Luther, he now wished to exhibit in like

manner at Mayence, his town of residence. Thereupon Luther, in 1542,

published anonymously, but with the evident intention of being

recognised as its author, a 'New Paper from the Rhine,' which

announced to German Christendom a series of new, unheard-of relics,

collected by his Highness the Elector, such as a piece of the left

horn of Moses, three tongues of flame from his burning bush, &c.,

and lastly a whole drachm of his own true heart and half an ounce of

his own truthful tongue, which his Highness had added as a legacy by

his last will and testament. The Pope, said Luther, had promised to

anyone who should give a gulden in honour of the relics, a remission

for ten years of whatever sins he pleased. Contempt of this kind was

all that Luther found the exhibition deserved. Albert remained

silent.

About the same time the Elector John Frederick undertook a novel,

important, though a dangerous, and to Luther an objectionable step,

in connection with a bishopric then vacant. The Bishop of Naumburg

had died. The Chapter of the Cathedral, with whom lay the election

of his successor, were accustomed to guide their choice by the wish

of the Elector, as their territorial sovereign. They now elected,

without waiting to hear from John Frederick, who had seceded from

Catholicism, the distinguished Julius von Pflug. The Elector, on the

contrary, was anxious, as his privilege was hurt by this neglect, to

nominate a bishop of his own choice, and, moreover, a member of the

Augsburg Confession. His Chancellor, Brück, protested earnestly

against this step, and Luther could not refrain from endorsing his

remonstrance. If the common herd of Papists, he said, had been

content to look on and see what had been done to priests and monks,

they and the Emperor would not care to see the same things done with

the Episcopate. The Elector thought this pusillanimous; he wished to

be bolder and more spirited than Luther. It was a pity only that his

pious zeal lacked the more circumspect judgment of his advisers, and

that the interests of his own authority were also concerned. He

declined even to accept the advice of the Wittenberg theologians,

who suggested that, at all events, the bishopric should be given to

the eminent prince of the Empire, George of Anhalt, but chose

Nicholas von Amsdorf--a man of better promise, not, indeed, solely

from his theological principles, but as being likely to be more

dependent on his territorial sovereign, though perhaps, as an

unmarried man and a member of the nobility, less repugnant than any

other Protestant theologian to the Catholics. On January 18, 1542,

the Elector brought him in solemn state to Naumburg before the

chapter there assembled.

Luther was glad, nevertheless, to see an Evangelical bishop. He took

care to introduce him in Evangelical manner. According to the

Catholic doctrine, as is well known, the Episcopate is transmitted

from the Apostles by the act of consecration, with the laying on of

hands and anointing, which can only be done by one bishop to

another, and only a bishop can then consecrate priests or the

clergy. The Reformers would easily have been able to continue this

so-called Apostolical succession through the Prussian bishops who

went over to them. But, as they never acknowledged the necessity of

this with regard to the inferior clergy, neither did they with

regard to the new bishop. Luther himself consecrated Amsdorf on

January 20, together with two Evangelical superintendents of the

neighbourhood, and the principal pastor and superintendent of the

Evangelical congregation at Naumburg, with prayer and the laying on

of hands, in the presence of the various orders and a multitude of

people from the town and district assembled in the Cathedral. The

congregation were first informed that an honest, upright bishop had

now been nominated for them by their sovereign and his estates in

concert with the clergy, and they were called upon to express their

own approval by an Amen, which was thereupon given loudly in

response. In this manner at least it was sought to comply with a

rule especially enjoined by Cyprian: namely, that a bishop should be

elected in an assembly of neighbouring bishops and with the consent

of his own congregation. Luther gave an account of the ceremony in a

tract, entitled 'Example of the way to consecrate a true Christian

bishop.'

[Illustration: FIG. 4e.-AMSDORF. (From an old woodcut.)]

Brück's apprehensions meantime were only too well founded. The

complaints raised against this consecration weighed heavily with

even the more moderate opponents of the Reformation, and especially

with the Emperor. It was at the same time very evident that, as we

have elsewhere observed, the Elector, good Churchman as he was by

disposition, frequently displayed too little energy in regard to the

general relations and interests of his Church. Thus the arrangements

required for the bishopric remained neglected, and the new bishop

was furnished with a most inadequate maintenance. Luther complained

that the Electoral Court undertook great things, and then left them

sticking in the mire. Moreover, among many of the temporal lords,

even on the Protestant side, there were signs of spiteful jealousy

and suspicion against the honours and advantages enjoyed by their

theologians. Luther himself proceeded therefore with the utmost

possible caution. He even declined once a present of venison from

his friend Amsdorf, in order not to give occasion for calumny by the

'Centaurs at Court;' though, as he said, they themselves had

devoured everything, without any prickings of conscience. 'Let

them,' he wrote to Amsdorf, 'guzzle in God's name or in any other.'

Scarcely had the Elector's instalment of the bishop (1542) awakened

these bitter feelings of resentment, when a war threatened to break

out between the Elector and his cousin and fellow-Protestant, Duke

Maurice of Saxony, the successor of his late father Henry--a war

which would have imperilled more than anything else the position of

the Protestants in the Empire, and which stirred and disquieted

Luther to his inmost soul.

Between the ducal, or Albertine, and the Electoral, or Ernestine

lines of the princely house of Saxony, various rights were in

dispute, and among them, in particular, those of supreme

jurisdiction over the little town of Wurzen, belonging to the

bishopric of Meissen. When now the Bishop of Meissen refused to let

the subsidy, levied at Wurzen for the war against the Turks, be

forwarded to the Elector, the latter, in March 1542, quickly sent

thither his troops. Maurice at once called out his own troops

against him. Both continued to arm, and prepared to fight. Luther

thereupon, in a letter of April 7, intended for publication,

appealed to them and their Estates in terms of heartfelt Christian

fervour and perfect frankness. He reminded them of the Scriptural

admonition to keep peace; of the close relationship of the two

princes as the sons of two sisters; of their noble birth; of their

subjects, the burghers and peasants, who were so closely

intermingled by marriage that the war would be no war, but a mere

family brawl; furthermore, of the petty ground of their fierce

contention, just as if two drunken rustics were fighting in a tavern

about a glass of beer, or two idiots about a bit of bread; of the

shame and scandal for the Gospel; and of the triumph of their

enemies and the devil, who would rejoice to see this little spark

kindle into a conflagration. If either of the two, instead of using

force, would declare himself content with what was just and right,

whether it were his own Elector or the Duke, Luther for his part

would assist him with his prayers, and he might then trust himself

with confidence against aggression, and leave spear and musket to

the children of discontent. He told the others that they had

incurred the ban and the vengeance of God; nay, he advised all who

had to fight under such an unpeaceful prince to run from the field

as fast as they could.

The Landgrave Philip, who had hitherto, on account of his second

marriage, continued somewhat on strained terms with John Frederick,

brought about at this critical moment a peaceful understanding

between him and Maurice. The young duke, however, burned with an

ambition which longed to satisfy itself, even at the expense of his

cousin and other Protestant princes, and his power, moreover, was

far superior to the Elector's. Luther augured evil for the future.

The Reformation was now accepted in the territory also of Duke Henry

of Brunswick. The Landgrave Philip and John Frederick had taken the

field together against him, on account of his having attacked the

Evangelical town of Goslar and sought defiantly to execute against

it a sentence, in connection with ecclesiastical matters, which had

threatened it from the Imperial Chamber, but was suspended by the

Emperor. This war against 'Henry the Incendiary' Luther considered

just and necessary, the question being one of protecting the

oppressed. Wolfenbüttel, whose fortress the Duke boasted to be

impregnable, speedily succumbed on August 13, 1542, to the fate of

war and the boldness of Philip. Luther saw with triumph how the

fortress which, it was reputed, could stand a six years' siege, had

fallen in three days by the help of God. He hoped only that the

conquerors would be humble and give the glory of the exploit to God.

They then occupied the land, the prince of which fled, and proceeded

to establish the Evangelical Church, in accordance with the general

wish of the population.

Maurice of Saxony, who still strenuously adhered to the Evangelical

confession and to his rights as protector of the Church, not only

continued the reformation commenced in the Duchy by his father, but

succeeded in extending it peacefully to the bishopric of Merseburg.

The chapter there decided, in 1544, on his nomination, to elect to

the vacant see his young brother Augustus, who, not being himself an

ecclesiastic, delegated at once his episcopal functions to George of

Anhalt, Luther's pious-minded friend. Luther in the summer of the

following year consecrated him, in the same manner as Amsdorf,

together with several superintendents, and with Bugenhagen,

Cruciger, and Jonas.

Events far greater and more important were occurring in the

archbishopric of Cologne. Here an Archbishop at once and Elector,

the aged, worthy Hermann of Wied, had resolved, from his own free

conviction, to undertake a reformation on the basis of the Gospel.

In 1543 he invited Melancthon for this purpose from Wittenberg.

Melancthon's fellow-labourer was Butzer, who had the reputation of

always allowing himself to be carried too far by his zeal for

general unity in the Church, and at the same time, in regard to the

doctrine of the Sacrament, even as accepted by the Wittenberg

Concord, of preferring a more vague conception of his own. Luther,

however, promoted the undertaking with thanks to God, himself

furthered Melancthon's going, assured him of his entire confidence,

and learned from him with joy of the Archbishop's uprightness,

penetration, and constancy. In like manner, the Bishop of Münster

also began to attempt a reformation, in conformity with the wishes

of his Estates.

The Emperor at length, who since 1542 had been again at war with

France, and who needed therefore all the assistance that his German

Estates could give him, displayed at a new Diet at Spires, in 1544,

more gracious consideration to the Protestants than he had ever done

before. In the Imperial Recess he promised not only to endeavour to

bring about a general Council, to be assembled in Germany, but

undertook, since the meeting of such a Council was still uncertain,

to convoke another Diet, which should itself deal with the religion

in dispute. In the meantime, he and the various Estates of the

Empire would consider and prepare a scheme for Christian unity and a

general Christian reformation. The Archbishop Albert, now wholly

embittered against the Reformation, had issued a warning, after the

Diet of 1541, against any agreement to hold a Council on German

soil, as the Protestant poison would here have too powerful an

influence; in a national German Council he foresaw the threatening

danger of a schism. The resolutions passed at Spires brought down

severe reproaches from the Pope against the Emperor. What particularly

scandalised his Christian Holiness was that laymen--aye, laymen, who

supported the condemned heretics--were to sit as judges in matters

concerning the Church and the priesthood.

Protestantism, both in its extent and power, had now reached a point

of progress in the German Empire which seemed to offer a possibility

of its becoming the religion of the great majority of the nation,

and even of this majority being united. Charles V., nevertheless,

kept his eyes steadily fixed on his original goal--nay, he probably

felt himself nearer to it than ever. By his concessions he obtained

an army, which enabled him in the September of that year to conclude

a durable peace with King Francis, stipulating, as before, but

secretly, for mutual co-operation for the restoration of Catholic

unity in the Church. The next thing to be done was to persuade the

Pope at length to convene a Council, which should serve this object

in the sense intended by the Emperor, and then to enforce by its

authority the final subjection of the Protestants.

This possibility of a final triumph of Protestantism might have been

counted on with hope, if only that breath of the Spirit which had

once been stirred by the Reformer and had already responded to his

efforts had remained in full force and vigour in the hearts of the

German people; and if the new Spirit, thus awakened, had really

penetrated the masses, or, at least, the influential classes and

high personages who espoused the new faith, and had purified and

strengthened them to fight, to work, and to suffer. But Luther

complained from the very first, and more and more as time went on,

how sadly this Spirit was wanting to assist him in proclaiming the

Gospel and combating the anti-Christian system of Rome. Thus he

again complained, when hearing of what had happened at Cologne, at

Münster, and at Brunswick, that 'much evil and little good happens

to us;' he adapted to his own Church community the proverb, 'The

nearer Rome, the worse, the Christian,' as well as the words of the

prophets, lamenting the iniquity of Jerusalem, the holy city. In his

zeal he reproached the Evangelical congregations even more severely

than his Catholic and Popish opponents would ever have ventured to

reproach them, inasmuch as their own moral position, to say the

least, was not a whit better. But against the former, his own

brethren, Luther had to complain of base ingratitude to God for the

signal benefits He had vouchsafed them. Thus the peasantry, in

particular, he taxed again and again with their old selfish and

obstinate indifference and stupidity; the burghers with their luxury

and service of Mammon; and his fellow-countrymen in general with

their gluttony and their coarse and carnal appetites. It pained him

most to see these sins prevail among his nearest fellow-townsmen and

followers, his Wittenbergers; and he lashed out with all his force

against the students whom, as a class, he saw addicted to unchastity

and to 'swinish vices,' as he called them. The authorities, in his

opinion, were far too unmindful of their high appointment by God, of

which he had taken such pains to assure them. When Church discipline

came to be really introduced and made more stringent, he foresaw

quite well that it would only touch the peasants, and not reach the

upper classes. Among the great nobles at Court, especially at

Dresden, but also at that of the Elector, he found 'violent Centaurs

and greedy Harpies,' who preyed upon the Reformation and disgraced

it, and in whose midst it was difficult--nay, impossible--even for

an honest, right-minded ruler to govern as a true Christian. He had

already, and especially in these latter years, been in conflict with

lawyers, including some of well-recognised conscientiousness, such

as his colleague and friend Schurf, about many questions in which

they declared themselves unable to deviate from theories of the

canon or even the Roman law, which he considered unchristian and

immoral. He declared it, for example, to be an insult to the law of

God that they should insist so strongly on the obligation of vows of

marriage, made by young people in secret and against their parents'

will. So far from anticipating the triumph of the Evangelical

religion, while such was the condition of Germans and German

Protestants, he predicted with anxiety heavy punishment for his

country, and declared that God would assuredly cause the confessors

of the Gospel to be purged and sifted by calamity.

Just at that time, when a decisive moment was approaching for the

great ecclesiastical contest in Germany, Luther felt himself

constrained to rend asunder once more the bond of peace and mutual

toleration which had been established with such trouble between

himself and the Swiss Evangelicals. In doing so, he had seen no

reason either to change or conceal his old opinion about Zwingli.

The Swiss, on the other hand, offended by Luther's utterances, took,

in a manner, their honoured teacher and reformer under their

protection; from which Luther concluded that they still clung to all

his errors. A lurking distrust of Luther had never been wholly

dispelled among them. Luther heard, moreover, of corrupting

influences still exercised by the Sacramentarians outside

Switzerland. A letter reached him to that effect from some of his

adherents at Venice, whose complaints of the mischievous results of

the Sacramental controversy among their fellow-worshippers ascribed

that controversy to the continued influence of Zwinglianism. In

August 1543 he wrote to the Zurich printer Froschauer, who had

presented him with a translation of the Bible made by the preacher

of that town, saying briefly and frankly that he could have no

fellowship with them, and that he had no desire to share the blame

of their pernicious doctrine; he was sorry 'that they should have

laboured in vain, and should after all be lost.' Even in a scheme of

reformation which Butzer, with Melancthon, had prepared for Cologne,

he now discovered some suspicious articles about the Sacrament, to

which a criticism of Amsdorf had drawn his notice; they passed over,

it appeared, Luther's declaration, already agreed on, about the

substantial presence of Christ's Body in the Sacrament, or merely

'mumbled it,' as was Luther's expression. Nay, he heard it said that

even Wittenberg and himself would not adhere to his doctrine on this

point. Occasion, indeed, was given for this remark by the

circumstance that the ancient usage of the Elevation of the Host,

which, though connected with the Catholic idea of sacrifice, had

nevertheless been hitherto retained, though interpreted in another

sense, was now at length abolished at Wittenberg. After much anger

and discontent, Luther broke out, in September 1544, with the tract,

'Short Confession of the Holy Sacrament.' He had nothing to do with

any new refutation of false teachers--these, he said, had already

been frequently convicted by him as open blasphemers--but simply to

testify once more against the 'fanatics and enemies of the

Sacrament, Carlstadt, Zwingli, Oecolampadius, Schwenkfeld, and their

disciples,' and once and for all to renounce all fellowship with

these lost souls.

Alarming reports were spread about attacks being also meditated by

Luther against Butzer and Melancthon. Melancthon himself trembled;

he seriously feared he should be compelled to retire into exile. But

not a word did Luther say against Butzer, beyond calling him, as he

did now, a chatterbox. Against Melancthon we find nowhere, not even

in Luther's letters to his intimate friends, a single harsh or

menacing expression from his lips. He maintained his confidence in

him, even in respect to the later proceedings in the Church. When

urged to publish a collection of his Latin writings, he long refused

to do so, as he says in the preface to his edition of 1545, because

there were already such excellent works on Christian doctrine, such

as, in particular, the 'Loci Communes' of Melancthon, which its

author had recently revised. It must be regretted that Melancthon,

at moments like these, which must have caused him pain, did not open

his heart with more freedom and courage to the friend whose heart

still beat with such warm and unchanging affection for himself.

Luther never, till the day of his death, bestowed much care or

calculation on the immediate consequences of his acts and of the

work to which he felt himself called and urged by God, and which

certainly brought out in strong relief the individuality of his

nature. While committing, as he did, the cause to God alone, he kept

steadily in view the ultimate goal to which God was surely guiding

it--nay, that goal was immediately before his eyes. His confident

belief in the near approach of the last day, when the Lord would

solve all these earthly doubts and difficulties, and manifest

Himself in the perfect glory and bliss of His kingdom, remained in

him unaltered from the beginning of his struggle to the end of his

labours. We recognise in this belief the intensity of his own

longings, wrestlings, and strivings for this end, as also the

sincerity of his own conviction, little as the days of which we are

now speaking, so busy with events of every kind, corresponded with

the time ordained by God. Luther stretched out his view and

aspirations beyond this world, all the time that he was teaching

Christians again how to honour the world in the moral duties

assigned to them, and to enjoy its blessings and benefits with

thankfulness to God. 'No man knoweth the day or the hour'--of this

he constantly reminded them, and warned them against idle

speculations. But his hopes, nevertheless, he still rested on the

nearness of the end. These hopes he expressed with peculiar

assurance in a small Latin tract, written during these later years

of his life, in which he treats of Biblical chronology, and further

of the epochal years in the history of the world. In referring, for

example, to the wide-spread theory, originating with the Jews, of a

great Week of six thousand years, to be followed by the final and

everlasting Day of Rest, he sought with much ingenuity of reasoning

to prove that of those six thousand years probably only half would

be accomplished. Since now, according to his chronology, the year

1,540 was the 5,500th year of the world, the end was bound to be at

hand--nay, was already overdue--when his little book appeared in

1541. Yet, whatever were his views on this point, he never, like so

many others, allowed himself to be drawn by such hopes and desires

into illusions dangerous in practice.

This year passed by without any further or greater literary labour

on his part.

In addition to this continued polemic against the popedom and false

teachers, we must not omit to mention some characteristic

controversial writings, provoked from him by his indignation at the

attacks on Christianity by Jews, nay, by their seduction of many

Christians. As early as 1538, a strange rumour of a 'Jewish rabble'

in Moravia--a country rich in sectaries--having induced Christians

to accept the Mosaic law, had called forth from him a public 'Letter

against the Sabbathers.' He launched out with vehemence against them

in 1543 in some further tracts, inveighing mainly against the dirty

insults and savage blasphemies which the brazen-faced Jews dared to

employ towards Christ and Christians, and also against the usurers,

in whose toils the Christians were ensnared. He declared even that

their synagogues, the scene of their blasphemies and calumnies,

should be burnt, and they themselves compelled to take to honest

handicraft, or be hunted from the country.

In the grand and beautiful labour of his life, the German

translation of the Bible, he was busily occupied until his death.

After the second chief edition had appeared, in 1541, he endeavoured

to improve, at least in some points, those which followed in 1543

and 1545. He meditated also revising and further improving the most

important of his sermons, which have been left to posterity. After

having undertaken this task in 1540 with a number of them, he caused

three years later the 'Summer-Postills,' which Roth had previously

edited and brought out, to be published in a new form by his

colleague Cruciger. This work was now completed by the addition of

his sermons on the Epistles.

We have already seen how earnestly, even before the great end should

come, Luther longed for his eternal rest, and for release from the

struggles and labours of his earthly life, and the burden of his

bodily suffering. He spoke of his death with calmness but with deep

earnestness, and, indeed, with a touch of humour which pained those

who heard him speak, or read his writings. Thus, when in March 1544

the Elector's wife, Sybil, asked him 'anxiously and diligently'

about his own health and that of his wife and children, he answered:

'Thank God, we are well, and better than we deserve of God. But no

wonder, if I am sometimes shaky in the head. Old age is creeping on

me, which in itself is cold and unsightly, and I am ill and weak.

The pitcher goes to the well until it breaks. I have lived long

enough; God grant me a happy end, that this useless body may reach

His people beneath the earth, and go to feed the worms. Consider

that I have seen the best that I shall ever see on earth. For it

looks as if evil times were coming. God help his own. Amen.'

CHAPTER VII.

LUTHER'S LATER LIFE: DOMESTIC AND PERSONAL DETAILS.

Frequently as Luther complained of his old age and ever-increasing

weakness, lassitude, and uselessness, his writings and letters give

evidence not only of an indomitable power and unquenchable ardour,

but also, and often enough, of those cheerful, merry moods, which

rose superior to all his sufferings, disappointments, and anger. He

himself declared that his many enemies, especially the sectaries,

who were always attacking him, always made him young again. The true

source of his strength he found in his Lord and Saviour, Whose

strength is made perfect in weakness, and to Whom he clung with a

firm and tranquil faith. To this, indeed, we must add one

particularly favourable influence, in regard to his life and

calling, which had been awakened since his marriage. In speaking of

his family, his wife, and his children, he is always full of thanks

to God; his heart swells with emotion, and he breathes amid his

heated labours and struggles a fresh and bracing air. Just as,

during the Diet of Augsburg, he had pointed out encouragingly to the

Elector the happy Paradise which God had allowed to bloom for him in

his little boys and girls, so he himself was permitted to experience

and enjoy this Paradise at home. In his domestic no less than in his

public life he saw a vocation marked out for him by God; not,

indeed, as if he, the Reformer, had here any peculiar path of life,

or exceptional duties to perform, but so that in that holy estate

ordained for all men, however despised by arrogant monks and

priests, and dishonoured by the sensual, he felt himself called on

to serve God, as was the duty of all men and all Christians alike,

and to enjoy the blessings which God had given him.

[Illustration: Fig. 47.--LUTHER. (From a portrait by Cranach, in his

Album, at Berlin.)]

Five children were now growing up. The eldest, John, or Hanschen

(Jack), was followed, during the troublous days of 1527, by his

first little daughter, Elizabeth. Eight months after, as he told a

friend, she already said good-bye to him, to go to Christ, through

death to life; and he was forced to marvel how sick at heart, nay,

almost womanish, he felt at her departure. In May 1529 he was

comforted to some extent by the birth of a little Magdalene or

Lenchen (Lena). Then followed the boys: Martin in 1531, and Paul

in 1533. The former was born only a few days--if not the very

day--before the feast of St. Martin, and the birthday of his father;

hence he received the same name. His son Paul he named in memory of

the great Apostle, to whom he owed so much. At his baptism he

expressed the hope that 'perhaps the Lord God might train up in him

a new enemy of the Pope or the Turks.' The youngest child was a

little daughter, Margaret, who was born in 1534.

His family included also an aunt of his wife, Magdalene von Bora.

She had been formerly a nun in the same cloister as her niece, where

she had filled the post of head-nurse. She lived among Luther's

children like a beloved grandmother. It was she whom Luther meant by

the 'Aunt Lena,' of whom he wrote to his little Hans in 1530 saying,

'Give her a kiss from me;' and when in 1537 he was able to travel

homewards from Schmalkald, where he had been in such imminent peril

of death, he wrote to his wife: 'Let the dear little children,

together with Aunt Lena, thank their true Father in Heaven.' She

died, probably, shortly afterwards. Luther comforted her with the

words: 'You will not die, but sleep away as in a cradle, and when

the morning dawns, you will rise and live for ever.'

[Illustration: Fig. 48.--WITTENBERG. (From an old engraving.)]

At this time Luther had two orphan nieces living with him, Lene and

Else Kaufmann of Mansfeld, sisters of Cyriac, whom we found with him

at Coburg, and also a young relative, of whom we know nothing

further than that her name was Anna. Lene was betrothed in 1538 to

the worthy treasurer of the University of Wittenberg, Ambrosius

Berndt, and Luther gave the wedding. He used also from time to time

to have some young student nephews at his house.

[Illustration: Fig. 49.--THE "_LUTHER-HOUSE_" (previously the

Convent), before its recent restoration.]

When his boys grew up and the time came for them to learn, he had a

resident tutor for them. For his own assistance he engaged a young

man as amanuensis; thus we find Veit Dietrich with him at Coburg in

this capacity. We hear afterwards of a young pupil--indeed, of two

or more--who lived with Dietrich at Luther's house. This seems,

however, to have somewhat overtaxed his wife; in the autumn of 1534

Dietrich left his house on that account.

[Illustration: Fig. 50.--LUTHER'S ROOM.]

Luther, like other professors, used to take several students for

payment to his table. Among these there were men of riper years who

were eager, nevertheless, to share in the studies at Wittenberg,

and, above all things, to make his acquaintance. Besides this, his

house was open to a number of guests, theologians and others, of

high or low degree, who called on him in passing through the town.

The dwelling-place of this large and growing household was a portion

of the former Convent. The Elector John Frederick had assigned it to

Luther for his own. The house, which had not been completed when the

Reformation began, was still unfinished when Luther went there, and

it needed many improvements. The present richer architectural

features of the building date from a very recent restoration. It

stood against the town wall, and was protected by the Elbe. His own

small study looked out in this direction, and formed a gable above

the water of the moat; though, as he complained in 1530, it was

threatened with alterations for military purposes, and perhaps

during his lifetime fell a prey to them. Only one of the larger

rooms of the house, situated in front, has been preserved in the

recollection of posterity, and is now called Luther's room. It was

probably the chief sitting-room of the family.

The young couple possessed at first a very slender maintenance.

Neither of them had any private means. When, in 1527, Luther was

lying apparently on his deathbed, he had nothing to leave his wife

but the cups which had been given him as presents, and it happened

that he was obliged to pawn even these to find money for their

immediate wants.

By degrees, however, his income and property increased. His salary

as professor at the University (he received no honorarium for his

lectures) was raised on his marriage by the Elector John from 100 to

200 gulden, and John Frederick added 100 gulden more--the value of a

gulden at that time being equal to about 16 marks of the present

German money. He received, also, regular payments in kind. Now and

then he had a special present from the Elector, such as a fine piece

of cloth, a cask of wine, or some venison, with greetings from his

Highness. In 1536 John Frederick sent him two casks of wine, saying

that it was that year's growth of his vineyards, and that Luther

would find how good it was when he tasted it. Luther's share of his

father's property was 250 gulden, which he was to be paid later in

small instalments by his brother James, who was heir to the real

estate. In 1539 Bugenhagen brought him from Denmark an offering of

100 gulden, and two years afterwards the Danish king gave him and

his children an allowance of 50 gulden a year. Luther never troubled

himself much about his expenses, and gave with generous liberality

what he earned. His wife kept things together for the household,

managed it with business-like energy and talent, and tried to add to

their income.

They enlarged their garden by buying some more strips adjoining it,

as well as a field. In 1540 Luther purchased for 610 gulden from a

brother of his wife, who was in needy circumstances, the small farm

of Zülsdorf or Zulsdorf, between Leipzig and Borna--it must not be

confounded with another village of the same name. The market at

Wittenberg being usually very poorly furnished, his wife sought to

supply their domestic wants by her own economy. She planted the

garden with all sorts of trees, among these even mulberry-trees and

fig-trees, and she cultivated also hops; and there was a small

fish-pond. This little property she loved to manage and superintend

in person. At Wittenberg she brewed, as was then the custom, their

own beer, the Convent being privileged in that respect. We hear of

her keeping a number of pigs, and arranging for their sale. Luther

incidentally makes mention of a coachman among his other servants.

Finally, in 1541, Luther purchased a small house near his residence

at the Convent, fearing that he would have to give up the latter

entirely for the work of fortification, and thus be prevented from

leaving it to his wife. He was only obliged in ten years to pay off

a portion of the purchase money.

In this happy married life and home the great Reformer found his

peace and refreshment; in it he found his vocation as a man, a

husband, and a father. Speaking from his own experience he said:

'Next to God's Word, the world has no more precious treasure than

holy matrimony. God's best gift is a pious, cheerful, God-fearing,

home-keeping wife, with whom you may live peacefully, to whom you

can entrust your goods, and body, and life.' He speaks of the

married state, moreover, as a life which, if rightly led, is full to

overflowing of good works. He knows, on the other hand, of many

'stubborn and strange couples, who neither care for their children,

nor love each other from their hearts.' Such people, he said, were

not human beings; they made their homes a hell.

In his language about this life and his own conduct in it, there is

no trace of sentimentality, exaggerated emotion, or artificial

idealism. It is a strong, sturdy, and, as many have thought, a

somewhat rough genuineness of nature, but at the same time full of

tenderness, purity, and fervour; and with it is combined that

heartfelt and loyal devotion to his Heavenly Creator and Lord, and

to His Will and His commands, which marked the character of Luther

to the last.

With regard to his children, Luther had resolved from the moment of

their birth to consecrate them to God, and wean them from a wicked,

corrupt, and accursed world. In several of his letters he entreats

his friends with great earnestness to stand godfather to one of his

children, and to help the poor little heathen to become a Christian,

and pass from the death of sin to a holy and blessed regeneration.

In making this request of a young Bohemian nobleman, then staying in

his house, on behalf of his son Martin, he grew so earnest that, to

the surprise of all present, his voice trembled; this, he said, was

caused by the Holy Spirit of God, for the cause he was pleading was

God's, and it demanded reverence. And yet, in the simple, natural,

innocent, and happy ways of children he recognised the precious

handiwork of God and His protecting Hand. He loved to watch the

games and pleasures of his little ones; all they did was so

spontaneous and so natural. Children, he said, believe so simply and

undoubtedly that God is in Heaven and is their God and their dear

Father, and that there is everlasting life. On hearing one day one

of his children prattling about this life and of the great joy in

Heaven with eating, and dancing, and so forth, he said, 'Their life

is the most blessed and the best; they have none but pure thoughts

and happy imaginations.' At the sight of his little children seated

round the table, he called to mind the exhortation of Jesus, that we

must 'become as little children;' and added, 'Ah! dear God! Thou

hast done clumsily in exalting children--such poor little

simpletons--so high. Is it just and right that Thou shouldst reject

the wise, and receive the foolish? But God our Lord has purer

thoughts than we have; He must, therefore, refine us, as said the

fanatics; He must hew great boughs and chips from us, before He

makes such children and little simpletons of us.'

In what a childlike spirit Luther understood to talk to his children

is shown by his letter from Coburg to his little Hans, then fourteen

years old. He himself taught them to pray, to sing, and to repeat

the Catechism. Of his little daughter Margaret he could tell one of

her godfathers how she had learnt to sing hymns when only four years

old. His hymn 'From the highest Heaven I come,' the freshest, most

joyful, most childlike song that has ever been heard from children's

lips at Christmas, he composed as a father who celebrated that

joyous festival with his own children. It appeared first in the year

1535. He might well, after the manner of old Festival plays, have

let an angel step in among them, who in the opening verses should

bring them the good tidings in the Gospel, to which they should

answer with 'Therefore let us all be joyful.' The words 'Therefore I

am always joyful, Free to dance and free to sing,' call to mind an

old custom of accompanying the Christmas Hymn with a dance.

Luther warned against all outbursts of passion and undue severity

towards children, and carefully guarded himself against such errors,

remembering the bitter experiences of his own childhood in that

respect. But he could be angry and strict enough when occasion

required; he used to say he would rather have a dead son than a bad

one.

There was no really good school at Wittenberg for his boys, and

Luther himself could not devote as much time to them as they

required. He took a resident tutor for them, a young theologian. His

boy John nevertheless gave some trouble with his teaching and

bringing up. His father, contrary to his own wishes, seems to have

been too weak, and his mother's fondness for her first-born seems to

have somewhat spoilt him. Luther gave the boy over afterwards to his

friend Mark Crodel, the Rector of the school at Torgau, whom he held

in high respect as a grammarian, and as a pedagogue of grave and

strict morals.

[Illustration: Fig. 51.--LUTHER'S DAUGHTER 'LENE.' (From Cranach's

portrait.)]

His favourite child was little Lena, a pious, gentle, affectionate

little girl, and devoted to him with her whole heart. A charming

picture of her remains, by Cranach, a friend of the family. But she

died in the bloom of early youth, on September 20, 1542, after a

long and severe illness. The grief he had felt at the loss of his

daughter Elizabeth was now renewed and intensified. When she was

lying on her sick-bed, he said, 'I love her very much indeed; but,

dear God, if it is Thy will to take her hence, I would gladly she

were with Thee.' To Magdalene herself he said, 'Lena, dear, my

little daughter, thou wouldst love to remain here with thy father;

art thou willing to go to that other Father?' 'Yes, dear father,'

she answered; 'just as God wills.' And when she was dying, he fell

on his knees beside her bed, wept bitterly, and prayed for her

redemption, and she fell asleep in his arms. As she lay in her

coffin, he looked at her and exclaimed, 'Ah! my darling Lena, thou

wilt rise again and shine like a star--yea, as the sun;' and added,

'I am happy in the spirit, but in the flesh I am very sorrowful. The

flesh will not be subdued: parting troubles one above measure; it is

a wonderful thing to think that she is assuredly in peace, and that

all is well with her, and yet to be so sad.' To the mourners he

said, 'I have sent a saint to Heaven: could mine be such a death as

hers, I would welcome such a death this moment.' He expressed the

same sorrow, and the same exultation in his letters to his friends.

To Jonas he wrote: 'You will have heard that my dearest daughter

Magdalene is born again in the everlasting kingdom of Christ.

Although I and my wife ought only to thank God with joy for her

happy departure, whereby she has escaped the power of the world, the

flesh, the Turks and the devil, yet so strong is natural love that

we cannot bear it without sobs and sighs from the heart, without a

bitter sense of death in ourselves. So deeply printed on our hearts

are her ways, her words, her gestures, whether alive or dying, that

even Christ's death cannot drive away this agony.' His little Hans,

whom his sick sister longed to see once more, he had sent for from

Torgau a fortnight before she died: he wrote for that purpose to

Crodel, saying 'I would not have my conscience reproach me

afterwards for having neglected anything.' But when several weeks

later, about Christmas-time, under the influence of grief and the

tender words which his mother had spoken to him, a desire came over

the boy to leave Torgau and live at home, his father exhorted him to

conquer his sorrow like a man, not to increase by his own the grief

of his mother, and to obey God, who had appointed him, through his

parents' direction, to live at Torgau.

The care of the children and of the whole household fell to the

share of Frau Luther, and her husband could trust her with it in

perfect confidence. She was a woman of strong, ruling, practical

nature, who enjoyed hard work and plenty of it. She served her

husband at all times, after her own manner, with faithful and

affectionate devotion. He must often have felt grateful, amidst his

physical and mental sufferings, and the violent storms and

temptations that vexed his soul, that a helpmate of such a sound

constitution, such strong nerves, and such a clever, sensible mind

should have fallen to his share.

Luther lived with her in thankful love and harmony; nor have even the

calumnies of malicious enemies been able to cast a shadow of doubt

upon the perfect concord of his married life. In his 'Table Talk' he

says of her: 'I am, thank God, very well, for I have a pious, faithful

wife, on whom a man may safely rest his heart.' And again he said once

to her, 'Katie, you have a pious husband, who loves you; you are an

empress.' In words now grave, now humorous, he told her of his tender

love for her; and how trustful and open-hearted were their relations

to each other we gather from the way in which he mocks and occasionally

teases her for her little weaknesses. In later life and in his last

letters he calls her his 'heartily beloved housewife' and his 'darling,'

and he often signs himself 'your love' and 'your old love,' and again

'your dear lord.' Still he said frankly and quietly that his original

suspicion that Catharine was proud was well-founded. In some of his

letters he speaks of her as his 'lord Katie' and his 'gracious wife,'

and of himself as her 'willing servant.' Once he declared that if he

had to marry again, he would carve an obedient wife out of stone, as he

despaired of finding obedience in wives. He spoke also of the

talkativeness of his Katie. Referring to her loving but over-anxious

care for him on his last journey, he called her a holy, careful

woman. From her thrift and energy she gained from him the nicknames

of Lady Zulsdorf, and Lady of the Pigmarket; thus one of his last

letters is addressed to 'my heartily beloved housewife, Catharine,

Lady Luther, Lady Doctor, Lady Zulsdorf, Lady of the Pigmarket, and

whatever else she may be.'

The 'careful' Catharine was not permitted to check the kind

liberality of her husband. His friend Mathesius tells us, of their

early married life, 'A poor man made him a pitiful tale of distress,

and having no cash with him, Luther came to his wife--she being then

confined--for the god-parents' money, and brought it to the poor

man, saying, 'God is rich, He will supply what is wanted.'

Afterwards, however, he grew more careful, seeing how often he was

imposed upon. 'Rogues,' he said, 'have sharpened my wits.' An

example of how particular, nay anxious, he was never even to let it

seem that he sought for presents or other profit for himself, was

given in his letter to Amsdorf, declining a gift of venison. He

wrote once to the Elector John, who had sent him an offering: 'I

have unfortunately more, especially from your Highness, than I can

conscientiously keep. As a preacher, it is not fitting for me to

enjoy a superfluity, nor do I covet it; ... therefore I beseech your

Highness to wait until I ask of you.' In 1539, when Bugenhagen

brought to him the hundred gulden from the King of Denmark, he

wished to give him half of it, for the service Bugenhagen had

rendered him during his absence. For his office of preacher in the

town church he never received any payment; the town from time to

time made him a present of wine from the council-cellar, and lime

and stones for building his house. For his writings he received

nothing from the publishers. Against over-anxious cares and

troubles, and setting her heart too much on worldly possessions, he

earnestly cautioned his wife, and insisted that amid the numerous

household matters she should not neglect to read the Bible. Once in

1535 he promised her fifty gulden if she would read the Bible

through, whereupon, as he told a friend, it became a 'very serious

matter to her.'

Luther frequently assisted his wife in her household. He was very

fond of gardening and agriculture, and we have seen how he sent

commissions to friends for stocking his garden at Wittenberg. On one

occasion, when going to fish with his wife in their little pond, he

noticed with joy how she took more pleasure in her few fish than

many a nobleman did in his great lakes with many hundred draughts of

fishes. In 1539 he had to order a chest at Torgau for his 'lord

Katie,' for their store of house-linen. Of the handsome and

elaborate way in which Catharine thought of ornamenting the exterior

of their house--the home of her illustrious husband--a fine specimen

remains in the door of the Luther-haus at Wittenberg. Luther wrote,

by her wish, to a friend at Pirna in 1539, pastor Lauterbach, about

a 'carved house-door,' for the width of which she sent the

measurement. The door, carved in sandstone, and bearing the date

1540, has on one side Luther's bust and on the other his crest, and

below are two small seats, built there according to the custom of

the times.

[Illustration: Fig. 52.--Door of Luther's House at Wittenberg.]

In view of his approaching death, Luther wished, in 1542, to provide

for his devoted wife by a will. He left her for her lifetime and

absolute property the little farm of Zulsdorf, the small house at

Wittenberg (already mentioned), and his goblets and other treasures,

such as rings, chains, &c, which he valued at about 1,000 gulden. In

doing so, he thanked her for having been to him a 'pious, true wife

at all times, full of loving, tender care towards him, and for

having borne to him and trained, by God's blessing, five children

surviving.' And he wished to provide therewith that she 'must not

receive from the children, but the children from her; that they must

honour and obey her, as God hath commanded.' He further bade her pay

off the debt which was still owing (probably for the house),

amounting to about 450 gulden, because, with the exception of his

few treasures, he had no money to leave her. In making this

provision he no doubt considered that, according to the law, the

inheritance of a married woman who had formerly been a nun might be

disputed, together with the legitimacy of her marriage. Luther did

not wish to bind himself in his will to legal forms. He besought the

Elector graciously to protect his bequest, and concluded his will

with these proud words:

'Finally, seeing I do not use legal forms, for which I have my own

reasons, I desire all men to take these words as mine--a man known

openly in heaven, on earth, and in hell also, who has enough

reputation or authority to be trusted and believed better than any

notary. To me, a poor, unworthy, miserable sinner, God, the Father

of all mercy, has entrusted the Gospel of His dear Son, and has made

me true and faithful therein, and has so preserved and found me

hitherto, that through me many in this world have received the

Gospel, and hold me as a teacher of the truth, despite of the Pope's

ban, of emperor, king, princes, priests, and all the wrath of the

devil. Let them believe me also in this small matter, especially as

this is my hand, not altogether unknown. In hope that it will be

enough for men to say and prove that this is the earnest, deliberate

meaning of Dr. Martin Luther, God's notary and witness in his

Gospel, confirmed by his own hand and seal.'

The will is dated the day of the Epiphany, January 6, 1542, and was

witnessed by Melancthon, Cruciger, and Bugenhagen, whose

attestations and signatures appear below. After Luther's death, John

Frederick immediately ratified it.

As regards his servants, Luther was particularly careful that they

should have nothing to complain of against him, for the devil, he

said, had a sharp eye upon him, to be able to cast a slur upon his

teaching. To those who served him faithfully, he was ever gentle,

grateful, and even indulgent. There was a certain Wolfgang, or Wolf

Sieberger, whom he had taken as early as 1517 into his service at

the convent--an honest but weak man, who knew of no other means of

livelihood. Him Luther retained in his service throughout his life,

and tried to make some provision for his future. He once sought, as

we have seen, to practise turning with him, but of this nothing

further is related. He loved, too, to joke with him in his own

hearty manner. When, in 1534, Wolf built a fowling-floor or place

for catching birds, he reprimanded him for it in a written

indictment, making the 'good, honourable' birds themselves lodge a

complaint against him. They pray Luther to prevent his servant, or

at least to insist upon Wolf (who was a sleepy fellow), strewing

grain for them in the evening, and then not rising before eight

o'clock in the morning; else, they would pray to God to make him

catch in the day-time frogs and snails in their stead, and let fleas

and other insects crawl over him at night; for why should not Wolf

rather employ his wrath and vindictiveness against the sparrows,

daws, mice, and such like? When a servant named Rischmann parted

from him, in 1532, after several years of hard work, Luther sent

word to his wife from Torgau, where he was then staying with the

Elector, to dismiss him 'honourably,' and with a suitable present.

'Think,' he wrote, 'how often we have given to bad men, when all has

been lost; so be liberal, and do not let such a good, fellow

want..... Do not fail; for a goblet is there. Think from whom you

got it. God will give us another, I know.'

His guests valued highly his company and conversation, especially

those men who came from far and near to visit him. Several of them

have recorded sayings from his lips on these occasions. Luther's

'Table Talk,' which we possess now in print, is founded for the most

part on records given by Viet Dietrich and Lauterbach just

mentioned, who before his call to Pirna in 1539, when deacon at

Wittenberg, was one of Luther's closest friends and his daily guest.

These memorials, however, have been elaborated and recast many

times, by a strange hand, in an arbitrary and unfortunate manner. A

publication of the original text, from which recently a diary of

Lauterbach, of the year 1538, has already appeared, may now be

looked for. Last, but not least, we have to mention John Mathesius,

who, after having been a student at Wittenberg in 1529, and then

rector of the school at Joachimsthal, returned to study at

Wittenberg from 1540 to 1542, and obtained the honour which he

sought for, of being a guest at Luther's table. Deeply impressed as

he was by his intercourse with the Reformer, he described his

impressions to his congregation at Joachimsthal, when afterwards

their pastor, in addresses from the pulpit, which were printed, and

gave them a sketch of Luther's life, with numerous anecdotes about

him. He thus became Luther's first biographer, and, from his

personal intimacy with his friend, and his own true-heartedness,

fervour, and genuineness of nature, he must ever remain endeared to

the followers and admirers of the great Reformer.

[Illustration: Fig.53.--Mathesius. (From an old woodcut.)]

Mathesius tells us, indeed, how Luther used often to sit at table

wrapt in deep and anxious thought, and would sometimes keep a

cloister-like silence throughout the meal. At times even he would

work between the courses, or at meals or immediately after, dictate

sermons to friends who had to preach, but who wanted practice in the

art. But when once conversation was opened, it flowed with ease and

freedom, and, as Mathesius says, even merrily. The friends used to

call Luther's speeches their 'table-spice.' His topics varied

according to circumstances and the occasion--things spiritual and

temporal; questions of faith and conduct; the works of God and the

deeds of man; events past and present; hints and short practical

suggestions for ecclesiastical life and office; and apophthegms of

worldly wisdom; all enriched with proverbs of every kind and German

rhymes, which Luther had a great aptitude in composing. Jocular

moods were mingled with deep gravity and even indignation. But in

all he said, as in all he did, he was guided constantly by the

loftiest principles, by the highest considerations of morality and

religious truth, and that in the simple and straightforward manner

which was his nature, utterly free from affectation or artificial

effort.

In these his discourses, it is true, as in his writings and letters,

nay, sometimes in his addresses from the pulpit, expressions and

remarks fell occasionally from his lips which sound to modern ears

extremely coarse. His was a frank, rugged nature, with nothing

slippery, nothing secretly impure about it. His friends and guests

spoke of the 'chaste lips' of Luther: 'He was,' says Mathesius, 'a

foe to unchastity and loose talk. As long as I have been with him I

have never heard a shameful word fall from his lips.' It was a great

contrast to the coarse indecencies which he denounced with such

fierce indignation in the monks, his former brethren, as also to the

more subtle indelicacies which were practised in those days by so

many elegant Humanists of modern culture, both ecclesiastics and

laymen.

Luther's conversation was also remarkable for its freedom from any

spiteful or frivolous gossip, of which even at Wittenberg there was

then no lack. Of such scandal-mongers, who sought to pry out evil in

their neighbours, Luther used frequently to say, 'They are regular

pigs, who care nothing about the roses and violets in the garden,

but only stick their snouts into the dirt.'

After dinner there was usually music with the guests and children;

sacred and secular songs were sung, together with German and

sometimes old Latin hymns.

Luther also had a bowling-alley made for his young friends, where

they would disport themselves with running and jumping. He liked to

throw the first ball himself, and was heartily laughed at when he

missed the mark. He would turn then to the young folk, and remind

them in his pleasant way that many a one who thought he would do

better, and knock down all the pins at once, would very likely miss

them all, as they would often have to find in future their life and

calling.

In his own personal relations towards God, Luther followed

persistently the road which he saw revealed by Christ, and which he

pointed out to others. He never lost the consciousness of his own

unworthiness, and therefore unholiness. In this consciousness he

sought refuge, with simple and childlike faith, in God's love and

mercy, which thus assured him of forgiveness and salvation, of

victory over the world and the devil, and of the freedom wherewith a

child of God may use the things of this world. He clung fondly to

simple, childlike forms of faith, and to common rites and

ordinances. Every morning he used to repeat with his children the

Ten Commandments, the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and a psalm. 'I do

this,' he says in one of his sermons, 'in order to keep up the

habit, and not let the mildew grow upon me.' He took part faithfully

in the church services; he who was wont to pray so unceasingly and

fervently in his own chamber declared that praying in company with

others soothed him far more than private prayer at home.

Lofty, nay proud as was the self-assurance he expressed in his

mission, and though possessed, as Mathesius says, of all the heart

and courage of a true man, yet he was personally of a very plain and

unasserting manner: Mathesius calls him the most humble of men,

always willing to follow good advice from others. Like a brother he

dealt with the lowliest of his brethren, while mixing at the same

time with the highest in the land with the most perfect and

unconscious simplicity. Troubled souls, who complained to him how

hard they found it to possess the faith he preached, he comforted

with the assurance that it was no easier matter for himself, and

that he had to pray God daily to increase his faith. His saying, 'A

great doctor must always remain a pupil,' was meant especially for

himself. The modesty which made him willing, even in the early days

of his reforming labours, to yield the first place to his younger

friend Melancthon, he displayed to the end, as we have seen in

reference to Melancthon's principal work, the 'Loci Communes.'

Whenever he was asked for a really good book for theological studies

and the pure exposition of the gospel, he named the Bible first and

then Melancthon's book. During the Diet at Augsburg we heard how

highly he esteemed the words even of a Brenz, in comparison with his

own. Touching Melancthon, we must add an earlier public utterance of

Luther's, dating from 1529: 'I must root out,' he said, 'the trunks

and stems.... I am the rough woodman who has to make a path, but

Philip goes quietly and peacefully along it, builds and plants, sows

and waters at his pleasure.' He said nothing of how much others

depended on his own power and independence of mind, not only as

regarded the task of making the path, but in the whole business of

planting and working, and how Melancthon only stamped the gold which

Luther had dug up and melted in the furnace. The later years of his

life were embittered by the conviction, gradually forced upon him,

that his former strength and energy had deserted him. His remarks on

this subject seem often exaggerated, but they were certainly meant

in all seriousness: he felt as he did, because the urgent need of

completing his task remained so vividly impressed upon his mind. He

wished and hoped that God would suffer him--the now useless

instrument of His Word--to stand at least behind the doors of His

kingdom. He wrote to Myconius, when the latter was dangerously ill,

saying that his friend must really survive him: 'I beg this; I will

it, and let my will be done, for it seeks not my own pleasure, but

the glory of God.'

With childlike joy he recognised God's gifts in nature, in garden

and field, plants and cattle. This joy finds constant expression in

his 'Table Talk,' and even in his sermons. It was chiefly awakened

by the beauties of spring. With sorrow he declares it to be the

well-earned penalty of his past sins that in his old age he should

not be able, as he might do and had need of doing, on account of the

burdens of business, to enjoy the gardens, the bud and bloom of tree

and flower, and the song of the birds. 'We should be so happy in

such a Paradise, if only there were no sin and death.' But he looks

beyond this to another and a heavenly world, where all would be

still more beautiful, and where an everlasting spring would reign

and abide.

Among all the gifts which God has bestowed upon us for our use and

enjoyment, music was to him the most precious; he even assigned to

it the highest honour next to theology. He himself had considerable

talent for the art, and not only played the lute, and sang

melodiously with his seemingly weak but penetrating voice, but was

able even to compose. He valued music particularly as the means of

driving away the devil and his temptations, as well as for its

softening and refining influence. 'The heart,' he said, 'grows

satisfied, refreshed, and strengthened by music.' He noticed, as a

wonder wrought by God, how the air was able to give forth, by a

slight movement of the tongue and throat, guided by the mind, such

sweet and powerful sounds; and what an infinite variety there was of

voice and language among the many thousand birds, and still more so

among men. Luther's best and most valued means of natural

refreshment, and the recreation of his mind and body, remained

always his intercourse and friendship with others--with wife and

children, with his friends and neighbours. Such was his own

experience, and so he would advise the sorrowful who sought his

counsel in like manner to come out of their solitude. He saw in this

intercourse also an ordinance of Divine wisdom and love. A friendly

talk and a good merry song he often declared to be the best weapon

against evil and sorrowful thoughts.

About his own bodily care and enjoyment, even with all his

conviction of Christian liberty and his hostility to monkish

scruples and sanctity, he cared very little. He was content with

simple fare, and he would forget to eat and drink for days amid the

press of work. His friends wondered how such a portly frame could be

consistent with such a very meagre diet, and not one of his hostile

contemporaries has ever been able to allege against him that he had

belied by his own conduct the zeal with which he inveighed against

the immoderate eating and drinking of his fellow-Germans; but he

preserved his Christian liberty in this matter. In the evenings he

would say to his pupils at the supper-table, 'You young fellows, you

must drink the Elector's health and mine, the old man's, in a

bumper. We must look for our pillows and bolsters in the tankard.'

And in his lively and merry entertainments with his friends the 'cup

that cheers' was always there. He could even call for a toast when

he heard bad news, for next to a fervent Lord's Prayer and a good

heart, there was no better antidote, he used to say, to care.

His physical sufferings were chiefly confined to the pains in his

head, which never wholly left him, and which increased from time to

time, with fresh attacks of giddiness and fainting. The morning was

always his worst time. His old enemy, moreover--the stone--returned

in 1548 with alarming severity. Some time since an abscess had

appeared on his left leg, which seemed at the time to have healed.

Finding that a fresh breaking out of it seemed to relieve his head,

his friend Ratzeberger, the Elector's physician, induced him to have

a seton applied, and the issue thus kept open. His hair became

white. He had long been speaking of himself as a prematurely old

man, and quite worn out.

In spite of his sufferings he retained his peculiar bearing with

head thrown back and upturned face. His features, especially the

mouth, now showed more plainly even than in earlier life the calm

strength acquired by struggles and suffering. The pathos which later

portraits have often given to his countenance is not apparent in the

earlier ones, but rather an expression of melancholy. The deep glow

and energy of his spirit, which even Cranach's pencil has failed

wholly to represent, seems to have found chief expression in his

dark eyes. These evidently struck the old rector of Wittenberg,

Pollich, and the legate Caietan at Augsburg; it was with these that,

on his arrival at Worms, the legate Aleander saw him look around him

'like a demon'; it was these that 'sparkled like stars' on the young

Swiss Kessler, so that he could 'hardly endure their gaze.' After

his death, another acquaintance of his called them 'falcon's eyes';

and Melancthon saw in the brown pupils, encircled by a yellow ring,

the keen, courageous eye of a lion.

This fire in Luther never died. Under the pressure of suffering and

weakness, it only burst forth when stirred by opposition into new

and fiercer flames. It became, indeed, more easily provoked in later

life, and produced in him an irritation and restless impatience with

the world and all its doings. His full and clear gaze was fixed on

the Hereafter.

CHAPTER VIII.

LUTHER'S LAST YEAR AND DEATH.

The Emperor Charles, after concluding the peace of Crespy with King

Francis, turned his policy entirely to ecclesiastical affairs. The

Pope could no longer resist his urgent demand for a Council, and

accordingly a bull, of November 1544, summoned one to assemble at

Trent in the following March. With regard to the Turks, the Emperor

sought to liberate his hands by means of a peaceful settlement and

concessions. He entered into negotiations with them in 1545, in

which he was supported by an ambassador from France. These led

ultimately to the result that the Turks left him in possession, on

payment of a tribute, of those frontier fortresses which he still

occupied, and which they had previously demanded from him, and

agreed to a truce for a year and a half. 'This is the way,'

exclaimed Luther, 'in which war is now waged against those who have

been denounced so many years as enemies to the name of Christ, and

against whom the Romish Satan has amassed such heaps of gold by

indulgences and other innumerable means of plunder.'

Meanwhile the Elector John had commissioned his theologians to

prepare the scheme of reformation which was to be submitted

according to the decree of the Diet at Spires. On January 14,1545,

they sent him a draft compiled by Melancthon. Luther headed with his

own the list of signatures. It was a last great message of peace

from his hand. The draft set forth clearly and distinctly the

principles of the Evangelical Church; but expressed a hope that the

bishops of the Catholic Church would fulfil the duties of their

office, and promised them obedience if they accepted and furthered

the preaching of the gospel in its purity. This was too moderate for

the Elector. His chancellor Brück, however, assured him that Luther

and the others were agreed with Melancthon, though the document bore

no evidence of 'Doctor Martin's restless spirit.'

Nor did Luther even here insist on that strong expression of opinion

with regard to the Lord's Supper which he himself gave to the

doctrine of Christ's Bodily Presence in the Sacrament. They only

spoke briefly of the 'receiving the true Body and Blood of Christ,'

and of the object and benefit of this reception for the soul and for

faith.

But Luther now unburdened his heart with redoubled energy and

passion against the Pope and the Popedom, of which no mention had

been made in the draft. In January 1545 he learned of that Papal

letter in which the Holy Father had protested to his son the

Emperor, with pathetic indignation, against the decrees of the Diet

at Spires. Luther at first took it seriously for a forgery--a mere

pasquinade--until he was assured by the Elector of the genuineness

of this and another and similar letter, and thus provoked to take

public steps against it. He thought that, if the brief was genuine,

the Pope would sooner worship the Turks--nay, the devil himself--than

ever dream of consenting to a reform in accordance with God's Word.

Accordingly, he composed his pamphlet 'Against the Popedom at Rome,

instituted by the Devil.' In this his 'restless spirit' spoke out

once more with all its strength; he poured out the vials of his wrath

in the plainest and most violent language--more violent than in any

of his earlier writings--against the Antichrist of Rome. The very

first word gives the Pope the title of 'the most hellish Father.'

Luther is not surprised that to him and his Curia the words 'free

Christian German Council' are sheer poison, death, and hell. But he

asks him, what is the use of a Council at all if the Pope arrogates

to himself beforehand, as his decrees fulminate, the right of altering

and tearing up its decisions. Far better to spare the expense and

trouble of such a farce, and say, 'We will believe and worship your

hellship without any Councils.' The piece of arch-knavery practised

by the Pope in himself announcing a Council against Emperor and Empire

was, in fact, nothing new. The Popes from the very first had practised

all kinds of devilish wickedness, treachery, and murder against the

German Emperors. Luther recalls to mind how a Pope had caused the

noble Conradin to be executed with the sword. Paul III., in his

admonition to his 'son' the Emperor Charles, referred in pious strain

to the example of Eli, the high-priest, who had been punished for not

rebuking his sons for their sins. Luther now points him to his own,

the Pope's natural son, whom the Pope was so anxious to enrich; he

asks if Father Paul then had nothing to punish in him. It was well

known what tricks Paul himself, with his insatiable maw, was playing

together with his son with the property of the Church. Further, he

puts before the Pope his cardinals and followers, who forsooth needed

no admonition for their detestable iniquities. But his dear son

Charles, it seemed, had wished to procure for the German Fatherland

a happy peace and unity in religion, and to have a Christian Council,

and, finding he had been made a fool of by the Pope for four-and-twenty

years, sat last to convene a national Council. This was his sin in the

eyes of the Pope, who would like to see all Germany drowned in her own

blood: the Pope could not forgive the Emperor for thwarting his

horrible design. Luther dwells at length on such reflections in his

introduction, and then says 'I must now stop, for my head is too

weak, and I have not yet come to what I meant to say in this

treatise.' This was the three points, as follow: Whether, indeed, it

was true that the Pope was the head of Christendom; that none could

judge and depose him; and that he had brought the Holy Roman Empire

to the Germans, as he boasted so arrogantly he had done. On these

points he then proceeds to enlarge once more with a wealth of

searching proof. On the last point we hear him speak once more as a

true German. He wished that the Emperor had left the Pope his

anointing and coronation, for what made him truly Emperor was not

these ceremonies, but the election of the princes. The Pope had

never yielded a hairsbreadth to the Empire, but, on the contrary,

had plundered it immoderately by his lying and deceit and idolatry.

The book concludes thus: 'This devilish Popery is the supreme evil

on earth, and the one that touches us most closely; it is one in

which all the devils combine together. God help us! Amen.'

Cranach published a series of sketches or caricatures, controversial

and satirical, against the Popedom, some of which are cynically

coarse, one of them representing to his countrymen the murder of

Conradin, the Pope himself beheading him, and another a German

Emperor with the Pope standing on his neck. Luther added short

verses to these pictures. But he disapproved of one of Cranach's

caricatures, as insulting to woman.

We have seen already what degree of importance Luther attached to a

Council appointed by the Pope. The Protestants could not, of course,

consent to submit to the one at Trent. On the other hand, their demand

that the Council must be a 'free' and a 'Christian' one in their sense

of the terms was an impossibility for the Emperor and the Catholics;

for it meant not only their independence of the Pope--which he could

never assent to--but also a free reversion to the single rule and

standard of Holy Scripture, with a possible rejection of tradition

and the decrees of previous Councils. The Emperor thereupon granted

something for appearance sake to the Protestant States by arranging

another conference on religion to be held at Ratisbon in January

1546. He told the Pope, in June 1545, that he could not engage to

make war on the Protestants for at least another year. The Council

was opened in December 1545, without the Protestants taking any part

in it.

While all this was going on, the newly-opened rupture between Luther

and the Swiss remained unhealed. In the spring of 1545 Bullinger

published a clever reply to his 'Short Confession.' It could,

however, effect no reconciliation, for, mild as was its language in

comparison with the violence of Luther's, it made too much merit of

this mildness, while, as Calvin, for example, accused the author, it

imputed more to Luther than common fairness justified, took him to

task for his manner of speaking, and contributed nothing to an

understanding in point of dogma. From the impression produced by

this letter upon Luther, fears were entertained again for

Melancthon, who had continued to maintain a friendly correspondence

with Bullinger; and Melancthon himself felt very anxious about the

result. But not one harsh or suspicious or unkind word was uttered

by Luther. He only wished to answer the Zurichers briefly and to the

point, for he had written, he said, quite enough on the subject

against Zwingli and Oecolampadius, and did not want to spoil the

last years of his life with arrogant and idle chatter. He only

inserted afterwards in a series of theses, with which he replied in

the late summer of that year to a fresh condemnation pronounced

against him by the theologians of Louvain, an article against the

Zwinglians, declaring that they and all those who disgraced the

Sacrament by denying the actual bodily reception of the true Body of

Christ were undoubtedly heretics and schismatics from the Christian

Church. This doctrinal antagonism was sufficient even now, when the

test of actual war was imminent, to keep the Swiss excluded from the

League of Schmalkald.

Luther still continued, in the face of menaces, to trust in God, his

Helper hitherto, and he found in the latest signs of the times still

more convincing proof of the End, which seemed to be at hand. In the

miserable oppression of the Germano-Roman Empire by the Turks he saw

a sign of its approaching downfall, as also in the impotence

displayed by the Imperial Government even in small matters of

administration. There was no longer any justice, any government; it

was an Empire without an Empire; and he rejoiced to believe that

with the end of this Empire the last day--the day of salvation--was

approaching.

But more painful and harassing to him than even the threats of the

Romanists and the attacks upon his teaching, which his own words, he

was convinced, had long since refuted, was the condition of

Wittenberg and the university. It was a favourite reproach against

him of the Catholics that his doctrine yielded no fruits of strict

morality. Notwithstanding all the rebukes which he had uttered for

years, we hear of the old vices still rampant at Wittenberg--the

vices of gluttony, of increasing intemperance and luxury, especially

at baptisms and weddings; of pride in dress and the low-cut bodices

of ladies; of rioting in the streets; of the low women who corrupted

the students; of extortion, deceit, and usury in trade; and of the

indifference and inability of the authorities and the police to put

down open immorality and misdemeanours. Things of which there were

growing complaints at that time in the German towns and universities

became intolerable to the aged Reformer, who had no longer the power

to bring his whole influence to bear upon his own fellow-townsmen.

In the summer of 1545 he was tortured again by his old enemy the stone.

On Midsummer day his tormentor--as he wrote to a friend--would have

done for him had God not willed it otherwise. 'I would rather die,' he

adds, 'than be at the mercy of such a tyrant.'

A few weeks later he sought refreshment for mind and body in a

journey. He first travelled with his colleague Cruciger by way of

Leipzig to Zeitz, where Cruciger had to settle a dispute between two

clergymen. On the road he was cordially received by several

acquaintances, and that did him good. At Zeitz he took part in the

proceedings. He was anxious to proceed farther, to Merseburg, for

his friend there, George of Anhalt, had seized the opportunity to

send him a pressing invitation, in order to receive from him his

consecration. But the painful experiences he had made at Wittenberg

pursued him on his travels, and were aggravated by much that he

heard about his own town. On July 28 he wrote from Zeitz to his

wife, saying, 'I should be so glad not to return to Wittenberg; my

heart is grown cold, so that I don't care about being there any

longer.... So I will roam about and rather beg my bread than vex my

poor remaining days with the disorderly doings at Wittenberg, with

my hard and precious labour all lost.' He actually wished that they

should sell the house and garden at Wittenberg, and go and live at

Zulsdorf. The Elector, he said, would surely leave him his salary

at least for one year more, near as he was to the close of his

fast-waning life, and he would spend the money in improving his

little farm. He begged his wife, if she would, to let Bugenhagen

and Melancthon know this.

The excitement, however, as might be hoped, was only temporary. To

quiet his emotion, the university at once sent Bugenhagen and

Melancthon to him, the Wittenberg magistrate sent the burgomaster,

and the Elector his private physician Ratzeberger. The Elector also

reminded him in a friendly manner that he ought to have apprised him

beforehand of his intention to take this journey, to enable him to

provide an escort and defray his expenses. The Wittenberg

theologians, sent as deputies to Merseburg, had now arrived there,

and met Luther on August 2, at the solemn consecration of George.

Luther stayed with his host for a couple of days, during which he

preached in the neighbouring town of Halle, and was here presented

by the town-council with a cup of gold. This journey improved his

health. After having paid a visit to the Elector, at his desire, at

Torgau, he returned on the l6th of the month to Wittenberg, where an

attempt was now being made to put down, by an ordinance of police,

the immorality he had denounced.

He now resumed his lectures, in which he was still busily engaged

with the Book of Genesis, and which he brought at length to an end

on November 17. He also preached at Wittenberg several times in the

afternoons, it being unadvisable for him to do so any longer in the

mornings on account of his health. He further occupied himself in

writing a sequel to his first book against the Papacy, and at the

same time meditated a letter against the Sacramentarians.

The autumn of this year brought with it a matter from Mansfeld,

having nothing indeed to do with religion or doctrine, but which

called him away from Wittenberg. The Counts of Mansfeld had long

been quarrelling among themselves about certain rights and revenues,

especially in connection with Church patronage. Luther had already

entreated them earnestly in God's name to come to a peaceful

agreement. They now at length agreed so far as to invite his

mediation, and obtained permission from the Elector, who, however,

would rather have seen Luther spared this trouble. Luther all his

life had cherished a warm and grateful affection for this his early

home; whilst labouring for his great Fatherland of Germany, he

called Mansfeld his own special fatherland. Wearied as he was, he

resolved to serve his home once more.

At the beginning of October, accordingly, he journeyed thither with

Melancthon and Jonas, but his visit proved in vain, since the

Counts, before he could do anything for them, were called away to

war. He held himself in readiness, however, to make a second

attempt.

In the meantime Luther quickly composed another pamphlet, with

reference to the Duke of Brunswick, who three years before had been

driven from his country by the Landgrave Philip and the Saxon

princes, and had now suddenly invaded it again, but was defeated and

taken prisoner by the combined forces of the allied princes,

assisted also by the Counts of Mansfeld. At the instigation of the

chancellor Brück, and with the consent of his Elector, Luther

addressed a public letter to the princes and the Landgrave, and had

it printed. In it he warned them not to allow--as Philip for various

reasons seemed inclined to do--so dangerous a prisoner to go free,

and thereby to tempt God. Behind the Duke he saw the Pope and the

Papists, without whom he would never have been able to carry on his

campaign. They should at any rate wait and see until the thoughts of

hearts should be further revealed. None the less did he warn the

victors against self-exaltation and arrogance.

Once more he celebrated his birthday in the circle of his friends,

Melancthon, Bugenhagen, Cruciger, and some others. Just before that

day a rich present of wine and fish had arrived from the Elector.

Luther was very merry with his friends, but could not restrain sad

thoughts of an apostasy from the gospel which might follow with many

after his death.

At the conclusion of his lecture on November 17 he said: 'This is

the beloved Genesis; God grant that after me it may be better done.

I can do no more--I am weak. Pray God that He may grant me a good

and happy end.' He began no new lectures.

At Christmas time, then, and in the depth of cold, Luther journeyed

to Mansfeld with Melancthon. He wished, as he wrote to Count Albert,

to risk the time and effort, notwithstanding the pressing work he

had on hand, in order to lay himself in peace in his coffin in the

place where he had previously reconciled his beloved masters. But

his wish was not to be fulfilled. Anxiety for Melancthon, who was

ill, urged him home, though he promised to return. On his homeward

journey, in spite of the continued severity of the cold, he preached

at Halle, concluding his sermon with the words, 'Well, since it is

very cold, I will now end. You have other good and faithful

preachers.'

He had carefully brought his Melancthon home. When now the new

conference on religion was to be held at Ratisbon, and a Wittenberg

theologian was to be sent to it, he begged the Elector not to employ

his friend again for the 'useless and idle colloquy,' especially as

there was not a man among his opponents who was worth anything.

'What would they do,' he wrote, 'if Philip were dead or ill, as

indeed he is--so ill that I rejoice to have brought him home from

Mansfeld. It is his duty henceforth to spare himself; he is better

employed in his bed than at the Conference. The young doctors must

come to the fore and take up the word after us.' Of his opponents

and their designs, he said 'They take us for asses, who don't

understand their vulgar and foolish attacks.'

He described his own condition, in a letter of January 17, in these

words: 'Old, spent, worn, weary, cold, and with but one eye to see

with.' He must have lost therefore the sight of one of his eyes, but

we know nothing definite beyond this. He adds, however, that for his

age his health was fairly good.

Melancthon was spared a journey to Ratisbon, as also a third visit

to Mansfeld. Luther ventured the latter, however, in January. He

took with him his three sons, together with their tutor, and his own

servant, that they might become acquainted with his beloved native

home. When, shortly before, some students at his table heard of a

strange and ominous fall of a large clock at midnight, he said, 'Do

not fear; this means that I shall soon die. I am weary of the world,

so let us rather part like well-filled guests at a common inn.'

[Illustration: Fig. 54.--LUTHER IN 1546. (From a woodcut of

Cranach.)]

On the 23rd of the month he left Wittenberg, where on the previous

Sunday, the 17th, he had preached for the last time.

He reached Halle on the 25th, and stayed with Jonas. It was probably

then that he brought Jonas as a present the beautiful white Venetian

glass, which is still preserved at Nüremberg. The Latin couplet is

to this effect:

Luther this glass, himself a glass, doth on his friend bestow,

That each himself a brittle glass may by this token know.

[Illustration: Fig. 55.--JONAS' GLASS. The date when the portraits

of Luther and Jonas, together with the Latin verses and their

translation, were executed, is uncertain, (_a_) Luther.

(_bb_) Translation of Luther's verses. (_cc_) 'Dat vitrum vitro Jonæ

vitrum ipse Lutherus: Ut vitro fragili similem se noscat uterque.'

(_d_) Jonas.]

The breaking up of the ice, followed by heavy floods, detained him

at Halle for three days. The very day after his arrival he preached

again. He wrote to his wife telling her he was cheering himself with

good Torgau beer and Rhine-wine, till the Saale had done raging. To

his friends, however, in company he said, 'Dear friends, we are

mighty good comrades, we eat and drink together; but we must all die

one day. I am now going to Eisleben to help my masters, the Counts

of Mansfeld, to come to terms. Now I know how the people are

disposed; when Christ wished to reconcile His heavenly Father with

mankind, He undertook to die for them. God grant that it may be so

with me!'

On the 28th the travellers, who were joined by Jonas, crossed the

dangerous rapids formed by the narrow part of the river Saale below

the Castle of Giebichenstein, near the town, and thus on the same

day reached Eisleben, where the Counts of Mansfeld, with several

other nobles, were waiting for Luther. An escort of more than a

hundred horsemen in heavy armour accompanied him from the frontier

between the territories of Halle and Mansfeld. Just before entering

the town, however, he was seized with alarming giddiness and

faintness, together with a sharp constriction of the heart, and much

difficulty of breathing. He himself ascribed this to a chill, having

shortly before walked some distance and then re-entered his carriage

in a perspiration. At the village of Rissdorf, near Eisleben, so he

wrote to his wife on February 1, such a bitter wind pierced his cap

at the back of his head, that he felt as if his brain were freezing.

It was in this letter that he spoke of her laughingly as Lady

Zulsdorf, &c. 'But now,' he added, 'thank God, I am pretty well

again, except for the heartache caused by the beautiful women.' Only

three days after this attack he preached at Eisleben.

Luther was comfortably quartered at the Drachstedt, a house which

had been bought by the town-council, and was inhabited by the

town-clerk Albert.

The business was commenced at once, in the very house where he was

staying. But it was a work of much trouble and difficulty for

Luther. He sought one way after another to effect a reconciliation.

On February 6 he begged the Elector through Melancthon to send him a

summons back to Wittenberg, in order to put pressure on the Counts

to settle their dispute; and a few days after he wrote to his wife,

saying that he should like to grease his carriage-wheels and be off

in sheer anger, but concern for his native town prevented him. He

was shocked at the avarice, so ruinous to the soul, which either

party displayed. He was angry also with the lawyers, for backing up

each party to stand so stubbornly on his imagined rights. He who now

ought to have been a lawyer himself, came among them as a hobgoblin,

who checked their pride by the grace of God.

The multitude of Jews whom Luther met at Eisleben and thereabouts

were also an annoyance and vexation to him. He disliked to see the

Counts give room so far to men who blasphemed Jesus and Mary, who

called the Christians changelings, and sucked them dry, nay, would

gladly kill them all, if they could. He warned even his

congregation, as a child of their country, not to fall into their

meshes.

Amidst all this business, he found time to preach four sermons. He

partook twice of the sacrament, and confessed and ordained two

clergymen.

To his wife, who worried herself constantly about him and his

health, he wrote from Eisleben five times in fourteen days. His

language to her, even when he has unpleasant news to tell, is always

full of affection, heartiness, and comfort. The humorous way in

which he addressed her we have noticed before. He told her how well

he fares with eating and drinking. He referred her to her God, in

Whose stead she wished to care for him, to the Bible and the small

Catechism, of which she had once declared that all it contained had

been said by her. He had also dangers to tell her of, which had

assailed him even while thus under her care. A fire chanced to break

out in a chimney near his room; and on February 9, so he writes to

her, notwithstanding all her care, a stone as long as a pillow and

as thick as two hands, had nearly toppled down upon his head and

crushed him. So he now takes care to say, 'While you cease not to

care for us, the earth at length might swallow us up, and all the

elements destroy us.'

[Footnote: A facsimile of the longest of these letters, bearing date

February 7, appears at the end of the volume. It runs as follows:

'Mercy and peace in the Lord. Pray read, dear Katie, the Gospel of

St. John and the' [_marginally_ 'little'] 'Catechism, of

which you once declared that you yourself had said all that it

contained. For you wish to disquiet yourself about your God, just as

if He were not Almighty, and able to create ten Martin Luthers for

one old one drowned perhaps in the Saale, or fallen dead by the

fireplace, or on Wolf's fowling-floor. Leave me in peace with your

cares; I have a better protector than you and all the angels. He--my

Protector--lies in the manger, and hangs upon a Virgin's breast. But

He sits also at the right hand of God, the Father Almighty. Best,

therefore--in peace. Amen.

'I think that hell and all the world must now be free of all the

devils who have come together here to Eisleben, for my sake it

seems. So hard and knotty is this business. There are fifty Jews

here too' [_marginally_ 'in one house'], 'as I wrote to you

before. It is now said that at Rissdorff, hard by Eisleben, where I

fell ill before my arrival, more than four hundred Jews were walking

and riding about. Count Albert, who owns all the country round

Eisleben, has seized them upon his property, and will have nothing

to do with them. No one has done them any harm as yet. The widowed

Countess of Mansfeld (the Countess Dorothea, widow of Count Ernest,

born Countess of Solms), is thought to be the protectress of the

Jews. I don't know whether it is true, but I have given my opinion

in quarters where I hope it will be attended to. It is a case of

Beg, Beg, Beg, and helping them. For I had it in my mind to-day to

grease my carriage wheels _in irâ meâ_. But I felt the misery

of it too much; my native home held me back. I have been made a

lawyer, but they will not gain by it. They had better have let me

remain a theologian. If I live and come among them, I might become a

hobgoblin, who would comb down their pride by the grace of God. They

behave as if they were God Himself, but must take care to shake off

these notions in good time before their godhead becomes a devilhead,

as happened to Lucifer, who could not remain in heaven for pride.

Well, God's will be done. Let Master Philip see this letter, for I

had no time to write to him; and you may comfort yourself with the

thought how much I love you, as you know. And Philip will understand

it all.

'We live here very well, and the town-council gives me for each meal

half a pint of "Reinfall"' [_marginally_, 'which is very

good']. 'Sometimes I drink it with my friends. The wine of the

country here is also good, and Naumburg beer is very good, though I

fancy its pitch fills my chest with phlegm. The devil has spoilt all

the beer in the world with his pitch, and the wine with his

brimstone. But here the wine is pure, such as the country gives.

'And know that all letters you have written have arrived, and to-day

those have come which you wrote last Friday, together with Master

Philip's letters, so you need not be angry.

Sunday after St. Dorothea's Day (7 February) 1546.

'Your loving

'MARTIN LUTHER, D.']

[Illustration: Fig. 66.--ADDRESS OF LUTHER'S LETTER OF FEBRUARY 7.

(' To my beloved housewife, Catharine Lady Luther, Lady Doctor, Lady

of the Pigmarket at Wittenberg; my gracious wife, bound hand and

foot in loving service.')]

Luther kept up also at Eisleben his correspondence with Melancthon.

He wrote to him three letters, the last testimony of his friendship.

A letter to his 'kind, dear housewife,' and one to Melancthon, his

'most worthy brother in Christ,' both of February 14, are without

doubt the last he ever wrote. His sick body was well nursed and

tended at Eisleben. He went to bed early every night, after he had

stood before his window, according to his old habit, in fervent

prayer. The stone no longer troubled him, but he was very weary and

worn. His last sermon, on Sunday, February 14, he broke off with the

words: 'This and much more is to be said about the Gospel; but I am

too weak, we will leave off here.' Most unfortunately for him, he

had omitted to bring with him to Eisleben the applications used for

keeping his issue open, and now it was nearly closed. He knew that

the physicians considered this extremely dangerous.

At length his efforts to mediate between his masters the Counts were

crowned with success beyond all expectation. On February 14 a

reconciliation was effected upon the chief points, and the various

members of the Counts' families rejoiced, while the young lords and

ladies made merry all together. 'Therefore,' wrote Luther to Kathe,

'it must be seen that God is _Exauditor precum_.' He sent her

some trout as a thankoffering from Countess Albert. He wrote to her:

'We hope to return home this week, if God will.'

On the 16th and 17th of that month the reconciliation upon all the

points of dispute was formally concluded. The revenues of churches

and schools were fixed upon, and the latter to this day owe a rich

endowment to the arrangements there made. On the 16th Luther says in

his 'Table Talk': 'I will now no longer tarry, but set myself to go

to Wittenberg and there lay myself in a coffin and give the worms a

fat doctor to feed upon.'

On the morning of the 17th, however, the Counts found themselves

compelled, by Luther's state of health, to entreat him not to exert

himself any longer with their affairs; and so he only added his

signature where required. To Jonas and the Counts' court-preacher

Cölius, who were staying, with him, he said he thought he should

remain at Eisleben, where he was born. Before supper he complained

of oppression of the chest, and had himself rubbed with warm cloths.

This relieved him, and he left his little room, going down the

staircase into the public room to join the party at supper. 'There is

no pleasure,' he said, 'in being alone.' At supper he was merry with

the rest, and talked with his usual energy on various subjects--now

jocular or serious, now intellectual and pious. But no sooner had he

returned to his chamber and finished his usual evening prayer than he

again became anxious and troubled. After being rubbed again with warm

cloths and having taken a medicine which Count Albert himself had

brought him, he laid himself down about nine o'clock on a leathern

sofa and slept gently for an hour and a half. On awakening, he arose,

and with the words (spoken in Latin) 'Into Thy hands I commend my

spirit, for Thou hast redeemed me, Thou God of truth,' went to his

bed in the adjoining room, where he again slept, breathing quietly,

till one o'clock. He then awoke, called his servant, and begged him

to heat the room, though it was quite warm already, and then exclaimed

to Jonas, 'O Lord God, how ill I am! Ah! I feel I shall remain here

at Eisleben, where I was born and baptized.' In this state of pain

he arose, walked without assistance into the room which he had

left a few hours before, again commending his soul to God; and

then, after pacing once up and down the room, lay down once more

on the sofa, complaining again of the oppression on his chest. His

two sons, Martin and Paul, remained with him all night. They had

spent most of the time at Mansfeld with their relations there, but

had now returned to their father (Hans was still absent), and his

servant and Jonas. Cölius also hastened to him, and the young

theologian John Aurifaber, a friend of the two Counts who used to

associate with Luther together with Jonas and Cölius. The town-clerk

was there, too, with his wife, also two physicians, and Count Albert

and his wife, who busied herself zealously with nursing the sick man;

and later on came a Count of Schwarzburg with his wife, who were

staying on a visit with the Count of Mansfeld. The rubbing and

application of warm clothes and the medicines were now of no avail

to ease Luther's anguish. He broke out into a sweat. His friends began

to feel more happy about him, hoping that this would relieve him; but

he replied, 'It is the cold sweat of death; I shall yield up my

spirit.' Then he began to give thanks aloud to God, Who had revealed

to him His Son, Whom he had confessed and loved, and Whom the godless

and the Pope blasphemed and insulted. He cried aloud to God and to the

Lord Jesus: 'Take my poor soul into Thy hands! Although I must leave

this body, I know that I shall be ever with Thee.' He then spoke words

of the Bible, three times uttering the text of St. John iii: 'God so

loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever

believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.'

After Cölius had given him one more spoonful of medicine, he said

again, 'I am going, and shall render up my spirit,' and three times

rapidly in succession he said in Latin, 'Father, into Thy hands I

commend my spirit, for Thou hast redeemed me, O Lord God of truth.'

From that time he remained quite still, and closed his eyes, without

making any answer when spoken to by those around him, who were busy

with restoratives. Jonas and Cölius, however, after his pulse had

been rubbed with strengthening waters, said aloud in his ear:

'Reverend father (_Reverende pater), wilt thou stand by Christ and

the doctrine thou hast preached?' He uttered an audible 'Yes.' He

then turned upon his right side and fell asleep. He lay thus for

nearly a quarter of an hour, when his feet and nose grew cold; he

fetched one deep, even breath, and was gone. It was between two and

three o'clock in the morning of February 18--a Thursday.

The body was laid in a white garment, first upon a bed, and then in

a hastily-made leaden coffin. Many hundreds, high and low, came to

see it. The next morning the face was painted by an Eisleben artist,

and the morning after that by Lucas Fortenagel of Helle.

Fortenagel's portrait is no doubt a foundation of all those which we

find in several places under Cranach's name, and which no doubt

really came from Cranach's studio.

[Illustration: Fig. 57.--LUTHER AFTER DEATH. (From a picture

ascribed to Cranach.)]

The Elector John Frederick at once insisted that the mortal remains

of Luther should rest at Wittenberg. The Counts of Mansfeld wished

at least to pay them the last honours. After they had been brought,

on the afternoon of the 19th, into the Church of St. Andrew, where a

sermon was preached by Jonas that day, and another by Cölius on the

following morning, a solemn procession started at noon on the 20th,

with the coffin, for its destination. In front rode a troop of about

fifty light-armed cavalry, with sons of both the Counts, to

accompany the body to its last resting-place. All the Counts and

Countesses, with their guests, followed as far as the gates of

Eisleben, and among them was a Prince of Anhalt, the magistrates,

the school-children, and the whole population of the surrounding

country.

[Illustration: Fig. 58.--CAST OF LUTHER AFTER DEATH. (At Halle.)]

In all the villages on the road the bells tolled, and old and young

flocked to join the procession. At Halle the coffin was received

with great solemnity, and placed for the night of the 20th in the

principal church of the town. There a cast was taken in wax, which is

preserved in the library of the church; the original features, however,

having been altered by putting in the eyes and improving the shape of

the mouth. To complete our picture of Luther's outward appearance, we

have in this cast the remarkably strong brow, which in Cranach's

portraits of Luther often recedes out of all proportion in his upturned

face. The two representations of Luther when dead are of great value,

deeply as it must be lamented that no more skilful hands than those of

the painter of Halle and the wax-modeller have had the privilege of

working upon them.

On the 21st the corpse was taken to Kemberg, after being received at

the frontier of the Electorate by deputies from the Elector. On the

morning of the 22nd it reached Wittenberg, where it was at once

taken to the Castle Church in solemn procession through the whole

length of the town. It was a long, sad procession. First went the

nobles representing the Elector, then the horsemen from Mansfeld and

their young Counts, and immediately after the coffin the widow in a

little carriage with some other gentlewomen. Then followed Luther's

sons and his brother James, with other relatives from Mansfeld; then

the University, the members of the Town Council, and all the

citizens of Wittenberg. In the church Bugenhagen preached a sermon,

and Melancthon, who, on the arrival of the sad news, had expressed

his grief in a charge to the students, gave a Latin oration as

representative of the University. Then, near the spot where the

great Reformer had once nailed up his theses, the body was lowered

into the grave.

Throughout the whole Evangelical Church arose a cry of lamentation.

Luther was mourned as a prophet of Germany--as an Elijah who had

overthrown the worship of idols and set up again the pure Word of

God. Like Elisha to Elijah, so Melancthon called out after him,

'Alas! the chariot of Israel and the horsemen thereof!' On the other

hand, fanatical Papists were not ashamed to insult his very deathbed

with slanders and falsehoods; even a year before he died a silly,

sensational story of his death was spread about by them.

Luther throughout his life and labours had never troubled himself

much about the praise or the abuse of men. After the example of his

great teacher St. Paul, he went his way in honour and dishonour,

through evil report and good report, along the road which he knew to

be pointed out from above. The portrait of his life, plain and

unadorned as it is presented to the present age, will at any rate

testify to the worth of this great man, and thus do something

towards that eternal end for which he was ready to sacrifice his

life and, in the eyes of the world, his honour and his fame.