A Modern History, From the Time of Luther to the Fall of Napoleon. John Lord
in his hand; but, when there, he displayed the intrepid and self-forgetting earnestness arising from the depth of a conviction, until now, unfathomed, even by himself. He drew forth new thoughts, and placed them in the fire of the battle, with a determination that knew no fear and no personal regard. His features bore the traces of the storms that had passed over his soul, and of the courage with which he was prepared to encounter those which yet awaited him. His whole aspect evinced profound thought, joyousness of temper, and confidence in the future. Principles of the Leipsic Disputation. The battle immediately commenced on the question of the authority of the papacy, which, at once intelligible and important, riveted universal attention." Eck, with great erudition and masterly logic, supported the claim of the pope, from the decrees of councils, the opinions of scholastics, and even from those celebrated words of Christ to Peter—"Thou art Peter, and on this rock will I build my church," &c. Luther took higher and bolder ground, denied the infallibility of councils, and appealed to Scripture as the ultimate authority. Eck had probably the advantage over his antagonist, so far as dialectics were concerned, being a more able disputant; but Luther set at defiance mere scholastic logic, and appealed to an authority which dialectics could not reach. The victory was claimed by both parties; but the result was, that Luther no longer acknowledged the authority of the Roman church, and acknowledged none but the Scriptures.
The Leipsic disputation was the grand intellectual contest of the Reformation, and developed its great idea—the only great principle, around which all sects and parties among the Protestants rally. This is the idea, that the Scriptures are the only ultimate grounds of authority in religion, and that, moreover, every man has a right to interpret them for himself. The Rights of Private Judgment. The rights of private judgment—that religion is a matter between the individual soul and God, and that every man is answerable to his own conscience alone how he interprets Scripture—these constitute the great Protestant platform. Different sects have different views respecting justification, but all profess to trace them to the Scriptures. Luther's views were similar to those of St. Augustine—that "man could be justified by faith alone," which was his great theological doctrine—a doctrine adopted by many who never left the communion of the Church of Rome, before and since his day, and a doctrine which characterized the early reformers, Zwingle, Calvin, Knox, Cranmer, and the Puritans generally. It is as absurd to say that Luther's animating principle in religion was not this doctrine, as it is unphilosophical to make the reformation consist merely in its recognition. After Luther's convictions were settled on this point, and he had generally and openly declared them, the main contest of his life was against the papacy, which he viewed as the predicted Antichrist—the "scarlet mother of abominations." It is not the object of the writer of this History to defend or oppose Luther's views, or argue any cause whatever, but simply to place facts in their true light, which is, to state them candidly.
Although the Leipsic controversy brought out the great principle of the Reformation, Luther's views, both respecting the true doctrines and polity of the church, were not, on all points, yet developed, and were only gradually unfolded, as he gained knowledge and light. It was no trifling matter, even to deny the supremacy of the Roman church in matters of faith. He was thus placed in the position of Huss and Jerome, and other reformers, who had been destroyed, with scarcely an exception. He thus was brought in direct conflict with the pope, with the great dignitaries of the church, with the universities, and with the whole scholastic literature. He had to expect the violent opposition and vengeance of the pope, of the monks, of the great ecclesiastical dignitaries, of the most distinguished scholars, and of those secular princes who were friendly to Rome. He had none to protect him but a prince of the empire, powerful, indeed, and wise, but old and wavering. There were but few to uphold and defend him—the satirical Erasmus, who was called a second Lucian, the feeble Staupitz, the fanatical Carlstadt, and the inexperienced Melancthon. The worldly-minded, the learned, the powerful, and the conservative classes were his natural enemies. But he had reason and Scripture on his side, and he appealed to their great and final verdict. He had singular faith in the power of truth, and the gracious protection of God Almighty. Reposing on the greatness of his cause, and the providence of the omnipotent Protector, he was ready to defy all the arts, and theories, and malice of man. His weapon was truth. For truth he fought, and for truth he was ready to die. The sophistries of the schools he despised; they had distorted and mystified the truth. And he knew them well, for he had been trained in the severest dialectics of his time, and, though he despised them, he knew how to use them. The simple word of God, directed to the reason and conscience of men, seemed alone worthy of his regard.
But, beside Scripture and unperverted reason, he had another element of power. He was master of the sympathies and passions of the people. His father was a toiling miner. His grandfather was a peasant. He had been trained to penury; he had associated with the poor; he was a man of the people; he was their natural friend. He saw and lamented their burdens, and rose up for their deliverance. Luther's Elements of Greatness. And the people distinguished their true friend, from their false friends. They saw the sincerity, earnestness, and labors of the new apostle of liberty, and believed in him, and made an idol of him. They would protect him, and honor him, and obey him, and believe what he taught them, for he was their friend, whom God had raised up to take off their burdens, and point a way to heaven, without the intercession of priests, or indulgences, or penance. Their friend was to expose the corruptions of the clergy, and to give battle to the great arch enemy who built St. Peter's Church from their hard-earned pittances. A spirit from heaven enlightened those to whom Luther preached, and they rallied around his standard, and swore never to separate, until the great enemies of the poor and the oppressed were rendered powerless. And their sympathies were needed, and best services, too; for the great man of the age—the incarnated spirit of liberty—was in danger.
The pope, hitherto mild, persuasive, and undecided, now arose in the majesty of his mighty name, and, as the successor of St. Peter, hurled those weapons which had been thunderbolts in the hands of the Gregories and the Innocents. From his papal throne, and with all the solemnity of God's appointed vicegerent, he denounced the daring monk of Wittemberg, and sentenced him to the wrath of God, and to the penalty of eternal fire. Excommunication of Luther. Luther was excommunicated by a papal bull, and his writings were condemned as heretical and damnable.
This was a dreadful sentence. Few had ever resisted it successfully, even monarchs themselves. Excommunication was still a fearful weapon, and used only in desperate circumstances. It was used only as the last resort; for frequency would destroy its power. In the middle ages, this weapon was omnipotent; and the middle ages had but just passed away. No one could stand before that awful anathema which consigned him to the wrath of incensed and implacable Deity. Much as some professed to despise the sentence, still, when inflicted, it could not be borne, especially if accompanied with an interdict. Children were left unburied. The churches were closed. The rites of religion were suspended. A funereal shade was spread over society. The fears of hell haunted every imagination. No reason was strong enough to resist the sentence. No arm was sufficiently powerful to remove the curse. It hung over a guilty land. It doomed the unhappy offender, who was cursed, wherever he went, and in whatever work he was engaged.
But Luther was strong enough to resist it, and to despise it. He saw it was an imposition, which only barbarous and ignorant ages had permitted. Moreover, he perceived that there was now no alternative but victory or death; that, in the great contest in which he was engaged, retreat was infamy. Nor did he wish to retreat. He was fighting for oppressed humanity, and death even, in such a cause, was glory. He understood fully the nature and the consequence of the struggle. He perceived the greatness of the odds against him, in a worldly point of view. No man but a Luther would have been equal to it; no man, before him, ever had successfully rebelled against the pope. It is only in view of this circumstance, that his intrepidity can be appreciated.
What did the Saxon monk do, when the papal bull was published? He assembled the professors and students of the university, declared his solemn protest against the pope as Antichrist, and marched in procession to the gates of the Castle of Wittemberg, and there made a bonfire, and cast into it the bull which condemned him, the canon law, and some writings of the schoolmen, and then reëntered the city, breathing defiance against the whole power of the pope, glowing in the consciousness that the battle had commenced, to last as long as life, and perfectly secure that the victory would finally