Anxiety

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Martin Luther (2016)

  The tithe question was also to prove a major dividing line in the Reformation in Zurich, where those who would eventually move toward Anabaptism argued that the tithe should no longer be paid. For Luther, respecting property rights in the tithe trumped even evangelical preaching. So completely did he misunderstand the ideas of the peasants that he argued that “evil preachers” like Karlstadt and Müntzer were responsible for the “disturbances.” In fact, Müntzer’s role in the events that unfolded was unusual, and most of the peasant leaders were not pastors but laypeople. It was obvious that Luther was anxious because of the widespread taunt against him that his teachings would lead to disorder and the overthrow of authority, and he therefore argued firmly, “This rebellion cannot be coming from me. Rather the murder-prophets, who hate me as they hate you, have come among these people and have gone about among them for more than three years, and no one has resisted and fought against them except me.” 4 By collapsing the whole story of the peasant rebellion into his own personal struggle with “the murder-prophets,” Luther made the matter an issue of his authority and of preaching—which were certainly not the issues that concerned the peasants. He devoted a mere paragraph to discussing eight of the peasants’ articles, spending time on the ones that interested him. Meanwhile the forces of the peasants from the Bodensee and from Allgäu suffered heavy losses, and in April 1525 they concluded a peace treaty with the Swabian League in which they promised to dissolve their union and obey their lords. Luther at once published its text with an introduction and conclusion written by himself, and his tone was uncompromising: “No one can deny that our peasantry has no just cause, but has burdened itself with serious, heavy sins and has called down God’s dreadful and unendurable anger upon themselves by breaking their oaths and duties that they have sworn to the authorities.” Again, Luther insisted that Müntzer and Karlstadt were to blame: “Woe and again woe to you damned false prophets that have led the poor simple people to such ruin of their souls and perhaps even loss of body and goods.” 5 In fact, the reality was quite different. The revolts often began locally with an informal strike, as peasants simply refused to work. A meeting of the commune might be summoned by ringing the storm bell, and the heads of households would consult together, often under a tree—the kind of meeting that Luther had attended in Orlamünde. Matters might escalate as a rally was held, drawing peasants from a wider area, and eventually larger groups of armed bands formed that were bound together by oaths of brotherhood. 6 These peasant bands, armed largely with pikes and swords, had remarkable success.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  At the Diet of Augsburg in 1530, Agricola had been one of the few chosen to attend as part of the Wittenberg delegation. He had preached before the Diet opened, castigating the sacramentarians for four days in front of hostile Augsburg congregations. But he also chafed at being stuck in a “mining town” like Eisleben, and hankered after a wider stage for his theological gifts.34 When Luther suggested in 1536 there might be an opening at Wittenberg for him in the theology faculty, Agricola jumped at the chance, setting off for Wittenberg before a position had even been arranged. He soon moved into Luther’s house with his wife and nine children.35 So close were the two men that when Luther went to Schmalkalden for the negotiations, he entrusted his doctrine, pulpit, church, wife, children, and house—his “Heimlichkeit,” or most intimate matters—to Agricola, licensing him to preach and lecture in Wittenberg in his place.36 Ambition and proximity produced tensions. Free at last of provincial Eisleben, Agricola wanted to find his own theological voice, and in March 1537 he preached a sermon in front of some dignitaries at Zeitz in which he gave an unusual interpretation of Romans 1:18, where Paul described God’s retribution for the wickedness and godlessness of man. He argued that we come to knowledge of the law through the gospel, and that the law of the Old Testament, which had formerly revealed the wrath of God, had been replaced by the Cross of Christ. This conviction was rooted in Agricola’s own experience, because “from my youth on I had an evil, timid and shocked heart and conscience, so that when I was young and went to school I ran to the monasteries and hermitages seeking comfort.”37 The experience of overwhelming guilt and his liberation through the evangelical gospel was his touchstone, and he therefore described the Christian as undergoing an emotional journey of faith: “the preaching of the death of Christ shocks and depresses the understanding and conscience of man; that is, it teaches repentance. Whereas, the preaching of the resurrection of Christ raises up the conscience, shocked by the death of Christ, and restores the understanding and conscience; that is: it teaches the forgiveness of sins.”38

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  26 Yet it also demonstrated to the evangelicals how weak and outnumbered they were. Melanchthon wrote in panic that “everyone else hates us most cruelly”; Jonas worried that “[t]he emperor is surrounded by cardinals…they are in his palace every day, and there is a swarm of priests like bees around him, who burn with hatred against us.” 27 The squabble with the Zwinglians temporarily forgotten, the evangelicals now thought only of the papists and what lay in store for them. And indeed, no sooner had the emperor arrived than the struggles over religion began. The very next day, trumpeters processed through the streets of Augsburg to announce a ban on preaching, except by licensed priests; only through negotiation did the Lutherans manage to get preaching by radical Catholics suppressed as well. The blanket ban on preaching did have its upside for the Lutherans, however, as it meant that the Zwinglians too lost their platform. Jonas might have mocked the official preachers, who did little more than read the lessons and give “childish” homilies, not interpreting Scripture; but at least they did not incite the populace. 28 Luther had no trouble agreeing with the Catholics on one subject: The sacramentarians were heretics, and could be punished as such. Because they have separated themselves from us, he wrote, we can have no compunction about cutting them off. Although he did not say so, he seems to have been willing to expose them to the risk of being sent to Rome and burned for their beliefs. Melanchthon now also argued that as public blasphemers, Anabaptists merited the death penalty. 29 In the printed version of the Augsburg confession, no fewer than five clauses condemned them for their refusal to accept the baptism of infants. 30 Melanchthon believed that the sacramentarians should neither be tolerated nor be negotiated with at the Diet. In line with this policy, he at first refused to meet with either Wolfgang Capito or Martin Bucer when they came to the Diet. While Zwingli produced a printed pamphlet stating his beliefs, the Fidei ratio, which he wanted to present to the emperor independently, Bucer now wished to make common cause with the Lutherans. He met several when he arrived on June 27, including Johannes Brenz, and in mid-July, under pressure from Philip of Hesse, Melanchthon also met him and agreed to review a letter of compromise Bucer planned to send to Luther.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  When Luther read it, he admired the learning but was taken aback by Karlstadt’s narrow and literalist understanding of the passage about Moloch, fearing it would lead to ridicule from their opponents. He worried that by exciting ‘such a big crowd of unmarried people to matrimony’ through what seemed to Luther to be a biblical passage referring not to masturbation but to something as harmless as nocturnal emissions, they might create even greater burdens for their consciences. It was easier for Karlstadt, a secular priest, to be more radical than Luther, who still agonised over whether priests and monks were in the same position in relation to celibacy. Pondering it all, Luther joked to Spalatin that he certainly would not be driven to take a wife himself.* Some of his unease sprang from the fact that Karlstadt understood ‘flesh’ more literally and narrowly than Luther, for whom it was a much more capacious term, including sins like envy, anger, or even reliance on other people’s physical presence. A letter of 9 September 1521, one of the most revealing letters Luther wrote from the Wartburg, shows him almost thinking aloud, as he considered the draft passages on monastic vows in Melanchthon’s Loci communes, which its author had sent him and which were also influenced by Karlstadt’s treatise. Luther's thoughts suggest that he was grappling with his own sexuality. He opens by wishing that he and Melanchthon could engage in a face-to-face disputation, for then it would be possible to see where the real disagreements lay. Under- neath the ostensible subject of debate — vows and their validity — it seems that what is actually disturbing Luther is the idea of the ‘burning flesh’, to which he comes at the end of the letter: what, Luther wondered, did Paul mean by ‘burning’, which both Karlstadt and now Melanchthon interpreted to mean sexual desire? And how serious a sin was it? Uncharacteristically indecisive, Luther first set out what he saw as the flaws in Melanchthon’s argument. If, as Melanchthon argued, vows had to be broken because of the severity of the sins that would other- wise be committed, then the same could be said of marriage vows. And then people could just dissolve marriages at will. Does it not make a difference, Luther asked, that the vows were entered into by free Christians? Trying another tack, he suggested that just about IN THE WARTBURG 203 everyone entered into monastic vows in the belief that they would ensure salvation — they were a good work that would make them pleasing to God. This alone would be enough to render them invalid, because they were entered into for the wrong reasons. Luther added that monastic vows included poverty and obedience as well.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  Nor was the issue of clerical marriage as problematic as it had first seemed: The Catholics were again willing to tolerate those marriages that had already taken place “until a council is held.” Moreover, on the fundamental issue of the Reformation, the Catholics were even apparently ready to agree that salvation is by faith and grace, not by works alone—an extraordinary concession, and an apparent victory for Augustinian theology. 68 Luther, however, accused the Catholics of paying lip service to the importance of faith while continuing to preach indulgences and works, and insisted Communion must be offered in both kinds. While the Catholics offered to let the Lutherans continue with their practices while they would continue with theirs—holding Masses for the dead, for example—Luther objected to this on the grounds that it would reintroduce the idea of the Mass as a sacrifice, which could earn the individual merits. He was happy to reintroduce compulsory confession before Mass, as long as people should not be compelled to confess absolutely every sin, as it would only burden their consciences. 69 This was a sore point for the Zwinglians and south Germans, who objected to the burdens of confession, but as confession had given Luther such spiritual comfort throughout his life, he wanted to retain it. When it came to the question of bishops, Luther showed a surprising willingness to compromise. Their offices and jurisdiction could certainly be reinstituted, he agreed, after Melanchthon set out the scriptural precedents for giving some priests senior roles within the Church. 70 This troubled not only the sacramentarians, whose anti-Catholicism was animated by their hatred of the old clerical hierarchy, but also many of Luther’s own supporters, especially the Nurembergers. 71 As many evangelicals saw it, giving the bishops back their power would allow them to rule over the Lutherans once more, and before long burn them as heretics. Though Luther soon backpedaled—saying he had meant a different thing by bishops, and their jurisdiction was limited—the damage had been done. 72 For Melanchthon, it was imperative to consider every option, for he was convinced that, if no agreement could be reached, the ultimate result would be war. By September he was worrying constantly about impending catastrophe, aware of how few princes and cities supported the evangelicals, although he underestimated how much the Catholic princes were fearful of giving too much power to an already overmighty emperor. 73 On the evangelical side were only a handful of rulers: the dukes of Lüneburg and Brandenburg, the prince of Anhalt, the Saxon Elector, Philip of Hesse, and only Nuremberg and Reutlingen had signed the confession; the sacramentarians did not sign. 74 Moreover, Philip might turn to the Zwinglians at any time, and Nuremberg was unlikely to risk opposing the emperor. Melanchthon understood, in ways that the isolated Luther could not, just how desperate the evangelical position would be, politically and militarily, if there was no deal.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  Sturm and his servant rode out in front, the herald sporting the impe- rial eagle on his sleeve, followed by the open wagon with its famous occupant and his companions. Luther was now a celebrity. Crowds thronged to meet him and see the ‘miracle-man who was so brave as to oppose the Pope and all the world, who held the Pope to be a God against Christ’. Disconcertingly, Myconius tells us, many of those who came to see the monk also assured him that he would be burned as a heretic.” Luther received a rapturous reception by the University of Erfurt where sixty horsemen and the rector rode out to meet him. This must have given Luther immense personal satisfaction, particu- larly after the bitter conflicts over his doctorate. Even at Leipzig, where his passing stirred less interest, the council at least honoured him with a drink of wine. The journey, which lasted ten days, was the opposite of the ignominious progress of the papal bull: it was a triumphal procession. 178 MARTIN LUTHER It also created its own mythology. In Erfurt, the church where Luther preached was so full that the gallery creaked ominously and people were about to jump out of the windows into the churchyard. As a witness recalled, Luther calmed them by saying that ‘they should stand quietly, the Devil might do his tricks, they should just stand quietly and nothing bad would happen’, and ‘indeed no accident occurred’. The sermon, recorded by someone in the congregation, was immediately printed.» After Luther preached another sermon in the Augustinian monastery at Gotha, ‘the Devil ripped some stones off the church tower . . . they had lain there firmly for two hundred years’, and Myconius, the chronicler who told the story in 1541, added ‘until today it has not been rebuilt’. For Myconius, this was proof that the Devil was fighting Luther with all his might.* Even before they reached Gotha, though, Luther heard from a bookseller travelling in the other direction that messengers had already set out to affix the imperial mandates demanding sequestration and burnings of his books.™ Anxiety over the looming trial took its toll. At Eisenach, Luther was taken so seriously ill that his friends despaired of his life; he recovered only after being bled and given some spirits. He was convinced that the Devil was trying to stop him reaching Worms.” As he described it later, many said that ‘Dr Martin and his books had already been condemned at Worms.’

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  Karlstadt certainly made use of his permission to publish, printing seven tracts in Basle when beyond Luther’s reach. Under Westerburg’s reassuringly patrician patronage, Karlstadt’s ideas gained a new readership; meanwhile his supporter Martin Reinhard had traveled to Cologne to spread his message there as well.42 There were rumors that Karlstadt had got his views about the sacrament from Luther himself, in secret discussions, and that Luther, who did not yet dare to deny publicly that Christ was truly present in the bread and wine, would soon come out in support. In Strasbourg, Wolfgang Capito and the humanist Otto Brunfels read Karlstadt’s works and agreed with his views on the sacrament; in Basle, the reformer and humanist Johannes Oecolampadius was taking Karlstadt’s side; in Nuremberg too, Karlstadt was finding readers, and in Magdeburg, Königsberg, and even the Netherlands, people were joining in what Luther and his followers would soon denounce as the “spirit of Müntzer and Karlstadt.”43 Luther’s man in Strasbourg, Nikolaus Gerbel, warned that Karlstadt was distributing copies of his works printed in Basle and gaining supporters; apparently he was telling everyone that he had been banished by Luther because he could not overcome him with Scripture. The Strasbourg preachers wrote collectively to Luther, sending five of Karlstadt’s writings and asking for his advice. The letter, brilliantly formulated so as to stress their loyalty, reveals that their position was in fact closer to Karlstadt’s, since they too were purifying their churches of images and beginning to raise questions about the Real Presence in the sacrament. They bluntly informed Luther that in Zurich, Basle, and even in Strasbourg, most biblically informed people shared Karlstadt’s views.44

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  The Anfechtungen were the corollary of his growing sense that there were no intermediaries, that nothing stood between the believer and God, and that nothing could be done to make the sinner acceptable. Looking back on these experiences in 1531 he concluded that the Anfechtungen were also necessary, for they set him on his path that would lead to the Reformation. He added a wry reminiscence about his superior Staupitz, who had remarked that he himself had never experienced temptations of this kind, “but, as I see, they are more necessary to you than eating and drinking.” 30 By the time Luther had left the monastery and broken with the Church of Rome, the Anfechtungen were more clearly centered on his battle with the Devil, though they still took physical form. He suffered from fits of ringing in the ears, sure that they were a diabolic attack. As he grew older, he confided to trusted companions about his temptations. Complaining in 1529 to a friend in Breslau that he had suffered headaches, nausea, and a dull noise in his ears for eight days, he wondered “whether it was exhaustion or a temptation of Satan.” 31 In 1530 he wrote to Melanchthon about a weakness in his head that stopped him from working: Like Paul’s suffering, the angel of Satan was “beating him with his fists.” 32 At the same time he suggested that those suffering from melancholia should not only eat and drink more, but also joke and play games so as to spite the Devil. 33 We do not know how far the early Anfechtungen were the same as the attacks of depression and sadness he experienced later, nor whether at this early stage he thought that the Devil was involved, but it is clear that they concerned his relationship with God—and to that extent, Staupitz was quite right that they were essential to Luther’s form of devotion. — E VERY monastery is a living as well as a devotional community, involving practical organization and labor within a clear system of hierarchy. Despite his apparent difficulties with paternal authority, this was an environment in which Luther thrived, rapidly moving up the monastic ladder. He quickly became a subdeacon, and then a deacon; in 1508–9 he was sent briefly to the University of Wittenberg, where he taught philosophy and continued studies in theology.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  Luther arrived on the Friday after Corpus Christi, June 24, having traveled to Leipzig with Karlstadt and Melanchthon, this time not on foot but by open wagon. On this occasion, there was no need to demonstrate his humility in contrast to papal pomp. Karlstadt had insisted on bringing a whole reference library with him but his books were so heavy that his wagon got stuck in the mud, breaking the axle, just as it was about to enter the city gate. This was hardly a good omen for the man who had tried to ridicule his opponent with his “wagon cartoon”; it seemed that it was Karlstadt’s cart rather than Eck’s that was bound for disaster.17 The Wittenberg delegation stopped off not at a monastery but, perhaps tellingly, at the house of the printer Melchior Lotter.18 Despite the cheerful summer mood, there was an underlying menace in the Wittenbergers’ behavior, however. Luther’s and Karlstadt’s wagons were escorted by ranks of students, armed with spears and halberds. Armed men were posted to prevent fights breaking out in the lodgings where the students stayed, while seventy-six guards stood watch daily at the castle where the debates took place.19 The disputation lasted nearly three weeks, beginning on June 27 and concluding on July 15, 1519. It was held in the parlor of the castle, the room having been especially decorated for the event. Two pulpits stood facing each other, one decorated with a tapestry featuring St. George in honor of the Saxon duke, the other, St. Martin. After a festive Mass in the Church of St. Thomas—a new twelve-part Mass had been specially composed for the occasion—the audience adjourned to the castle where Petrus Mosellanus, the university’s professor of Greek, gave a ceremonial speech, admonishing both sides to stick to the substance of the matter and to avoid harshness in their exchanges.20 The contest was not confined to the debate, however: When Luther was invited to preach by the duke of Pomerania, he attracted such large crowds that the event had to be moved from the ducal chapel to the disputation chamber. Eck felt compelled to preach three sermons in response to the attention his rival was attracting.21

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  It was all caused by jealousy, Luther argued, “because whoever has something, has many people who envy them’. Once again, he took things person- ally: the Devil was behind the plan, as Luther’s enemies wanted to see the whole country reduced to poverty, ‘so that they could boast: look how God curses all those who support the gospel and lets them fall into ruin, and as a sign, [Luther’s] own fatherland has been utterly ruined’.’ Despite serious illness, therefore, Luther had travelled to Mansfeld in October 1545, to stop the scheme going ahead.° He failed, and in the end he was proved right: the counts’ experiment in running the mines was a disaster. By the 1560s they were bankrupt and the fabled wealth from the Mansfeld mines was gone, turning the town into a backwater. In early 1546, therefore, Luther saw it as his duty to try to reconcile the counts. Perhaps intuiting that this would be no ordinary journey, Luther took with him his three sons — Hans, aged nearly twenty, Martin nearing fifteen, and Paul, just thirteen. The weather was dreadful, and the river so swollen at Halle that the party did not dare to cross. As Luther joked in a letter to his wife, “a huge female Anabap- tist met us with waves of water and great floating pieces of ice; she threatened to baptise us again, and has covered the [whole] country- side’. We followed what I know would have been your advice, Luther told Katharina, and we did not ‘tempt God’ by crossing. After all, he added, ‘the Devil is angry at us, and he lives in the water’.? When they finally travelled on, he suffered from dizziness: ‘Had you been here, however, you would have said that it was the fault of the Jews or their god. For shortly before Eisleben we had to travel through a village in which many Jews are living, [and] perhaps they have attacked me so painfully.* Apologising for no longer being able to make love to her — ‘comfort yourself with the knowledge that I would love you if I could, as you know’ — Luther addressed Katharina as ‘Mrs Sow Market’ and ‘Lady of Ziilsdorf’, teasing her affectionately about her THE CHARIOTEER OF ISRAEL 399 farming business.?

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  AFTICH-COTER Hac -FACIES-HIC-CVLTVS-ERAT- GV-SEPTRA'TENE. REX-OCy SOp-SED-BREVE’FEPVS-EGO- HENRICVS-ALDEGREVER-SVXATIE - FACIEBAT> ~ANNO->-M + D = = xXxxvi- GOTTES - MACHT: ‘ist - MYN- CRACHT- 56. Heinrich Aldegrever, Jan of Leyden, ‘A King of the Anabaptists’, 1536. Leading artists soon produced engravings of Leiden and his wife, Queen Divara: common folk who had made themselves into royalty, they epitomised the dangers of Anabaptism. Contemporaries wrote of Leiden’s two golden crowns; of the orb and sceptre he carried as he sat on a horse, his retinue dressed in blue and green; and of the two youths who rode behind him, one carrying a Bible and crown, the other a naked sword bearing the legend “God's power is my strength’. condemned the Anabaptists for their theological arrogance and their contempt for true doctrine, and though he condemned them as ‘Epicureans’,” he had consistently pointed out that the Old Testament CONSOLIDATION 351 patriarchs had practised polygamy, an attitude that would later have important consequences. In the meantime Martin Bucer had not given up trying to come to an agreement with the Wittenbergers. He had visited a grumpy Luther in Coburg Castle in late September 1530 on his way back from the Diet of Augsburg, and he finally persuaded him to begin negotiations with the sacramentarians.” As Luther put it in early 1531, he had begun to see ‘how necessary your fellowship is for us . . . | have become so much aware of this that I am convinced that all the gates of hell, the whole papacy, all of Turkey, the whole world, all the flesh, and what- ever evils there are could not harm the gospel at all, if only we were of one mind.” This struck a different tone from his usual conviction that his very isolation in his struggle against the forces of Satan proved Christ was on his side, and was not one he sustained for long.” He continued to be wary of Bucer, who travelled tirelessly in Switzerland and amongst the cities of Upper Germany to try to produce a formula all parties could approve. The effort took him nearly four years, but when he did finally arrive at a formula Luther would accept, the Swiss then rejected it out of hand. In 1536 a meeting was at last arranged between the Lutherans and the Upper German sacramentarians. to be held at Eisenach.™ In the event it had to be held in Wittenberg, for Luther was too ill to travel and so the discussions took place in his house.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  19 The little Saxon party must have been conspicuous on the road. Sturm and his servant rode out in front, the herald sporting the imperial eagle on his sleeve, followed by the open wagon with its famous occupant and his companions. Luther was now a celebrity. Crowds thronged to meet him and see the “miracle-man who was so brave as to oppose the Pope and all the world, who held the Pope to be a God against Christ.” Disconcertingly, Myconius tells us, many of those who came to see the monk also assured him that he would be burned as a heretic. 20 Luther received a rapturous reception by the University of Erfurt, where sixty horsemen and the rector rode out to meet him. This must have given Luther immense personal satisfaction, particularly after the bitter conflicts over his doctorate. Even at Leipzig, where his passing stirred less interest, the council at least honored him with a drink of wine. 21 The journey, which lasted ten days, was the opposite of the ignominious progress of the papal bull: It was a triumphal procession. It also created its own mythology. In Erfurt, the church where Luther preached was so full that the gallery creaked ominously and people were about to jump out the windows into the churchyard. As a witness recalled, Luther calmed them by saying that “they should stand quietly, the Devil might do his tricks, they should just stand quietly and nothing bad would happen,” and “indeed no accident occurred.” The sermon, recorded by someone in the congregation, was immediately printed. 22 After Luther preached another sermon in the Augustinian monastery at Gotha, “the Devil ripped some stones off the church tower…they had lain there firmly for two hundred years,” and Myconius, the chronicler who told the story in 1541, added “until today it has not been rebuilt.” For Myconius, this was proof that the Devil was fighting Luther with all his might. 23 Even before they reached Gotha, though, Luther heard from a bookseller traveling in the other direction that messengers had already set out to affix the imperial mandates demanding sequestration and burnings of his books. 24 Anxiety over the looming trial took its toll. At Eisenach, Luther was taken so seriously ill that his friends despaired of his life; he recovered only after being bled and given some spirits. He was convinced that the Devil was trying to stop him reaching Worms. 25 As he described it later, many said that “Dr.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  Annaberg, named after the miner’s saint, the mother of the Virgin Mary: Miners needed all the protection they could muster. As Myconius, the town’s Lutheran preacher, would put it later, they hoped that “if they just put in the money and bought grace and indulgences, all the mountains around St. Annaberg would become the purest silver; and as soon as the coins clinked in the bowl, the soul for whom they had put it in would fly straight to heaven with their dying breath.” 53 It may have been that omnipresence of uncertainty, danger, and risk in the mining world that settled in Luther’s soul and gave him a deep conviction of the complete omnipotence of God: a sense that human beings are utterly exposed in their dealings with Him, and that there are no mediators or strategies that could protect them. Magic would not work, insurance did not exist, law offered only flimsy protection. The miner could call on the saints, especially St. Anna. But in the end, he faced God alone. — A ROUND 1527 Lucas Cranach the Elder painted portraits of Luther’s parents, when they visited their son in Wittenberg. The painting of Hans shows a man with a powerful physical presence, and chunky features. A man of action, he looks almost uncomfortable sitting still, his hands awkwardly folded. He is dressed in black, the color favored by men of substance, and wears the obligatory fur collar. The resemblance to Martin is unmistakable. He has the same deep-set eyes and the heavy jowls that Luther inherited. His mother Margarethe’s white coiffe and shirt complement the dark colors of her husband’s portrait. With her simple, conventional attire, and wearing no jewelry, she is presented as a model wife, although her chin juts forward, suggesting a less conventional character. There is also a surviving sketch of Hans Luder in pencil and watercolor by Cranach, probably a study for the portrait. Focused only on the face, it is more revealing: Hans’s eyes are wrinkled against the light and his face is weathered, as befits a man used to working out of doors. The mouth is firm, the nose emphatic. This is a man used to speaking his mind, but the clouded gaze also suggests someone whose power is now spent, a patriarch grown old. When the portraits were produced, the glory days of mining were already over. It is difficult to know what kind of a father Hans Luder made. Conventionally pious, he practiced the devotion common to his generation. A member of the brotherhoods of St. Anna and of St.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  42 It is not surprising that Luther should have identified with Kaiser. There would be even more surprising parallels as the case unfolded. Weak and debilitated from his time in prison, Kaiser on July 17 was forced to participate in a disputation with none other than Johannes Eck, Luther’s antagonist at Leipzig, who had even gone to Rome to procure the bull against him. It is unclear whether Luther knew before his collapse that Eck had taken an interest in Kaiser’s case. Luther had been the butt of Eck’s coarse humor at Leipzig, and now Eck mocked Kaiser to his face as a man “whose wares are even worse than his salesmanship.” 43 Unable to burn Luther, Eck meant to burn Kaiser. Protected by the Elector Friedrich and his successor Johann, Luther was safe. In fact it was now he who was on the side of the authorities, as he had wryly noted after his encounter with Karlstadt in the Black Bear Inn: “I who ought to have become a martyr have reached the point where I am now making martyrs of others.” 44 Karlstadt was very much on his mind, too, and shortly before the breakdown, Luther had become convinced that he would never win him back to the fold. At the climax of his collapse he worried that his death or the Devil’s attacks would prevent him writing against the sacramentarians, and he felt the weight and isolation of leading the movement: “Oh what dreadful misery the Schwärmer [enthusiasts] will cause after my death!” 45 The events of Kaiser’s martyrdom followed closely upon Luther’s breakdown. On July 18 he was taken to Passau and again given an opportunity to recant. When he refused, he was ritually defrocked in a ceremony carried out in front of a large crowd, which included Eck. Piece by piece, his priest’s robes were stripped from his body by the bishop of Passau, and he was shaved. Then he was dressed in nothing but a smock, or Kittel, a black slashed beret was put on his head, and, now an ordinary layman, he was handed over to the city judge. This ritual was not the end of his humiliation, however. Kaiser was kept in the castle dungeon for yet another month, and then paraded in chains around the town, before being taken to his home town of Schärding, where he was executed on August 16. Kaiser died true to his Lutheran faith. The original anonymous pamphlet account of his death insisted that his body miraculously refused to burn, but Luther rejected this spurious miracle. 46 Instead, in December he composed a pamphlet including a full account of the trial, several letters, Kaiser’s will, and a precise account of the execution sent to him by his friend Michael Stifel: “Thereupon the fire was lit, and several times he shouted loudly: ‘Jesus, I am thine, save me!’

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  13 Indeed, as we have seen, in the preliminary skirmishes before the Leipzig Debate, one of the major points at issue between Luther and Eck had been that the latter would not accept the authority of the Theologia deutsch because it was not a work by one of the Church Fathers and was written in German, not Latin. In October 1520, two weeks after he had received news of Eck’s bull—which to Karlstadt’s shock named him alongside Luther and five others 14 —Karlstadt wrote a treatise on Gelassenheit, the meditative “letting go” of human attachments in order to allow God to enter, which reveals the extent of his debt to medieval mysticism. It was personal, written in the form of a letter to his “dear mother and all my friends.” 15 Just as Luther did at times, Karlstadt likened his situation to Christ’s: “I stand in hellish anguish, in pain of death, in hellish trials, with hands and feet I am nailed to your cross.” He saw himself as standing at a junction: On the right, there was death which threatened to kill his spirit, and “[o]n the left, stands the death to my flesh.” 16 By contrast, Luther did not draw on the theology of Gelassenheit when preparing himself for martyrdom. While he regularly considered the possibility of his own death in his letters, he was also concerned about protecting others. As he worked out his strategy with Spalatin before Worms, one of the arguments he deployed was that if he were not given a hearing, then everyone in Wittenberg would be imperiled. From quite early on, therefore, he tried to stop Karlstadt attacking Eck because he thought it would endanger his colleague. And he ensured through his negotiations via Spalatin that he alone was summoned to Worms. For Karlstadt, on the other hand, Gelassenheit gave him strength for his own martyrdom. The concept was locked into his emotional experience of being saved; it was part of the cycle of dark anxiety, and feelings of worthlessness, to which the answer was to develop a “tough, serious and rigorous hatred and envy against myself.” From this sprang detachment, or leaving behind all things and all human bonds. Karlstadt returned to the theme in 1523, publishing a far longer meditation on the meanings of Gelassenheit. Here it was clearly linked with asceticism. “All pleasure is sin,” he wrote. “It would be better for us were we to sprinkle food and drink with ashes than to have our food praised in song.” The believer must develop “a holy dread of myself” and “become wholly ashamed of my thoughts, desires, and works as of a horrible vice which I would avoid as one avoids a yellow, pus-filled boil.”

• From Satyricon (1)

  Night had fallen by this time, and the woman to whom I had given my order had prepared supper, when Eumolpus knocked at the door. “How many of you are there?” I called out, and as I spoke, I peeped cautiously through a chink in the door to see if Ascyltos had come with him; then, as I perceived that he was the only guest, I quickly admitted him. He threw himself upon the pallet and caught sight of Giton, waiting table, whereupon, he nodded his head, “I like your Ganymede,” he remarked, “this day promises a good ending!” I did not take kindly to such an inquisitive beginning, fearing that I had let another Ascyltos into my lodging. Eumolpus stuck to his purpose. “I like you better than the whole bathful,” he remarked, when the lad had served him with wine, then he thirstily drained the cup dry and swore that never before had he tasted a wine with such a satisfying tang to it. “While I was bathing,” he went on, “I was almost beaten up for trying to recite a poem to the people sitting around the basin, and when I had been thrown out of the baths, just like I was out of the theatre, I hunted through every nook and cranny of the building, calling ‘Encolpius, Encolpius,’ at the top of my voice. A naked youth at the other end, who had lost his clothes, was bawling just as loudly and no less angrily for Giton! As for myself, the slaves took me for a maniac, and mimicked me in the most insolent manner, but a large crowd gathered around him, clapping its hands in awe-struck admiration, for so heavy and massive were his private parts, that you would have thought that the man himself was but an appendage of his own member! Oh such a man! He could do his bit all right! I haven’t a doubt but that he could begin on the day before and never finish till the day after the next! And he soon found a friend, of course: some Roman knight or other, I don’t know his name, but he bears a bad reputation, so they say, threw his own mantle around the wanderer and took him off home with himself, hoping, I suppose, to have the sole enjoyment of so huge a prize. But I couldn’t get my own clothing back from the officious bath attendant till I found some one who could identify me, which only goes to show that it is more profitable to rub up the member than it is to polish the mind!” While Eumolpus was relating all this, I changed countenance continually, elated, naturally, at the mishaps of my enemy, and vexed at his good fortune; but I controlled my tongue nevertheless, as if I knew nothing about the episode, and read aloud the bill of fare. (Hardly had I finished, when our humble meal was served. The food was plain but succulent and nutritious, and the famished scholar Eumolpus, fell to ravenously.)

• From Satyricon (1)

  When Eumolpus had, with great volubility, poured out this flood of words, we came at last to Crotona. Here we refreshed ourselves at a mean inn, but on the following day we went in search of more imposing lodgings and fell in with a crowd of legacy hunters who were very curious as to the class of society to which we belonged and as to whence we had come. Thereupon, in accord with our mutual understanding, such ready answers did we make as to who we might be or whence we had come that we gave them no cause for doubt. They immediately fell to wrangling in their desire to heap their own riches upon Eumolpus and every fortune-hunter solicited his favor with presents. ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS: Desire no possession unless the world envies me for possessing Either ‘take-in,’ or else they are ‘taken-in’ Platitudes by which anguished minds are recalled to sanity They seize what they dread to lose most VOLUME 5.--AFFAIRS AT CROTONA CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-FIFTH. For a long time affairs at Crotona ran along in this manner and Eumolpus, flushed with success so far forgot the former state of his fortunes that he even bragged to his followers that no one could hold out against any wish of his, and that any member of his suite who committed a crime in that city would, through the influence of his friends, get off unpunished. But, although I daily crammed my bloated carcass to overflowing with good things, and began more and more to believe that Fortune had turned away her face from keeping watch upon me, I frequently meditated, nevertheless, upon my present state and upon its cause. “Suppose,” thought I, “some wily legacy hunter should dispatch an agent to Africa and catch us in our lie? Or even suppose the hireling servant, glutted with prosperity, should tip off his cronies or give the whole scheme away out of spite? There would be nothing for it but flight and, in a fresh state of destitution, a recalling of poverty which had been driven off. Gods and goddesses, how ill it fares with those living outside the law; they are always on the lookout for what is coming to them!” (Turning these possibilities over in my mind I left the house, in a state of black melancholy, hoping to revive my spirits in the fresh air, but scarcely had I set foot upon the public promenade when a girl, by no means homely, met me, and, calling me Polyaenos, the name I had assumed since my metamorphosis, informed me that her mistress desired leave to speak with me. “You must be mistaken,” I answered, in confusion, “I am only a servant and a stranger, and am by no means worthy of such an honor.”) CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIXTH.

• From Martin Luther (2016)

  Meanwhile Christian Döring and Lucas Cranach, members of the council since 1519 and very close to the Elector’s court—the Elector was Cranach’s main patron—were likely to see things the Elector’s way. Eventually a meeting of representatives of the university, the foundation of All Saints, the mayor, and the Elector’s advisors managed to reach an agreement on the reforms to be introduced in Wittenberg. It stipulated that the words of consecration of the sacrament would be said in German; part of the canon of the Mass would be omitted; the elevation would be reintroduced as a sign, but it would be explained that the Mass was not a sacrifice; the priest should give the sacrament to the communicant “according to their wish”; and the poor-law provisions would remain in place. There was no mention of whether Communion should be given in one kind or two, and the images that had been destroyed were not ordered to be replaced. 43 Karlstadt volunteered to stop preaching so as to broker a compromise, safeguarding the provisions of the ordinance. It looked as if the Reformation in Wittenberg would be secure. 44 However, the Catholic side had not been idle, either. Duke Georg, alarmed at what was happening in electoral Saxony, successfully campaigned for strong action at the Imperial Council, which was sitting at Nuremberg. On January 20, 1522, an imperial mandate was issued giving the conservative Catholic bishops with jurisdiction in Saxon areas—those of Mainz, Naumburg, and Merseburg—authority to carry out “Visitations” and punish all those guilty of innovations. The Elector was deeply alarmed and now unilaterally rejected the Eilenburg compromise since he knew that if he were to disobey the mandate, he would find his rule imperiled. 45 It would be easy for his dukedom and electoral honors to be transferred to his cousin Duke Georg—and indeed, this is exactly what happened after the Schmalkaldic War of 1546–47. 46 Surprisingly, Luther now backtracked from his previous support for the Reformation in Wittenberg and came to the Elector’s aid. On or around February 22, having heard about what was afoot in town, he wrote an extraordinary letter to the Elector, congratulating him on his new “relic”—“a whole cross, together with nails, spears, and scourges,” which he had secured “without cost or effort.” He was referring to the religious changes in Wittenberg: “Satan” had come “among the children of God.” “Stretch out your arms confidently and let the nails go deep,” he wrote. “Be glad and thankful, for thus it must and will be with those who desire God’s Word.” Luther teased the Elector for his fondness for relics but while making light of the unrest, he assured him that “my pen has had to gallop” because he had no time: He was already setting out for Wittenberg. 47 It is not clear what role Spalatin played in the course of events but much of Luther’s political advice, when he was in the Wartburg, must have come from the Elector’s right-hand man.

• From Satyricon (1)

  “Pray; madame,” I groaned, “if you have anything worse in store, bring it on quickly for we have not committed a crime so heinous as to merit death by torture.” The maid, whose name was Psyche, quickly spread a blanket upon the floor (and) sought to secure an erection by fondling my member, which was already a thousand times colder than death. Ascyltos, well aware by now of the danger of dipping into the secrets of others, covered his head with his mantle. (In the meantime,) the maid took two ribbons from her bosom and bound our feet with one and our hands with the other. (Finding myself trussed up in this fashion, I remarked, “You will not be able to cure your mistress’ ague in this manner!” “Granted,” the maid replied, “but I have other and surer remedies at hand,” she brought me a vessel full of satyrion, as she said this, and so cheerfully did she gossip about its virtues that I drank down nearly all of the liquor, and because Ascyltos had but a moment before rejected her advances, she sprinkled the dregs upon his back, without his knowing it.) When this repartee had drawn to a close, Ascyltos exclaimed, “Don’t I deserve a drink?” Given away by my laughter, the maid clapped her hands and cried, “I put one by you, young man; did you drink so much all by yourself?” “What’s that you say?”, Quartilla chimed in. “Did Encolpius drink all the satyrion there was in the house?” And she laughed delightfully until her sides shook. Finally not even Giton himself could resist a smile, especially when the little girl caught him around the neck and showered innumerable kisses upon him, and he not at all averse to it. CHAPTER THE TWENTY-FIRST.

• From Satyricon (1)

  CHAPTER THE ONE HUNDRED AND SECOND. “Why would it not be better to take refuge in boldness,” I asked, “slide down a rope into the ship’s boat, cut the painter, and leave the rest to luck’? And furthermore, I would not involve Eumolpus in this adventure, for what is the good of getting an innocent man into troubles with which he has no concern? I shall be well content if chance helps us into the boat.” “Not a bad scheme,” Eumolpus agreed, “if it could only be carried out: but who could help seeing you when you start? Especially the man at the helm, who stands watch all night long and observes even the motions of the stars. But it could be done in spite of that, when he dozed off for a second, that is, if you chose some other part of the ship from which to start: as it is, it must be the stern, you must even slip down the rudder itself, for that is where the painter that holds the boat in tow is made fast. And there is still something else, Encolpius. I am surprised that it has not occurred to you that one sailor is on watch, lying in the boat, night and day. You couldn’t get rid of that watchman except by cutting his throat or throwing him overboard by force. Consult your own courage as to whether that can be done or not. And as far as my coming with you is concerned, I shirk no danger which holds out any hopes of success, but to throw away life without a reason, as if it were a thing of no moment, is something which I do not believe that even you would sanction--see what you think of this: I will wrap you up in two hide baggage covers, tie you up with thongs, and stow you among my clothing, as baggage, leaving the ends somewhat open, of course, so you can breathe and get your food. Then I will raise a hue and cry because my slaves have thrown themselves into the sea, fearing worse punishment; and when the ship makes port, I will carry you out as baggage without exciting the slightest suspicion!” “Oh! So you would bundle us up like we were solid,” I sneered; “our bellies wouldn’t make trouble for us, of course, and we’ll never sneeze nor snore! And all because a similar trick turned out successfully before! Think the matter over! Being tied up could be endured for one day, but suppose it might have to be for longer? What if we should be becalmed? What if we were struck by a storm from the wrong quarter of the heavens? What could we do then? Even clothes will cut through at the wrinkles when they are tied up too long, and paper in bundles will lose its shape. Do you imagine that we, who are young and unused to hardship, could endure the filthy rags and lashings necessary to such an operation, as statues do? No! That’s settled! Some other road to safety must be found! I have thought up a scheme, see what you think of it! Eumolpus is a man of letters. He will have ink about him, of course. With this remedy, then, let’s change our complexions, from hair to toe-nails! Then, in the guise of Ethiopian slaves, we shall be ready at hand to wait upon you, light-hearted as having escaped the torturer, and, with our altered complexions, we can impose upon our enemies!” “Yes, indeed,” sneered Giton, “and be sure and circumcise us, too, so we will be taken for Jews, pierce our ears so we will look like Arabs, chalk our faces so that Gaul will take us for her own sons; as if color alone could change one’s figure! As if many other details did not require consideration if a passable imposture is to result! Even granting that the stained face can keep its color for some time, suppose that not a drop of water should spot the skin, suppose that the garment did not stick to the ink, as it often does, where no gum is used, tell me! We can’t make our lips so hideously thick, can we? We can’t kink our hair with a curling-iron, can we? We can’t harrow our foreheads with scars, can we? We can’t force our legs out into the form of a bow or walk with our ankle-bones on the ground, can we? Can we trim our beards after the foreign style? No! Artificial color dirties the body without changing it. Listen to the plan which I have thought out in my desperation; let’s tie our garments around our heads and throw ourselves into the deep!”