Volume 1 — CHAPTER XVII (continued 2)

What do we see of pious effort on his part, more particularly in the matter of preparation for the sacraments, and repressing of self?

The spiritual life was to him a passive compliance with the faith which God Himself was to awaken and preserve in the heart.

For “this is how it takes place,” he says, in a carefully considered instruction, “God’s Word comes to me without any co-operation on my part. I may, it is true, do this much, go and hear it, read it, or preach it, so that it may sink into my heart. And this is the real preparation which lies not in man’s powers and ability, but in the power of God. Hence there is no better preparation on our part for all the sacraments than to suffer God to work in us. This is a brief account of the preparation.”[639]

Yet he himself perceived the peril of teaching that “those people were fit to receive the sacrament whose hearts had been touched by the Word of God so that they believed, and that whoever did not feel himself thus moved should remain away.” He says: “I remark in many, myself included, how the evil spirit, by insisting too much upon the right side, makes people lazy and slow to receive the sacrament, and that they refuse to come unless they feel assured that their faith has been enkindled. This also is dangerous.”

Nevertheless he will have no “self-preparation”; such preparation, “by means of one’s own works,” appeared to him Popish; it was loathsome to God, and the doctrine of “faith alone” should be retained, even though “reason be unable to understand it.”[640] Hence it is not surprising that he declared it to be a dreadful “error and abuse” that we should venture to prepare ourselves for the sacrament by our own efforts, as those do who strive to make themselves worthy to receive the sacrament by confession and other works.[641]

He storms at those priests who require contrition from the sinner who makes his confession; his opinion is that they are mad, and that, instead of the keys, they were better able to wield pitchforks.[642] Even “were Christ Himself to come and speak to you as He did to Moses and say, ‘What hast thou done?’ kill Him on the spot.”[643] “Contrition only gives rise to despair, and insults God more than it appeases Him.”[644] Such language may be explained by the fact, that, in his theory, contrition is merely consternation and terror at God’s wrath produced by the accusations of the law; the troubled soul ought really to take refuge behind the Gospel.—How entirely different had been the preparation recommended by the Church in previous ages for the reception of the sacraments! She indeed enjoined contrition, but as an interior act issuing in love and leading to the cleansing of the soul. According to Luther, however, excessive purity of soul was not advisable, and only led to presumption. “The devil is a holy fellow,” he had said, “and has no need of Christ and His Grace”; “Christ dwells only in sinners.”

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.”[645] “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.”[646] 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.”[647] 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,”[648] 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 (p. 76 ff., and p. 92). 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 (p. 168). 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.[649]

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!”[650]

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.”[651]

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.”[652] 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.[653] 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.”[654]

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.[655] A niece, Magdalene Kaufmann, whom Luther brought up in his house together with two other young relatives,[656] 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.[657]

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.[658] 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.[659] 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.[660]

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.[661] 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, Hieronymus 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.[662]

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.”[663] 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.[664] 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.”[665]

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.[666]

The objection has frequently been raised that the Table-Talk ought not to be made use of as a reliable source of information for the delineation of Luther’s person. It is, however, remarkable that the chapters which are favourable to Luther are referred to and exploited in Protestant histories, only that which is disagreeable being usually excluded as historically inaccurate. The fact is that we have merely to comply conscientiously with the rules of historical criticism when utilising the information contained in the Table-Talk, which, owing to its fulness and variety, never fails to rivet attention. These rules suggest that we should give the preference to those statements which recur frequently under a similar form; that we should not take mere questions, put forward by Luther simply to invite discussion and correction, as conveying his real thought; that we consult the original notes, if possible those made at the time of the conversation, and that, where there is a discrepancy between the accounts (a rare occurrence), we should prefer those which date from before the time when Luther’s pupils arranged and classified his sayings according to subjects. The chronological arrangement of Luther’s sayings has thereby suffered, and here and there the text has been altered. For this reason the Latin tradition, as we have it, for instance, from Lauterbach’s pen,[667] ranks before the German version, which is of slightly later date. Kroker’s new edition, when complete, promises to be the best.

If the rules of historical criticism are followed in this and other points there is no reason why the historian should not thankfully avail himself of this great fount of information, which the first collectors themselves extolled as the most valuable authority on the spirit of their master “of pious and holy memory,”[668] and as likely to prove both instructive and edifying to a later generation. The doubt as to the reliability of the notes has been well answered by Kroker: “Such distrust, so far as the original documents are concerned, can now no longer stand. In his rendering of Luther’s words Mathesius, and likewise Heydenreich, Besold and Weller, whose notes his Collection also embodies, does not differ substantially from the older table companions, Dietrich, Schlaginhaufen and Lauterbach. All these men did their utmost to render Luther’s sayings faithfully and to the best of their knowledge and ability.”[669]

The spontaneous character of the Table-Talk gives it a peculiar value of its own. “These [conversations] are children of the passing moment, reliable witnesses to the prevailing mood” (Adolf Hausrath). In intercourse with intimates our ideas and feelings express themselves much more spontaneously and naturally than where the pen of the letter-writer is being guided by reflection, and seeks to make a certain impression on the mind of his reader. But if even letters are no faithful index to our thought, how much less so are prints, intended for the perusal of thousands and even to outlive the writer’s age? On the other hand, it is true that the deliberation which accompanies the use of the pen, imparts, in a certain sense, to the written word a higher value than is possessed by the spoken word. We should, however, expect to find in a man occupying such a position as Luther’s a standard sufficiently high to ensure the presence of deliberation and judgment even in ordinary conversation.

Among the valuable statements made by Luther, which on account of their very nature were unsuited for public utterance but have been faithfully transmitted in the Table-Talk, we have, for instance, certain criticisms of friends and even patrons in high places. Such reflections could not well be uttered save in the privacy of his domestic circle, but, for this very reason, they may well be prized by the historian. Then we have his candid admissions concerning himself, for instance, that his fear lest the Landgrave of Hesse should fall away from the cause of the Evangel constituted one of the motives which led him to sanction this Prince’s bigamy. Then, again, there is the account of his mental trouble, due to certain external events, of the influence of biblical passages, old memories, etc. Finally, we have his strange counsels concerning resistance to temptation, his own example held up as a consolation to the faint-hearted, to those who wavered in the faith or were inclined to despair; his excuse for a “good drink,” his curious recipe for counteracting the evil done by witches at home, and many other statements of an intimate nature which were quite unsuitable for public writings or even for letters. All this, and much more, offers the unprejudiced observer an opportunity for knowing Luther better. It is true that all is not the Word of God; this Luther himself states in a passage which has been wrongly brought forward in excuse of the Table-Talk: “I must admit that I say many things which are not the Word of God, when speaking outside my office of preacher, at home at meals, or elsewhere and at other times.”[670]

The value of the Table-Talk (always assuming the use of the oldest and authentic version) is enhanced if we take into consideration the attitude assumed with regard to it by learned Protestant writers of earlier times. As an instance of a certain type we may take Walch, the scholarly editor of the important Jena edition of Luther’s works prized even to-day.[671] He was much annoyed at the publication of the Table-Talk, just because it furnished abundant material for a delineation of Luther, i.e. for that very reason for which it is esteemed by the modern historian. It was unjust, he says, and “quite wrong to reveal what ought to have been buried in silence, to say nothing of the opportunity thus afforded the Papists for abuse and calumny of Luther’s person and life.” At most—he continues in a tone in which no present-day historian would dare to speak—mere “selections” from the Table-Talk “which could give no offence” ought to have been published, but thus to bring everything ruthlessly to light was a “perversion of the human will.” Fortunately, however, it was not possible even so to prove much against Luther, for, “though the sayings emanated from him originally,[672] still, they remained mere sayings, spoken without deliberation and written down without his knowledge or consent.”[673]

When he made this last statement Walch was not aware that Luther’s utterances were committed to writing in his presence and with his full “consent and knowledge” even, for instance, when spoken in the garden. “Strange as it may appear to us, these men were usually busy recording Luther’s casual words, just as though they were seated in a lecture-hall.”[674] Once, in 1540, Catherine Bora said jestingly to Luther, when they were at table with several industrious students: “Doctor, don’t teach them without being paid; they have already written down quite a lot; Lauterbach, however, has written the most and all that is best.” To which the Doctor replied; “I have taught and preached gratis for thirty years, why then should I now begin to take money for it in my old age?”[675]

The style of the original notes of the Table-Talk in many instances shows plainly that they were made while the conversation was actually in progress; even the frequent defects in the construction of the original notes, which have now been published, prove this.[676]

In 1844 E. Förstemann in his edition of the Table-Talk, as against Walch, had expressed himself strongly in favour of its correctness; he even went so far as to remark, with all the prejudice of an editor for his own work, that these conversations constituted the most important part of Luther’s spiritual legacy, and that here “the current of his thoughts flows even more limpidly than elsewhere.”[677] Walter Köhler likewise, speaking of the Table-Talk edited by Kroker, considers it a “reliable source.”[678]

Of Johann Aurifaber, who was the first to publish the Table-Talk in German, at Eisleben in 1566, and through whose edition it was most widely known, F. X. Funk said in 1882: “As his devotion to Luther led him to make public all the words and sayings which had come to his knowledge, the book, in spite of its defective plan, is important for the history of the Reformer and his time. Its value has always been admitted, though from different standpoints; of this its numerous editions are a proof.”[679] The defect in the arrangement consists in the classifying of the sayings handed down according to the different subjects, whereby they lose their historical setting. The large, new edition of the Table-Talk now planned, will necessarily abandon this confusing arrangement. It has been proved, however, that Aurifaber had a reliable version to work on. “He most probably took for the basis of his edition Lauterbach’s preliminary work,”[680] says Kawerau. This collection of Lauterbach’s has been incorporated, for the most part, in the Halle MS. edited by Bindseil under the title “Colloquia,” etc.[681] In addition to this, Aurifaber made use of the notes by Cordatus, Schlaginhaufen, Veit Dietrich, Mathesius and others. Kawerau draws attention to the fact, that the coarseness to be found in the German edition is not solely due to the compiler, as some of Luther’s apologists had urged, but really belongs to the original texts. Gross sayings of the sort not only gave no offence to Aurifaber, but he delights to repeat them at great length. Yet in certain instances he appears to have watered down and modified his text, as one investigator has proved by a comparison with the notes of Cordatus.[682]

The Pith of the New Religion. Doubts on Faith.

We shall begin by giving some practical theological examples out of the Table-Talk which may serve further to elucidate certain of Luther’s ideas already referred to, e.g. those concerning temptations and their remedy, particularly that most serious temptation of all, viz. regarding the saving power of fiducial faith, which, so Luther thinks, comes through our “weakness.” To this, the tender spot and at the same time cardinal point of his teaching and practical morality, Luther returns again and again, with a frankness for which indeed we may be grateful. Owing to the nature of the conversations and to his habitual loquacity it may happen that some of the trains of thought and modes of expression resemble those already quoted elsewhere; this, however, is no reason for neglecting them, for they testify anew to the ideas of which his mind was full, and also to the state of habitual depression in which he lived.

“Early this morning the devil held a disputation with me on Zwingli, and I learned that a full head is better able to wrangle with the devil than an empty one.... Hence,” he says, “eat and drink and live well, for bodies tempted in this way must have plenty of food and drink; but lewdsters, and those tempted by sensual passion, ought to fast.”[683]

“For those who are tempted fasting is a hundred times worse than eating and drinking.”[684]

“When a man is tempted, or is in the company of those who are tempted, let him put to death Moses [i.e. the Law] and cast stones at him; but, when he recovers, the Law must be preached to him also; a man who is troubled must not have new trouble heaped upon him.”[685]

“In the monastery the words ‘just and justice’ fell like a thunderbolt upon my conscience. I was terrified when I heard it said: ‘He is just, and He will punish.’”[686] [But now I know]: “Our justice is a relative justice [a foreign righteousness]. Though I am not good, yet Christ is good.”[687] “Hence I say to the devil: I, indeed, am a sinner, but Christ is righteous.”[688]

Many admissions reveal his altered feelings, the inconstancy and sudden changes to which he was so prone.

“I do not always take pleasure in the Word. Were I always so disposed towards the Word of God as I was formerly, then I should indeed be happy. Even dear St. Paul had to complain in this regard, for he bewails another law which wars in his members. But is the Word to be considered false because it does not happen to suit me?”[689]

“Unless we wrap ourselves round with this God, Who has become both Man and Word, Satan will surely devour us.” “Hence the aim of the Prophets and the Apostles, viz. to make us hold fast to the Word.” “It costs God Almighty much to manifest His power and mercy even to a few. He must slay many kings before a few men learn to fear Him, and He must save many a rascal and many a prostitute before even a handful of sinners learn to believe in Him.”[690]

“So soon as I say: ‘Yes, indeed, I am a poor sinner,’ Christ replies, ‘But I died for you, I baptised you and I teach you daily.’ ... Ever bear this in mind, that it is not Christ Who affrights you, but Satan; believe this as though God Himself were speaking.”[691]

“Is it not a curse that we should magnify our sins so greatly? Why do we not exalt our baptism just as we exalt our inheritance? A princely baby remains a prince even though he should s—— in his cradle. A child does not cease being heir to his father’s property for having soiled his father’s habiliments. If only we could see our way to make much of our inheritance and patrimony before God!... Yet children call God quite simply their Father.”[692]

“You are not the only man to be tempted; I also am tempted and have bigger sins piled on my conscience than you and your fathers. I would rather I had been a procurer or highwayman than that I should have offered up Christ in the Mass for so long a time.”[693]

The last words may serve as an introduction to a remarkable series of statements concerning the religious practices of the ancient Church. As these words show, he does not shrink from dishonouring by the most unworthy comparisons even those acts and doctrines which, by reason of their religious value, were dear to the whole Church of antiquity and had been regarded by some of the purest and most exalted souls as their only consolation in this life.

Elsewhere he says of the sacrifice of the Mass: “The blind priestlings run to the altar like pigs to the trough”; this, “the shame of our scarlet woman of Babylon, must be exposed.” “I maintain that all public houses of ill-fame, strictly forbidden by God though they be, yea, manslaughter, thieving, murder and adultery, are not so wicked and pernicious as this abomination of the Popish Mass.”[694]

He says of the Catholic preacher: “Where the undefiled Evangel is not preached, the whoremonger is far less a sinner than the preacher, and the brothel less wicked than the church; that the procurer should daily make prostitutes of virgins, honest wives and cloistered nuns, is indeed frightful to hear of; still, his case is not so bad as that of the Popish preacher.”[695]

The Church’s exhortation to make use of fasting as a remedy in the struggle against sin—in which counsel she had the support both of Holy Scripture and of immemorial experience—was thus described by Luther: “No eating or drinking, gluttony or drunkenness can be so bad as fasting; indeed, it would be better to swill day and night rather than to fast for such a purpose,” so “ludicrous and shameful in God’s sight” was such fasting.[696]

“Confession” (as made by Catholics), Luther asserted in 1538, “is less to be condoned than any infamy.” “The devil assails Christians with pressing temptations, most of all on account of their confessions.”[697]

The life of the Saints in the Catholic Church, he says elsewhere, consisted in “their having prayed much, fasted, laboured, taken the discipline, slept on hard pallets and worn poor clothing, a kind of holiness which any dog or pig might practise any day.”[698]

He voices his abhorrence of the monastic life in figures such as the following: “Discalced Friars are lice placed by the devil on God Almighty’s fur coat, and Friars-preacher are the fleas of His shirt.” “I believe the Franciscans to be possessed of the devil, body and soul,”[699] and, reverting once again to his favourite image, he adds elsewhere: “Neither the dens of evil women nor any secret sins are so pernicious as those rules and vows which the devil himself has invented.”[700]

We have to proceed to the uninviting task of collecting other sayings of Luther’s, particularly from the Table-Talk, which are characteristic of his more than plain manner of speaking, and to pass in review the somewhat peculiar views held by him on matters sexual. As it is to be feared that the delicacy of some of our readers will be offended, we may point out that those who wish are at liberty to skip the pages which follow and to continue from Section 7 of the present chapter which forms the natural sequence of what has gone before. Certainly no one would have had just cause for complaint had one of the guests at Luther’s table chosen to take leave when the conversation began to turn on matters distasteful to him. The historian, however, is obliged to remain. True to his task he may not close his ears to what is said, however unpleasant the task of listener. He must bear in mind that Cordatus, one of Luther’s guests, in the Diary he wrote praises Luther’s Table-Talk as “more precious than the oracles of Apollo.” This praise Cordatus bestows not only on the “serious theological discourses,” but also expressly on those sayings which were apparently merely frivolous.[701] Another pupil, Mathesius, who was also frequently present, assures us he never heard an improper word from Luther’s lips.[702] This he writes in spite of the fact, that one of the first anecdotes he relates, embellished with a Latin verse from Philo, contains an unseemly jest,[703] and that he himself immediately after tells how Luther on one occasion told the people from the pulpit that: “Ein weiter Leib und zeitiger Mist ist gut zu scheiden”; he even mentions that Luther was carried away to express himself yet more plainly concerning the ventral functions, till he suddenly reined in and corrected himself. The truth is that Mathesius was an infatuated admirer of Luther’s.

As a matter of fact, terms descriptive of the lower functions of the body again and again serve Luther not only to express his anger and contempt, but as comparisons illustrative of his ideas, whether on indifferent matters or on the highest and most sacred topics. It is true that what he said was improper rather than obscene, coarse rather than lascivious. Nor, owing to the rough and uncouth character of the age and the plainness of speech then habitual, were his expressions, taken as a whole, so offensive to his contemporaries as to us. Yet, that Luther should have cultivated this particular sort of language so as to outstrip in it all his literary contemporaries, scarcely redounds to his credit. His readers and hearers of that day frequently expressed their disgust, and at times his language was so strong that even Catherine Bora was forced to cry halt.

As a matter of course the devil came in for the largest share of this kind of vituperation, more particularly that devil who was filling Luther with anxiety and trouble of mind. The Pope and his Catholic opponents came a good second. Luther was, however, fond of spicing in the same way even his utterances on purely worldly matters.

“When we perceive the devil tempting us,” he says, “we can easily overcome him by putting his pride to shame and saying to him: ‘Leck mich im Arss,’ or ‘Scheiss in die Bruch und hengs an den Halss.’”[704] This counsel he actually put in practice: “On May 7, 1532, the devil was tormenting me in the afternoon, and thoughts troubled me, such as that a thunderbolt might kill me, so I replied to him: ‘Leck mich im Arss, I am going to sleep, not to hold a disputation.’”[705] When the devil would not cease urging his sins against him he had a drastic method of effectually disposing of his importunity.[706]

He relates in the Table-Talk, in 1536, the “artifice” by which the parish-priest of Wittenberg, his friend Johann Bugenhagen (Pomeranus), had put the devil to flight. It was a question of the milk which the devil had bewitched by means of sorceresses or witches. Luther says: “Dr. Pommer’s plan was the best, viz. to plague them [the witches] with filth and stir it into the milk so that everything stank. For when his [Pommer’s] cows also lost their milk, he promptly took a vessel filled with milk, relieved himself in it, poured out the contents and said: ‘There, devil, eat that.’ After that he was no longer deprived of the milk.”[707] Before this his wife and the maids had worried themselves to death trying “to get the butter to come”—as we read in another account of this occurrence in a version of the Table-Talk which is more accurately dated—but all to no purpose. “Then Pommer came up, mocked at the devil and eased himself in the churn. Thereupon Satan ceased his tricks, for he is proud and cannot bear to be laughed at.”[708]

Less formal, according to him, was the action of another individual, who had put Satan to flight by a “crepitus ventris.”[709]

Still, all temptations of the devil are profitable to us, so Luther says, for, if we were always at peace, the devil himself “would treat us ignominiously,”[710] for he is full of nothing but deception and filthiness. Luther, like many of his contemporaries and later writers, was well acquainted with the devil’s private life, and convinced that “devil’s prostitutes: ‘cum quibus Sathan coiret’” actually existed.[711]

As the filthy details of the expulsion of the devil from the churn are omitted in Lauterbach’s Diary, certain defenders of Luther think they are warranted in drawing from this particular passage the conclusion that the Table-Talk had been polluted by “unseemly” additions in Aurifaber’s and other later versions (above, p. 224 f.) which “must not be laid to the charge of the Reformer.” “Not Luther in his domestic circle, but the compilers and collectors of the much-discussed Table-Talk, Aurifaber in particular, were rude, obscene and vulgar.” The publication of the original documents, for instance, by Kroker in 1903, has, however, shown the first version of the Table-Talk to be even more intolerably coarse, and confirmed the substantial accuracy of the text of the older German Table-Talk at present under discussion.[712] Preger, the editor of Schlaginhaufen’s notes, rightly repudiated such evasions even in 1888, together with the alleged proofs urged by apologists. “We want to see Luther,” he says, “under the actual conditions in which he moved, and in all his own native rudeness.”[713] Kroker also pointed out that even the first writers of the Table-Talk made use of certain signs in their notes (e.g. × or |) in lieu of certain words employed by Luther which they felt scrupulous about writing.[714]

“The entire lack of restraint with which Luther expresses himself,” a Protestant writer says of the Table-Talk edited by Kroker, “makes a remarkable impression on the reader of to-day, more particularly when we consider that his wife and children were among the audience.... In the Table-Talk we meet with numerous statements, some of them far-fetched, which are really coarse.... Although we can explain Luther’s love of obscenities, still, this does not hinder us from deploring his use of such and placing it to his discredit. It is true,” the same writer proceeds, “that Luther is never lascivious or merely frivolous.”[715] As regards the latter assertion the texts to be adduced will afford a better opportunity of judging. That at any rate in the instances already mentioned Luther did not intentionally wish to excite his hearers’ passions is clear, and the fact has been admitted even by Catholic polemics who have really read his writings and Table-Talk.[716]

An alarming number of dirty expressions concerning the Pope and Catholicism occur in the Table-Talk.

“Were the Pope to cite me to appear before him,” Luther says, “I should not go. I should s—— upon the summons because he is hostile to me; but were I summoned by a Council, then I should go.”

[717]

Elsewhere, however, he says of the Council: “I should like, during my lifetime, to see a Council deal with the matter, for they would give one another a fine pummelling, and us a splendid reason for writing against them.”[718]

What was the origin of the Pope’s authority? “I see plainly whence the Pope came; he is the vomit of the lazy, idle Lords and Princes.”[719]—“Then the Pope burst upon the world with his pestilential traditions and bound men by his carnal ordinances, his rules and Masses, to his filthy, rotten law.”[720]

Such unseemly expressions occur at times in conjunction with thoughts intended to be sublime. “I hold that God has just as much to do in bringing things back to nothingness as He has in creating them. This he [Luther] said, referring to human excrement. He also said: I am astounded that the dung-hill of the world has not reached the very sky.”[721]—“He took his baby into his arms and perceived that it was soiling its diaper. His remark was that the small folk by messing themselves and by their howling and screaming earn their food and drink just as much as we deserve heaven by our good works.”[722] He even brings the holy name of God into conjunction with one such customary vulgar expression. “I too have laid down rules and sought to be master, Aber der frum Gott hat mich in sein Arss fahren lassen und meyn Meystern ist nichts worden.”[723]

“There are many students here, but I do not believe there is one who would allow himself to be anointed [by the Papists], or open his mouth for the Pope to fill it with his filth; unless, perhaps, Mathesius or Master Plato.”[724]

In his strange explanation of how far God is or is not the author of evil, he says: Semei wished to curse and God merely directed his curse against David (2 Kings xvi. 10). “God says: ‘Curse him and no one else.’ Just as if a man wishes to relieve himself I cannot prevent him, but should he wish to do so on the table here, then I should object and tell him to betake himself to the corner.”[725]

“The Pope is a cuckoo who gobbles the eggs of his Church and vomits the Cardinals.”[726]

It is not surprising that in Luther’s conversations on non-theological, i.e. on secular subjects, similar and even more offensive expressions occur.

He thinks that we “feed on the bowels of the peasants,” for they “expel the stones” which produce the trees which produce the fruit on which we feed.[727]—He has a joke at the expense of an unlearned man who had mistaken the Latin equivalent of the German word “Kunst” for a common German term: “Wenn man eynem auff die Kunst küsset so bescheist er sich.”[728]

Speaking of women who had the impertinence to wish for a share in the government, he says: “The ‘Furtzlecher’ want to rule and we suffer for it; they really should be making cheese and milking the cows.”[729] Elsewhere he says to the preachers: “We never seek to please anybody nor to make our mouth the ‘Arschloch’ of another.”[730]

“Those who now grudge the preachers of the Word their bread will persecute us until we end by disgracing ourselves. Then ... ‘adorabunt nostra stercora.’” By a natural transition of ideas he goes on to say: “They will be glad to get rid of us, and we shall be glad to be out of them. We are as ready to part as ‘ein reiffer Dreck und ein weit Arssloch.’”[731]—“Rather than let them have such a work [a conciliatory writing requested by the inhabitants of Augsburg] I would ‘in einen Becher scheissen und bissen,’ that they might have whereof to eat and drink.”[732]

“The lawyers scream [when we appropriate Church property]: ‘Sunt bona ecclesiae!’ ... Yes [I say], but where are we to get our bread? ‘We leave you to see to that,’ they say. Yes, the devil may thank them for that. We theologians have no worse enemies than the lawyers.... We here condemn all jurists, even the pious ones, for they do not know what ‘ecclesia’ means.... If a jurist wishes to dispute with you about this, say to him: ‘Listen, my good fellow, on this subject no lawyer should speak till he hears a sow s——, then he must say: ‘Thank you, Granny dear, it is long since I listened to a sermon.’”[733]

After the above there is no need of giving further instances of the kind of language with which opponents within his fold had to put up from Luther. It will suffice to mention the poem “De merda” with which he retaliated on the satirist Lemnius for some filthy verses,[734] and the following prediction to his Zwickau opponents: “When trouble befalls them, whenever it may be, they will ‘in die Hosen scheissen und ein solchen Gestanck anrichten’ that nobody will be able to tarry in their neighbourhood.”[735]

It is also difficult for us to tarry any longer over these texts, especially as in what follows we shall meet with others of a similar character.[736]

Not to do injustice to the general character of Luther’s Table-Talk, we must again lay stress on the fact, that very many of his evening conversations are of irreproachable propriety. We may peruse many pages of the notes without meeting anything in the least offensive, but much that is both fine and attractive. Events of the day, history, nature, politics or the Bible, form in turn the subject-matter of the Table-Talk, and much of what was said was true, witty and not seldom quite edifying.

Still, the fact remains that filthy talking and vulgarity came so natural to Luther as to constitute a questionable side to his character.

Even when writing seriously, and in works intended for the general public, he seems unable to bridle his pen.

In the book “Wider das Bapstum zu Rom vom Teuffel gestifft,” he introduces, for instance, the following dialogue: “We have enacted in our Decretals [say the Papists] that only the Pope shall summon Councils and appoint to benefices. [Luther]: My friend, is that really true? Who commanded you to decree this? [Answer]: Be silent, you heretic, what proceeds from our mouth must be hearkened to. [Luther]: So you say; but which mouth do you mean? Da die Förze ausfahren? To such an opinion you are welcome. Or that into which good Corso [wine] is poured? Da scheiss ein Hund ein! [Answer]: Out upon you, you shameless Luther, is it thus you talk to the Pope? [Luther]: Out upon you rather, you rude asses and blasphemous desperadoes, to address the Emperor and the Empire in such a manner! How can you venture to insult and slight four such great Councils and the four greatest Christian Emperors ‘umb euer Förze und Drecketal [sic] willen?’ What reason have you to think yourselves anything but big, rude, senseless fools and donkeys?”[737]

Before this he says in the same work, in personal abuse of Pope Paul III.: “Dear donkey, don’t lick! Oh, dear little Pope-ass, were you to fall and some filth escape you, how all the world would mock at you and say: Lo, how the Pope-ass has disgraced itself!... Oh, fiendish Father, do not be unmindful of your great danger.”[738]

“Dr. Luther is a rough sort of fellow; were he to hear that, he would rush in booted and spurred like a countryman and say: The Pope had been thrust into the Church by all the devils from hell.”[739] “‘As much as the sun is greater than the moon, so does the Pope excel the Emperor.’ ... Hearken, reader; if you forget yourself and your nether garments have to be fumigated with incense and juniper, from such a reeking sin the Most Holy Father would never absolve you.”[740]

“‘Whatsoever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven.’ ‘Whatsoever’ means [according to the Catholics] all that there is on earth, churches, bishops, emperors, kings and possibly ‘alle Förze aller Esel und sein eigen Förze auch.’ Ah, dear brother in Christ, put it down to my credit when I speak here and elsewhere so rudely of the cursed, noxious, ungainly monster at Rome. Whoever knows my mind must admit that I am far, far too lenient, and that no words or thoughts of mine could repay his shameful and desperate abuse of the Word and Name of Christ, our beloved Lord and Saviour.”[741]

“I must cease,” Luther says elsewhere in his “Wider das Bapstum,” after speaking of a Decretal, “I cannot bear to wallow any longer in this blasphemous, hellish, devils’ filth and stench; let someone else read it. Whoever wants to listen to God’s Word, let him read Holy Writ; whoever prefers to listen to the devil’s word, let him read the Pope’s Drecket [sic] and Bulls,” etc.[742]

We must here consider more closely the statement, already alluded to, made by some of Luther’s apologists. To remove the unfavourable impression left on the mind of present-day readers by his unbridled language an attempt has been made to represent it as having been quite the usual thing in Luther’s day.

It is true that, saving some expressions peculiar to the Saxon peasant, such obscenity is to be met with among the neo-Humanist writers of that age, both in Germany and abroad. Even Catholic preachers in Germany, following the manners of the time, show but scant consideration for the delicacy of their hearers when speaking of sexual matters or of the inferior functions of the human body. It is quite impossible to set up a definite standard of what is becoming, which shall apply equally to every age and every state of civilisation. But if Luther’s defenders desire to exonerate him by comparing him with others, it is clear that they are not justified in adducing examples taken from burlesque, popular writers, light literature, or even from certain writings of the Humanists. The filth contained in these works had been denounced by many a better author even in that age. Luther, as already explained (vol. ii., p. 150 f.), must not be judged by a profane standard, but by that which befits a writer on religion and the spiritual life, a reformer and founder of a new religion. The fact remains that it is impossible to instance any popular religious writer who ever went so far as, or even approached, Luther in his lack of restraint in this particular. Luther, in the matter of licentiousness of language, stands out as a giant apart. The passages to be quoted later on marriage and the sexual question will make this still more apparent.

His own contemporaries declared aloud that he stood quite alone in the matter of coarseness and in his incessant use of vituperation; Catholics, such as Dungersheim, and opponents of the Catholic Church like Bullinger, testify alike in the strongest terms to the impression made upon them. Some of their numerous statements will be quoted below. We may, however, remark that the severest strictures of all came from Sir Thomas More, who, for all his kindliness of disposition, condemned most indignantly the filthy language of the assailant of King Henry VIII. of England. The untranslatable passage may be read in its Latin original in the note below.[743] Caspar Schatzgeyer, another learned opponent of Luther’s, and likewise a man of mild temper, also rebuked Luther with great vehemence for the ignoble and coarse tone he was wont to employ against theological adversaries; he plainly hints that no one within living memory had brought into the literary arena such an arsenal of obscene language. Luther behaved “like a conqueror, assured by the spirit that he was able to walk upon the sea.” Spirits must, however, be tried. “The triumphal car of the victor can only be awarded to Luther and his followers if it be admitted that to triumph is synonymous with befouling the face and garments of all foes with vituperative filth (‘conviciorum stercora’), so that they are forced to save themselves by flight from the intolerable stench and dirt. Never in any literary struggle has such an array of weapons of that sort been seen.” One could well understand how such a man inspired fear amongst all who valued the cleanliness of their garments. Well might he be left to triumph with his assertion, which his adversaries would be the last to gainsay, “that everything which is not Gospel, must make room for the Gospel.”[744]

Some have gone so far as to say, that the tone of the popular religious writers of the period, from 1450-1550, was frequently so vulgar that there is little to choose between them and Luther. This is an unfair and unhistorical aspersion on a sort of literature then much read and which, though now little known, is slowly coming to its due owing to research. We may call to mind the long list of those in whose writings Luther could have found not merely models of decency and good taste—which might well have shamed him—but also much else worthy of imitation; for instance, Thomas à Kempis, Jacob Wimpfeling, Johann Mensing, Johann Hoffmeister, Michael Vehe, Johann Wild, Matthias Sittard, Caspar Schatzgeyer, Hieronymus Dungersheim, Ulrich Krafft, Johannes Fabri, Marcus de Weida, Johann Staupitz, and lastly Peter Canisius, who also belonged practically to this period. Many other popular religious authors might be enumerated, but it is impossible to instance a single one among them who would have descended to the level of the language employed by Luther.

Moreover, those secular writers of that day whose offensive crudities have been cited in excuse of Luther, all differed from him in one particular, viz. they did not employ these as he did, or at least not to the same extent, as controversial weapons. It is one thing to collect dirty stories and to dwell on them at inordinate length in order to pander to the depraved taste of the mob; it is quite another to pelt an enemy with filthy abuse. Hate and fury only make a vulgar tone more repulsive. There are phrases used by Luther against theological adversaries which no benevolent interpretation avails to excuse. Such was his rude answer to the request of the Augsburgers (above, p. 233), or, again, “I would rather advise you to drink Malvasian wine and to believe in Christ alone, and leave the monk (who through being a monk has denied Christ) to swill water or ‘seinen eigenen Urin.’”[745]

It may occur to one to plead in justification the language of the peasants of that day, and it must be conceded, that, even now, in certain districts the countryman’s talk is such as can only be appreciated in the country. The author of a book, “Wie das Volk spricht” (1855), who made a study of the people in certain regions not particularly remarkable for culture or refinement, says quite rightly in his Preface, that his examples are often quite unsuited “for the ears of ladies, and those of a timorous disposition”; “the common people don’t wear kid gloves.” This writer was dealing with the present day, yet one might ask what indulgence an author would find were he to draw his language from such a source, particularly did he happen to be a theologian, a spiritual writer or a reformer? Luther undoubtedly savours of his time, but his expressions are too often reminiscent of Saxon familiarity; for instance, when he vents his displeasure in the words: “The devil has given his mother ‘eine Fliege in den Hintern.’”[746]

Luther was fond of introducing indelicacies of this sort even into theological tracts written in Latin and destined for the use of the learned, needless to say to the huge scandal of foreigners not accustomed to find such coarseness in the treatment of serious subjects. Under the circumstances we can readily understand the indignation of men like Sir Thomas More (above, p. 237, n. 1) at the rudeness of the German.

Luther’s example proved catching among his followers and supporters. A crowd of writers became familiar with the mention of subjects on which a discreet silence is usually observed, and grew accustomed to use words hitherto banished from polite society. So well were Luther’s works known that they set the tone. His favourite pupils, Mathesius and Aurifaber, for instance, seem scarcely aware of the unseemliness of certain questions discussed. Sleidan, the well-known Humanist historian, described the obscene woodcuts published by Luther and Lucas Cranach in 1545 in mockery of the Papacy, “as calmly as though they had been no worse than Mr. Punch’s kindly caricatures.”[747] Luther actually told the theologians and preachers (and his words carried even more weight with secular writers, who were less hampered by considerations of decency) that “those who filled the office of preacher must hold the filth of the Pope and the bishops up to their very noses,”[748] for the “Roman court, and the Pope who is the bishop of that court, is the devil’s bishop, the devil himself, nay, the excrement which the devil has ... into the Church.”[749]

One of Luther’s most ardent defenders in the present day, Wilhelm Walther of Rostock, exonerates Luther from any mere imitation of the customary language of the peasants or the monks, for, strange to say, some have seen in his tone the influence of monasticism; he claims originality for Luther. “Such a mode of expression,” he says, “was not in Luther’s case the result of his peasant extraction or of his earlier life. For, far from becoming gradually less noticeable as years went on, it is most apparent in his old age.”[750] It is plain that Luther’s earlier Catholic life cannot be held responsible, nor the monastic state of celibacy, often misjudged though it has been in certain quarters. As regards the reassertion in him of the peasant’s son, we are at liberty to think what we please. At any rate, we cannot but endorse what Walther says concerning the steady growth of the disorder; in all likelihood the applause which greeted his popular and vigorous style reacted on Luther and tended to confirm him in his literary habits. As years passed he grew more and more anxious that every word should strike home, and delighted in stamping all he wrote with the individuality of “rude Luther.” Under the circumstances it was inevitable that his style should suffer.

Walther thinks he has found the real explanation in Luther’s “energy of character” and the depth of his “moral feeling”; here, according to him, we have cause of his increasingly lurid language; Luther, “in his wish to achieve something,” and to bring “his excellent ideas” home to the man in the street, of set purpose disregarded the “esthetic feelings of his readers” and his own “reputation as a writer.” Melanchthon, says Walther, “took offence at his smutty language. Luther’s reply was to make it smuttier still.”

This line of defence is remarkable enough to deserve to be chronicled. From the historical standpoint, however, we should bear in mind that Luther had recourse to “smuttiness” not merely in theological and religious writings or when desirous of producing some effect with “his excellent ideas.” The bad habit clings to him quite as much elsewhere, and disfigures his most commonplace conversations and casual sallies.

Thus the psychological root of the problem lies somewhat deeper. We shall not be far wrong in believing, that a man who moved habitually amidst such impure imaginations, and gave unrestrained expression to statements of a character so offensive, bore within himself the cause. Luther was captain in a violent warfare on vows, religious rules, celibacy and many other ordinances and practices of the Church, which had formerly served as barriers against sensuality. Consciously or unconsciously his rude nature led him to cast off the fetters of shame which had once held him back from what was low and vulgar. After all, language is the sign and token of what is felt within. It was chiefly his own renunciation of the higher standard of life which led him to abandon politeness in speech and controversy, and, in word and imagery, to sink into ever lower depths. Such is most likely the correct answer to the psychological problem presented by the steady growth of this questionable element in his language.

Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche (“Werke,” 7, p. 401) has a few words, not devoid of admiration for Luther, which, however, apply to the whole man and not merely to his habits of speech. They may well serve as a transition to what follows: “Luther’s merit lies in this, that he possessed the courage of his sensuality—in those days tactfully described as the ‘freedom of the Gospel.’”

5. On Marriage and Sexuality

Christianity, with its doctrine of chastity, brought into the heathen world a new and vital element. It not only inculcated the controlling of the sexual instinct by modesty and the fear of God, but, in accordance with the words of our Saviour and His Apostle, St. Paul, it represented voluntary renunciation of marriage and a virgin life as more perfect and meritorious in God’s sight. What appeared so entirely foreign to the demands of nature, the Christian religion characterised as really not only attainable, but fraught with happiness for those who desired to follow the counsel of Christ and who trusted in the omnipotence of His grace. The sublime example of our Lord Himself, of His Holy Mother, and of the disciple whom Jesus loved, also St. Paul’s praise for virginity and the magnificent description in the Apocalypse of the triumphal throng of virgins who follow the Lamb, chanting a song given to them alone to sing—all this inspired more generous souls to tread with cheerfulness the meritorious though thorny path of continence. Besides these, countless millions, who did not choose to live unwedded, but were impelled by their circumstances to embrace the married state, learnt in the school of Christianity, with the help of God’s grace, that in matrimony too it was possible for them to serve God cheerfully and to gain everlasting salvation.

The Necessity of Marriage.

After having violated his monastic vows, Luther not only lost a true appreciation of the celibate state when undertaken for the love of God, but also became disposed to exaggerate the strength of the sexual instinct in man, to such an extent, that, according to him, extra-matrimonial misconduct was almost unavoidable to the unmarried. In this conviction his erroneous ideas concerning man’s inability for doing what is good play a great part. He lays undue stress on the alleged total depravity of man and represents him as the helpless plaything of his evil desires and passions, until at last it pleases God to work in him. At the same time the strength of some of his statements on the necessity of marriage is due to controversial interests; to the desire to make an alluring appeal to the senses of those bound by vows or by the ecclesiastical state, to become unfaithful to the promises they had made to the Almighty. Unfortunately the result too often was that Luther’s invitation was made to serve as an excuse for a life which did not comply even with the requirements of ordinary morality.

“As little as it is in my power,” Luther proclaims, “that I am not a woman, so little am I free to remain without a wife.”[751]

“It is a terrible thing,” he writes with glaring exaggeration to Albert, Archbishop of Mayence, “for a man to be found without a wife in the hour of death; at the very least he should have an earnest purpose of getting married. For what will he say when God asks him: ‘I made you a man, not to stand alone but to take a wife; where then is your wife?’”[752]

To another cleric who fancied himself compelled to marry, he writes in the year of his own wedding: “Your body demands and needs it; God wills it and insists upon it.”[753]

“Because they [the Papists] rejected marriage [!],” he says, “and opposed the ordinance of God and the clear testimony and witness of Scripture, therefore they fell into fornication, adultery, etc., to their destruction.”[754]

“Just as the sun has no power to stop shining, so also is it implanted in human nature, whether male or female, to be fruitful. That God makes exceptions of some, as, for instance, on the one hand of the bodily infirm and impotent, and on the other of certain exalted natures, must be regarded in the same light as other miracles.... Therefore it is likewise not my will that such should marry.”[755]

“A man cannot dispense with a wife for this reason: The natural instinct to beget children is as deeply implanted as that of eating and drinking.” Hence it is that God formed the human body in the manner He did, which Luther thereupon proceeds to describe to his readers in detail.[756]

“Before marriage we are on fire and rave after a woman.... St. Jerome writes much of the temptations of the flesh. Yet that is a trivial matter. A wife in the house will remedy that malady. Eustochia [Eustochium] might have helped and counselled Jerome.”[757]

One sentence of Luther’s, which, as it stands, scarcely does honour to the female sex, runs as follows: “The Word and work of God is quite clear, viz. that women were made to be either wives or prostitutes.”[758]

By this statement, which so easily lends itself to misunderstanding, Luther does not mean to put women in the alternative of choosing either marriage or vice. In another passage of the same writing he says distinctly, what he repeats also elsewhere: “It is certain that He [God] does not create any woman to be a prostitute.” Still, it is undeniable that in the above passage, in his recommendation of marriage, he allows himself to be carried away to the use of untimely language.—In others of the passages cited he modifies his brutal proclamation of the force of the sexual craving, and the inevitable necessity of marriage, by statements to quite another effect, though these are scarcely noticeable amid the wealth of words which he expends in favour of man’s sensual nature; for instance, he speaks of the “holy virgins,” who “live in the flesh as though not of the flesh, thanks to God’s sublime grace.”[759] “The grace of chastity”[760] was, he admits, sometimes bestowed by God, yet he speaks of the person who possesses it as a “prodigy of God’s own”;[761] such a one it is hard to find, for such a man is no “natural man.”[762] Such extravagant stress laid on the fewness of these exceptions might, however, be refuted from his own words; for instance, he urges a woman whose husband is ill to do her best with the ordinary grace of God bestowed on her as on all others, and endure with patience the absence of marital intercourse. “God is much too just to rob you of your husband by sickness in this way without on the other hand taking away the wantonness of the flesh, if you on your part tend the sick man faithfully.”[763]

That for most men it is more advisable to marry than to practise continence had never been questioned for a moment by Catholics, and if Luther had been speaking merely to the majority of mankind, as some have alleged he was, his very opponents could not but have applauded him. It is, however, as impossible to credit him with so moderate a recommendation as it is to defend another theory put forward by Protestants, viz. that his sole intention was to point out “that the man in whom the sexual instinct is at work cannot help being sensible of it.”

His real view, as so frequently described by himself, is linked up to some extent with his own personal experiences after he had abandoned the monastic life. It can scarcely be by mere chance that a number of passages belonging here synchronise with his stay at the Wartburg, and that his admission to his friend Melanchthon (“I burn in the flames of my carnal desires ... ‘ferveo carne, libidine’”)[764] should also date from this time.

In an exposition often quoted from his course of sermons on Exodus, Luther describes with great exaggeration the violence and irresistibility of the carnal instinct in man, in order to conclude as usual that ecclesiastical celibacy is an abomination. His strange words, which might so readily be misunderstood, call for closer consideration than is usually accorded them; they, too, furnished a pretext for certain far-fetched charges against Luther.

With the Sixth Commandment, says Luther, God “scolds, mocks and derides us”; this Commandment shows that the world is full of “adulterers and adulteresses,” all are “whore-mongers”; on account of our lusts and sensuality God accounted us as such and so gave us the Sixth Commandment; to a man of good conduct it would surely be an insult to say: “My good fellow, see you keep your plighted troth!” God, however, wished to show us “what we really are.” “Though we may not be so openly before the world [i.e. adulterers and whore-mongers], yet we are so at heart, and, had we opportunity, time and occasion, we should all commit adultery. It is implanted in all men, and no one is exempt ... we brought it with us from our mother’s womb.”[765] Luther does not here wish to represent adultery as a universal and almost inevitable vice, or to minimise its sinfulness. Here, as so often elsewhere, he perceives he has gone too far and thereupon proceeds to explain his real meaning. “I do not say that we are so in very deed, but that such is our inclination, and it is the heart that God searches.” Luther is quite willing to admit: “There are certainly many who do not commit fornication, but lead quite a good life”; “this is due either to God’s grace, or to fear of Master Hans” (the hangman). “Our reason tells us that fornication, adultery and other sins are wrong.... All these laws are decreed by nature itself,” just like the Commandment not to commit murder.[766] “But we are so mad,” “when once our passions are aroused, that we forget everything.” Hence we cannot but believe, that “even though our monks vowed chastity twice over,” they were adulterers in God’s sight. The conclusion he arrives at is: “Such being our nature, God forbids no one to take a wife.”

The whole passage is only another instance of Luther’s desire to magnify the consequences of original sin without making due allowance for the remedies provided by Christianity, the sacraments in particular. It is also in keeping with his usual method of clothing his attack on Catholicism in the most bitter and repulsive language, a method which gradually became a second nature to him.

In insisting on the necessity of marriage, Luther does not stop to consider that the Church of antiquity, for all her esteem for matrimony, was ever careful to see that the duties and interests of the individual, of the State and of the Church were respected, and not endangered by hasty marriages. Luther himself was not hampered by considerations of that sort, whether in the case of priests, monks or laymen. The unmarried state revolted him to such a degree, that he declares nothing offended his “ears more than the words nun, monk and priest,” and that he looked on marriage as “a Paradise, even though the married pair lived in abject poverty.”[767] A couple, who on account of their circumstances should hesitate to marry, he reproaches with a “pitiful want of faith.” “A boy not later than the age of twenty, and a girl when she is from fifteen to eighteen years of age [ought to marry]. Then they are still healthy and sound, and they can leave it to God to see that their children are provided for.”[768]

If we are to take him at his word, then a cleric ought to marry merely to defy the Pope. “For, even though he may have the gift so as to be able to live chastely without a wife, yet he ought to marry in defiance of the Pope, who insists so much on celibacy.”[769]

The “Miracle” of Voluntary and Chaste Celibacy.

Of the celibate and continent life Luther had declared (above, p. 242-3) that practically only a miracle could render it possible.[770] If we compare his statements on virginity, we shall readily see how different elements were warring within him. On the one hand he is anxious to uphold the plain words of Scripture, which place voluntary virginity above marriage. On the other, his conception of the great and, without grace, irresistible power of concupiscence draws him in the opposite direction. Moreover, man, being devoid of free will, and incapable of choosing of his own accord the higher path, in order not to fall a prey to his lusts, must resolutely embrace the married state intended by God for the generality of men. Then, again, we must not discount the change his views underwent after his marriage with a nun.

In view of the “malady” of “the common flesh,” he says of the man who pledges himself to voluntary chastity, that “on account of this malady, marriage is necessary to him and it is not in his power to do without it; for his flesh rages, burns and tends to be fruitful as much as that of any other man, and he must have recourse to marriage as the necessary remedy. Such passion of the flesh God permits for the sake of marriage and for that of the progeny.”[771]—And yet, according to another passage in Luther’s writings, even marriage is no remedy for concupiscence: “Sensual passion (‘libido’) cannot be cured by any remedy, not even marriage, which God has provided as a medicine for weak nature. For the majority of married people are adulterers, and each says to the other in the words of the poet: ‘Neither with nor without you can I live.’”[772] “Experience teaches us, that, in the case of many, even marriage is not a sufficient remedy; otherwise there would be no adultery or fornication, whereas, alas, they are only too frequent.”[773]

It is merely a seeming contradiction to his words on the miraculous nature of virginity when Luther says on one occasion: “Many are to be met with who have this gift; I also had it, though with many evil thoughts and dreams,”[774] for possibly, owing to his reference to himself, modesty led him here to represent this rare and miraculous gift as less unusual. Here he speaks of “many,” but usually of the “few.” “We find so few who possess God’s gift of chastity.”[775] “They are rare,” he says in his sermon on conjugal life, “and among a thousand there is scarcely one to be found, for they are God’s own wonder-works; no man may venture to aspire to this unless God calls him in a special manner.”[776]

Luther acknowledges that those in whom God works this “miracle”—who, while remaining unmarried, do not succumb to the deadly assaults of concupiscence—were to be esteemed fortunate on account of the happiness of the celibate state. It would be mere one-sidedness to dwell solely upon Luther’s doctrine of the necessity and worth of marriage and not to consider the numerous passages in which he speaks in praise of voluntary and chaste celibacy.

He says in the sermon on conjugal life: “No state of life is to be regarded as more pleasing in the sight of God than the married state. The state of chastity is certainly better on earth as having less of care and trouble, not in itself, but because a man can give himself to preaching and the Word of God [1 Cor. vii. 34].... In itself it is far less exalted.”[777] In the following year, 1523, in his exposition of 1 Corinthians, chapter vii., St. Paul’s declaration leads him to extol virginity: “Whoever has grace to remain chaste, let him do so and abstain from marriage and not take upon himself such trouble unless need enforce it, as St. Paul here counsels truly; for it is a great and noble freedom to be unmarried and saves one from much disquietude, vexation and trouble.”[778] He even goes so far as to say: “It is a sweet, joyous and splendid gift, for him to whom it is given, to be chaste cheerfully and willingly,”[779] and for this reason in particular “is it a fine thing,” because it enables us the better to serve the “Christian Churches, the Evangel and the preaching of the Word”; this is the case “when you refrain from taking a wife so as to be at peace and to be of service to the Kingdom of Heaven.” The preacher, he explains, for instance, was not expected to ply a trade, for which reason also he received a stipend for preaching. “Hence, whoever wishes to serve the Churches and to enjoy greater quiet, would do well to remain without a wife, for then he would have neither wife nor child to support.”[780] “Whoever has the gift of being able to live without a wife, is an angel on earth and leads a peaceful life.”[781]

In this way Luther comes practically to excuse, nay, even to eulogise, clerical celibacy; elsewhere we again find similar ideas put forward.

In his Latin exposition of Psalm cxxviii. he says: “There must be freedom either to remain single or to marry. Who would force the man who has no need to marry to do so? Whoever is among those who are able ‘to receive this word,’ let him remain unmarried and glory in the Lord.... They who can do without marrying do well (recte faciunt) to abstain from it and not to burden themselves with the troubles it brings.”[782] And again: “Whoever is set free by such a grace [a ‘special and exalted grace of God’], let him thank God and obey it.”[783] For “if we contrast the married state with virginity, chastity is undoubtedly a nobler gift than marriage, but, still, marriage is as much God’s gift—so St. Paul tells us—as chastity.”[784] Compared with the chastity of marriage, “virgin chastity is more excellent (virginalis castitas excellentior est).”[785] “Celibacy is a gift of God and we commend both this and the married state in their measure and order. We do not extol marriage as though we should slight or repudiate celibacy.”[786]

Usually Luther represents virginity as not indeed superior but quite equal to the married state: “To be a virgin or a spouse is a different gift; both are equally well pleasing to God.”[787] As we might expect, we find the warmest appreciation of celibacy expressed before Luther himself began to think of marriage, whereas, subsequent to 1525, his strictures on celibacy become more frequent. In 1518, without any restriction, he has it that virginity is held to be the highest ornament and “an incomparable jewel”; in the case of religious, chastity was all the more precious because “they had of their own free will given themselves to the Lord.”[788] In the following year, comparing the married state with virginity, he says that “virginity is better,” when bestowed by the grace of God.[789]

“The breach with the past caused by his marriage,” says M. Rade, was “greater and more serious” than any change effected in later years in matrimonial relationship.[790] By his advocacy of marriage, as against celibacy and his glorification of family life, Luther brought about “a reversal of all accepted standards.”[791] Rade, not without sarcasm, remarks: “There is something humorous in the way in which Luther in his exposition of 1 Corinthians vii., which we have repeatedly had occasion to quote, after praising virginity ever passes on to the praise of the married state.”[792] It is quite true that his interpretation seems forced, when he makes St. Paul, in this passage, extol continency, not on account of its “merit and value in God’s sight,” but merely for the “tranquillity and comfort it insures in this life.”[793] To Luther it is of much greater interest, that St. Paul should be “so outspoken in his praise of the married state and should allude to it as a Divine gift.” He at once proceeds to prove from this, that “the married state is the holiest state of all, and that certain states had been falsely termed ‘religious’ and others ‘secular’; for the reverse ought to be the case, the married state being truly religious and spiritual.”[794]

Luther’s animus against celibacy became manifest everywhere. He refused to give sufficient weight to the Bible passages, to the self-sacrifice so pleasing to God involved in the unmarried state, or to its merits for time and for eternity. It is this animus which leads him into exaggeration when he speaks of the necessity of marriage for all men, and to utter words which contradict what he himself had said in praise of celibacy.

He paints in truly revolting colours the moral abominations of the Papacy, exaggerating in unmeasured terms the notorious disorders which had arisen from the infringement of clerical celibacy. His controversial writings contain disgusting and detailed descriptions of the crimes committed against morality in the party of his opponents; the repulsive tone is only rivalled by his prejudice and want of discrimination which lead him to believe every false report or stupid tale redounding to the discredit of Catholicism.

His conception of the rise of clerical celibacy is inclined to be hazy: “The celibacy of the clergy commenced in the time of Cyprian.” Elsewhere he says that it began “in the time of Bishop Ulrich, not more than five hundred years ago.”[795]

He assures us that “St. Ambrose and others did not believe that they were men.”[796] “The infamous superstition [of celibacy] gave rise to, and promoted, horrible sins such as fornication, adultery, incest ... also strange apparitions and visions.... What else could be expected of monks, idle and over-fed pigs as they were, than that they should have such fancies?”[797]—In the Pope’s Ten Commandments there was, so he said, a sixth which ran: “Thou shalt not be unchaste, but force them to be so” (by means of vows and celibacy), and a ninth: “Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour’s wife, but say, it is no sin.”[798]

“Were all those living under the Papacy kneaded together, not one would be found who had remained chaste up to his fortieth year. Yet they talk much of virginity and find fault with all the world while they themselves are up to their ears in filth.”[799]—“It pleases me to see the Saints sticking in the mud just like us. But it is true that God allows nature to remain, together with the spirit and with grace.”[800]

Luther’s Loosening of the Marriage Tie.

Luther, advocate and promoter of marriage though he was, himself did much to undermine its foundations, which must necessarily rest on its indissolubility and sanctity as ordained by Christ. In the six following cases which he enumerates he professes to find sufficient grounds for dissolving the marriage tie, overstepping in the most autocratic fashion the limits of what is lawful to the manifest detriment of matrimony.

He declares, first, that if one or other of the married parties should be convicted of obstinately refusing “to render the conjugal due, or to remain with the other,” then “the marriage was annulled”; the husband might then say: “If you are unwilling, some other will consent; if the wife refuse, then let the maid come”; he had the full right to take an Esther and dismiss Vasthi, as King Assuerus had done (Esther ii. 17).[801] To the remonstrances of his wife he would be justified in replying: “Go, you prostitute, go to the devil if you please”;[802] the injured party was at liberty to contract a fresh union, though only with the sanction of the authorities or of the congregation, while the offending party incurred the penalty of the law and might or might not be permitted to marry again.[803]

The words: “If you won’t ... then let the maid come” were destined to become famous. Not Catholics only, but Protestants too, found in them a stone of offence. As they stand they give sufficient ground for scandal. Was it, however, Luther’s intention thereby to sanction relations with the maid outside the marriage bond? In fairness the question must be answered in the negative. Both before and after the critical passage the text speaks merely of the dissolution of the marriage and the contracting of another union; apart from this, as is clear from other passages, Luther never sanctioned sexual commerce outside matrimony. Thus, strictly speaking, according to him, the husband would only have the right to threaten the obstinate wife to put her away and contract a fresh union with the maid. At the same time the allusion to the maid was unfortunate, as it naturally suggested something different from marriage. In all probability it was the writer’s inveterate habit of clothing his thought in the most drastic language at his command that here led him astray. It may be that the sentence “Then let the maid come” belonged to a rude proverb which Luther used without fully adverting to its actual meaning, but it has yet to be proved that such a proverb existed before Luther’s day; at any rate, examples can be quoted of the words having been used subsequently as a proverb, on the strength of his example.[804]—It was on this, the first ground for the dissolution of marriage, that Luther based his decision in 1543, when one of the Professors turned preacher and his wife refused to follow him to his post at Frankfort-on-the-Oder, saying that “she wasn’t going to have a parson.” Luther then wrote: “I should at once leave her and marry another,” should she categorically refuse compliance; in reality the authorities ought to coerce her, but unfortunately no authority “with ‘executio’ existed, having power over the ‘ministerium.’”[805]

Secondly, according to Luther, the adultery of one party justified the other in assuming that the “guilty party was already ipso facto divorced”; “he can then act as though his spouse had died,” i.e. marry again, though Christian considerations intimate that he should wait at least six months.[806]

Thirdly, if one party “will not suffer the other to live in a Christian manner,” then the other, finding a separation from bed and board of no avail, has the right to “make a change,” i.e. to contract another union. “But how,” he asks, “if this new spouse should turn out ill and try to force the other to live like a heathen, or in an unchristian manner, or should even run away; what then, supposing this thing went on three, four or even ten times?” Luther’s answer to the conundrum is the same as before: “We cannot gag St. Paul, and therefore we cannot prevent those who desire to do so from making use of the freedom he allows.” Luther’s conviction was that the well-known passage in 1 Corinthians vii. 15 sanctioned this dangerous doctrine.[807]

Fourthly, if subsequent to the marriage contract one party should prove to be physically unfit for matrimony, then, according to Luther, the marriage might be regarded as dissolved without any ecclesiastical suit solely by “conscience and experience.” He would in that case advise, he says, that the woman, with the consent of the man, should enter into carnal relations with someone else, for instance, with her partner’s brother, for her husband would really be no husband at all, but merely a sort of bachelor life-partner; this marriage might, however, be kept secret and the children be regarded as those of the putative father.[808] Even where it was not a question of impotence but of leprosy Luther decided in much the same way, without a word of reference to any ecclesiastical or legal suit: should the healthy party “be unable or unwilling to provide for the household” without a fresh marriage, and should the sick party “consent willingly to a separation,” then the latter was simply to be looked upon as dead, the other party being free to re-marry.[809]

To these grounds of separation Luther, however, added a fifth. He declared, on the strength of certain, biblical passages, that marriage with the widow of a brother—for which, on showing sufficient grounds, it was possible to obtain a dispensation in the Catholic Church—was invalid under all circumstances, and that therefore any person married on the strength of such a dispensation might conclude a fresh union. At first, in 1531, such was not his opinion, and he declared quite valid the marriage of Henry VIII. with his sister-in-law Catherine of Aragon, which was the outcome of such a dispensation; later on, however, in 1536, on ostensibly biblical grounds he discarded the Catholic view.[810]