On the other hand, in many fine passages, he recommends self-denial and mortification as a check upon concupiscence. He even uses the word “mortificare,” and insists that, till our last breath, we must not cease to dread the “fomes” of the flesh and dishonourable temptations. He alone walks safely, so he repeatedly affirms, who keeps his passions under the dominion of the Spirit, suffers injustice, resists the attacks of pride, and at the same time holds his body in honour as the chaste temple of God by denying it much that its evil lusts desire.
Luther himself, however, does not seem to have been overmuch given to mortification, whether of the senses or of the inner man. He was less notable for his earnest efforts to restrain the passions than for that “openness to all the world had to offer,” and that “readiness to taste to the full the joy of living,” which his followers admire. Not only was he averse to penitential exercises, but he even refused to regulate his diet: “I eat just what I like and bear the pains afterwards as best I can.” “To live by the doctor’s rule is to live wretchedly.” “I cannot comply with the precautions necessary to ensure health; later on, remedies may do what they can.” “I don’t consult the doctors, for I don’t mean to embitter the one year of life which they allow me, and I prefer to eat and drink in God’s name what I fancy.” With his reference to his “tippling” and the “Good drink” we shall deal at greater length below, in section 5.
The aim of Luther’s ethics, as is plain from the above, did not rise above the level of mediocrity. His practice, to judge from what has been already said, involved the renunciation of any effort after the attainment of eminent virtue. It may, however, be questioned whether he was really true even to the low standard he set himself.
There is a certain downward tendency in the system of mediocrity which drags one ever lower. Such a system carries with it the rejection of all effort to become ever more and more pleasing to God, such as religion must necessarily foster if it is to realise its vocation, and to which those countless souls who were capable of higher things have, under the influence of Divine grace, ever owed their progress. The indispensable and noblest dowry of true piety is the moulding of spiritual heroes, of men capable of overcoming the world and all material things. Thousands of less highly endowed souls, under the impulse from above, hasten to follow them, seeking the glory of God, and comfort amidst the troubles of life, in religion and the zealous practice of virtue. Mighty indeed, when transformed by them into glowing deeds, were the watch words of the Church’s Saints: “I was born for higher things,” “All for the greater glory of God,” “Conquer thyself,” “Suffer and fight with courage and confidence.”
On the other hand, the system of mediocrity, organised yielding to weakness, and the setting up of the lowest possible ethical standard, could not be expected to furnish Luther and his disciples with any very high religious motive. Even in the ordinary domain of Christian life Luther’s too easy and over-confident doctrine of the appropriation of the satisfaction made by Christ, sounds very different from our Saviour’s exhortations: “Do penance, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand”; “Whoever will come after Me, let him deny himself”; “Whoever does not take up his cross and follow Me cannot be My disciple”; or from those of St. Paul who said of himself, that the world was crucified to him and he to the world; or from those of St. Peter: “Seeing that Christ suffered in the flesh, arm yourselves with the like mind.” “Do penance and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out.” What Scripture requires of the faithful is not blind, mechanical confidence in the merits of Christ as a cloak for our sins, but “fruits worthy of penance.” In the long list of Luther’s works we seek in vain for a commentary which brings these solemn statements on penance before the mind of the reader with the emphasis hitherto habitual. Even were such a commentary forthcoming, the living commentary of his own life, which is the seal of the preacher’s words, would still be wanting.
On another point, viz. zeal for the souls of others, we see no less clearly how far Luther was removed from the ideal. True zeal for souls embraces all without exception, more particularly those who have gone astray and who must be brought to see the light and to be saved. Luther, on the other hand, again and again restricts most curiously the circle to whom his Evangel is to be preached; the wide outlook of the great preachers of the faith in the Church of olden days was not his.
“Three classes do not belong to the Evangel at all,” he had said, “and to them we do not preach.... Away with the dissolute swine.” The three classes thus stigmatised were, first the “rude hearts,” who “will not accept the Evangel nor observe its behests”; secondly, “coarse knaves steeped in great vices,” who would not allow themselves to be bitten by the Evangel; thirdly, “the worst of all, who, beyond this, even dare to persecute the Evangel.” The Evangel is, as a matter of fact, intended only for “simple souls ... and to none other have we preached.” This explains why Luther long cherished the idea of forming a kind of esoteric Church, or community consisting simply of religiously disposed faithful; unfortunately “he did not find such people,” for most were content to neglect both Church and Sacraments.
The older Church had exhorted all who held a cure of souls to be zealous in seeking out such as had become careless or hostile. When, however, someone asked Luther, in 1540, how to behave towards those who had never been inside a church for about twenty years, he replied: “Let them go to the devil, and, when they die, pitch them on the manure-heap.”
The zeal for souls displayed by Luther was zeal for his own peculiar undertaking, viz. for the Evangel which he preached. Zeal for the general spread of the kingdom of God amongst the faithful, and amongst those still sunk in unbelief, was with him a very secondary consideration.
In reality his zeal was almost exclusively directed against the Papacy.
The idea of a universal Church, which just then was inspiring Catholics to undertake the enormous missionary task of converting the newly discovered continents, stood, in Luther’s case, very much in the background.
Though, in part, this may be explained by his struggle for the introduction of the innovations into those portions of Germany nearest to him, yet the real reason was his surrender of the old ecclesiastical ideal, his transformation of the Church into an invisible kingdom of souls devoted to the Evangel, and his destruction of the older conception of Christendom with its two hinges, viz. the Papacy established for the spiritual and the Empire for the temporal welfare of the family of nations. He saw little beyond Saxony, the land favoured by the preaching of the new Gospel, and Germany, to which he had been sent as a “prophet.” The Middle Ages, though so poor in means of communication and geographical knowledge, compared with that age of discovery, was, thanks to its great Catholic, i.e. world-embracing ideas, inspired with an enthusiasm for the kingdom of God which found no place in the ideals of Lutheranism. We may compare, for instance, the heroic efforts of those earlier days to stem the incursions of the Eastern infidel with the opinion expressed by the Wittenberg professor on the war against the Crescent, where he declared the resistance offered in the name of Christendom to the Turks to be “contrary to the will of the Holy Ghost,” an opinion which he continued to hold, in spite of, or perhaps rather because of, its condemnation by the Pope ( ff., and ). We may contrast the eloquent appeals of the preachers of the Crusades — inspired by the danger which threatened from the East — for the delivery of the Holy Land and the Holy Sepulchre, with Luther’s statement quoted above, that God troubled as little about the Tomb at Jerusalem as He did about the Swiss cows (). In Luther’s thoughts the boundaries of the Christian world have suddenly become much less extensive than in the Middle Ages, whilst ecclesiastical interests, thanks to the new territorial rights of the Princes, tend to be limited by the frontiers of the petty States.
The stormy nature of the work on which his energies were spent could not fail to impress on his personal character a stamp of its own. In considering Luther’s ethical peculiarities, we are not at
liberty to pass over in silence the feverish unrest — so characteristic of him and so unlike the calm and joyous determination evinced by true messengers sent by God — the blind and raging vehemence, which not only suited the violence of his natural disposition, but which he constantly fostered by his actions. “The Lord is not in the storm”; these words, found in the history of the Prophet Elias, do not seem to have been Luther’s subject of meditation. He himself, characteristically enough, speaks of his life-work as one long “tally-ho.” He was never content save when worrying others or being worried himself; he always required some object which he could pull to pieces, whereas true men of God are accustomed to proceed quietly, according to a fixed plan, and in the light of some great supernatural principle. With Luther excitement, confusion and war were a second nature. “The anger and rage of my enemies is my joy and delight, in spite of all their attempts to take it from me and defraud me of it.... To hell-fire with such flowers and fruits, for that is where they belong!”
If, after listening to utterances such as the above, we proceed to visit Luther in his domestic circle — as we shall in the next section — we may well be surprised at the totally different impression given by the man. In the midst of his own people Luther appears in a much more peaceable guise.
He sought to fulfil his various duties as father of the family, towards his children, the servants and the numerous guests who lived in or frequented his house, whether relatives or others, so far as his occupations permitted. He was affable in his intercourse with them, sympathetic, benevolent and kind-hearted towards those who required his help, and easily satisfied with his material circumstances. All these and many other redeeming points in his character will be treated of more in detail later. It is true that the ceaseless labours to which he gave himself up caused him to overlook many abuses at his home which were apparent to others.
The unrest, noise and bustle which reigned in Luther’s house, were, at a later date, objected to by many outsiders. George Held wrote in 1542 to George of Anhalt, who had thought of taking up his abode with Luther, to dissuade him from doing so: “Luther’s house is tenanted by a miscellaneous crowd (‘miscellanea et promiscua turba’) of students, girls, widows, old women and beardless boys, hence great unrest prevails there; many good men are distressed at this on account of the Reverend Father [Luther]. Were all animated by Luther’s spirit, then his house would prove a comfortable and pleasant abode for you for a few days, and you would have an opportunity of enjoying his familiar discourses, but, seeing how his house is at present conducted, I would not advise you to take up your quarters there.”
Many of Luther’s friends and acquaintances were also dissatisfied with Catherine Bora, because of a certain sway she seemed to exercise over Luther, even outside the family circle, in matters both great and small. In a passage which was not made public until 1907 we find Johann Agricola congratulating himself, in 1544, on Luther’s favourable disposition towards him: “Domina Ketha, the arbitress of Heaven and Earth, who rules her husband as she pleases, has, for once, put in a good word on my behalf.” The assertion of Caspar Cruciger, a friend of the family, where he speaks of Catherine as the “firebrand in the house,” and also the report given to the Elector by the Chancellor Brück, who accuses her of a domineering spirit, were already known before. Luther’s own admissions, to which we shall return later, plainly show that there was some truth in these complaints. The latest Protestant to write the life of Catherine Bora, after pointing out that she was vivacious, garrulous and full of hatred for her husband’s enemies, says: “The influence of such a temperament, united with such strength of character, could not fail to be evil rather than good, and for this both wife and husband suffered.... We cannot but allow that Katey at times exerted a powerful influence over Luther.” Particularly in moving him in the direction in which he was already leaning, “her power over him was great.”
Luther’s son Hans was long a trial to the family, and his father occasionally vents his ire on the youth for his disobedience and laziness. He finally sent him to Torgau, where he might be more carefully trained and have his behaviour corrected. Hans seems to have been spoilt by his mother. Later on she spoke of him as untalented, and as a “silly fellow,” who would be laughed at were he to enter the Chancery of the Elector. A niece, Magdalene Kaufmann, whom Luther brought up in his house together with two other young relatives, was courted by Veit Dietrich, one of Luther’s pupils, who also boarded with him. This was, however, discountenanced by the master of the house, who declared that the wench “was not yet sufficiently educated.” Luther was annoyed at her want of obedience and ended by telling her that, should she not prove more tractable, he would marry her to a “grimy charcoal-burner.” His opposition to the match with Dietrich brought about strained relations between himself and one who had hitherto been entirely devoted to him. Dietrich eventually found another partner and was congratulated by Luther. Magdalene, with Luther’s consent, married, first, Ambrose Berndt, an official of the University, and, after his death in 1541, accepted the proposal of Reuchlin, a young physician only twenty years of age, whom she married in spite of Luther’s displeasure. With her restlessness she had sorely troubled the peace of the household.
Other complaints were due to the behaviour of Hans Polner, the son of Luther’s sister, who was studying theology, but who nevertheless frequently returned home the worse for drink and was given to breaking out into acts of violence. Another nephew, Fabian Kaufmann, seems to have been the culprit who caused Luther to grumble that someone in his own house had been secretly betrothed at the very time when, in his bitter controversy with the lawyers, he was denouncing such “clandestine marriages” as invalid. Finally, one of the servant-girls, named Rosina, gave great scandal by her conduct, concerning which Luther has some strong things to say in his letters.
The quondam Augustinian priory at Wittenberg, which has often been praised as the ideal of a Protestant parsonage, fell considerably short, in point of fact, even of Luther’s own standard. There lacked the supervision demanded by the freedom accorded to the numerous inmates, whether relatives or boarders, of the famous “Black monastery.”
4. The Table-Talk and the First Notes of the same
At the social gatherings of his friends and pupils, Luther was fond of giving himself up unrestrainedly to mirth and jollity. His genius, loquacity and good-humour made him a “merry boon companion,” whose society was much appreciated. Often, it is true, he was very quiet and thoughtful. His guests little guessed, nay, perhaps he himself was not fully aware, how often his cheerfulness and lively sallies were due to the desire to repress thereby the sad and anxious thoughts which troubled him.
Liveliness and versatility, imagination and inventiveness, a good memory and a facile tongue were some of the gifts with which nature had endowed him. To these already excellent qualities must be added that depth of feeling which frequently finds expression in utterances of surprising beauty interspersed among his more profane sayings. Unfortunately, owing to his incessant conflicts and to the trivialities to which his pen and tongue were so prone, this better side of his character did not emerge as fully as it deserved.
In order to become better acquainted with the conditions amid which Luther lived at Wittenberg, we must betake ourselves to a room in the former Augustinian convent, where we shall find him seated, after the evening meal, amidst friends such as Melanchthon, Bugenhagen and Jonas, surrounded by eager students — for the most part boarders in his house, the former “Black monastery” — and strangers who had travelled to the little University town attracted by the fame of the Evangel. There it is that he imparts his views and relates his interior experiences in all confidence. He was perfectly aware that what he said was being noted down, and sometimes suggested that one saying or the other should be carefully committed to writing. The older group of friends (1529-1535), to whom we owe relations of the Table-Talk, comprised Conrad Cordatus, Veit Dietrich, Johann Schlaginhaufen, Anton Lauterbach, Hier
onymus Weller and Anton Corvinus; such of these as remained with him from 1536 to 1539 form the middle group; the last (1540-1546) was chiefly made up of Johann Mathesius, Caspar Heydenreich, Hieronymus Besold, Master Plato, Johann Stoltz and Johann Aurifaber. Apart from these there were a few who came into close, personal contact with Luther, for instance, George Rörer, who assisted him in translating the Bible and who is one of Aurifaber’s authorities for the Table-Talk.
In his twelfth Sermon on the “Historien von des ehrwürdigen ... Manns Gottes Martini Lutheri,” etc., Mathesius was later on to write that he had enjoyed at his table “many good colloquies and chats” and had tasted “much excellent stuff in the shape of writings and counsels.” Luther himself refers incidentally to these social evenings in his famous saying, that, while he “drank Wittenberg beer with his friends Philip and Amsdorf,” God, by his means, had weakened the Papacy and brought it nigh to destruction. The wine was drunk — at least on solemn occasions — from the famous bowl known as the “Catechismusglas,” on which were painted in sections, placed one below the other and separated by three ridges, various portions of Christian doctrine: at the top the Ten Commandments, in the middle the Creed and Our Father, and at the bottom the whole Catechism (probably the superscriptions and numbers of the questions in the Catechism). We read in the Table-Talk, that, on one occasion, Johann Agricola could get only as far as the Ten Commandments at one draught, whereas Luther was able to empty the bowl right off down to the very dregs, i.e. “Catechism and all.”
For Luther’s sayings given in what follows we have made use of the so-called original versions of the Table-Talk recently edited by various Protestant scholars, viz. the Diaries of Lauterbach and Cordatus, the notes of Schlaginhaufen and the Collections made by Mathesius and found in the “Aufzeichnungen” edited by Loesche and in the “Tischreden (Mathesius)” published more recently still by Kroker, the Leipzig librarian.
Collected Works of Martin Luther Page 687