1538 on the greatness of God and the wisdom manifest in creation; in
this connection he holds forth before the assembled company on the
details of generation and the shape of the female body. He then passes
on to the subject of regeneration: “We think we can instruct God ‘_in
regenerationis et salvationis articulo_,’ we like to dispute at great
length on infant baptism and the occult virtue of the sacraments,
and, all the while, poor fools that we are, we do not know ‘_unde
sint stercora in ventre_.’”[889] Over the beer-can the conversation
turns on temperance, and Luther thereupon proposes for discussion an
idea of Plato’s on procreation;[890] again he submits an ostensibly
difficult “_casus_” regarding the girl who becomes a mother on the
frontier of two countries;[891] he relates the tale of the woman
who “_habitu viri et membro ficto_” “_duas uxores duxit_”;[892] he
dilates on a “marvellous” peculiarity of the female body, which one
would have thought of a nature to interest a physician rather than
a theologian.[893] He also treats of the Bible passage according to
which woman must be veiled “on account of the angels” (1 Cor. xi. 11),
adding with his customary vulgarity: “And I too must wear breeches
on account of the girls.”[894] When the conversation turned on the
marriage of a young fellow to a lady of a certain age he remarked,
that at such nuptials the words “Increase and multiply” ought not to
be used; as the poet says: “_Arvinam quaerunt multi in podice porci_,”
surely a useless search.[895] The reason “why God was so angry with
the Pope” was, he elsewhere informs his guests, because he had robbed
Him of the fruit of the body. “We should have received no blessing
unless God had implanted our passions in us. But to the spark present
in both man and wife the children owe their being; even though our
children are born ugly we love them nevertheless.”[896]—He then
raises his thoughts to God and exclaims: “Ah, beloved Lord God, would
that all had remained according to Thine order and creation.” But what
the Pope had achieved by his errors was well known: “We are aware how
things have gone hitherto.” “The Pope wanted to enforce celibacy and
to improve God’s work.” But the monks and Papists “ ... are consumed
with concupiscence and the lust of fornication.”[897]—Take counsel
with someone beforehand, he says, “in order that you may not repent
after the marriage. But be careful that you are not misled by advice
and sophistry, else you may find yourself with a sad handful ... then
He Who drives the wheel, i.e. God, will jeer at you. But that you
should wish to possess one who is pretty, pious and wealthy, nay, my
friend ... it will fare with you as it did with the nuns who were
given carved Jesus’s and who cast about for others who at least were
living and pleased them better.”[898]
Thus does Luther jumble together unseemly fancies, coarse concessions
to sensuality and praise for broken vows, with thoughts of the Divine.
Anyone who regards celibacy and monastic vows from the Catholic
standpoint may well ask how a man intent on throwing mud at the
religious state, a man who had broken his most sacred pledges by his
marriage with a nun, could be in a position rightly to appreciate the
delicate blossoms which in every age have sprung up on the chaste
soil of Christian continence in the lives of countless priests and
religious, not in the cloister alone, but also in the world without?
Of his achievements in this field, of his having trodden celibacy under
foot, Luther was very proud. To the success of his unholy efforts he
himself gave testimony in the words already mentioned: “I am like unto
Abraham [the Father of the Faithful] for I am the progenitor of all
the monks, priests and nuns [who have married], and of all the many
children they have brought into the world; I am the father of a great
people.”[899]
By his attacks on celibacy and the unseemliness of his language Luther,
nevertheless, caused many to turn away from him in disgust. Duke Anton
Ulrich of Brunswick, who reverted to Catholicism in 1710, states in
a writing on the step he had taken, that it was due to some extent
to his disgust at Luther’s vulgarity. “What writer,” he says, “has
left works containing more filth?... Such was his way of writing that
his followers at the present day are ashamed of it.” He had compared
the character of this reformer of the Church, so he tells us, with
that of the apostolic men of ancient times. In striking contrast they
were “pious, God-fearing men, of great virtue, temperate, humble,
abstemious, despising worldly possessions, not given to luxury, having
only the salvation of souls before their eyes”; particularly did they
differ from Luther in the matter of purity and chastity.[900]
6. Contemporary Complaints. Later False Reports
Those of his contemporaries who speak unfavourably of Luther’s private
life belong to the ranks of his opponents. His own followers either
were acquainted only with what was to his advantage, or else took
care not to commit themselves to any public disapproval. To give
blind credence in every case to the testimony of his enemies would,
of course, be opposed to the very rudiments of criticism, but equally
alien to truth and justice would it be to reject it unheard. In each
separate case it must depend on the character of the witness and on
his opportunity for obtaining reliable information and forming a just
opinion, how much we credit his statements.
Concerning the witnesses first to be heard, we must bear in mind, that,
hostile as they were to Luther, they had the opportunity of seeing him
at close quarters. How far their statements are unworthy of credence
(for that they are not to be taken exactly at their word is clear
enough) cannot be determined here in detail. The mere fact, however,
that, at Wittenberg and in Saxony, some should have written so strongly
against Luther would of itself lead us to pay attention to their words.
In the case of the other witnesses we shall be able to draw some sort
of general inference from their personal circumstances as to the degree
of credibility to be accorded them. While writers within Luther’s camp
were launching out into fulsome panegyrics of their leader, it is of
interest to listen to what the other side had to say, even though,
there too, the speakers should allow themselves to be carried away to
statements manifestly exaggerated.
Simon Lemnius, the Humanist, who, owing to his satirical epigrams on
the Wittenberg professor—whom he had known personally—was inexorably
persecuted by the latter, wrote, in his “Apology,” about 1539, the
following description of Luther’s life and career. This and the whole
“Apology,” was suppressed by the party attacked; the later extracts
from this writing, published by Schelhorn (1737) and Hausen (1776),
passed over it in silence, till it was at last again brought to light
in 1892: “While Luther boasts of being an evangelical bishop, how
comes it that he lives far from temperately? For he is in the habit
of overloading himself with food and drink; he has his court of
flatterers and adulators; he has his Venus [Bora] and wants scarcely
anything which could minister to his comfort and luxury.”[901] “He has
written a pamphlet against me, in which, as both judge and authority,
he condemns and mishandles me. Surely no pastor would arrogate to
himself such authority in temporal concerns. He deprives the bishops
of their temporal power, but himself is a tyrant; he circulates
opprobrious and quite execrable writings against illustrious Princes.
He flatters one Prince and libels another. What is this but to preach
revolt and to pave the way for a general upheaval and the downfall of
our States?... It is greatly to be feared, that, should war once break
out, first Germany will succumb miserably and then the whole Roman
Empire go to ruin. Meanwhile Luther sits like a dictator at Wittenberg
and rules; what he says must be taken as law.”[902]
By the Anabaptists Luther’s and his followers’ “weak life” was
severely criticised about 1525. Here we refer only cursorily to the
statements already quoted,[903] in order to point out that these
opponents based their theological strictures on a general, and, in
itself, incontrovertible argument: “Where Christian faith does not
issue in works, there the faith is neither rightly preached nor
rightly accepted.”[904] In Luther they were unable to discern a
“spark of Christianity,” though his “passionate and rude temper” was
evident enough.[905] “The witless, self-indulgent lump of flesh at
Wittenberg,” Dr. Luther, was not only the “excessively ambitious Dr.
Liar, but also a proud fool,”[906] whose “defiant teaching and selfish
ways” were far removed from what Christ and His Apostles had enjoined.
In spite of the manifest spiritual desolation of the people Luther was
wont to sit “with the beer-swillers” and to eat “sumptuous repasts”;
he had even tolerated “open harlotry” on the part of some of the
members of the University although, as a rule, he “manfully opposed”
this vice.[907]
Catholic censors were even stronger in their expression of
indignation. Dungersheim of Leipzig, in spite of his polemics an
otherwise reliable witness, though rather inclined to rhetoric, in the
fourth decade of the century reproached him in his “Thirty Articles”
for leading a “life full of scandal”; he likewise appeals to some who
had known him intimately, and was ready, if necessary, “to relate
everything, down to the circumstances and the names.”[908] As a matter
of fact, however, this theologian never defined his charges.
From the Duchy of Saxony, too, came the indignant voice of bluff Duke
George, whom Luther had attacked and slandered in so outrageous a
fashion: “Out upon you, you forsworn and sacrilegious fellow, Martin
Luther (may God pardon me), public-house keeper for all renegade
monks, nuns and apostates!”[909] He calls him “Luther, you drunken
swine,” you “most unintelligent bacchant and ten times dyed horned
beast of whom Daniel spoke in chapter viii., etc.”[910] Luther had
called this Prince a “bloodhound”; he is paid back in his own coin:
“You cursed, perjured bloodhound”; he was the “arch-murderer,” body
and soul, of the rebellious peasants, “the biggest murderer and
bloodhound ever yet seen on the surface of the globe.”[911] “You want
us to believe that no one has written more beautifully of the Emperor
and the Empire than yourself. If what you have written of his Imperial
Majesty is beautiful, then my idea of beauty is all wrong; for it
would be easy to find tipsy peasants in plenty who can write nine
times better than you.”[912]
From the theologian Ambrosius Catharinus we hear some details
concerning Luther’s private life.
On the strength of hearsay reports, picked up, so it would appear,
from some of the visitors to the Council of Trent in 1546 and 1547,
this Italian, who was often over-ardent both in attack and defence,
wrote in the latter year his work: “_De consideratione praesentium
temporum libri quattuor._” Here he says: “Quite reliable witnesses
tell me of Luther, that he frequently honoured the wedding feasts
of strangers by his presence, went to see the maidens dance and
occasionally even led the round dance himself. They declare that
he sometimes got up from the banquets so drunk and helpless that
he staggered from side to side, and had to be carried home on his
friends’ shoulders.”[913]
As an echo of the rumours current in Catholic circles we have already
mentioned elsewhere the charges alleged in 1524 by Ferdinand the
German King, and related by Luther himself, viz. that he “passed
his time with light women and at playing pitch-and-toss in the
taverns.”[914] We have also recorded the vigorous denunciation of the
Catholic Count, Hoyer of Mansfeld, which dates from a somewhat earlier
period; this came from a man whose home was not far from Luther’s,
and to whose character no exception has been taken. Hoyer wrote that
whereas formerly at Worms he had been a “good Lutheran,” he had now
“found that Luther was nothing but a knave,” who, as the way was at
Mansfeld, filled himself with drink, was fond of keeping company with
pretty women, and led a loose life, for which reason he, the Count,
had “fallen away altogether.”[915] The latter statements refer to a
period somewhere about 1522, i.e. previous to Luther’s marriage. With
regard to that critical juncture in the year 1525 some consideration
must be given to what Bugenhagen says of Luther’s marriage in his
letter to Spalatin, which really voices the opinion of Luther’s
friends at Wittenberg: “Evil tales were the cause of Dr. Martin’s
becoming a married man so unexpectedly.”[916] The hope then expressed
by Melanchthon, that marriage would sober Luther and that he would lay
aside his unseemliness,[917] was scarcely to be realised. Melanchthon,
however, no longer complains of it, having at length grown resigned.
Yet he continued to regret Luther’s bitterness and irritability: “Oh,
that Luther would only be silent! I had hoped that as he advanced in
years his many difficulties and riper experience would make him more
gentle; but I cannot help seeing that in reality he is growing even
more violent than before.... Whenever I think of it I am plunged into
deep distress.”[918]
Leo Judæ, one of the leaders of the Swiss Reformation, and an opponent
of Wittenberg, “accuses Luther of drunkenness and all manner of
things; such a bishop [he says] he would not permit to rule over even
the most insignificant see.” Thus in a letter to Bucer on April 24,
1534, quoted by Theodore Kolde in his “Analecta Lutherana,”[919] who,
unfortunately, does not give the actual text. According to Kolde,
Leo Judæ continues: “Even the devil confesses Christ. I believe that
since the time of the Apostles no one has ever spoken so disgracefully
(‘_turpiter_’) as Luther, so ridiculously and irreligiously. Unless
we resist him betimes, what else can we expect of the man but that he
will become another Pope, who orders things first one way then another
(‘_fingit et refingit_’), consigns this one to Satan and that one to
heaven, puts one man out of the Church and receives another into it
again, until things come to such a pass that he acts as Judge over all
whilst no one pays the least attention to him?” With the exception of
rejecting infant baptism, so Kolde goes on, Luther appeared to Judæ
no better than Schwenckfeld, with whom Bucer would have nought to
do; Judæ proceeds: “Not for one hundred thousand crowns would I have
all evangelical preachers to resemble Luther; no one could compare
with him for his wealth of abuse and for his woman-like, impotent
agitation; his clamour and readiness of tongue are nowhere to be
equalled.”[920]
Powerful indeed is the rhetorical outburst of Zwingli in a letter to
Conrad Sam the preacher of Ulm, dated August 30, 1528: “May I be lost
if he [Luther] does not surpass Faber in foolishness, Eck in impurity,
Cochlæus in impudence, and to sum it up shortly, all the vicious in
vice.”[921]
Heinrich Bullinger, Zwingli’s successor, attacks Luther in his
“Warhafften Bekanntnuss” of 1545 in reply to the latter’s “Kurtz
Bekentnis”: “The booklet [Luther’s] is so crammed with devils,
unchristian abuse, immoral, wicked, and unclean words, anger, rage and
fury that all who read it without being as mad as the author must be
greatly surprised and astonished, that so old, gifted, experienced
and reputable a man cannot keep within bounds but must break out
into such rudeness and filth as to ruin his cause in the eyes of all
right-thinking men.”[922]
Johann Agricola, at one time Luther’s confidant and well acquainted
with all the circumstances of his life, but later his opponent on the
question of Antinomianism, left behind him such abuse of Luther that,
as E. Thiele says, “it is difficult to believe such language proceeds,
not from one of Luther’s Roman adversaries, but from a man who boasts
of having possessed his special confidence.” He almost goes so far,
according to Thiele, as to portray him as a “drunken profligate”; he
says, “the pious man,” the “man of God (‘_vir Dei_’),” allowed himself
to be led astray by the “men of Belial,” i.e. by false friends, and
was inclined to be suspicious; he bitterly laments the scolding and
cursing of which his works were full. One of his writings, “Against
the Antinomians” (1539), was, he says, “full of lies”; in it Luther
had accused him in the strongest terms and before the whole world of
being a liar; it was “an abominable lie” when Luther attributed to him
the statement, that God was not to be invoked and that there was no
need of performing good works. When Luther’s tract was read from the
pulpit even the Wittenbergers boggled at these lies and said: “Now
we see what a monk is capable of thinking and doing.” Agricola also
describes Luther’s immediate hearers and pupils at Wittenberg as mere
“Sodomites,” and the town as the “Sister of Sodom.”[923] Such is the
opinion of this restless, passionate man, who bitterly resented the
wrong done him by Luther. (See vol. v., xxix. 3.)
Not all the above accusations are entirely baseless, for some are
confirmed by other proofs quite above suspicion. The charge of habitual
drunkenness, as will be shown below (xvii. 7), must be allowed to drop;
so likewise must that of having been a glutton and of having constantly
pandered to sensual passion; that Luther sanctioned immorality among
his friends and neighbours can scarcely be squared with his frequent
protests against the disorders rife at the University of Wittenberg;
finally, we have to reduce to their proper proportions certain,
in themselves justifiable, subjects of complaint. That, however,
everything alleged against him was a pure invention of his foes, only
those can believe whom prejudice blinds to everything which might tell
against their hero.
The charges of the Swiss theologians, though so strongly expressed,
refer in the main to Luther’s want of restraint in speech and writing;
the vigour of their defensive tactics it is easy enough to understand,
and, at any rate, Luther’s writings are available for reference and
allow us to appreciate how far their charges were justified.
Another necessary preliminary remark is that no detailed accusation
was ever brought against Luther of having had relations with any woman
other than his wife; nothing of this nature appears to have reached
the ears of the writers in question. Due weight must here be given to
Luther’s constant anxiety not to compromise the Evangel by any personal
misconduct. (See vol. ii., p. 133.) Luther, naturally enough, was ever
in a state of apprehension as to what his opponents might, rightly
or wrongly, impute to him. That he was liable to be misrepresented,
particularly by foreigners (Aleander [vol. ii., p. 78] and Catharinus),
is plain from the examples given above. The distance at which
Catharinus resided from Wittenberg led him to lend a willing ear to the
reports brought by “reliable men,” needless to say opponents of Luther.
The deep dislike felt by faithful Catholics for the Wittenberg
professor and their lively abhorrence for certain moral doctrines
expressed by him in extravagant language,[924] formed a fertile soil
for the growth of legends; some of these, met with amongst the literary
defenders of Catholicism after Luther’s death, have been propagated
even in modern times, and accordingly call for careful examination
at the hands of the Catholic critic. Where Luther himself speaks
we are on safe ground, as the method employed above shows. Where,
however, we have to listen to strangers doubt must needs arise, and
the task of discriminating becomes inevitable, owing to the speaker’s
probable prejudice either for or against Luther. This applies, as
we have already seen, even to Luther’s contemporaries, but it holds
good even more as we approach modern times, when, in the heat of
controversy, things were said concerning alleged historical facts, for
instance, Luther’s immorality, which were certainly quite unknown to
his own contemporaries. Many of Luther’s accusers had never read his
works, possibly had not even troubled to look up a single one of the
facts or passages cited. We must, however, remember—a fact which
serves to some extent to explain the regrettable lack of exactitude
and discernment—that the prohibition of reading Luther’s writings
was on the whole strictly enforced by the authorities of the Church
and conscientiously obeyed by the faithful, even by writers. Only
rarely in olden days[925] were dispensations granted. Thus, when
attacking Luther, writers were wont to utilise passages quoted by
earlier writers, often truncated excerpts given without the context.
Misunderstood or entirely incorrect accounts of events connected with
his life were accepted as facts, of which now, thanks to his works and
particularly to his letters, we are in a better position to judge.
Many seemed unaware that the misunderstandings were growing from age
to age, the reason being that instead of taking as authorities the
best and oldest Luther controversialists, those of a later date were
preferred in whose writings facts and quotations had already undergone
embellishment. In this wise the older popular literature came to
attribute to Luther the strangest statements and to make complaints for
which no foundation existed in fact. Incautious interpretation by more
recent writers, whose training scarcely fitted them for the task and
who might have learnt better by consulting Luther’s works and letters,
has led to a still greater increase of the evil.
In the following pages we propose to examine rather more narrowly
certain statements which appear in the older and also more recent
controversial works.
_Had Luther three children of his own apart from those born of his
union with Bora?_
By his wife Luther was father to five children, viz. Hans (1526),
Magdalene (1529), Martin (1531), Paul (1533) and Margaret (1534).
The paternity of another child born of a certain Rosina Truchsess,
a servant in his house, has also been ascribed to him, it being
alleged that his references to this girl are very compromising.[926]
The latter assertion, however, does not hold good, if only we read
the passages in an unprejudiced spirit; at most they prove that
Luther allowed his kindliness to get the better of his caution in
receiving into his house one who subsequently proved herself to be
both untruthful and immoral, and that, when by her misconduct she had
compromised her master and his family, he was exceedingly angry with
her. It is incorrect to say that Rosina ever designated Luther as the
father of her baby.
The second child was one named Andreas, of whom Luther is said to have
spoken as his son. This boy, however, has been proved to have been
his nephew, Andreas Kaufmann, who was brought up in Luther’s family.
Only through a mistake of the editor is he spoken of in the Table-Talk
as “My Enders” and “My son”; later a fresh alteration of the text
resulted in: “_filius meus Andreas_.”[927]
The third child was said to have been referred to in the Table-Talk
as an “_adulter infans_,” in a passage where mention is made of its
having been suckled by Catherine during pregnancy. In Aurifaber’s
Table-Talk (1569 edition) “_adulterum infantem_” is, however, a
misprint for “_alterum infantem_,” which is the true reading as it
appears in the first (1568) edition. It is true that the passage in
question mentions of two of Luther’s own children, that his wife was
already with child before the first had been weaned.[928]
_Luther and Catherine Bora._
A letter which Luther wrote to his wife from Eisleben shortly before
the end of his life, when he was staying at the Court of the Count
of Mansfeld, has been taken as an admission of immorality: “I am
now, thanks be to God, in a good case were it not for the pretty
women who press me so hard that I again go in fear and peril of
unchastity.”[929] What exactly means this reference to unchastity? As
a matter of fact, after having partially recovered from his malady,
he is here seeking to allay his wife’s anxiety by adopting a jesting
tone, though perhaps exception might be taken to the nature of his
jest. That what he says was intended as a joke is plain also from
the superscription of the letter, addressed to the “Pork dealer,”
an allusion to her purchase of a garden close to the Wittenberg
pig-market. In the letter he explains humorously to his anxious wife
(this too has been taken seriously), that his catarrh and giddiness
had been wholly caused by the Jews, viz. by a cold wind raised up
against him by them or their God (he was just then engaged in a
controversy with the Jews).—The superscriptions of the various
letters to Catherine and the jesting remarks they contain have also
been taken far too tragically. Luther was wont to address her as
deeply-learned dame, gracious lady, holy and careful lady, most holy
Katey, Doctoress, etc., also as My Lord Katey and Gracious Lord Katey.
It may be that the latter appellations refer to a certain haughtiness
peculiar to her; but it would be to misunderstand him entirely to
see in this or even in the name “Kette” = chain, which he applies
to her now and then, an involuntary admission that he was bound by
the fetters of a self-willed wife. We have seen how he once spoke of
her in a letter previous to his marriage as his “mistress” (Metze),
which has led careless controversialists to fancy that Luther quite
openly had admitted that she was “his concubine” (vol. ii., p. 183).
At any rate, not only was Luther’s language unseemly in many of his
letters and in his intercourse with his Wittenberg circle, but this
license of speech seems even to have infected the ladies of the
party, at least if we may credit Simon Lemnius who, on the strength
of what he had seen at Wittenberg, says that the wives of Luther,
Justus Jonas and Spalatin vied with each other in indecent stories
and confidences.[930] Thus we cannot take it amiss if the Catholics
of that day, to whose ears came such rumours—doubtless already
magnified—were too ready to credit them and to give open expression
to their surmises. An instance of this is what Master Joachim von der
Heyden wrote, in 1528, to Catherine Bora, viz. that she had lived with
Luther before their marriage in shameful and open lewdness—_as was
said_.[931]
_Did Luther indulge in “the Worst Orgies” with the Escaped Nuns in the
Black Monastery of Wittenberg?_
To give an affirmative reply to this would call for very strong
proofs, which, in point of fact, are not forthcoming. The passage in
the Latin Table-Talk[932] quoted in justification contains nothing of
the sort, but, strange to say, a very fine exhortation to continence.
For this reason we must again consider it, though it has already
been dealt with. The exhortation commences with the words: “God is
Almighty, Eternal, Merciful, Longsuffering, Chaste, etc. He loves
chastity, purity, modesty. He aids and preserves it by the sacred
institution of marriage in order that [as Paul says] each one may
possess his vessel in sanctification, free from unbridled lust. He
punishes rape, adultery, fornication, incest and secret sins with
infamy and terrible bodily consequences. He warns such sinners that
they shall have no part in the Kingdom of God. Therefore let us
be watchful in prayer,” etc. It is true, however, that this pious
exhortation is set off by frivolous remarks, and it is probably one
of these which suggested the erroneous reference. Luther here speaks
of his young “relative,” Magdalene Kaufmann—a girl of marriageable
age living in his house—and of two other maidens of the same age,
remarking that formerly people had been ready for marriage at an
earlier age than now, but that he was ready to vouch for the fitness
of these three wenches for conjugal work, even to staking his wife on
it, etc. Of any “wicked orgies” we hear nothing whatever. Further, it
is inexact to state, as has been done, that Luther was surrounded in
“his dwelling” by nuns whom he had given a lodging. Neither before
nor after his marriage did they stay with him permanently; as already
stated (vol. ii., p. 138) he either handed over the escaped nuns to
their friends or lodged them in families at Wittenberg. Only on one
occasion, in September, 1525, when in the hurry it was impossible
to find accommodation for a new band of fugitives, did he receive
them temporarily, possibly only for a few days, in the great “Black
Monastery.”[933] There, as he himself then expressed it, he was
“_privatus pater familias_.”
_The Passages “which will not bear repetition.”_
The popular writer who is responsible for the tale of the “orgies”
also declares, there are “other admissions of Luther’s” “which will
not bear repetition.” No such admissions exist. The phrase that this
or that will not bear repetition is, however, a favourite one among
controversialists of a certain school, though very misleading; many,
no doubt, will have been quite disappointed on looking up the passages
in question in Luther’s writings to find in them nothing nearly so
bad as they had been led to expect; this, indeed, was one of the
reasons which impelled us rigidly to exclude from the present work
any reservation and to give in full even the most revolting passages.
Of one of Luther’s Theses against the theologians of Louvain we
read, for instance, in a controversial pamphlet which is not usually
particular about the propriety of its quotations, that the author does
“not dare reproduce it”; yet, albeit coarsely worded, the passage in
question really contains nothing so very dreadful, and, as for its
coarseness, it is merely such as every reader of Luther’s works is
prepared to encounter. The passage thus incriminated, which reads
comically enough in its scholastic presentation (Thesis 31), runs as
follows: “_Deinde nihil ex scripturis, sed omnia ex doctrinis hominum
ructant [Lovanienses], vomunt et cacant in ecclesiam, non suam sed Dei
viventis_.”[934] The German translation in the original edition of
1545 slightly aggravates the wording of the Thesis.[935]
Two other assertions to Luther’s disadvantage have something in
common; one represents as the starting-point of the whole movement
which he inaugurated his desire to “wed a girl”; the other makes him
declare, three years before the end of his life and as the sum-total
of his experience, that the lot of the hog is the most enviable goal
of happiness.[936] A third statement goes back to his early youth and
seeks to find the explanation of his later faults in a temptation
succumbed to when he was little more than a boy. The facts, alleged to
belong to his early history, may be taken in connection with kindred
matters and examined more carefully than was possible when relating the
details of his early development. After that we shall deal with the
story of the “hog.”
_Did Luther, as a Young Monk, say that he would push on until he could
wed a Girl?_
Such is the story, taken from a Catholic sermon preached in 1580 by
Wolfgang Agricola and long exploited in popular anti-Lutheran writings
as a proof that Luther really made such a statement. A “document,”
an “ancient deed,” nay, even a confidential “letter to his friend
Spalatin,” containing the statement have also been hinted at; all
this, however, is non-existent; all that we have is the story in the
sermon.
The sermon, which is to be found in an old Ingolstadt print,[937]
contains all sorts of interesting religious memories of Spalatin, the
influential friend of Luther’s youthful days. The preacher was Dean in
the little town of Spalt, near Nuremberg, Spalatin’s birthplace, from
which the latter was known by the name of Spalatinus, his real name
being Burkard. The recollections are by no means all of them equally
vouched for, and hence we must go into them carefully in order rightly
to appreciate the value of each. We shall see that those dealing with
Luther’s love-adventures are the least to be trusted.
Agricola first gives some particulars concerning Spalatin’s past,
which seem founded on reliable tradition; in this his object is to
confirm Catholics in their fidelity to the Church. Spalatin, in the
course of a journey, came to his birthplace and, with forty-six
gulden, founded a yearly Mass for his parents, the anniversary having
been kept ever since, “even to the present day.” It is evident that
this was vouched for by written documents. To say, as some Protestants
have, that this and what follows is the merest invention, is not
justified. Agricola goes on to inform us that Spalatin settled the
finances of the family, and that, on this occasion, he presented to
the township of Spalt a picture of Our Lady, which had once belonged
to the Schlosskirche of Wittenberg, requesting, however, that, out of
consideration for Luther, the fact of his being the donor should be
kept secret until after his death. Agricola also tells how, during
his stay, Spalatin invited the “then Dean, Thomas Ludel,” with the
members of the chapter to be his guests, and in turn accepted their
hospitality; he also attended the Catholic sermons in order to
ascertain how the Word of God was preached. Thomas Ludel, the Dean,
found opportunity quite frankly to discuss Spalatin’s religious
attitude, whereupon the latter said: “Stick to your own form of Divine
Service,” nor did Spalatin shrink from giving the same advice to the
people. Every year, says Agricola, the picture of Our Lady which he
had presented was placed on the High Altar to remind the faithful of
the exhortation of their fellow-citizen.[938] The picture in question
is still to be seen to-day at Spalt.[939] The narrator goes so far
as to declare, that during the Dean’s observations on his religious
conduct “the tears came to Spalatin’s eyes”; “I admit,” he said,
“that we carried things too far.... God be merciful to us all!” From
Luther’s correspondence we know that Spalatin, in later days, was much
disquieted by melancholy and temptations to despair. Luther, by his
letters, sought to inspire his friend as he approached the close of
his life with confidence in Christ, agreeably with the tenets of the
new Evangel.[940]
Almost all that Agricola here relates appears, from its local
colouring, to be absolutely reliable, but this is by no means the case
with what is of more interest to us, viz. the account of Luther as
prospective bridegroom which he appends to his stories of Spalatin.
The difference between this account and what has gone before cannot
fail to strike one.
According to this story of Agricola’s, set in a period some
three-quarters of a century earlier, Luther, as a young Augustinian,
at Erfurt struck up a friendship with Spalatin who was still studying
there. At the University were two other youths from Spalt, George
Ferber, who subsequently became Doctor, parish-priest and Dean of
Spalt, and Hans Schlahinhauffen. All four became fast friends, and
Luther was a frequent visitor at the house where they lived with a
widow who had a pretty daughter. He became greatly enamoured of the
girl and “taught her lace-making,” until the mother forbade him the
house. He often declared: “Oh, Spalatin, Spalatin, you cannot believe
how devoted I am to this pretty maid; I will not die before I have
brought things to such a pass that I also shall be able to marry a
nice girl.” Eventually, with the assistance of Spalatin, Luther, so we
are told, introduced his innovations, partly in order to make himself
famous, partly in order to be able to marry a girl.[941]
It is hardly probable that Wolfgang Agricola himself invented this
story of the monk; more likely he found it amongst the numerous
tales concerning Spalatin current at Spalt. His authority for the
tale he does not give. It can scarcely have emanated from Spalatin
himself—for instance, have been told by him on the occasion of the
visit mentioned above—for then Agricola would surely have said so.
It more probably belongs to that category of obscure myths clustering
round the early days of Luther’s struggle with the Church.
What is, however, of greater importance is that the monk’s behaviour,
as here described, does not tally with the facts known. During his
first stay at the Erfurt monastery Luther was not by any means the
worldly young man here depicted, and even during his second sojourn
there (autumn, 1508—autumn, 1510) no one remarked any such tendency
in him; on the contrary, the seven Observantine priories chose him
as their representative at Rome, presumably because he was a man in
whom they could trust. We may call to mind that the then Cathedral
Provost of Magdeburg, Prince Adolf of Anhalt, received letters from
him at this time attesting his zeal for the “spiritual life and
doctrine,”[942] and that Luther’s opponent, Cochlæus, from information
received from Luther’s brethren, gives him credit for the careful
observance of the Rule in the matter of spiritual exercises and
studies during his first years as a monk.[943] The notable change in
Luther’s outward mode of life took place only after his return from
Rome when he abandoned the cause of the Observantine party.
Spalatin commenced his studies at Erfurt in 1498 and continued them
from 1502 at Wittenberg; thence, on their termination, he returned
to Erfurt in order to take up the position of tutor at a mansion,
which he soon quitted to become (1505-1508) spiritual preceptor in the
neighbouring convent of Georgenthal. Thus the date of his first stay
at Erfurt was too early for him, while himself a student, to have met
Luther as a monk, seeing that the latter only entered the monastery
in 1505. His second stay presents this further difficulty, that it
is not likely that Spalatin lived with the other students at the
widow’s house, but, first in a wealthy family, and, later, either in
or near the convent. Further, were the other two youths hailing from
Spalt then at Erfurt? A certain Johannes Schlaginhaufen from Spalt
was there in 1518 and is also mentioned as being at the University
in 1520. He is, perhaps, the same as the compiler of the Table-Talk
edited by Wilhelm Preger,[944] but, if so, he was not a fellow-student
of Luther’s at Erfurt. No other similar name appears in the register.
The name of the second, George Ferber, cannot be found at all in the
Erfurt University register, nor any Farber, Färber or Tinctoris even
with another Christian name. Thus there are difficulties on every side.
Then again, the familiar visits to the girl, as though there had been
no Rule which debarred the young religious from such intercourse.
We know that even in 1516 the Humanist Mutian had great trouble in
obtaining permission for an Augustinian frequently to visit his house
at Erfurt, even accompanied by another Friar.[945]
Hence, however deserving of credit Agricola’s other accounts of
Spalatin may be, we cannot accept his story of Luther’s doings as a
monk. Nor is this the only statement concerning the earlier history
of the Reformation in which Agricola has gone astray. The story may
have grown up at Spalt owing to some misunderstanding of something
said by George Ferber, the Dean of Spalt, who was supposed to have
been a fellow-student of Luther’s at Erfurt, and who may possibly
have related tales of the young Augustinian’s early imprudence. It
is however possible, in fact not at all unlikely, that, in 1501,
when Luther was still a secular student at Erfurt, and according to
the above, a contemporary of Spalatin’s, he took a passing fancy to
a girl in the house where Spalatin boarded, and that, during the
controversies which accompanied the Reformation, a rumour of this was
magnified into the tale that, as a monk, Luther had courted a girl,
had been desirous of marrying, and, for this reason, had quitted both
his Order and the Church.
_Luther’s stay as a boy in Cotta’s house at Eisenach no ground for a
charge of immorality._
Entirely unfounded suspicions have been raised concerning Luther’s
residence in Frau Cotta’s house at Eisenach (vol. i., p. 5). There is
not the slightest justification for thinking that Frau Cotta—who has
erroneously been described as a young widow—acted from base motives
in thus receiving the youth, nor for the tale of his charming her by
his playing on the lute or the flute.
Cuntz (Conrad) Cotta, the husband of Ursula Cotta (her maiden-name
was Schalbe), was still living when Luther, at the age of fifteen or
sixteen, was so kindly received into the house and thus dispensed
from supplementing his small resources by singing in the streets.
Conrad’s name appears in 1505 in the Eisenach registers as one of
the parish representatives. His wife Ursula, witness her tombstone,
died in 1511.[946] How old she was at the time she became acquainted
with Luther cannot be determined, but quite possibly, she, like her
husband, was no longer young. The date of death of two supposed sons
of hers would certainly tend to show that she was then still young,
but these two Cottas, as has been proved, were not her sons, though
they may have been nephews. Conrad Cotta is not known to have had any
children, and the fact of his being childless would explain all the
more readily Luther’s reception into his household.
Mathesius, in his frequently quoted historical sermons on Luther,[947]
says, that “a pious matron” admitted the poor scholar to her table.
He is referring to Ursula Cotta. The word matron which he makes use
of seems intended to denote rather respectability than advanced age.
That he should mention only the wife is probably due to the fact that
she, rather than her husband, was Luther’s benefactress. He seems to
have had the account from Luther himself, who, it would appear, told
him the story together with the edifying cause of his reception. This
Mathesius relates in a way which excludes rather than suggests any
thought of dishonourable motives. He says that the matron conceived
a “yearning attraction for the boy on account of his singing and his
earnest prayer in the churches.” The expression “yearning attraction,”
which sounds somewhat strange to us, was not unusual then and comes
naturally to a preacher rather inclined to be sentimental, as was
Mathesius. Ratzeberger the physician, a friend of Luther’s to whom
the latter may also have spoken of his stay at Eisenach, merely says,
that the scholar “found board and lodging at Cuntz Cotta’s.” Thus he
credits the husband with the act of charity.
Luther could not well have played the flute there, seeing that he
never learned to play that instrument; as for the lute, he became
proficient on it only during his academic years; nor does any source
allude to musical entertainments taking place in the Cotta household.
Luther relates later in the Table-Talk,[948] that he had learned this
saying from his “hostess at Eisenach,” i.e. Frau Cotta: “There is
nought dearer on earth than the love of woman to the man who can win
it.” This, however, affords no ground for thinking evil. The saying
was a popular one in general use and may quite naturally refer to the
love existing between husband and wife. It is another question whether
it was quite seemly on Luther’s part to quote this saying as he did in
his Glosses on the Bible, in connection with the fine description of
the “_mulier fortis_” (Proverbs xxxi. 10 ff.), so distinguished for
her virtue.
_Did Luther describe the lot of the Hog as the most enviable Goal of
Happiness?_
In view of the fear of death which he had often experienced when lying
on the bed of sickness, Luther, so we are told, came to envy the lot
of the hog, and to exclaim: “I am convinced that anyone who has felt
the anguish and terror of death would rather be a pig than bear it for
ever and ever.” That such are his words is perfectly true, and he even
goes on to give a graphic description of the happy and comfortable
life a pig leads until it comes under the hand of the butcher, all due
to its unacquaintance with death.[949]
It should first be noted that, throughout the work in question, “Von
den Jüden und jren Lügen,” Luther is busy with the Jews. He compares
the happiness which, according to him, they await from their Messias,
with that enjoyed by the pig.[950] In his cynical manner he concludes
that the happiness of the pig was even to be preferred to Jewish
happiness, for the Jews would not be “secure for a single hour” in the
material happiness they expected, for they would be oppressed by the
“horrible burden and plague of all men, viz. death,” seeing that they
merely look for a temporal king as their Messias, who shall procure
them riches, mirth and pleasure. Thereupon we get one of his customary
outbursts: “Were God to promise me no other Messias than him for whom
the Jews hope, I would very much rather be a pig than a man.”
Yet he proceeds: I, however, as a Christian, have a better Messias,
“so that I have no reason to fear death, being assured of life
everlasting,” etc. Well might our “heart jump for joy and be
intoxicated with mirth.” “We give thanks to the Father of all
Mercy.... It was in such joy as this that the Apostles sang and gave
praise in prison amidst all their misery, and even young maidens, like
Agatha and Lucy,” etc. But the wretched Jews refused to acknowledge
this Messias.
How then can one infer from Luther’s words, “I am convinced that
anyone who has felt the anguish and terror of death,” etc., that he
represented the lot of the hog as the supreme goal of Christians
in general and himself in particular? It is true that he magnifies
the fear of death which naturally must oppress the heart of every
believer, and for the moment makes no account of the consolation of
Christian hope, but all this is merely with the object of forcing home
more strongly to the Jews whom he is addressing, what he had just
said: “Of what use would all this be to me [viz. the earthly happiness
which you look for] if I could not be sure of it even for one hour?
If the horrible burden and plague of all men, death, still presses on
me, from which I am not secure for one instant, but go in fear of it,
of hell and the wrath of God, and tremble and shiver at the prospect,
and this without any hope of its coming to an end, but continuing for
all eternity?” His closing words apply to unbelievers who are ignorant
of the salvation which is in Christ: “It is better to be a live pig
than a man who is everlastingly dying.” The passage therefore does not
convey the meaning which has been read into it.
We may here glance at some charges in which his moral character is
involved, brought against certain doctrines and sayings of Luther.
_Did Luther allow as valid Marriage between Brother and Sister?_
The statement made by some Catholics that he did can be traced back
to a misunderstanding of the simple word “dead.” This word he wrote
against several passages of a memorandum of Spalatin’s on matrimonial
questions submitted by the Elector in 1528, for instance, against one
which ran: “Further, brother and sister may not marry, neither may
a man take his brother’s or sister’s daughter or granddaughter. And
similarly it is forbidden to marry one’s father’s, grandfather’s,
mother’s or grandmother’s sister.”[951] The word “dead” here appended
does not mean that the prohibition has ceased to hold, but is
equivalent to “delete,” and implies that the passage should be omitted
in print. Luther considered it unnecessary or undesirable that the
impediments in question should be mentioned in this “Instruction”;
he prefers that preachers should as a general rule simply insist on
compliance with the Laws of the Empire.
The accompanying letter of the Elector, in which he requests Luther
to read through the memorandum, anticipates such a recommendation to
omit. In it the writer asks whether “it would perhaps be better to
leave this out and to advise the pastors and preachers of this fact
in the Visitation,”[952] since, in any case, the “Imperial Code,”
in which everything was contained in detail, was to be taken as the
groundwork. Against many clauses of the Instruction Luther places the
word “_placet_”; a “_non placet_” occurs nowhere; on the other hand,
we find frequently “_omittatur_, dead, all this dead” (i.e. “delete”);
he also says: “_hoc manebit, hactenus manebit textus_” (equivalent to
“stet”). If “dead” had meant the same as “this impediment no longer
holds,” then Luther would here have removed the impediment even
between father and daughter, mother and son, seeing that he writes
“dead” also against the preceding clause, which runs: “Firstly, the
marriage of persons related in the ascending and descending line is
prohibited throughout and _in infinitum_.”
_Did Luther Recommend People to Pray for Many Wives and Few Children?_
This charge, too, belongs to the old armoury of well-worn weapons
beloved of controversialists. The answer to the question may possibly
afford material of some interest to the historian and man of letters.
Down to quite recent times it was not unusual to find in Catholic
works a story of a poem, said to have been by Luther, found in a MS.
Bible in the Vatican Library, in which Luther prayed that God in His
Goodness would bestow “many wives and few children.” At the present
day no MS. Bible containing a poem by Luther, or any similar German
verses, exists in the Vatican Library. What is meant, however, is a
German translation of Holy Scripture, in five volumes, dating from
the fifteenth century, which was formerly kept in the Vatican and
now belongs to the Heidelberg University library. It is one of those
Heidelberg MSS. which were brought to Rome in 1623 and again wandered
back to their old quarters in 1816 (Palat. German. n. 19-23). The
“poem” in question is at the end of vol. ii. (cod. 20). Of it, as
given by Bartsch (“Die altdeutschen Handschriften der Universität
Heidelberg”) and Wilken (“Heidelberger Büchersammlung”),[953] we
append a rough translation:
God Almighty, Thou art good,
Give us coat and mantle and hood,
* * * * *
Many a cow and many a ewe,
_Plenty of wives and children few_.
Explicit: A small wage
Makes the year to seem an age.
The “poem” has nothing whatever to do with Luther. It is a product
of the Middle Ages, met with under various forms. The “Explicit,”
too, is older than Luther and presumably was added by the copyist
of the volume. In the seventeenth century the opinion seems to have
gained ground that Luther was the author, though no Roman scholar can
be invoked as having said so. Of the MS. Montfaucon merely says: “A
very old German Bible is worthy of notice”; Luther’s name he does not
mention.[954]
One witness for the ascription of its authorship to Luther was Max.
Misson, who, in his “Nouveau voyage d’Italie,”[955] gives the “poem”
very inaccurately and states that a Bible was shown him at the Vatican
in which Luther was said to have written it, and that the writing was
the same as that of the rest of the volume. He adds, however, that it
was hardly credible that Luther should have written such things in a
Bible.
Later, Christian Juncker, a Protestant, relates the same thing in his
“Life of Luther,” published in 1699, but likewise expresses a doubt.
He quotes the discourse on Travels in Italy by Johann Fabricius, the
theologian of Helmstedt, where the version of the verses differs from
that given by Misson.[956]
According to a record of a journey to Rome undertaken in 1693, given
by Johann Friedrich von Wolfframsdorf, he, too, was shown a MS. Bible
alleged to have been written by Luther, doubtless that mentioned
above.[957]
As a matter of fact the “poem” in question was a popular mediæval one,
frequently met with in manuscripts, sometimes in quite inoffensive
forms. At any rate, the jingling rhymes (in the German original: Güte,
Hüte, Rinder, Kinder) are the persistent feature. According to Bartsch
it occurs in the Zimmern Chronik[958] in a version attributed to Count
Hans Werdenberg (1268), which, while retaining the same rhymes (in the
German), inverts the meaning. Here the prayer is for:
Potent stallions, portly oxen,
Buxom women, _plenty children_.
From a MS., “_Gesta Romanorum_,” of 1476, J. L. Hocker (“_Bibliotheca
Heilbronnensis_”[959]), quotes a similar but shorter verse.[960] A
different rendering of the poem was entered into a Diary in 1596 by
Wolff von Stechau.[961]
Certain Protestant writers of the present day, not content with
“saving Luther’s honour” by emphasising the fact that the above verses
of the Heidelberg MS. are not his, proceed to insinuate that they were
really “aimed at the clergy”; the “hoods” and “hats” of which they
speak were forsooth the monks’ and the cardinals’, and the rhymester
was all the time envying the gay life of the clergy; thus the poem, so
we are told, throws a “lurid light on the esteem in which the mediæval
monks and clergy were held by the laity committed to their care.”—Yet
the verses contain no reference whatever to ecclesiastics. “Hoods”
were part of the layman’s dress and presumably “hats,” too. And after
all, would it have been so very wicked even for a pious layman to wish
to share in the good things possessed by the clergy? If satires on the
mediæval clergy are sought for, sufficient are to be found without
including this poor jingle.
_Did Luther include Wives in the “Daily Bread” of the Our Father?_
Controversial writers have seen fit to accuse Luther of including
wives in the “daily bread” for which we ask, and, in support of their
charge, refer to his explanation of the fourth request of the Our
Father. In point of fact in the Smaller Catechism the following is
his teaching concerning this petition: It teaches us to ask God “for
everything required for the sustenance and needs of the body, such
as food, drink, clothes, shoes and house, a farm, fields, cattle,
money, goods, a _pious spouse,_ pious children and servants, and
good masters, etc.[962] In the Larger Catechism the list is similar:
Food and drink, clothes, a house and farm, health of body, grain and
fruits, a pious wife, children and servants,” etc.[963] With all this
surely no fault can be found.
_Was Luther the originator of the proverb: “Who loves not woman, wine
and song remains a fool his whole life long”?_
These verses are found neither in Luther’s own writings nor in the old
notes and written traditions concerning him. Joh. Heinrich Voss was
the first to publish them in the “Wandsbeker Bote” in 1775, reprinting
them in his Musenalmanach (1777). When he was charged by Senior
Herrenschmidt with having foisted them on to Luther, he admitted
that he was unable to give any account of their origin.[964] Several
proverbs of a similar type, dating from mediæval times, have been
cited.
A humorous remark of Luther’s would appear, according to Seidemann,
to refer to some earlier proverb linking together women, wine and
song. The remark in question is contained in the MS. collection of
the Table-Talk preserved at Gotha and known as “_Serotina_,” now
available in the work of E. Kroker, published in 1903.[965] The entire
passage is not to be taken seriously: “To-morrow I have to lecture on
Noe’s drunkenness, so to-night I shall drink deeply so as to be able
to speak of the naughty thing from experience. ‘Not at all,’ said Dr.
Cordatus, ‘you must do just the opposite.’ Thereupon Luther remarked:
‘Each country must be granted its own special fault. The Bohemians
are gluttons, the Wends thieves, the Germans hard drinkers; for my
dear Cordatus, in what else does a German excel than ‘_ebrietate,
praesertim talem, qui non diligit musicam et mulieres_’?” This saying
of Luther’s, which was noted down by Lauterbach and Weller, belongs to
the year 1536.
7. The “Good Drink”
Among the imputations against Luther’s private life most common among
early controversial writers was that of being an habitual drunkard.
On the other hand, many of Luther’s Protestant supporters down to
our own day have been at pains to defend him against any charge of
intemperance. Even scholarly modern biographers of Luther pass over
this point in the most tactful silence, or with just the merest
allusion, though they delight to dwell on his “natural enjoyment of
life.”
The following pages may help to show the failings of both methods,
of that pursued by Luther’s opponents, with their frequently quite
unjustifiable exaggerations, and of that of his defenders with their
refusal to discuss even the really existing grounds for complaint.[966]
To begin with, Luther’s enemies must resign themselves to abandon some
of the proofs formerly adduced for his excessive addiction to drink.
_Unsatisfactory Witnesses._
Luther’s saying: “If I have a can of beer, I want the beer-barrel
as well,”[967] has often been cited against him, the fact being
overlooked, that he only made use of this expression in order to
illustrate, by a very common example, the idea, expressed in the
heading of the chapter in which it occurs, viz. that “No one is ever
satisfied.” Everyone, he continues, desires to go one step higher,
everyone wants to attain to something more, and, then, with other
examples, he gives that mentioned above, where, for “I,” we might
equally well substitute “we,” which indeed we find employed elsewhere
in this same connection: “If we have one Gulden, we want a hundred.”
Another passage, alleged, strange to say, by older writers, proves
nothing: “We eat ourselves to death, and drink ourselves to death; we
eat and drink ourselves into poverty and down to hell.” Here Luther
is merely speaking against the habit of drinking which had become so
prevalent, and dominated some to such an extent that death and hell
were the lamentable consequences to be feared. (See below, p. 308 f.)
Luther, wishing to drive a point home, says that he is not
“drunk,”[968] but is writing “in the morning hours.”[969] Must we
infer, then, that he was in the habit of writing when drunk, or that
in the afternoon he was not usually sober? Must he be considered
drunk whenever he does not state plainly that he is sober? The truth
is that such expressions were merely his way of speaking. In the
important passage here under consideration he writes: “Possibly it
may be asserted later that I did not sufficiently weigh what I say
here against those who deny the presence of Christ in the Sacrament;
but I am not drunk or giddy; I know what I am saying and what it will
mean to me on Judgment Day and at the second coming of the Lord Jesus
Christ.”[970] Thus he is speaking most seriously and uses this curious
verbal artifice simply to emphasise his earnestness. Were additional
proof necessary it might be found in other passages; for instance:
“Christ was not drunk when He said this,” viz. the Eucharistic words
of consecration, the literal meaning of which Luther is upholding
against the Strasburg Sacramentarians.[971]
For the purpose of discrediting Luther an old opponent wrote: “The
part that eating and drinking play in the life of the Reformer is
evident from his letters to his Katey,” and then went on to refer to
the perfectly innocent passage where Luther says, that he preferred
the beer and wine he was used to at home to what he was having at
Dessau, whence he wrote. The rest of the letter has also been taken
in an unnecessarily tragic sense: “Yesterday I had some poor stuff
to drink so that I had to begin singing: ‘If I can’t drink deep then
I am sad, for a good deep drink ever makes me so glad.’” It is quite
unnecessary to take this as a song sung by a “tipsy man”; it is simply
a jesting reference to a popular ditty which quite possibly he had
actually struck up to get rid of his annoyance at the quality of the
liquor. “You would do well,” he continues in the same jocular vein,
“to send me over the whole cellar full of my usual wine, and a bottle
of your beer as often as you can, else I shall not turn up any more
for the new brew.”[972]
No one who is familiar with his homely mode of speech will take
offence at his calling himself on one occasion the “corpulent Doctor,”
and in any case this involves neither gluttony nor drunkenness.
Moreover, the words occur in a serious connection, for we shall hear
it from him during the last days of his life: “When I return again
to Wittenberg I shall lay myself in my coffin and give the worms a
corpulent doctor to feast on,”[973] referring, of course, to his
natural stoutness. Offence has also been taken at a sentence met
with in Luther’s Table-Talk, where he says of his contemporaries of
fifty years before: “How thin they [i.e. their ranks] have become”;
from which it was inferred that he wished them a luxurious life and
corpulence, and that he “regarded pot bellies as an ornament and a
thing to be desired.” From its context, however, the meaning of the
word “thin” is clear. What Luther means is: How few of them remain in
the land of the living.
But does not Luther in a letter of his let fall a remark scarcely
beseeming one in his position, viz. that he would like to be more
frequently in the company of those “good fellows, the students,”
“the beer is good, the parlour-maid pretty, the lads friendly
(innig)”?[974] Such is one of the statements brought forward against
him to show his inordinate love of drink. Yet, when examined, the
letter is found to say nothing of any yearning of Luther’s to join
in the drinking-bouts of the students or of any interest of his in
the maid. “Two honest students” had been recommended to Luther, and
the letter informs its addressee, the Mansfeld Chancellor Müller at
Eisleben, of the rumour that “too much was being consumed without any
necessity by the pair”; the Chancellor was to inform the Count of
Mansfeld of the fact in order that he (whose protégés they may have
been) “might keep an eye on them.” Then come the words: “What harm
would friendly supervision do? The beer is good, the parlour-maid
pretty and the lads young (‘jung’ not ‘innig’); the students really
behave very well, and my only regret is that, owing to my weak
health, I am unable to be oftener with them.” This letter surely does
Luther credit. It testifies to his solicitude for the two youths
committed to his care; seeing they are still “good and pious,” he is
anxious to preserve them from intemperance and other dangers, and
regrets that, owing to his poor state of health, he is unable to have
the pleasure of visiting these young fellows more often.
We must also caution our readers against an alleged quotation from
Luther’s contemporary, Simon Lemnius. Lemnius is reported to have
said: “His excessive indulgence in wine and beer made Luther at times
so ill that he quite expected to die.” No such statement occurs in the
works of Lemnius. What this writer actually did say of Luther on the
score of drunkenness will be given later. The above words are a modern
invention, though one author, strange to say, actually tacked them on
to the authentic passage in Lemnius as though they had belonged to the
latter.
Again, it has been said that excessive indulgence in some Malvasian
wine was, on Luther’s own admission, the cause of a malady which
troubled him for a considerable time in 1529. Luther’s letter in
question speaks, however, of a “severe and almost fatal catarrh,”
which lasted for a long time and almost deprived him of his voice;
others, too, says Luther, had suffered from the catarrh (no great
wonder in the month of March or April), but not to the same extent as
he. He had imprudently aggravated the trouble possibly by preaching
too energetically or—and here comes the incriminating passage—“by
drinking some adulterated Malvasian to the health of Amsdorf.” Such
were his words to his confidential friend Jonas. The fact is that
a wine so expensive as Malvasian was then very liable to being
adulterated, the demand far exceeding the supply of this beverage,
which was always expected to figure on the table on great occasions.
At any rate, there is no mention here of Luther’s illness having
arisen from continuous and excessive indulgence in wine. At the
conclusion of this chapter we shall have to consider a similar passage.
In the above we have examined about a dozen witnesses, whose testimony
has been shown quite valueless to prove Luther’s alleged devotion to
drink.
The conclusions which have been drawn from the character of certain
of Luther’s writings or utterances are also worthless. It has been
affirmed that his “Wider das Bapstum vom Teuffel gestifft” could only
have been written “under the excitement produced by drink,” and that
many of his sayings, such as his exhortation to “pray for Our Lord
God,” could have been uttered “only by a drunken man.”
Yet his incredible hatred sufficed of itself to explain the frenzy of
his utterances, nor must we forget that some of his expressions, out
of place though they may seem, were chosen as best fitted to appeal
to the populace. “Pray for Our Lord God,” interpreted in the light of
other similar expressions used by him, means: Pray for the interests
of our Lord God and of the new Evangel.
_Other Witnesses, Friendly and Hostile._
Before proceeding to scrutinise in detail the more cogent testimonies,
we may remark that one trait in Luther’s character, that namely which
caused him to be called the “merry boon companion,” might possibly be
invoked in support of the charge now under consideration.
It was his struggle with the gloomy moods to which he was so prone that
drove Luther into cheerful company and to seek relief in congenial
conversation and in liquor. That he was not over-scrupulous concerning
indulgence in the latter comfort is attested by his own words, viz.
that he was too fond of jests and convivial gatherings (“_iocis aut
conviviis excedere_”), and that the world had some grounds for taking
offence (“_inveniat in me quo offendatur et cadat_”).[975] Yet he
was very desirous of avoiding such accusations on the part of his
opponents, though, as he puts it, they “calumniate even what is best
and most inoffensive.”[976] When he says elsewhere in his usual gross
way: “They spy out everything that concerns me, and no sooner do I pass
a motion than they smell it at Rome,”[977] this exclamation was called
forth by the scandalous excess in drinking of which a member of his
family was habitually guilty.
Then, again, the drinking habits of the Germans of those days must
be borne in mind. A man had to be a very hard drinker to gain the
reputation of being a drunkard. Instances will be given later showing
how zealously Luther attacked the vice of drunkenness in Germany. At
that time a man (even though a theologian or other person much exposed
to the gaze of the public) was free to imbibe far more than was good
for him without remarks being made or his conduct censured.
Luther’s extraordinary industry and the astounding number of his
literary productions must likewise not be lost sight of. We are
compelled to ask ourselves whether it is likely that the man who wrote
works so numerous and profound, in the midst, too, of the many other
cares which pressed on him, was addicted to habitual drunkenness.
How could the physical capacity for undertaking and executing such
immense labours, and the energy requisite for the long, uninterrupted
religious and literary struggle into which Luther threw himself,
be found in one who unceasingly quenched an excessive thirst with
alcoholic drink? Kawerau has sketched Luther’s “colossal mental
productivity” during the one year 1529, a year in which he was not
engaged in any of his accustomed literary feuds.[978] Works published
during that year cover, in the Weimar edition, 287 pages, in imperial
octavo, his lectures on Deuteronomy 247 pages and the notes of his
sermons (some, however, in duplicate) 824 pages. In addition to this he
was at work on his German translation of the Old Testament, completing
the Pentateuch and making a beginning with the remaining historical
books. Besides this he wrote in that year countless letters, of which
comparatively few, viz. 112, are still extant. He also undertook five
short journeys lasting together about a fortnight.
During the short and anxious period, amounting to 173 days, which he
spent, in 1530, in the Castle of Coburg (it is to this time that some
of the charges of excessive drinking refer), he wrote and forwarded to
the press various biblical expositions which in the Erlangen edition
occupy 718 pages in small octavo, re-wrote in its entirety “Von den
Schlüsseln,” a work of 87 pages, was all the while busy with his
translation of Jeremias, of a portion of Ezechiel and all the minor
Prophets, and finally wrote at least the 128 letters and memoranda
which are still extant.[979] Yet, for whole days during this sojourn
in the Coburg, he was plagued with noises in the head and giddiness,
results, no doubt, of nervous excitement.
That such productivity would not have been possible “without meditation
and study”[980] is, however, not quite true in his case. Luther wrote
most of his works without reflection and without any real study, merely
jotting down carelessly whatever his lively fancy suggested.
Thus we may rightly ask whether the accusation of habitual
participation in drinking-bouts and constant private excess is
compatible with the work he produced.
In the case of reports of an unfavourable nature it is of course
necessary to examine their origin carefully; this unfortunately is not
always done. As we already had occasion to remark when dealing with the
imputations against his moral character, it makes all the difference
whether the witness against him is a Catholic opponent or represents
the New Evangel. Amongst Catholics, again, we must discriminate between
foreigners, who were ignorant of German customs and who sometimes
wrote merely on hearsay, and Luther’s German compatriots. We shall
not characterise the method of those of Luther’s defenders who simply
refuse to listen to his opponents on the ground that, one and all, they
are prejudiced.
Wolfgang Musculus (Mäuslin), an Evangelical theologian, in the account
of a journey in May, 1536, during which he had visited Luther, gives
an interesting and unbiassed report of what he saw at Wittenberg.[981]
On May 29, Luther came, bringing with him Melanchthon and Lucas
Cranach, to dine as Mäuslin’s guest at the inn where he was staying.
There all had their share of the wine. “When dinner was over,” says
the chronicler, “we all went to the house of Master Lucas, the
painter, where we had another drink....[982] After this we escorted
Luther home, where we drank in true Saxon style. He was marvellously
cheerful and promised everything most readily” (i.e. probably all
that Musculus proposed concerning the agreement to be come to with
the Zwinglians, of whom Musculus was one). The allusion to the “Saxon
style” reminds us of Count Hoyer’s reference to the “custom at
Mansfeld” (vol. ii., p. 131). Luther’s country does not seem to have
been noted for its temperance.
Melanchthon, as one of his pupils relates in the “_Dicta
Melanchthoniana_,” tells how on a certain day in March, 1523: “Before
dinner (‘_ante coenam_’)” Luther, with two intimates, Justus Jonas
and Jacob Probst, the Pastor of Bremen, arrived at Schweinitz near
Wittenberg. Here, owing to indigestion, “_cruditas_,” Luther was sick
in a room. In order to remove the bad impression made on the servant
who had to clean the apartment, Jonas said: “Do not be surprised, my
good fellow, the Doctor does this sort of thing every day.” By this he
certainly did not mean, as some have thought, that Luther was in the
habit of being sick every day as the result of drink; he was merely
trying to shield his friend in an embarrassing situation by alleging a
permanent illness. Pastor Probst, however, according to Melanchthon’s
story, betrayed Jonas by exclaiming: “What a fine excuse!” Jonas
thereupon seized him by the throat and said: “Hold your tongue!” At
table the pastor was anxious to return to the matter, but Jonas was
able to cut him short. Melanchthon concludes the story with a touch
of sarcasm: “_Hoc est quando posteriora intelliguntur ex prioribus_.”
Was the sickness in this case due to previous drinking?
A letter, written by Luther himself, perhaps will help to explain
the matter. On the eve of his return to Wittenberg he writes from
Schweinitz on Oculi Sunday, March 8, 1523, to his friend the Court
Chaplain Spalatin, that he had come to Schweinitz, where the Elector’s
castle stood, in order to celebrate with the father the baptism of the
son of a convert Jew named Bernard. “We drank good, pure wine from the
Elector’s cellar,” he says; “we should indeed be grand Evangelicals
if we feasted to the same extent on the Evangel.... Please excuse
us to the Prince for having drunk so much of his Grüneberger wine
(‘_quod tantum vini Gornbergici ligurierimus_’). Jonas and his wife
greet you, also the godfathers, godmothers and myself; three virgins
were present, certainly Jonas, for, as he has no child, we call him a
virgin.”[983] The letter, curiously disconnected and containing such
strange jests, quite gives the impression of having been written after
such a festive gathering as that described by the writer.
In connection with Melanchthon’s story some Protestants have recently
urged that, in 1523, Luther was subject to attacks of “sudden
indisposition” which came on him in the morning and from which he
found relief in vomiting, and that the above incident is explained
by this circumstance; the fact that he was sick “before the meal
and after a lengthy drive proves that we have to do with a result
not of intemperance but of nervous irritation.” Of such “sudden
indispositions” arising from nervousness we, however, hear nothing,
either during that year or for long after. None of the sources mention
anything of the kind. On the contrary, at Whitsun, 1523, Luther
wrote to Nicholas Hausmann that he felt “fairly well” (“_satis bene
valeo_”); that he was of a nervous temperament is of course true, but
that the morning hours were, as a rule, his worst we only begin to
learn from his letters in 1530 and 1532; there, moreover, he does not
mention sickness, but merely “giddiness and the attacks of Satan,”
which were wont to come on him before breakfast, (“_prandium_,”[984] a
meal taken about 9 or 10 a.m.). Melanchthon’s story speaks, however,
not of the morning at all, but of the time before the “_coena_” (i.e.
the principal meal, taken about 5 p.m.), when Luther was presumably no
longer fasting.
Still, it would be better not to lay too much stress on this isolated
particular incident.[985]
Next in the series of statements coming from preachers of the new
Evangel, we meet that of Johann Agricola, who, according to Thiele,
in the recently discovered notes of his (above, p. 216), when he
had already separated from Luther, represents him as a “drunken
profligate,” “who gave the rein to his passions and whom only his
wife’s sway could influence for good.” Agricola says that Luther had
contemptuously put aside certain letters of his, but “at last read
them one morning before the wine had mounted to his head (‘_mane,
nondum vino calefactus_’). Then he showed himself willing to take me
into favour again”; this being the result of Katey’s intercession.
After this we have the testimony of the Swiss theologian, Leo Judæ,
who, as Kolde tells us,[986] in the letter to Bucer quoted above (p.
277) and dated April 24, 1534, “reproaches Luther with drunkenness and
all manner of things, and declares that such a bishop he would not
tolerate even in the tiniest diocese.”
Valentine Ickelsamer, in 1525, voices the “fanatics,” whom Luther
was attacking so vigorously, in his complaint, that the latter was
“careless and heedless amidst all our needs, and spent his time in
utter unconcern with the beer-swillers”; before this he had already
said: “I am well acquainted with your behaviour, having been for a
while a student at Wittenberg; I will, however, say nothing of your
gold finger-ring, which gives scandal to so many people, or of the
pleasant room overlooking the water where you drink and make merry
with the other doctors and gentlemen.”[987] Neither Ickelsamer nor
his friends formulate against Luther any explicit charge of startling
or habitual excess. His daily habits, as just depicted, seemed to
them to be at variance with his claim to being a divinely appointed
preacher, called to raise mankind to higher things, but this was
chiefly on account of their own peculiar narrow mysticism. It was
from the same standpoint that, wishing to absolve himself from the
charge of “inciting to rebellion,” Thomas Münzer, in 1524, writes in
his “Schutzrede”[988] against the “witless, wanton lump of flesh at
Wittenberg,” also twitting Luther with his “luxurious living” (vol.
ii., p. 131), i.e. the daintiness of his food.
With regard to Simon Lemnius, it will suffice to refer to the passage
already adduced (p. 274): “Luther boasts of being an evangelical
bishop; how then comes it that he lives so far from temperately,
being wont to surfeit himself with food and drink?” It is unnecessary
to repeat how much caution must be exercised in appealing to this
writer’s statements.
Among Catholic critics the first place is taken by the theologian,
Ambrosius Catharinus, an Italian who lived far from Germany. His
statement regarding Luther’s dancing and drinking has already been
given (p. 276). This, together with many other of his strictures[989]
on Luther’s teaching and work, were collected by Cochlæus. Catharinus
was present at the Council of Trent from 1546-1547 and such reports
as these may there have reached his ears. That Luther danced, or
as Catharinus says, even led the dances, is not vouched for in any
source. Only concerning Melanchthon have we a credible report, that
he “sometimes danced.” On the other hand, we do know that Luther
was frequently present at balls, weddings, christenings and other
such occasions when food and drink were to be had in plenty. So
distinguished and pleasant a guest was naturally much in demand, as
Luther himself tells us on several occasions.
Luther’s letter to Spalatin, on January 14, 1524, concerning the
(real or imaginary) agent sent by King Ferdinand to enquire into his
life at Wittenberg, also speaks of the report carried to Court of his
intercourse with women and habits of drunkenness (vol. ii., p. 132 f.).
Shortly before, in 1522, Count Hoyer of Mansfeld, a Catholic, wrote
in a letter to Count Ulrich of Helfenstein, brought to light by a
Protestant historian, “that Luther was a thorough scoundrel, who drank
deeply, as was the custom at Mansfeld, played the lute, etc.” (vol.
ii., p. 131). If, as we find recounted elsewhere, Luther, on his
journey to the Diet, and at Worms itself, partook freely of the costly
wines in which his enthusiastic friends pledged him, this was, after
all, no great crime. It is probable, however, that some worse tales to
Luther’s discredit in this matter of drinking had come to Hoyer’s ear.
At the time of the Diet of Worms, Aleander, the Papal Legate there
present, indeed writes that Luther was “addicted to drunkenness,”[990]
but the credulous diplomat probably trusted to what he heard from
parties hostile to Luther and little acquainted with him. (See vol.
ii., p. 78 f.) It is also a fact that, to Italians imbued with the
idea that the Germans were drunkards, even quite moderate drinking
might seem scandalous.
Cochlæus says of Luther in 1524: “According to what I hear, in his
excessive indulgence in beer, Luther is worse than a debauchee.”[991]
Here again we have merely an echo of statements made by strangers,
albeit in this instance stronger and more positive.—Less weight is to
be attached to the account of Jacob Ziegler of Landau, who writes from
Rome to Erasmus on February 16, 1522, that there Luther was regarded
as “given to fornication and tippling,” adding that he was considered
as the precursor of Antichrist.[992]—Of the inhabitants of Wittenberg
generally Ulrich Zasius complains, in a letter of December 21, 1521,
to Thomas Blaurer, that it was reported they ran almost daily to
communion but afterwards swilled beer to such an extent that they were
unable to recognise each other.[993] To his other charges against the
life led there and against the heads of the movement, Blaurer replied,
but, curiously enough, the complaint of drunkenness he does not even
refer to.[994] From the detailed description given by a Catholic Canon
of Wittenberg on December 29, 1521, we do, however, learn that the
greatest abuses prevailed in connection with the Supper, and that some
even communicated who had previously been indulging in brandy.[995]
The last witness had nothing to say of Luther personally. On the other
hand, another does state that, the night before his death, he was
“_plane obrutus potu_.” This, however, comes from a later writer, who
lived far away and has shown himself otherwise untrustworthy.[996]
Another less unreliable report also has to do with Luther’s death-bed.
Johann Landau, the Mansfeld apothecary, who was a Catholic, and had
occasion to handle Luther’s corpse, left the following in the notes
he made: “In consequence of excessive eating and drinking the body
was full of corrupt juices,” Luther had “exceeded in the use of sweet
foreign wines.” “It is said,” he continues, “that he drank every
day at noon and in the evening a sextar of rich foreign wine.”[997]
This statement does not appear to be restricted to the last days
of Luther’s life, which were spent with Count Mansfeld. It is well
known that Luther died after a meal. What amount the “sextar” and
the “stuebchen,” to be mentioned immediately, represented has not
yet been determined, as the measures differed so much in various
parts of the country. The sextar, according to G. Agricola, was
usually a quarter of the stuebchen, as, according to him, twenty-four
sextars or six stuebchen went to one amphora; the sextar itself
contained four gills.[998] In a letter of Luther’s, dating from the
period of his stay at Mansfeld, we find the following: “We live well
here,” he writes to Katey, “and the council allows me for each meal
half a gallon of excellent Rheinfall. Sometimes I drink it with my
companions. The wine produced here is also good and the Naumburg beer
quite capital.”[999] Rheinfall (more correctly Reinfal) was a southern
wine then highly prized.[1000] Luther, as a rule, preferred to keep to
Naumburg beer.[1001]
_Luther’s Own Comments on the “Good Drink.”_
The following statements of Luther’s concerning his indulgence in
spirituous liquors are especially noteworthy; of these some have been
quoted without sufficient attention being paid to their real meaning.
“Know that all goes well with me here,” Luther writes in 1540
from Weimar to his Katey, who was anxious about him; “I feed like
a Bohemian, and swill like a German, for which God be thanked,
Amen.”[1002] Soon after he repeats, in a letter to the same addressee,
the phrase which has since grown famous, this time in a slightly
amended form: Know “that we are well and cheerful here, thanks be
to God; we feed like Bohemians, though not too much, and swill like
Germans, not deeply but with jollity.”[1003] He is fond of thus
speaking of his “feeding and swilling,” though, such expressions being
less unconventional then than now, stress must not be laid on them. In
both letters he was clearly seeking by his jests to reassure his wife,
who was concerned for his health. During his last weeks at Eisleben he
also wrote to Katey: “We have plenty on which to feed and swill.”[1004]
“If the Lord God holds me excused,” he says in a famous utterance in
the Table-Talk, “for having plagued Him for quite twenty years by
celebrating Mass, He assuredly will excuse me for sometimes indulging
in a drink to His honour; God grant it and let the world take it as it
will.”[1005]
Of the last decade of Luther’s life his pupil Mathesius relates, that,
in the evening, “if not inclined for sleep, he had to take a draught
to promote it, often making excuse for so doing: ‘You young fellows
must not mind if our Elector and an old chap like me take a generous
drink; we have to try and find our pillow and our bolster in the
tankard.’”[1006] The same witness relates another utterance of about
the same time: “He came home from a party and drank the health of a
guest: ‘I must make merry to-day, for I have received bad tidings; for
this there is no better cure than a fervent Paternoster and a brave
heart. For the demon of melancholy is much put out when a man insists
upon being merry.’”[1007]
Here we have two reasons, want of sleep and depression resulting from
bad news, which induced him to have a “good drink.” A third reason
was furnished by his temptations to doubt and vacillate in faith. The
“good drink” must not, however, be too deep as it “recently was at
the Electoral couchee at Torgau, where, not satisfied with the usual
measures, they pledged each other in half-gallon cans. That they called
a good drink. _Sic inventa lege inventa est et fraus legis._”[1008]
Luther’s advice to his pupil Hieronymus Weller, when the latter was
tempted and troubled, as stated above (p. 175), was to follow his
example and “to drink deeper and jest more freely,” and to answer the
devil when he objected to such drinking, that “he would drink all the
more because he forbade it”; he himself (Luther), for no other reason,
was wont to drink more deeply and talk more freely than to scorn
the devil by his “hard drinking.”[1009] “When troubled with gloomy
thoughts,” he declared on another occasion, it was his habit “to have
a good pull at the beer”; Melanchthon had a different sort of remedy,
viz. consulting the stars; Luther, however, considered his practice the
better one.[1010]
These and such-like utterances circulated far and wide, often in a
highly exaggerated form, and Luther had only himself to thank if many
Catholics, on the strength of them, came to regard him as a regular
drunkard. This impression was in no way diminished by the rough humour
which accompanied his talk of eating and drinking. People then were
perfectly acquainted with the fact that the Table-Talk was regarded,
even by some enthusiastic Lutherans, as only a half revelation, the
truth being that they did not make sufficient allowance for Luther’s
vein of humour and exaggeration.
It was, however, quite seriously that Luther spoke in August, 1540,
when the excessive drinking of the miners was discussed at table: “It
is not well,” he said, “but if they work hard for the rest of the
week, then we must allow them some relaxation (at the week-end). Their
work is hard and very dangerous and some allowance must be made for
the custom of the country. I, too, have an occasional tipple, but not
everybody must follow my example, for not all have the work to do that
I have.”[1011] Here, accordingly, we have a fourth reason alleged in
excuse of his drinking, possibly the most usual and practical one,
viz. his fatiguing work.—In May of the same year he expressed his
opinion of the extent to which drinking might be allowable in certain
circles; this he did because he had been accused of not reproving
drunkenness at the Court: “On the contrary,” he says, “I have spoken
strongly about it before the whole Court; truly I spoke forcibly and
severely to the nobles, reproaching them with tempting and corrupting
the Prince. This greatly pleased the old gentleman [the Elector
Johann], for he lived temperately.... I said to the nobles: ‘You ought
to employ yourselves after dinner in the Palæstra or in some other
good exercise, after which you might have a good drink, for drinking
is permissible, but drunkenness never (_ebrietas est ferenda, sed
ebriositas minime_).’”[1012] “Cheerful people,” he said in May or June,
“may sometimes indulge more freely in wine,” but if drinking makes a
man angry, he must avoid it like “poison.” These words were meant for
his nephew, Hans Polner, who was in the habit of returning to Luther’s
house much the worse for drink. With him Luther was very wroth:
“On your account I am ill-spoken of by foreigners. My foes spy out
everything that goes on about me.... When you do some mischief while
drunk, you forget what shame you are bringing not only upon me and on
my house, but on the town, the Church and the Evangel. Others after
a drinking-bout are merry and friendly; such was the case with my
father; they simply sing and jest; but you, you fly into a rage.”[1013]
Luther, when preaching to the people, often denounced the prevalent
habit of drinking, a circumstance which must not be overlooked when
passing judgment upon him. The German vice of drunkenness which he
saw increasing around him in the most alarming manner caused him such
distress, that he exclaimed in one of his postils: “Our poor German
land is chastised and plagued with this devil of drink, and altogether
drowned in this vice, so that life and limb, possessions and honour,
are shamefully lost while people lead the life of swine, so that,
had we to depict Germany, we should have to show it under the image
of a sow.”[1014] Only “the little children, virgins and women” were
exempt from the malady; “unless God strikes at this vice by a national
calamity everything will go down to the abyss, all sodden through and
through with drink.”[1015] Was this the way to be grateful “to the
light of the Evangel” which had burst upon Germany?[1016] His question
shows that he was speaking primarily of the conditions prevailing under
the new Evangel. Looking back on the Catholic past he has perforce to
admit, that, although this vice was by no means unknown then, yet “I
remember that when I was young it [drunkenness] was looked upon by the
nobility as a great shame, and that worthy gentry and Princes sought
to combat it by wise prohibitions and penalties; but now it is even
worse and more prevalent amongst them than amongst the peasants; so far
has it come that even Princes and men of gentle birth learn it from
their squires, and are not ashamed of it; it is regarded as honourable
and quite a virtue by Princes, nobles and burghers, so that whosoever
refuses to become a sodden brute is despised.”[1017]
In powerful passages such as these he assails the vice from both the
natural and the supernatural standpoint. Yet his chief complaint is
not so much its existence as its appalling extent; his reproofs are
intended for those who “get drunk daily,” for those “maddened and
sodden with drink,” for those who “day and night are ever pouring the
liquor down their throats.” He expressly states that he is willing to
be lenient in cases where a man is drunk only now and again. “It may be
borne with and overlooked,” he says in the sermon quoted, “if from time
to time a person by mistake takes a glass too much, or, after being
exhausted by labour and toil, gets a little the worse for drink.”[1018]
In 1534, in an exposition of Psalm ci., where he describes the doings
of the “Secular Estate,” he is no less hopeless concerning this plague
which afflicts Germany: “Every country must have its own devil; our
German devil is a good skin of wine and surely his name is Swill”;
until the last day eternal thirst would remain the German’s curse;
it was quite useless to seek to remedy matters, Swill still remained
the all-powerful god.[1019] More dignified language would assuredly
have been better in place here and elsewhere where he deals with this
subject. For quaint homeliness it would, however, be hard to beat him;
referring to their drinking habits, he tells the great men at the
Court: “In the morning you really look as though your heads had been
pickled in brine.”[1020] Yet, from the very passage in the Table-Talk
where this is recounted, we learn that he said to the guests, again in
a far too indulgent strain: “The Lord God must account the drunkenness
of us Germans a mere daily [i.e. venial] sin, for we are unable to give
it up; nevertheless, it is a shameful curse, harmful alike to body,
soul and property.”
_Witnesses to Luther’s Temperate Habits._
Within Luther’s camp the chief witnesses to his temperate habits are
Melanchthon and Mathesius.
Melanchthon in his formal panegyric on the deceased says, that “though
a stout man, he was very moderate in eating and drinking (‘_natura
valde modici cibi et potus_’). I have seen him, when quite in good
health, abstaining entirely from food and drink for four days. At
other times I frequently saw him content himself for many days with
a little bread with kippers.”[1021] His four days’ abstinence,
however, probably coincided with one of his attacks—“temptations,”
which, as we know from Ratzeberger, his medical adviser, were usually
accompanied by intense dislike for food. Besides, before his marriage,
Luther had not the same attention and care he received later from his
wife. It is not unlikely that Melanchthon was thinking of this period
when he speaks of the “bread and kippers,” for the passage really
refers to the beginning of his acquaintanceship with Luther, possibly
even to his monastic days. However this may be, we must not forget
that the clause is part of a panegyric.
Mathesius, Luther’s attentive pupil and admirer, says of him in his
sermons, that Luther, “although he was somewhat corpulent, ate and
drank little and rarely anything out of the common, but contented
himself with ordinary food. In the evening, if not inclined to sleep,
he had to take a draught to promote it, often making excuse for so
doing.”[1022]
That Luther was perfectly content “without anything out of the common”
is confirmed by other writers, and concerning the general frugality of
his household there can be no question. In this respect we may well
believe what Mathesius says, for he was a regular attendant at Luther’s
evening table in the forties of the century. His assertion that Luther
“drank but little” must, however, be considered in the light of other
of his statements.
What Mathesius thought of the “sleeping-draught” and the feasts at
which, so he relates, Luther assisted from time to time, appears from a
discourse incorporated by him in his “Wedding-sermons.” Here he speaks
of the “noble juice of the grape and how we can make use of it in a
godly fashion and with a good conscience”; he is simply the mouthpiece
of Luther. Like Luther, he condemns gluttony and “bestial drunkenness,”
but is so indulgent in the matter of cheerful carousing that a
Protestant Canon in the eighteenth century declared, that Mathesius had
gone astray in his sermon on the use of wine.[1023] Mathesius says that
we must have “a certain amount of patience” with those who sometimes,
for some quite valid reason, “get a little tipsy,” or “kick over the
traces,” provided they “don’t do so every day” and that “the next
morning they are heartily sorry for it”; the learned were quite right
in distinguishing between “_ebriositas_” and “_ebrietas_”; if a ruling
Prince had worked industriously all day, or a scholar had “read and
studied till his head swam,” such busy and much-tired people, if they
chose “in the evening to drink away their cares and heavy thoughts,
must be permitted some over-indulgence, particularly if it does not
hinder them in the morning from praying, studying and working.”[1024]
This is the exact counterpart of Luther’s theory and practice as
already described, in the distinction made between “_ebriositas_”
and “_ebrietas_,” in the statement that drunkenness is no more than
a venial sin, in the unseemly and jocose tone employed when speaking
of tipsiness, and in the license accorded those who (like Luther) had
much work to do, or (again, like Luther), were plagued with “gloomy
thoughts.” The other conditions are also noteworthy, viz. that it must
not be of “daily occurrence” and that the offender must afterwards be
“heartily sorry”; in such a case we must be tolerant. All this agrees
with Luther’s own teaching.
Such passages, coming from the master and his devoted disciple, must
be taken as the foundation on which to base our judgment. Such general
statements of principle must carry more weight than isolated instances
of Luther’s actual practice, more even than the various testimonies
considered above. In the eyes of the impartial historian, moreover,
the various elements will be seen to fit into each other so as to form
a whole, the elements being on the one hand the highly questionable
principle we have just heard expressed, and on the other his own
admissions concerning his practice, supplemented by the testimony of
outsiders.
In the first place, there is no doubt that his theory was dangerously
lax. We need only call to mind the string of reasons given in
vindication of a “good drink” and mere “_ebrietas_.” Such excuses
were not only insufficient but might easily be adduced daily in
ever-increasing number. Luther’s limitation of the permission to
occasional bouts, etc., was altogether illusory and constituted no
real barrier against excess. How could such theories, we may well ask,
promote temperance and self-denial? Instead of resisting the lower
impulses of nature they give the reins to license. They are part and
parcel of the phenomenon so noticeable in early Lutheranism, where
Christian endeavour, owing to the discredit with which penance and good
works were overwhelmed, was not allowed to rise above the level of
ordinary life, and indeed often failed to attain even to this standard.
How different sound the injunctions of Christ and His Apostles to the
devoted followers of the true Gospel: Take up thy cross; resist the
flesh and all its lusts; be sober and watch.
The result as regards Luther’s practice must on the whole be considered
as unfavourable, though it is not of course so well known to us as his
theory. It may also, quite possibly, have varied at different periods
of his life, for instance, may not have been the same when Mathesius
was acquainted with him, i.e. when his mode of life had become more
regular, as when Count Hoyer of Mansfeld wrote so scornfully after
the Diet of Worms. Nevertheless, Luther’s vigorous denunciation of
habitual drunkenness on the one hand, and the extraordinary amount of
work he contrived to get through on the other, also the absence of any
very damaging or definite charge by those who had every opportunity of
observing him at Wittenberg, for instance, the hostile Anabaptists and
other “sectarians,” all this leads us to infer, that he availed himself
of his theories only to a very limited extent. His own statements,
however, as well as those of his friends and opponents, enable us to
see that his lax principle, “_ebrietas est ferenda_,” was not without
its effects upon his habits of life. The allegation of his joy of
living, and his healthy love of the things of sense, does not avail to
explain away his own admissions, nor what others laid to his charge.
The worst of it is, that we gain the impression that the lax theory was
conceived to suit his own case, for all the reasons which he held to
excuse the “good drink” and the subsequent “_ebrietas_” were present
in his case—depression caused by bad news, cares and gloomy thoughts,
pressure of work, temptations to sadness and doubts, sleeplessness and
mental exhaustion.
_From the Cellar and the Tap-Room._
The task remains of considering certain further traits in Luther’s life
with regard to his indulgence in drinking.
During the first part of his public career Luther himself speaks
of the temptation to excessive eating and drinking and other bad
habits to which he was exposed. This he did in 1519 in his remarkably
frank confession to his superior Staupitz.[1025] Here the expression
“_crapula_” must be taken more seriously than on another occasion
when, in a letter to a friend written from the Wartburg in the midst
of his arduous labours, he describes himself as “sitting idle, and
‘_crapulosus_.’”[1026]
After Luther’s marriage, when he had settled down comfortably in the
Black Monastery, it was Catherine, who, agreeably with the then custom,
brewed the beer at home. It seems, however, to have been of inferior
quality, indeed not fit to set before his guests. That he had several
sorts of wine in his cellar we learn on the occasion of the marriage of
his niece Lena in 1538. He complains that in Germany it was very hard
to buy “a really trustworthy drink,” as even the carriers adulterated
the wines on the way.[1027]
As already stated, beer was his usual drink. Whilst he was “drinking
Wittenberg beer with Philip and Amsdorf,” he said as early as 1522, in
a well-known passage, “the Papacy had been weakened through the Word of
God” which he had preached.[1028]
It was, however, with wine that on great occasions the ample
“Catechismusglas” (see above, p. 219) was filled.[1029] How much this
bowl contained which Luther, though not his guest Agricola, could
empty at one draught, has not been determined, though illustrations
of it were thought to exist. Agricola’s statement concerning his vain
attempt to drain it leads us to conclude that the famous glass was of
considerable size. It impresses one strangely to learn that Luther
occasionally toasted his guests in a crystal beaker reputed to have
once belonged to St. Elizabeth of Hungary; this too, no doubt, passed
from hand to hand.[1030]
An example of Luther’s accustomed outspokenness was witnessed by some
of those who happened to be present on the arrival of a Christmas gift
of wine in 1538. The cask came from the Margrave of Brandenburg and, to
the intense disappointment of the recipient, contained Franconian wine.
Luther, in spite of the importance of the gift, made no secret of his
annoyance, and his complaints would appear to have duly reached the ear
of the Margrave. In order to efface the bad impression made at Court,
Luther was obliged to send a letter of excuse to Sebastian Heller, the
Chancellor. Therein he says he had been quite unaware of the excellence
of Franconian wine, and, “like the big fool” he was, had not known
that the inhabitants of Franconia were so fortunate in their wine as
now, after tasting it, he had ascertained to be the case. In future
he was going to stick to Franconian wine; to the Prince he sent his
best thanks and trusted he would take nothing amiss.[1031]—From the
Landgrave Philip of Hesse, after he had forwarded him his memorandum
regarding his bigamy, he received a hogshead of Rhine wine.[1032] In
the same year he received from the Town Council of Wittenberg a present
of a gallon of Franconian “and four quarts of Gutterbogk wine” on the
occasion of the marriage of his niece, mentioned above.
From the magistrates, in addition to other presents, came frequent
gifts of liquor for himself and his guests, of which we find the
entries since 1519 recorded in the Town-registers.
Only recently has attention been drawn to this.[1033]
In 1525 we find the following items: “7 Gulden for six cans of
Franconian wine at 14 Groschen the quart presented _Doctori Martino_
on his engagement; 136 Gulden, 6 Groschen for a barrel of Einbeck
beer presented _Doctori Martino_ for his wedding; 440 Gulden _Doctori
Martino_ for wine and beer presented by the Council and the town on the
occasion of his nuptials and wedding. Fine of 120 Gulden paid by Clara,
wedded wife of Lorenz Eberhard dwelling at Jessen for abusive language
concerning Doctor Martin and his honourable wife, and also for abusing
the Pastor’s [Bugenhagen] wife at Master Lubeck’s wedding; 136 Gulden,
2 Groschen for wine sent for during the year by Doctor Martin from the
town vaults and paid for by the Council.” In addition to the various
“presents” made by the Council, we meet repeatedly in other years with
items recording deliveries of beer or wine which Luther had sent for
from the town cellar. These are entered as “owing.... The Council loath
to sue him for them....” And again, “allowed to Doctor Martin this
year....”
This explains the low items for liquor in Luther’s own list of
household expenses, which were frequently quoted in proof of his
exceptional abstemiousness. As a matter of fact, they are so small
simply owing to the presents and to his requisitions on the town
cellars, for much of which he never paid. “Four pfennigs daily for
drink” we read in his household accounts in a Gotha MS., the date of
which is uncertain.[1034] Seeing that at Wittenberg a can of beer cost
3 pfennigs, this would allow him very little. According to another
entry Katey required 56 pfennigs weekly for making the beer; the
date of this is equally uncertain. It is to the filial devotion of
Protestant researchers that we owe this information.[1035]
Luther was in a particularly cheerful mood when he wrote, on March
18, 1535, the letter, already quoted (p. 296 f.), to his friend
Caspar Müller, the Mansfeld Chancellor at Eisleben. The letter is to
some extent a humorous one, but is it really a fact that in the last
of the three signatures appended he qualifies himself as “_Doctor
plenus_”?[1036] According to some controversialists such is the case.
It is true that Denifle says of this signature, now-preserved with
the letter in the Vatican Library,[1037] “that the badly written
and scarcely legible word ... either reads or might be read as
‘_plenus_.’”[1038] According to R. Reitzenstein, on the other hand,
who also studied them, the characters cannot possibly be read thus. E.
Thiele, who mentions this, suggests[1039] that perhaps we might read
it as “Doctor Hans,” and that the signature in question might refer to
Luther’s little son who was with him and whose greetings with those of
the mother Luther sends at the end of the letter to Müller, who was the
child’s godfather.
First comes the legible signature “_Doctor Martinus_” in Luther’s
handwriting; below this, also quite legible, stands “_Doctor Luther_,”
possibly denoting his wife, as Thiele very reasonably conjectures;
finally we have the questionable “_Doctor plenus_.” To read “Hans”
instead of “_plenus_,” is, according to Denifle, “quite out of the
question,” as I also found when I came to examine the facsimile
published by G. Evers in 1883.[1040] On the other hand, to judge by the
facsimile, it appeared to me that “_Johannes_” might possibly be the
true reading, and the Latin form also seemed to agree with that of the
previous signatures. When I was able to examine the original in Rome
in May, 1907, I convinced myself that, as a matter of fact, the badly
formed and intertwined characters could be read as “_Johannes_”; this
reading was also confirmed by Alfredo Monaci, the palæologist.[1041]
Hence the reading “_Doctor plenus_,” too confidently introduced by
Evers and repeated by Enders, though with a query, in his edition of
Luther’s letters, may safely be consigned to oblivion. Even had it
been correct, it would merely have afforded a fresh example of Luther’s
jokes at his own expense, and would not necessarily have proved that
his mirth was due to spirituous influence.
In one letter of Luther’s, which speaks of the time he passed in the
Castle of Coburg, we hear more of the disagreeable than of the cheering
effects of wine.
“I have brought on headache by drinking old wine in the Coburg,” he
complains to his friend Wenceslaus Link, “and this our Wittenberg beer
has not yet cured. I work little and am forced to be idle against my
will because my head must have a rest.”[1042] In the Electoral accounts
25 Eimer of wine are set down for the period of Luther’s stay at the
Coburg;[1043] seeing that he and two companions spent only 173 days
there, our Protestant friends have hastened to allege “the frequent
visits he received” in the Coburg.[1044] It is true that he had a good
many visitors during the latter part of his stay. However this may be,
the illness showed itself as early as May, 1530. His own diagnosis
here is no less unsatisfactory than the accounts concerning the other
maladies from which he suffered. No doubt the malady was chiefly
nervous.
In October of that same year, Luther protested that he had been “very
abstemious in all things”[1045] at the Coburg, and Veit Dietrich, his
assistant at that time, wrote in the same sense on July 4: “I carefully
observed that he did not transgress any of the rules of diet.”[1046]
His indisposition showed itself in unbearable noises in the head, at
times accompanied by extreme sensitiveness to light.[1047] Luther was
convinced that the trouble was due to the qualities of the strong
wines provided for him at the castle—or, possibly, to the devil. “We
are very well off,” he says in June, 1530, “and live finely, but for
almost a month past I have been plagued not only with noises but with
actual thundering in my head, due, perhaps, to the wine, perhaps
to the malice of Satan.”[1048] Veit Dietrich inclined strongly to
the latter view. He tells us of the apparition of a “flaming fiery
serpent” under which form the devil had manifested himself to Luther
during his solitude in the Coburg: “On the following day he was plagued
with troublesome noises in his head; thus the greater part of what he
suffered was the work of the devil.”[1049] Luther himself complained
in August of a fresh indisposition, this time scarcely due to nerves,
which, according to him, was the result either of wine, or of the
devil. “I am troubled with a sore throat, such as I never had before;
possibly the strong wine has increased the inflammation, or perhaps it
is a buffet of Satan [2 Cor. xii. 7].”[1050] Four days later he wrote
again: “My head still buzzes and my throat is worse than ever.”[1051]
In the following month some improvement showed itself, and even before
this he had days free from suffering; still, after quitting the Coburg,
he still complained of incessant headache caused, as he thought, by
the “old wine.” When all is said, however, it does seem that later
controversialists were wrong in so confidently attributing his illness
in the Coburg merely to excessive love of the bottle.
Luther often vaunted the wholesome effects of beer. In a letter to
Katey dated February 1, 1546, he extols the aperient qualities of
Naumburg beer.[1052] In another to Jonas, dated May 15, 1542, he speaks
of the good that beer had done in relieving his sufferings from stone;
beer was to be preferred to wine; much benefit was also to be derived
from a strict diet.[1053]
All these traits from Luther’s private life, taken as a whole, may be
considered to confirm the opinion expressed above, p. 311 f., regarding
the charges which may stand against him and those of which he is to be
acquitted.