Augustine--D'Ailly--Occam--Gerson--The Bible--Hebrew and Greek--The Hours--Asceticism--Agony--Luther during Ma.s.s--Agony--Useless Observances--Luther in a Faint.

At length he was with G.o.d. His soul was in safety. This holiness, so earnestly longed for, he was now to find. At the sight of this young doctor, the monks were all admiration, and extolled him for his courage and contempt of the world.[148] Luther, meanwhile, did not forget his friends. He wrote to take leave of them and the world, and the next day despatched these letters, with the clothes he had hitherto worn, and his diploma of Master of Arts, which he returned to the university, that nothing might in future remind him of the world which he had abandoned.

[148] "Hujus mundi contemptu, ingressus est repente, multes admirantibus, monasterium." (Cochlus, i.) From contempt of this world, he, to the wonder of many, suddenly entered a monastery.

His friends at Erfurt were thunderstruck. Must so distinguished a genius go and hide himself in this monastic life--more properly, a kind of death?[149] In deep sorrow they hastened to the convent, in the hope of inducing Luther to retrace the distressing step which he had taken; but all was useless. The gates were closed, and a month pa.s.sed before any one was permitted to see or speak to the new monk.

[149] "In vita semi-mortua." (Melch. Adami. V. L. p. 102.) A half-dead life.

Luther had hastened to acquaint his parents with the great change which had just occurred in his life. His father was thunderstruck. He trembled for his son,--so Luther himself informs us in his book on Monastic Vows, which he dedicated to his father. His weakness, his youth, the ardour of his pa.s.sions, everything, in short, made him fear that after the first moment of enthusiasm, the indolence of the cloister would make the youth fall either into despair, or into grievous faults. He knew that this mode of life had proved fatal to many. Besides, the counsellor-miner of Mansfield had other views for his son. He was proposing a rich and honourable marriage for him--and, lo! all his ambitious projects are in one night overthrown by this imprudent action.

John wrote his son a very angry letter, in which, as Luther himself tells us, he _thou'd_ him whereas he had _you'd_ him ever since he had taken his degree of Master of Arts. He withdrew all his favour from him, and declared him disinherited of a father's affection. In vain did the friends of John Luther, and doubtless his wife also, endeavour to mollify him; in vain did they say to him, "If you are willing to make some sacrifice to G.o.d, let it be the best and dearest thing that you have--your son--your Isaac." The inexorable counsellor of Mansfeld would hear nothing.

Some time after, (the statement is given by Luther in a sermon which he preached at Wittemberg, 20th January 1544,) the plague broke out, and deprived John Luther of two of his sons. On the back of these bereavements, while the father's heart was torn with grief, some one came and told him, "The monk of Erfurt also is dead!" His friends took advantage of the circ.u.mstance to bring back the father's heart to the novice. "If it is a false alarm," said they, "at least sanctify your affliction by consenting sincerely to your son's being a monk." "Well, well!" replied John Luther, his heart broken, and still half rebellions; "and G.o.d grant him all success." At a later period, when Luther, who had been reconciled to his father, told him of the event which had led him to rush into monastic orders,--"G.o.d grant," replied the honest miner, "that what you took for a sign from heaven may not have been only a phantom of the devil!"[150]

[150] "Gott geb das es nicht ein Betrug und teuflisch Gespenst sey."

(Luth. Ep. ii, p. 101.)

At this time Luther was not in possession of that which was afterwards to make him the Reformer of the Church. His entrance into the convent proves this. It was an action done in the spirit of an age out of which he was soon to be instrumental in raising the Church. Though destined to become the teacher of the world, he was still its servile imitator. A new stone was placed on the edifice of superst.i.tion by the very hand which was soon to overturn it. Luther was seeking salvation in himself, in human practices and observances, not knowing that salvation is wholly of G.o.d. He was seeking his own righteousness and his own glory, and overlooking the righteousness and glory of the Lord. But what he as yet knew not he soon afterwards learned. That immense change which subst.i.tuted G.o.d and His wisdom in his heart for the world and its traditions, and which prepared the mighty revolution of which he was the most ill.u.s.trious instrument, took place in the cloister of Erfurt.

Martin Luther, on entering the convent, changed his name to that of Augustine.

The monks had received him with joy. It was no small satisfaction to their self-love to see the university abandoned for a house of their order, and that by one of the most distinguished teachers.

Nevertheless, they treated him harshly, and a.s.signed him the meanest tasks. They wished to humble the doctor of philosophy, and teach him that his science did not raise him above his brethren. They thought, moreover, they would thus prevent him from spending his time in studies from which the convent could not reap any advantage. The _ci-devant_ Master of Arts behoved to perform the functions of watchman, to open and shut the gates, wind up the clocks, sweep the church, and clean up the rooms.[151] Then when the poor monk, who was at once porter, sacristan, and house-hold servant to the cloister, had finished his task--_"c.u.m sacco per civitatem"_--"To the town with the bag," exclaimed the friars; and then, with his bread-bag on his shoulders, he walked up and down over all the streets of Erfurt, begging from house to house, obliged, perhaps, to present himself at the doors of those who had been his friends or inferiors. On his return, he had either to shut himself up in a low narrow cell, looking out on a plot only a few yards in extent, or to resume his menial offices. But he submitted to all. Disposed by temperament to give himself entirely to whatever he undertook, when he turned monk he did it with his whole soul. How, moreover, could he think of sparing his body, or of having regard to what might satisfy the flesh? That was not the way to acquire the humility and holiness in quest of which he had come within the walls of the cloister.

[151] "Loca immunda purgare coactus fuit." (M. Adami, Vita Luth. p.

103.) He was obliged to clear away filth.

The poor monk, worn out with fatigue, was eager to seize any moment which he could steal from his servile occupations, and devote it to the acquisition of knowledge. Gladly did he retire into a corner, and give himself up to his beloved studies. But the friars soon found him out, gathered around him, grumbled at him, and pushed him away to his labours, saying, "Along! along! it is not by studying, but by begging bread, corn, eggs, fish, flesh, and money, that a friar makes himself useful to his convent."[152] Luther submitted, laid aside his books, and again took up his bag. Far from repenting of having subjected himself to such a yoke, his wish was to bring it to a successful result. At this period, the inflexible perseverance with which he ever after followed out the resolutions which he had once formed, began to be developed. The resistance which he made to rude a.s.saults gave strong energy to his will. G.o.d exercised him in small things that he might be able to stand firm in great things. Besides, in preparing to deliver his age from the miserable superst.i.tions under which it groaned, it was necessary that he should feel the weight of them. In order to empty the cup he behoved to drink it to the dregs.

[152] Selnecceri Orat. de Luth. Mathesius, p. 5.

This severe apprenticeship, however, did not last so long as Luther might have feared. The prior of the convent, on the intercession of the university of which Luther was a member, relieved him from the mean functions which had been imposed on him, and the young monk resumed his studies with new zeal. The writings of the Fathers, particularly those of Augustine, engaged his attention; the Commentary of this ill.u.s.trious doctor on the Psalms, and his treatise "On the Letter and the Spirit," being his special favourites. Nothing struck him more than the sentiments of this Father on the corruption of the human will, and on Divine grace. His own experience convincing him of the reality of this corruption, and the necessity of this grace, the words of Augustine found a ready response in his heart; and could he have been of any other school than that of Jesus Christ, it had doubtless been the school of the doctor of Hippo. The works of Peter D'Ailly and Gabriel Biel he almost knew by heart. He was struck with a remark of the former--that had not the Church decided otherwise, it would have been much better to admit that in the Lord's Supper bread and wine are truly received, and not mere accidents.

He likewise carefully studied the theologians, Occam and Gerson, who both express themselves so freely on the authority of the popes. To this reading he joined other exercises. In public discussions he was heard unravelling the most complicated reasonings, and winding his way through labyrinths where others could find no outlet. All who heard him were filled with admiration.[153]

[153] "In disputationibus publicis, labyrinthos aliis inextricabiles, diserte, multis admirantibus explicabat." (Melanc. Vit. Luth.) In public disputations, he, to the admiration of many, clearly unravelled labyrinths which others found inextricable.

But he had entered the cloister, not to acquire the reputation of a great genius, but in quest of the food of piety.[154] These labours he accordingly regarded as supernumerary.

[154] "In eo vitae, genere non famam ingenii, sed alimenta pietatis quaerebat." In that course of life he sought not a reputation for genius, but the food of piety.

But the thing in which he delighted above all others was to draw wisdom at the pure fountain of the word of G.o.d. In the convent he found a Bible fastened to a chain, and was ever returning to this chained Bible. He had a very imperfect comprehension of the Word, but still it was his most pleasant reading. Sometimes he spent a whole day in meditating on a single pa.s.sage; at other times he learned pa.s.sages of the Prophets by heart. His great desire was, that the writings of the apostles and prophets might help to give him a knowledge of the will of G.o.d, increase the fear which he had for his name, and nourish his faith by the sure testimony of the Word.[155]

[155] "Et firmis testimoniis aleret timorem et fidem." (Melancth. Vit.

Luth.) And by its sure testimonies nourish his fear and his faith.

Apparently at this period he began to study the Scriptures in the original tongues, and thereby lay the foundation of the most perfect and the most useful of his labours, the translation of the Bible. He used a Hebrew Lexicon which Reuchlin had just published. His first guide was probably John Lange, a friar of the convent, versed in Greek and Hebrew, and with whom he always maintained a close intimacy.[156]

He also made great use of the learned Commentaries of Nicolas Lyra, who died in 1340, and hence the saying of Pflug, afterwards Bishop of Naumbourg, "Had not Lyra played the lyre, Luther had never danced. _Si Lyra non lyra.s.set, Lutherus non salta.s.set._"

[156] Gesch. d. deutsch, Bibelubersetzung.

The young monk studied so closely and ardently that he often omitted to say his Hours during two or three weeks. Then becoming alarmed at the thought of having transgressed the rules of his order, he shut himself up to make amends for his negligence, and commenced conscientiously repeating all the omitted Hours, without thinking of meat or drink. On one occasion his sleep went from him for seven weeks.

Earnestly intent on acquiring the holiness in quest of which he had entered the cloister, Luther addicted himself to the ascetic life in its fullest rigour, seeking to crucify the flesh by fastings, macerations, and vigils.[157] Shut up in his cell as in a prison, he struggled without intermission against the evil thoughts and evil propensities of his heart. A little bread and a herring were often all his food. Indeed, he was naturally very temperate. Often when he had no thought of purchasing heaven by abstinence, have his friends seen him content himself with the coa.r.s.est provisions, and even remain four days in succession without eating or drinking.[158] We have this on the testimony of a very credible witness, Melancthon, and we may judge from it what opinion to form of the fables which ignorance and prejudice have circulated concerning Luther's intemperance. At the period of which we treat there is no sacrifice he would have declined to make, in order to become holy and purchase heaven.[159] When Luther, after he had become Reformer, says that heaven is not purchased, he well knew what he meant. "Truly," wrote he to George, Duke of Saxony, "truly I was a pious monk, and followed the rules of my order more strictly than I can tell. If ever monk had got to heaven by monkery, I had been that monk. In this all the monks of my acquaintance will bear me witness. Had the thing continued much longer I had become a martyr unto death, through vigils, prayer, reading, and other labours."[160]

[157] "Summa disciplinae severitate se ipse regit, et omnibus exercitiis, lectionum, disputationum, jejuniorum, prec.u.m, omnes longe superat." (Melancth. Vita Luth.) He observes the utmost rigour of discipline, and in all the exercises of reading, discussion, fastings, and prayers, far surpa.s.ses all.

[158] "Erat enim natura, valde modici cibi et potus; vidi continuis quatuor diebus, c.u.m quidem recte valeret, prorsus nihil edentem aut bibentem." (Ibid.) For he was naturally moderate in the use of meat and drink; I have seen him, no doubt, when in perfect health, neither eating nor drinking for four successive days.

[159] "Strenue in studiis et exercitiis spiritualibus militavit ibi Deo, annis quatuor." (Cochlus, i.) There, in studies and spiritual exercises, he was a strenuous servant of G.o.d for four years.

[160] Luth. Op. (W.) xix, 2299.

We are touching on the period which made Luther a new man, and which, revealing to him the immensity of the Divine love, fitted him for proclaiming it to the world.

The peace which Luther had come in search of he found neither in the tranquillity of the cloister nor in monastic perfection. He wished to be a.s.sured of his salvation; it was the great want of his soul, and without it he could have no repose. But the fears which had agitated him when in the world, followed him into his cell. Nay, they were even increased; the least cry of his heart raising a loud echo under the silent vaults of the cloister. G.o.d had brought him thither that he might learn to know himself, and to despair of his own strength and virtue. His conscience, enlightened by the Divine word, told him what it was to be holy; but he was filled with alarm at not finding, either in his heart or his life, that image of holiness which he had contemplated with admiration in the word of G.o.d; a sad discovery made by every man who is in earnest! No righteousness within, no righteousness without, everywhere omission, sin, defilement.... The more ardent Luther's natural disposition was the more strongly he felt the secret and unceasing resistance which human nature opposes to goodness. This threw him into despair.

The monks and theologians of the day invited him to do works in order to satisfy the Divine justice. But what works, thought he, can proceed from such a heart as mine! How should I be able with works polluted in their very principle, to stand in presence of my holy Judge? "I felt myself," says he, "to be a great sinner before G.o.d, and deemed it impossible to appease him by my merits."

He was agitated, and, at the same time, gloomy, shunning the silly and coa.r.s.e conversation of the monks, who, unable to comprehend the tempests of his soul, regarded him with astonishment,[161] and reproached him for his gloom and taciturnity. It is told by Cochlus, that one day, when they were saying ma.s.s in the chapel, Luther had come with his sighs, and stood amid the friars in sadness and anguish.

The priest had already prostrated himself, the incense had been placed on the altar, the _Gloria_ had been chanted, and they were reading the Gospel, when the poor monk, no longer able to contain his agony, exclaimed, in a piercing tone, while throwing himself on his knees, "Not I! not I!"[162] Every one was in amazement, and the service was for a moment interrupted. Perhaps Luther thought he had heard himself reproached with something of which he knew he was innocent; perhaps he meant to express his unworthiness to be one of those to whom the death of Christ brought eternal life. Cochlus says that they were reading the pa.s.sage of Scripture which tells of the dumb man out of whom Christ expelled a demon. If this account is correct, Luther's cry might have a reference to this circ.u.mstance. He might mean to intimate that though dumb like the man, it was owing to another cause than the possession of a demon. In fact, Cochlus informs us that the friars sometimes attributed the agonies of their brother to occult commerce with the devil,[163] and he himself is of the same opinion.

[161] "Visus est fratribus non nihil singularitatis habere."

(Cochlus, i.) The friars thought him not a little eccentric.

[162] "c.u.m, ... repente ceciderit vociferans: 'Non sum! non sum!'"

(Ibid.) When he suddenly fell down, crying out, "Not I! not I."

[163] "Ex occulto aliquo c.u.m daemone commercio." (Cochlus, i.) From some hidden intercourse with a demon.

A tender conscience led Luther to regard the smallest fault as a great sin. No sooner had he discovered it than he strove to expiate it by the severest mortifications. This, however, had no other effect than to convince him of the utter inefficacy of all human remedies. "I tormented myself to death," says he, "in order to procure peace with G.o.d to my troubled heart and agitated conscience; but, surrounded with fearful darkness, I nowhere found it."

The acts of monastic holiness which lulled so many consciences, and to which he himself had recourse in his agony, soon appeared to Luther only the fallacious cures of an empirical and quack religion. "At the time when I was a monk, if I felt some temptation a.s.sail me, I am lost! said I to myself, and immediately resorted to a thousand methods, in order to suppress the cries of my heart. I confessed every day, but that did me no good. Thus oppressed with sadness, I was tormented by a multiplicity of thoughts. 'Look!' exclaimed I, 'there you are still envious, impatient, pa.s.sionate! It is of no use then, for you, O wretch, to have entered this sacred order.'"

And yet Luther, imbued with the prejudices of his day, had from his youth up considered the acts, whose impotence he now experienced, as sure remedies for diseased souls. What was he to think of the strange discovery which he had just made in the solitude of the cloister? It is possible, then, to dwell in the sanctuary, and still carry within oneself a man of sin! He has received another garment, but not another heart. His hopes are disappointed. Where is he to stop? Can it be that all these rules and observances are only human inventions? Such a supposition appears to him at one time a suggestion of the devil, and at another time an irresistible truth. Struggling alternately with the holy voice which spoke to his heart, and with venerable inst.i.tutions which had the sanction of ages, Luther's life was a continual combat.

The young monk, like a shade, glided through the long pa.s.sages of the cloister, making them echo with his sad groans. His body pined away and his strength left him; on different occasions he remained as if he were dead.[164]

[164] "Saepe eum cogitantem attentius de ira Dei, aut de mirandis pnarum exemplis, subito tanti terrores concutiebant ut pene exanimaretur." (Melancth. Vita Luth.) Often when meditating more attentively on the wrath of G.o.d, or striking examples of punishment, he was suddenly shaken with such terror that he became like one dead.

Once, overwhelmed with sadness, he shut himself up in his cell, and for several days and nights allowed no one to approach him. Lucas Edemberger, one of his friends, feeling uneasy about the unhappy monk, and having some presentiment of the state in which he actually was, taking with him several boys, who were accustomed to chant in choirs, went and knocked at the door of his cell. No one opens or answers.

Good Edemberger, still more alarmed, forces the door. Luther is stretched on the floor insensible, and showing no signs of life. His friend tries in vain to revive him, but he still remains motionless.

The young boys begin to chant a soft anthem. Their pure voices act like a charm on the poor monk, who had always the greatest delight in music, and he gradually recovers sensation, consciousness, and life.[165] But if music could for some moments give him a slight degree of serenity, another and more powerful remedy was wanted to cure him effectually--that soft and penetrating sound of the gospel, which is the voice of G.o.d himself. He was well aware of this, and, accordingly, his sorrows and alarms led him to study the writings of the apostles and prophets with renewed zeal.[166]

[165] Seckend., p. 53.

[166] "Hoc studium ut magis expeteret, illis suis doloribus et pavoribus movebatur." (Melancth. Vita Luth.) His griefs and fears urged him to prosecute this study with greater eagerness.