Thus Luther entered the last period of his life. His disappearance in the Thuringian forest had made an immense sensation. His opponents, who were accused of his murder, trembled before the indignation which was roused against them, both in city and country. The interruption, however, of his public activity was pregnant with evil to him; as long as he was at Wittenberg, the centre of the struggle, his word and his pen could dominate the great spiritual movement both in the north and south, but in his absence it worked arbitrarily in different directions, and in many heads. One of Luther's oldest a.s.sociates began the confusion, and Wittenberg itself was the scene of action of a wild commotion. Luther could no longer bear to remain at the Wartburg; he had already been once secretly to Wittenberg; he now returned there publicly, against the will of the Elector. Then began an heroic struggle against old friends, and against conclusions drawn from his own doctrines. His activity was superhuman; he thundered incessantly from the pulpit, and his pen flew over the pages, in his cell. But he was not able to bring back all the erring minds, neither could he prevent the excitement of the people from gathering into a political storm. What was more, he could not hinder the spiritual freedom which he had won for the Germans, from producing, even in pious and learned men, an independent judgment upon faith and life, which was often opposed to his own convictions. Then came the dark years of the Iconoclastic and Anabaptist struggle, the Peasant war; and the sad dispute about the Sacrament. How often at this time did the figure of Luther arise gloomy and powerful above the disputants! how often did the perversity of men and his own secret doubts, fill him with anxious cares about the future of Germany!

In this wild time of fire and sword, the spiritual struggle was carried on more n.o.bly and purely by him than by any one else. Every interference of earthly power was hateful to him; he did not choose to be protected even by his own sovereign, and would not have any human support for his teaching. He fought with a sharp pen, alone against his enemies; the only pile that he lighted was for a paper: he hated the Pope as he did the devil, but he had always preached toleration and Christian forbearance towards papists; he suspected many of having a secret compact with the devil, but he never burnt a witch. In all the Roman Catholic countries the stake was lighted for the confessors of the new faith, and even Hutten was strongly suspected of having cut off the ears of some monks; but so benevolent were Luther's feelings, that he had heartfelt compa.s.sion for the humbled Tetzel, and wrote him a consolatory letter. His highest political principle was obedience to the authorities ordained by G.o.d, and he never rose in opposition to them except when necessary for the service of G.o.d. On his departure from Worms, although on the point of being declared free from interdict, he was forbidden to preach; he did not, however, desist from doing so, but suffered great anxiety lest it should be imputed to him as disobedience. His conception of the unity of the Empire was quite primitive and popular; the reigning princes and electors, according to the laws of the Empire, owed the same obedience to the Emperor that their own subjects did to them.

During the whole course of his life he took a heartfelt interest in Charles V., not only in that early period when he greeted him as the "Dear youth," but even later, when he knew well, the Spanish Burgundian only tolerated the German reformation for political reasons: he said of him, "He is good and quiet; he does not speak as much in one year as I do in a day; he is the favourite of fortune:" he had pleasure in extolling the Emperor's moderation, discretion, and long sufferance; and after he had begun to condemn his policy, and to distrust his character, he still insisted upon his companions talking with reverence of the sovereign of Germany; for he said, apologetically, "A politician cannot be as candid as we ecclesiastics." In 1530 he gave it as his opinion, that it would be wrong in the Elector to arm in opposition to the Emperor: it was not till 1537 that he unwillingly adopted a more enlarged view; but even then, the threatened Prince was not to take up arms first. So strongly in this man of the people still dwelt the honourable tradition of a firm well-ordered state, at a time when the proud edifice of that old Saxon and Frank empire was crumbling into ruin; but there was no trace of servile feeling in this loyalty: when the Elector on one occasion desired him to write a plausible letter, his truthful feeling revolted against the Emperor's t.i.tle of "Most Gracious Sovereign," for the Emperor was not graciously disposed towards him; and in his intercourse with people of rank he showed a careless frankness that shocked the courtiers. To his own sovereign he had with all submission spoken truths as only a great character can speak, and to which only a good heart will listen. He had in general a poor opinion of the German princes, though he esteemed individuals among them; frequent and just are his complaints of their incapacity, licentiousness, and other vices:[39] the n.o.bles too he treated with irony; the coa.r.s.eness of most of them displeased him extremely.[40] He felt a democratic aversion to the hard and selfish lawyers who conducted the affairs of the princes, courted favour, and tormented the poor; to the best of them he allowed only a doubtful prospect of the grace of G.o.d: his whole heart, on the other hand, was with the oppressed: he blamed the peasants sometimes for their obduracy and their usuriousness, but he commended their cla.s.s, regarded their vices with heartfelt compa.s.sion, and remembered that he sprang from them.

These were his views on worldly government, but he served the spiritual: he held firmly the popular idea, that there should be two ruling powers,--the Church, and the princes, and he thought he was justified in proudly placing the domination of the former above that of worldly politics. He strove indignantly to prevent the governing powers from a.s.suming the control in matters pertaining to the care of souls and to the autonomy of his communities. He estimated all politics with reference to the interests of his faith and according to the laws of his Bible. When the Scripture seemed to be endangered by worldly politics, he raised his voice, indifferent where it hit: it was not his fault that he was strong and the princes weak, and it ought to be no reproach to him, the monk, the professor, and the shepherd of souls, if the allied Protestant princes withstood the cunning statesmancraft of the Emperor, like a herd of deer; he himself was so conscious that politics were not his business, that when on one occasion the active Landgrave of Hesse would not follow ecclesiastical advice, he was the more esteemed for it by Luther: "He has a good head of his own; he will be successful; he thoroughly understands the world."

Since Luther's return to Wittenberg a democratic agitation had been fermenting amongst the people. Luther had opened the cloisters, and now people desired to be delivered from many other social evils, such as the dest.i.tution of the peasants, the ecclesiastical imposts, the malversation of the benefices, and the bad administration of justice.

The honest heart of Luther sympathized with this movement, and he exhorted and reproved the landed proprietors and princes; but when the wild waves of the Peasant war poured over his own country, when deeds of b.l.o.o.d.y violence wounded his spirit, and he found that factious men and enthusiasts exercised a dominion over the mult.i.tudes which threatened his doctrines with destruction, he threw himself with the deepest indignation into the struggle against the rough ma.s.ses. Wild and warlike was his appeal to the princes; he was horrified at what had taken place: the gospel of love had been disgraced by the headstrong wilfulness of those who had called themselves its followers. His policy was right; there was in Germany, unfortunately, no better power than that of the princes; on them, in spite of everything, rested the future of the father-land, for which neither the peasant serfs, nor the rapacious n.o.blemen, nor the dispersed cities of the empire, which stood like islands in the midst of the surging sea, could give a guarantee: he was entirely in the right; but in the same headstrong unbending way, which had hitherto made his struggle against the hierarchy so popular, he now turned against the people. A cry of dismay and horror was raised among the ma.s.ses. He was a traitor. He, who for eight years had been their hero and darling, suddenly became the most unpopular of men: again his life and liberty were threatened; even five years afterwards it was dangerous for him to visit his sick father at Mansfeld, on account of the peasants. The anger of the mult.i.tude worked also against his teaching; the field preachers and new apostles treated him as a lost, corrupt man.

He was excommunicated and outlawed by the higher powers, and cursed by the people; even many well-meaning men had been displeased with his attack on celibacy and monastic life. The n.o.bility of the country threatened to waylay the outlaw on the high-roads, because he had destroyed the convents in which, as in foundling hospitals, the respectable daughters of poor n.o.bles were thrown in early childhood.

The Romish party triumphed; the new heresy was deprived of that which had hitherto made it powerful; Luther's life and doctrines seemed doomed to destruction.

It was at this time that Luther determined to marry. Catherine von Bora had lived at Wittenberg for two years in the house of Reichenbach, the town clerk, afterwards burgomaster. She was a fine young woman of stately manners, the deserted daughter of a n.o.ble family of Meissen.

Twice had Luther endeavoured to obtain a husband for her, as with fatherly care he had already done for many of her companions; at last Catherine declared that she would not marry any man, unless it were Luther himself, or his friend Amsdorf. Luther was astonished, but he came to a rapid decision. Accompanied by Lucas Kranach, he went to woo her, and was married to her on the spot. He then invited his friends to his marriage feast, begged for venison from the court, which it was the habit of the prince to present to the professors on their wedding days, and received from the city of Wittenberg, as a bridal present, wine for the feast. We would fain understand what pa.s.sed through Luther's soul at that time; his whole being was strained to the uttermost; his strong and wild primitive nature was excited on all sides; he was deeply shaken by the evils arising up everywhere around him, the burning villages and slaughtered men. If he had been a mere fanatic he would have ended in despair; but above the stormy disquiet, which is perceptible in him up to his marriage, a bright light shone; the conviction that he was the guardian of the divine law amongst the Germans, and that in order to protect social order and morals, he was bound to guide and not to follow the opinions of men. However eagerly and warmly he might declaim in individual cases, he appears now decidedly conservative and more firmly self-contained than ever. He had, moreover, the impression that it was ordained that he should not live much longer, and many were the hours in which he looked forward with a longing to martyrdom. He concluded his marriage in full harmony with his convictions. He had entered fully into the necessity of marriage and its conformity with Scripture, and he had for some years pressed all his acquaintances to marry, at last even his own opponent the Archbishop of Mentz. He himself gives two reasons for his decision.

He had robbed his father for many years of his son; it would be to him a kind of expiation, in case he should die first, to leave old Hans a grandson. Besides this, it was also an act of defiance; his opponents triumphed that Luther was humbled, all the world was offended with him, and by this he would give them still more offence.

He was a man of strong pa.s.sions, but there was no trace of coa.r.s.e sensuality; and we may a.s.sume that the best reason, which he did not, however, avow to any of his friends, was yet the most decisive, and that was, that there had long been gossip amongst people, and he himself knew that Catherine was favourably disposed towards him. "I am not pa.s.sionately in love, but am very fond of her," he writes to one of his dearest friends. And this marriage, concluded contrary to the opinion of his cotemporaries, and amidst the derision of his opponents, was an act to which we Germans owe as much, as we do to all the years in which, as an ecclesiastic of the old Church, he had by deeds supported his theology. For from henceforth the father, husband, and citizen became also the reformer of the domestic life of his nation; and that which was the blessing of his earthly life, in which Roman Catholics and Protestants to this day have an equal interest, arose from a marriage contracted between an outcast monk and a fugitive nun.

He had still, for one-and-twenty laborious years, to carry out the moulding of his nation. His greatest work, the translation of the Bible, which he had now brought to a conclusion, in union with his Wittenberger friends, gave him an entire mastery over the language of the people, a language, the richness and power of which first became practically known by this book. We know in how n.o.ble a spirit he undertook the work: he wished to produce a book for the people, for that purpose he studied a.s.siduously the forms of speech, proverbs, and technical expressions used by them. The Humanitarians still continued to write clumsy and involved German, a bad resemblance to the Latin style. The nation now obtained for its daily reading a work which in simple words and short sentences gave expression to the deepest wisdom and the highest spiritual treasures. The German Bible, together with Luther's other writings, became the groundwork of the new German language; and this language, in which our whole literature and spiritual life have found expression, is an indestructible possession, which, though marred and spoilt, has even in the worst times reminded the different branches of the German race that they belong to one family. Individuals are now discarding their native dialects, and the language of education, poetry, and science which was created by Luther is the bond by which the souls of all Germans are united. Not less was done by this same man for the social life of Germany. Private devotion, marriage, the education of children, corporate life, school life, manners, amus.e.m.e.nts, all feelings of the heart, all social pleasures were consecrated by his teachings and writings; everywhere he endeavoured to place new boundary stones and to dig deeper foundations.

There was no sphere of human duty over which he did not constrain his countrymen to meditate. By his numerous sermons and essays he worked on the public; by countless letters in which he gave counsel and comfort to inquirers he worked on individuals. He urged incessantly upon all the necessity of self-examination, and the duty of being well a.s.sured what was owing from the father to the child, from the subject to the sovereign, and from the chief magistrate to his community; the progress he thus made was important in this respect, that he freed the consciences of people; and in the place of outward pressure, against which egotism had haughtily rebelled, he subst.i.tuted everywhere a genial self-control. How beautifully he comprehended the necessity of cultivating the minds of children by school instruction, especially in the old languages! How he recommended his beloved music to be introduced into the schools! How great his views were when he advised the magistrates to establish city libraries; and, again, how conscientiously he endeavoured to secure freedom of choice in matrimony! He had overthrown the old sacrament of marriage; but higher, n.o.bler, and freer, he established the inward relation of man and wife.

He had attacked the unwieldy monastic schools; everywhere in village and city, as far as his influence reached, flourished better inst.i.tutions for the education of youth; he had removed the ma.s.s and the Latin chantings; he gave instead, to both disciples and opponents, regular preaching and the German chorale.

His desire to find something divine in all that was lovely, good, and amiable, which the world presented to him, always kept increasing. With this feeling he was ever pious and wise, whether in the fields, or in decorous gaiety among his companions, in his playfulness with his wife, or when holding his children in his arms. He rejoiced when standing before a fruit tree at the splendour of the fruit: "If Adam had not fallen, we might thus have admired all trees." He would take a large pear admiringly in his hands, and exclaim: "See, six months ago it was deeper under the earth than its own length and breadth, and has come from the extreme end of the roots; these smallest, and least thought of things are the most wonderful of G.o.d's works. He is in the smallest of his creations, even to the leaf of a tree or a blade of gra.s.s." Two little birds had made a nest in his garden, and flew about in the evening, being frightened by the pa.s.sersby: he thus addressed them: "Ah, you dear little birds, do not fly away. I wish you well from my heart, if you could only trust me--though I own we do not thus trust our G.o.d." He had great pleasure in the companionship of true-hearted men; he enjoyed drinking wine with them, and conversation flowed pleasantly on both great and small matters; he sang, or played the lute, and arranged singing-cla.s.ses. He delighted in the art of music, as it yielded innocent enjoyment. He was lenient in his judgment about dancing, and spoke with indulgence--fifty years before Shakespeare--of plays: "For they teach," said he, "like a mirror how every one should behave himself."[41]

Once when sitting with Melancthon, the mild and learned master Philip prudently moderated the too bold a.s.sertions of his vehement friend.

Rich people were the subject of conversation, and Frau Kate could not resist remarking, eagerly, "If my husband had held such opinions he would have become very rich." Then Melancthon replied decidedly: "That is impossible, for those who thus strive after the good of the community cannot attend to their own interest." There was one subject, however, on which both men liked to argue. Melancthon was a great lover of astrology; Luther looked on this science with sovereign contempt; on the other hand, by his method of Biblical exegesis, and also by his secret political views, he had come to the conviction that the end of the world was near; and that appeared very doubtful to the sagacious Melancthon. When therefore the latter began with his signs and aspects of the heavens, and explained that Luther's success was owing to his having been born under the sign of the sun, Luther exclaimed: "I have no faith in your Sol. I am the son of a peasant; my father, grandfather, and ancestors have all been thorough peasants." "Yes,"

answered Melancthon, "but even in a village you would have become the leader, the magistrate, or the head labourer over all others." "But,"

exclaimed Luther, triumphantly, "I became a Baccalaureus, a master, and a monk; that was not written in the stars: after that, I quarrelled with the Pope, and he with me. I have taken a nun for my wife, and have had children by her; who has seen that in the stars?" Again Melancthon--continuing his astrological exposition--began to explain about the Emperor Charles; how he was destined to die in the year 1584.

Then Luther broke out vehemently: "The world will not last so long, for when we have driven away the Turks, the prophecy of Daniel will be fulfilled, and the end of all things come, then a.s.suredly the last day is at hand."

How amiable he was as the father of a family! When his little children were standing at the table watching eagerly the peaches and other fruit, he said, "Whoever wishes to see a picture of one who rejoices in hope, will see it truly portrayed here. Oh, that we could look as joyfully for the last day. Adam and Eve must have had far better fruits: ours are in comparison only like crabs. The serpent was then, I have no doubt, the most beautiful of creatures, amiable and lovely; it still has its crest, but after the curse it lost its feet and beautiful body." Looking at his little son, just three years old, who was playing and talking to himself, he said, "This child is like a drunken man; he does not know that he lives, and yet he enjoys life in security, jumping and skipping about." He drew the child towards him, and thus addressed him: "Thou art our Lord's little innocent, not under the law, but under the covenant of grace and forgiveness of sins; thou fearest nothing, but art secure and without cares, and what thou doest is pure." He then continued: "Parents always love their youngest children best; my little Martin is my dearest treasure: the little ones have most need of care and love, therefore the love of parents naturally descends. What must have been the feeling of Abraham when he had to sacrifice his youngest and dearest son? he could not have told Sarah about it; this journey must have been a bitter one to him." His beloved daughter Magdalen lay dying; he laments thus: "I love her very much, but, dear Lord, as it is thy will to take her to thee, I am content to know that she is with thee. Magdalen, my little daughter, thou wouldst willingly remain with thy father here, yet gladly goest to thy Father yonder." The child then said, "Yes, dear father, as G.o.d wills it." As she was dying, he fell on his knees by the bed, weeping bitterly, and praying that G.o.d would redeem her. She then pa.s.sed away in her father's arms. When the people came to bury her, he addressed them as was usual, saying, "I am joyful in spirit, but the flesh is weak; parting is beyond measure grievous. It is a wonderful thing, that, though feeling a.s.sured of all being well with her, and that she is at peace, one should yet feel so sorrowful." His _dominus_, or Herr Kate, as he used to call his wife in his letters to his friends, had soon become an apt and thrifty housewife. She had great troubles; many children, her husband frequently an invalid, a number of boarders (masters and poor students), always open house--as it seldom happened that they were without learned or distinguished guests, and in addition to all, a scanty income and a husband who preferred giving to taking; and who once during his wife's confinement got hold in his zeal of the baby's christening plate to give in alms.[42] From the way in which Luther treated her, we see how happy his family life was, and when he made allusions to the glib chattering of women, he had no right to do so, for he was by no means a man who was himself scanty in words. Once, when his wife appeared much delighted at being able to serve up different kinds of fish from the pond in their little garden, the doctor was heartily pleased to see her joy, and did not fail to take the opportunity of making a pleasant remark upon the happiness of contentment. Another time, when he had been reading to her too long in the Psalter, and she said that she heard enough upon sacred subjects, that she read much daily, and could talk about them, "G.o.d only grant that she might live accordingly," the doctor sighed at this sensible answer, and said, "Thus begins a weariness of the word of G.o.d; new trifling books will come in the place of the Scriptures, which will again be thrown into a corner." But this close union between these two excellent persons was still for many years disturbed by a secret sorrow. We only learn what was gnawing at the soul of the wife, by finding, that when as late as the year 1527, Luther, being dangerously ill, took a last leave of her, he spoke these words:--"You are my true wedded wife, of that you may feel certain."

Luther's spiritual life was as much a reality to him as his earthly one. All the holy personages of the Bible were to him as true friends; through his lively imagination he saw them in familiar forms, and with the simplicity of a child he liked to picture to himself the various circ.u.mstances of their life. When Veit Dietrich asked him what kind of person he thought the Apostle Paul was, Luther answered quickly, "He was an insignificant, lean little man, like Philip Melancthon." He formed a pleasing image of the Virgin Mary: he used to say, admiringly, "She was a pretty, delicate maiden, and must have had a charming voice."

He preferred thinking of the Redeemer as a child with his parents; how he took his father's dinner to the timber-yard, and how when he had been absent too long, Mary asked him, "Where have you been so long, little one?"

The Saviour should be thought of, not as in his glory, nor as the fulfiller of the law, conceptions too high and terrible for man; but only as a poor sufferer, who lived among and died for sinners.

His G.o.d was to him entirely as father and head of the family. He liked to meditate on the economy of nature: he was filled with astonishment at the quant.i.ty of wood which G.o.d must always be creating. "No one can reckon what G.o.d requires to nourish merely sparrows and useless birds: in one single year they cost Him more than the income of the King of France; and then think of all that remains." "G.o.d understands all trades: as a tailor He can make a coat for the deer, which might last a hundred years; as a shoemaker He gives him shoes to his feet, and by means of the dear sun He is a cook. He could become rich indeed, if He chose, if He were to withhold the sun and air, and threatened the Pope, Emperor, bishops, and doctors with death, if they did not pay Him a hundred thousand gulden on the spot. He does not do this, yet we are thankless miscreants." He seriously reflected whence came the means of nourishment for so many men. Old Hans Luther had maintained that there were more men than sheaves of corn; the doctor indeed thought that there were more sheaves than men, but that there were more men than shocks. "A shock of corn, however, hardly yields a bushel, and that will not nourish one man a whole year." Even a dung-heap was a subject of pleasant reflection to him. "G.o.d is obliged to clear away as well as to create; if He had not continually done so, the world would long ago have become too full." "When G.o.d chastises the G.o.dly more severely than the G.o.dless, He deals with him as a strict father of a family with his son, whom he more frequently punishes than the bad servant: but he secretly collects treasures as an inheritance for his son, whilst he finally casts the servant off." Luther comes joyfully to this conclusion: "If G.o.d can forgive me for having during twenty years offended Him by saying ma.s.s, He can also excuse my having sometimes had a good drink to his honour--let the world think what it will."

It surprised him much that G.o.d should be so very wrath with the Jews.

"For fifteen hundred years they have prayed fervently with great zeal and earnestness, as their little prayer-books show; and He has not revealed himself to them during the whole time by the smallest word. I would give two hundred florins' worth of books if I could pray as they do. It must be a great and unspeakable anger. Ah! dear Lord, punish me with pestilence, rather than be thus silent!"

Luther prayed like a child morning and evening, and often during the day, even indeed, during his meals. He repeated again and again with fervent devotion those prayers which he knew by heart. His favourite was the Lord's Prayer, and then he repeated the short catechism; he always carried the Psalter with him as a little prayer-book. When he was in extreme trouble his prayer became like a storm, a wrestling with G.o.d, the power, the greatness, and the holy simplicity of which can hardly be compared with any other human emotion. He was then the son who despairingly lies at the feet of his father, or the faithful servant who supplicates his prince. For nothing could shake his conviction that we may influence G.o.d's decisions by prayer and supplication. Thus overflowing feelings alternated in his prayers with complaints and even remonstrances. It is often related how, in the year 1540, he restored to life the dying Melancthon at Weimar. When Luther arrived he found "_Magister Philippus_" at the point of death, unconscious and with closed eyes. Luther, struck with terror, said, "G.o.d forbid! how has this organ of G.o.d been marred by the devil!" Then he turned his back on those a.s.sembled, and went to the window as he was wont to do when he prayed. "Now," said Luther, "must the Lord G.o.d stretch forth his hand to me, for I have brought the matter home to Him, and dinned in his ears all his promises as to the efficacy of prayer, which I could repeat from the Holy Scripture, so that He must hearken to me if I am to trust his promises." Then he took Melancthon by the hand, saying, "Be comforted, Philip, you will not die:" and Melancthon, under the spell of his powerful friend, began at once to breathe again, and recovered his consciousness. He was restored.

As G.o.d was to Luther the source of all good, so was the devil the producer of all evil and wickedness. He considered that the devil interfered destructively with the course of nature by illness or pestilence, deformity and famine. All that this deep-thinking man preached so firmly and joyfully had formerly pressed with fearful weight upon his conscience; especially when awaking in the night, the devil stood full of malice by his bed, whispering horrors in his ear; then his spirit wrestled for freedom, often for a length of time in vain. It is extraordinary what this son of the sixteenth century went through in these inward struggles. Every fresh inquiry into the Scriptures, every important sermon upon a new theme, threw him again into this strife of conscience: then he reached such a state of excitement that his soul became incapable of systematic thought, and for whole days he trembled with anguish. When he was occupied with the question of monks and nuns, a text of the Bible startled him, which he thought, in his excitement, placed him in the wrong: his heart died within him, and he was nearly strangled by the devil. At this time Bugenhagen visited Luther, who showed him the threatening text.[43]

Bugenhagen, probably infected by the eagerness of his friend, began also to doubt, unconscious of the greatness of the misery which it occasioned Luther. Now was Luther indeed terrified, and again pa.s.sed a fearful night. The next morning Bugenhagen came back. "I am very angry," he said; "I have now, for the first time, understood the text rightly; it has quite another sense." "And it is true," said Luther later, "it was a ridiculous argument; ridiculous indeed for one who is in his right mind, and not under temptation."

He often lamented to his friends, over the terrors which these struggles with the devil occasioned him. "He has never been from the beginning so fierce and raging as now, at the end of the world. I feel him well. He sleeps much nearer to me than my Kate; that is to say, he gives me more disquiet than she does pleasure." Luther never ceased to abuse the Pope as antichrist, or the papal system as devilish. But whoever observes more accurately, will perceive behind this hatred of the devil, the indestructible reverence by which the loyal spirit of the man was bound to the old Church. What became to him temptations, were often only the pious recollections of his youth, which stood in striking contrast to the changes he had gone through as a man.

Indeed, no man is entirely transformed by the great thoughts and deeds of his manhood. We ourselves do not become new through new actions; our inward life consists of the sum of all the thoughts and feelings which we have ever had. He who has been chosen by fate to create the new by the destruction of the old, shatters in pieces at the same time a portion of his own life: he must violate lesser duties to fulfil greater ones. The more conscientious he is, the more deeply he feels the rent which he has made in the order of the world, and also in his own inward nature. This is the secret sorrow, and even the regret, of every great historical character. Few mortals have felt this grief so deeply as Luther; and that which was so great in him, was his never being prevented by this feeling from acting with the utmost boldness.

This appears to us a tragical moment in his inward life; and equally so was the effect of his teaching upon the life of the nation. He had laid the foundation of a new Church upon the pure Gospel, and had given greater depth and substance to the minds and conscience of the people.

Around him burst forth a new life, greater general prosperity, many new arts, improvements in painting and music, comfortable enjoyment, and more refined cultivation in the middle cla.s.ses. Yet there was a something gloomy and ominous which pervaded the German atmosphere.

Fierce discord raged amongst princes and governors. Foreign powers were arrayed against the people, the Emperor from Spain, the Pope from Rome, and the Turks from the Mediterranean; enthusiasts and factious spirits were powerful, the hierarchy had not yet fallen. Had his gospel given greater unity and power to the nation? The discord had become only greater, and the future of his Church seemed dependent on the worldly interests of individual German princes. And well he knew what even the best among them were. Something terrible seemed approaching, the Scripture would be fulfilled, the last day was at hand. But afterwards G.o.d would raise up a new world, more beautiful, more splendid, and more pure, full of peace and blessing; a world in which there would be no devil; where the soul of man would find more enjoyment in the flowers and fruit of the new heavenly trees, than the present race do in gold and silver; where music, the most beautiful of all arts, would give birth to tones more entrancing than the most splendid song of the best singers of this world; and where good men would find again all that they had loved and lost.[44]

Ever more powerful became in him the longing of the creature after an ideal purity of existence. If he expected the end of the world, it was the dim traditions of the German people from the distant past which still veiled the heaven of the new Reformer; and yet it was at the same time a prophetic presentiment of what was at hand. It was not the end of the world which was approaching, but the Thirty years' war.

So he died. As the hea.r.s.e bearing his corpse pa.s.sed through the country of Thuringia, the bells tolled in every village and town, and the people pressed sobbing round his coffin. A large share of German popular strength was buried with this one man. Philip Melancthon, in the church of the castle at Wittenberg, standing before the corpse of Luther, said: "Every one who has known him well must bear witness that he was a truly good man; gracious in speech, friendly and lovable; not in the least insolent, violent, obstinate, or quarrelsome; and yet there was an earnestness and boldness in his words and bearing befitting such a man. His heart was true, and without guile; the harshness which appeared in his writings against the enemies of his doctrine, did not arise from a quarrelsome or bad spirit, but from his great earnestness and zeal for the truth. He showed great courage and manliness, and did not allow himself to be easily frightened. He was not dispirited by threatenings and danger. He possessed such a lofty and clear understanding, that in confused, dark, and difficult circ.u.mstances, he could see sooner than others what was to be counselled and done. He was not, as some perhaps have thought, so heedless as not to have remarked how it fared everywhere with the governments. He knew right well in what government consists, and paid a.s.siduous attention to the opinions and will of the people with whom he had to do. Let us have a constant and undying remembrance of this our beloved father, and keep him ever in our hearts."[45]

Such was Luther, a superhuman nature; his mind was ponderous and sharply defined, his will powerful and temperate, his morals pure, and his heart full of love. As besides him no other powerful spirit arose strong enough to become the leader of the nation, the German people have lost for centuries the supremacy over the world; their supremacy in the realm of mind rests however upon Luther. That he may in conclusion speak for himself, we will give a letter to the Elector Frederic the Wise, written at the time when Luther's whole powers were most strongly developed. The prudent prince had commanded him to remain at Wartburg, because he could not protect him at Wittenberg, as the anger of the Duke George of Saxony would lead him to insist immediately upon the carrying out of the ban of the empire against Luther. Luther then writes to his sovereign:--

"Most Serene Highness, Ill.u.s.trious Elector, and Gracious Sovereign!

Your Electoral Highness's letter and gracious remembrance of me, reached me on Friday evening, when I was preparing to leave on Sunday morning. I need truly neither proof nor witness that your Electoral Highness's intentions are for the best, for I am as fully convinced thereof as any human being can be.

"Yet in this matter, Gracious Sovereign, I must answer thus: your Electoral Highness knows, or if you do not know, permit me hereby to make you acquainted with it, that I have not received the gospel from man, but from heaven alone, through our Lord Jesus Christ, so that I may, and indeed from henceforth will, boast and sign myself a servant and evangelist. If I have presented myself for trial and judgment, it was not because I doubted the truth, but from overflowing humility, and to persuade others. I have done enough for your Electoral Highness in leaving my place vacant for a whole year for the sake of your Electoral Highness. The devil knows well that I have not done it from fear. He saw what a heart I had when I came to Worms; for if I had known that as many devils were lying in wait for me as there were tiles on the roofs, yet I would have rushed into the midst of them with joy.

"Now the Duke George is very unlike even a single devil. And since our Father, in his unfathomable mercy, has, by his gospel made us joyful lords over death and all devils, and has given us such a fullness of a.s.surance that we may call Him 'Dearly beloved Father,' your Electoral Highness can yourself judge that it would be the greatest offence to such a Father if we did not so trust Him as to be above the anger of Duke George. For my part I know well, I would gladly ride into his own Leipzig--I hope your Electoral Highness will forgive my foolish jesting--even though it should rain, proud Duke Georges during nine following days, and every one should be ninefold more furious than this one. He considers my Lord Christ only a man of straw; this my Lord and I can well bear with for a time. But I will not conceal from your Electoral Highness that I have not once only, but often prayed and wept for Duke George, that G.o.d would enlighten him. I will still once more pray and weep for him, but after that never more. And I beg of your Electoral Highness to help and pray also that we may turn from him the evil, which, G.o.d help him, weighs incessantly upon him. I would at once strangle Duke George with a word if it could be thus removed.

"I have written thus to your Electoral Highness, with the intention of making known to you that I come to Wittenberg under a far higher protection than that of the Elector. I also do not intend to request the protection of your Electoral Highness, for indeed, I think I could better protect your Electoral Highness than you could protect me. So much so, that if I knew your Electoral Highness could protect me, and would do so, I would not come. It is not the sword which can counsel or help in this business; it is G.o.d alone who can act, without any human a.s.sistance; therefore he who has most faith will have most power to protect.

"As I therefore perceive that your Electoral Highness is as yet weak in faith, I can in no wise regard your Electoral Highness as the man to protect or deliver me.

"As your Electoral Highness desires to know what you shall do in this business, especially as you think that you have done too little, I answer, with all due submission, that your Electoral Highness has done too much, and should do nothing. For G.o.d will not allow of our cares and doings; He will have every doing left to himself, to himself and no other. May your Electoral Highness act accordingly.

"If your Electoral Highness believes this, you will have security and peace; if you do not, I do, and must leave your Electoral Highness in your unbelief, to torment yourself with the anxieties which all unbelievers deservedly suffer. As, therefore, I will not obey your Electoral Highness, you will be excused before G.o.d if I should be imprisoned or put to death. Towards men your Electoral Highness ought thus to conduct yourself. You should as Elector be obedient to the supreme authority, and should allow the Imperial majesty to rule in your towns and provinces, over persons and property, in conformity with the laws of the empire, and should not attempt to prevent or oppose, or make any hindrance or resistance to this power if it should seize and kill me. For no one should resist authority, he excepted by whom it has been established, otherwise it is revolt, and against G.o.d. But I hope that your Electoral Highness will be reasonable, and perceive that you are in too high a position to become my gaoler. If your Electoral Highness keeps the door open, and grants a free escort in case my enemies themselves or their emissaries should come to seize me, you will have done enough for obedience-sake. They cannot indeed demand more of your Electoral Highness, than to learn the residence of Luther in your Electoral Highness's dominions. And that, they shall do without any care, work, or danger on the part of your Electoral Highness; for Christ has not yet taught men to be Christians to the injury of others.

"If, however, they should be so unreasonable as to command your Electoral Highness to lay hands on me yourself, I will then tell you what is to be done: I will secure your Electoral Highness from injury and danger to person, property, and soul, in what concerns me. Your Electoral Highness may or may not believe this.

"Herewith I commend your Electoral Highness to G.o.d's grace; of anything further we will speak when it is needful. For I have written this in haste, that your Electoral Highness may not be troubled by the report of my arrival, for I must comfort and not injure any one if I would be a true Christian. I have to deal with quite a different man to Duke George: we know each other well. If your Electoral Highness would have faith, you would see the glory of G.o.d; but because you have not yet faith, you have not seen it. Love and praise be to G.o.d in eternity.

Amen. Given at Borna by the messenger, Ash Wednesday, anno 1522.

"Your Electoral Highness's most obedient servant,

"Martin Luther."

CHAPTER VII.

GERMAN PRINCES AT THE IMPERIAL DIET.

(1547.)

Luther was dead. Over his grave raged the Smalkaldic war. Charles V.

made a triumphal progress through humiliated Germany.

Only once did these two men confront each other--these great opponents whose spirits are still struggling in the German nation,--the Burgundian Hapsburger and the German peasant's son--the Emperor and the professor;--the one, who spoke German only to his horse; the other, who translated the Bible and formed the new German language of literature;--the one, the predecessor of the Jesuit protectors and the originator of the Hapsburger family politics; the other, the forerunner of Lessing the great German poet, historian, and philosopher.