History of the Catholic Church, vol 1 - J. MacCaffrey (epub ebook reader .TXT) 📗

a livelihood. To his followers and his most intimate associates he denied the liberty of thought and speech that he claimed for himself, by insisting on the unconditional acceptance of his doctrines as if in him alone were vested supreme authority and infallibility.

For exercising their right to private judgment, Carlstadt was pursued from pulpit to pulpit till at last he was forced to seek safety in flight; Zwingli was denounced as a heretic for whose salvation it was useless to pray; the Anabaptists were declared to be unworthy of any better fate than the sword or the halter; Agricola, his most zealous fellow-labourer, was banished from his presence and his writings were interdicted; and even Melanchthon was at last driven to complain of the state of slavery to which he had been reduced.[35]

 

His failing health and his disappointments served to sour his temper and to render him less approachable. The attacks that he directed against the Papacy such as The Papacy an Institution of the Devil, and the verses prepared for the vulgar caricatures that he induced Cranach to design (1545) surpassed even his former productions in violence and abusiveness. Tired of attacking the Papacy, he turned his attention once more to the Jews, upon whom he invoked the vengeance of Heaven in the last sermon that he was destined to preach on earth. He was taken suddenly ill in Eisleben, where he had come to settle some disputes between the Counts of Mansfeld, and on the 18th February 1546, he passed away.[36]

 

Luther is a man whose character it is difficult to appreciate exactly.

At times he spoke and wrote as if he were endowed with a deeply religious feeling, convinced of the truth of his doctrines, and anxious only for the success of the work for which he professed to believe he had been raised up by God. Some of his sermons sounded like a trumpet call from Heaven, warning the people that the hour for repentance had drawn nigh, while his conversations with his intimate friends breathed at times a spirit of piety and fervour redolent of the apostolic age. This, however, was only one feature of Luther’s character, and, unfortunately, it was a feature that manifested itself only too rarely. As a general rule his writings, his sermons and speeches, and, in a word, his whole line of conduct were in direct opposition to everything that is associated generally in the popular mind with the true religious reformer. His replies to his opponents, even to those who, avoiding personalities, addressed themselves directly to his doctrines, were couched in the most violent and abusive language. His wild onslaughts and his demands for vengeance on any one who ventured to question his teaching, whether they were Catholics, Zwinglians, Sacramentarians or Anabaptists, were the very antithesis of the spirit of charity and meekness that should characterise a follower, not to say an apostle, of Christ. Nor were his over-weening pride and self-confidence in keeping with the spirit of meekness and humility inculcated so frequently in the writings of the New Testament.

 

In his letters, and more especially in his familiar intercourse with his friends,[37] his conversation was frequently risky and indecent; his relations with women, at least before his marriage with Catherine Bora, were, to put it mildly, not above suspicion, as is evident from his own letters and the letters of his most devoted supporters; while his references to marriage and vows of chastity in his sermons and pamphlets were filthy and unpardonable even in an age when people were much more outspoken on such subjects than they are at present. Though he insisted strongly on the necessity of preaching the pure Word of God, he had little difficulty in having recourse to falsehood when truth did not serve his purpose, or in justifying his conduct by advocating the principle that not all lies were sinful particularly if they helped to damage the Roman Church. His frequent and enthusiastic references to the pleasures of the table were more like what one should expect to find in the writings of a Pagan epicure than in those of a Christian reformer. He was not, as is sometimes asserted, a habitual drunkard. His tireless activity as a writer and preacher is in itself a sufficient refutation of such a charge, but he was convinced that a hard drinking bout was at times good for both soul and body, and in this respect at least he certainly lived up to his convictions.[38]

 

It would be a mistake to judge him by his Latin writings, which, both in manner and style, seldom rise above the level of mediocrity. It is in his German books and pamphlets that Luther is seen at his best.

There, he appears as a man of great ability and learning, gifted with a prodigious memory, a striking literary style, and a happy knack of seizing upon the weak points of his adversaries and of presenting his own side of the case in its most forcible and attractive form. No man knew better than he how to adapt himself to the tastes of his audience or the prejudices of his readers. He could play the role of the judge or the professor almost as well as that of the impassioned fanatic convinced that behind him were arrayed all the powers of Heaven. In dealing with men of education, who were not likely to be captivated by rhetoric, he could be calm and argumentative; but when he addressed himself to the masses of the people he appeared in his true character as a popular demagogue, hesitating at nothing that was likely to arouse their indignation against the Roman Church and their enthusiasm for the movement to which he had devoted his life. In words of fiery eloquence he recalled to their minds the real and imaginary grievances of their nation against Rome, the over-weening pride and tyranny of the spiritual princes, the scandalous lives of many of the ecclesiastics, and the failure of the Pope and councils to carry through a scheme of wholesale reform. He called upon them to throw off the yoke imposed by foreigners on their fathers and themselves, and to support him in his struggle for the liberty of the people, the independence of the German nation, and the original purity of the Gospel, promising them that if only they would range themselves under his banner, all their grievances, both spiritual and temporal, must soon be redressed. Had Luther never appeared, or had he been less gifted as an orator, a writer and a popular leader than he was, a crisis must have arisen at the time; but his genius and enthusiasm turned what might have been a trickling stream into a raging torrent, threatening destruction to beliefs and institutions hitherto regarded as inviolable. The time was ripe for a reformer, and Luther’s only claim to greatness was his capacity of utilising in a masterly way the materials, political and religious, that lay ready at his hand.

Religious abuses, social unrest, politics, personal vanities, and the excesses always attendant upon a great literary revival, were pressed into his service, and were directed against the Roman Church. And yet his success fell far short of his expectations. Beyond doubt he contrived to detach individuals and kingdoms from their obedience to the Pope and their submission to ecclesiastical authority only to subject them to the spiritual yoke of secular princes, and to expose them to doctrinal anarchy subversive of dogmatic religion; but the Catholic Church and the See of Rome, for the overthrow of which he had laboured so energetically, emerged triumphant from the terrible trial that had been permitted by God only for its purification.

 

During the period that intervened between the Ratisbon Interim and the death of Luther (1541-6) Charles V., hard pressed by the war with France and the unsuccessful expeditions against the Barbary pirates, was obliged to yield to the increasing demands of the Protestant princes; nor could Paul III., however much he desired it, realise his intention of convoking a General Council. But at last the Peace of Crepy (1544) which put an end to the war with France, and the convocation of a General Council to meet at Trent in March 1545, strengthened the hands of the Emperor, and enabled him to deal effectively with the religious revolution. The Protestant princes announced their determination to take no part in a Council convoked and presided over by the Pope. Charles left no stone unturned to induce them to adopt a more conciliatory attitude, but all his efforts having proved unavailing, he let it be known publicly that he would not allow himself to be intimidated by threats of violence, and that if need be he would insist on obedience at the point of the sword.

John Frederick of Saxony and Philip of Hesse, alarmed by the threatening aspect of affairs, determined to anticipate the Emperor, and took the field at the head of an army of forty thousand men (1546).

 

Charles V., relying upon the aid of the Pope and the cooperation of the Catholic princes, issued a proclamation calling upon all loyal subjects to treat them as rebels and outlaws. Maurice of Saxony deserted his co-religionists on promise of succeeding to the Electorship, joined the standard of Charles V., and in conjunction with Ferdinand directed his forces against Saxony. The Elector was defeated and captured at Muhlberg (April 1547). He was condemned to death as a traitor, but he was reprieved and detained as a prisoner in the suite of the Emperor, while his nephew, Maurice of Saxony, succeeded to his dominions. Philip of Hesse, too, was obliged to surrender, and Charles V. found himself everywhere victorious. He insisted on the restoration of the Bishop of Naumburg and of Henry of Brunswick to his kingdom as well as on the resignation of Hermann Prince von Wied, Archbishop of Cologne. He was unwilling, however, to proceed to extremes with the Protestant princes, well knowing that he could not rely on some of his own supporters. Besides, he had become involved in serious difficulties with Pope Paul III., who complained, and not without reason, of the demands made upon him by the Emperor, and of the concessions that the Emperor was willing to make to the Lutherans.

 

Charles V. summoned a Diet to meet at Augsburg (1547), where he hoped that a permanent understanding might be secured. A document known as the Augsburg Interim, prepared by Catholic theologians in conjunction with the Lutheran, John Agricola, was accepted provisionally by both parties. The doctrines were expressed in a very mild form, though not, however, altogether unacceptable to Catholics.

Protestants were permitted to receive communion under both kinds; their married clergy were allowed to retain their wives; and it was understood tacitly that they might keep possession of the ecclesiastical property they had seized. The Augsburg Interim, as might have been anticipated, was displeasing to both parties. Maurice of Saxony, unwilling to give it unconditional approval, consulted Melanchthon and others of his school as to how far he might accept its terms. In their reply they distinguished between matters that were essential and those that were only of secondary importance. The latter might be accepted unreservedly in obedience to the orders of the Emperor. In regard to doctrines, they were willing to compromise on the question of justification and good-works, to accept the sacraments, including confirmation and Extreme Unction, the Mass with the addition of some German hymns, and in a certain sense the jurisdiction of the bishops. Such concessions were a distinct departure from Luther’s teaching and would have been impossible had he been alive.

 

The relations between the Pope and the Emperor took a more friendly turn when the General Council was transferred from Bologna to Trent (1551). The Protestant princes, invited to send representatives, declined at first, but in a