chapter viii

., etc.”[910] Luther had called this Prince a “bloodhound”; he is paid back in his own coin: “You cursed, perjured bloodhound”; he was the “arch-murderer,” body and soul, of the rebellious peasants, “the biggest murderer and bloodhound ever yet seen on the surface of the globe.”[911] “You want us to believe that no one has written more beautifully of the Emperor and the Empire than yourself. If what you have written of his Imperial Majesty is beautiful, then my idea of beauty is all wrong; for it would be easy to find tipsy peasants in plenty who can write nine times better than you.”[912]

From the theologian Ambrosius Catharinus we hear some details concerning Luther’s private life.

On the strength of hearsay reports, picked up, so it would appear, from some of the visitors to the Council of Trent in 1546 and 1547, this Italian, who was often over-ardent both in attack and defence, wrote in the latter year his work: “_De consideratione praesentium temporum libri quattuor._” Here he says: “Quite reliable witnesses tell me of Luther, that he frequently honoured the wedding feasts of strangers by his presence, went to see the maidens dance and occasionally even led the round dance himself. They declare that he sometimes got up from the banquets so drunk and helpless that he staggered from side to side, and had to be carried home on his friends’ shoulders.”[913]

As an echo of the rumours current in Catholic circles we have already mentioned elsewhere the charges alleged in 1524 by Ferdinand the German King, and related by Luther himself, viz. that he “passed his time with light women and at playing pitch-and-toss in the taverns.”[914] We have also recorded the vigorous denunciation of the Catholic Count, Hoyer of Mansfeld, which dates from a somewhat earlier period; this came from a man whose home was not far from Luther’s, and to whose character no exception has been taken. Hoyer wrote that whereas formerly at Worms he had been a “good Lutheran,” he had now “found that Luther was nothing but a knave,” who, as the way was at Mansfeld, filled himself with drink, was fond of keeping company with pretty women, and led a loose life, for which reason he, the Count, had “fallen away altogether.”[915] The latter statements refer to a period somewhere about 1522, i.e. previous to Luther’s marriage. With regard to that critical juncture in the year 1525 some consideration must be given to what Bugenhagen says of Luther’s marriage in his letter to Spalatin, which really voices the opinion of Luther’s friends at Wittenberg: “Evil tales were the cause of Dr. Martin’s becoming a married man so unexpectedly.”[916] The hope then expressed by Melanchthon, that marriage would sober Luther and that he would lay aside his unseemliness,[917] was scarcely to be realised. Melanchthon, however, no longer complains of it, having at length grown resigned. Yet he continued to regret Luther’s bitterness and irritability: “Oh, that Luther would only be silent! I had hoped that as he advanced in years his many difficulties and riper experience would make him more gentle; but I cannot help seeing that in reality he is growing even more violent than before.... Whenever I think of it I am plunged into deep distress.”[918]

Leo Judæ, one of the leaders of the Swiss Reformation, and an opponent of Wittenberg, “accuses Luther of drunkenness and all manner of things; such a bishop [he says] he would not permit to rule over even the most insignificant see.” Thus in a letter to Bucer on April 24, 1534, quoted by Theodore Kolde in his “Analecta Lutherana,”[919] who, unfortunately, does not give the actual text. According to Kolde, Leo Judæ continues: “Even the devil confesses Christ. I believe that since the time of the Apostles no one has ever spoken so disgracefully (‘_turpiter_’) as Luther, so ridiculously and irreligiously. Unless we resist him betimes, what else can we expect of the man but that he will become another Pope, who orders things first one way then another (‘_fingit et refingit_’), consigns this one to Satan and that one to heaven, puts one man out of the Church and receives another into it again, until things come to such a pass that he acts as Judge over all whilst no one pays the least attention to him?” With the exception of rejecting infant baptism, so Kolde goes on, Luther appeared to Judæ no better than Schwenckfeld, with whom Bucer would have nought to do; Judæ proceeds: “Not for one hundred thousand crowns would I have all evangelical preachers to resemble Luther; no one could compare with him for his wealth of abuse and for his woman-like, impotent agitation; his clamour and readiness of tongue are nowhere to be equalled.”[920]

Powerful indeed is the rhetorical outburst of Zwingli in a letter to Conrad Sam the preacher of Ulm, dated August 30, 1528: “May I be lost if he [Luther] does not surpass Faber in foolishness, Eck in impurity, Cochlæus in impudence, and to sum it up shortly, all the vicious in vice.”[921]

Heinrich Bullinger, Zwingli’s successor, attacks Luther in his “Warhafften Bekanntnuss” of 1545 in reply to the latter’s “Kurtz Bekentnis”: “The booklet [Luther’s] is so crammed with devils, unchristian abuse, immoral, wicked, and unclean words, anger, rage and fury that all who read it without being as mad as the author must be greatly surprised and astonished, that so old, gifted, experienced and reputable a man cannot keep within bounds but must break out into such rudeness and filth as to ruin his cause in the eyes of all right-thinking men.”[922]

Johann Agricola, at one time Luther’s confidant and well acquainted with all the circumstances of his life, but later his opponent on the question of Antinomianism, left behind him such abuse of Luther that, as E. Thiele says, “it is difficult to believe such language proceeds, not from one of Luther’s Roman adversaries, but from a man who boasts of having possessed his special confidence.” He almost goes so far, according to Thiele, as to portray him as a “drunken profligate”; he says, “the pious man,” the “man of God (‘_vir Dei_’),” allowed himself to be led astray by the “men of Belial,” i.e. by false friends, and was inclined to be suspicious; he bitterly laments the scolding and cursing of which his works were full. One of his writings, “Against the Antinomians” (1539), was, he says, “full of lies”; in it Luther had accused him in the strongest terms and before the whole world of being a liar; it was “an abominable lie” when Luther attributed to him the statement, that God was not to be invoked and that there was no need of performing good works. When Luther’s tract was read from the pulpit even the Wittenbergers boggled at these lies and said: “Now we see what a monk is capable of thinking and doing.” Agricola also describes Luther’s immediate hearers and pupils at Wittenberg as mere “Sodomites,” and the town as the “Sister of Sodom.”[923] Such is the opinion of this restless, passionate man, who bitterly resented the wrong done him by Luther. (See vol. v., xxix. 3.)

Not all the above accusations are entirely baseless, for some are confirmed by other proofs quite above suspicion. The charge of habitual drunkenness, as will be shown below (xvii. 7), must be allowed to drop; so likewise must that of having been a glutton and of having constantly pandered to sensual passion; that Luther sanctioned immorality among his friends and neighbours can scarcely be squared with his frequent protests against the disorders rife at the University of Wittenberg; finally, we have to reduce to their proper proportions certain, in themselves justifiable, subjects of complaint. That, however, everything alleged against him was a pure invention of his foes, only those can believe whom prejudice blinds to everything which might tell against their hero.

The charges of the Swiss theologians, though so strongly expressed, refer in the main to Luther’s want of restraint in speech and writing; the vigour of their defensive tactics it is easy enough to understand, and, at any rate, Luther’s writings are available for reference and allow us to appreciate how far their charges were justified.

Another necessary preliminary remark is that no detailed accusation was ever brought against Luther of having had relations with any woman other than his wife; nothing of this nature appears to have reached the ears of the writers in question. Due weight must here be given to Luther’s constant anxiety not to compromise the Evangel by any personal misconduct. (See vol. ii., p. 133.) Luther, naturally enough, was ever in a state of apprehension as to what his opponents might, rightly or wrongly, impute to him. That he was liable to be misrepresented,

## particularly by foreigners (Aleander [vol. ii., p. 78] and Catharinus),

is plain from the examples given above. The distance at which Catharinus resided from Wittenberg led him to lend a willing ear to the reports brought by “reliable men,” needless to say opponents of Luther.

The deep dislike felt by faithful Catholics for the Wittenberg professor and their lively abhorrence for certain moral doctrines expressed by him in extravagant language,[924] formed a fertile soil for the growth of legends; some of these, met with amongst the literary defenders of Catholicism after Luther’s death, have been propagated even in modern times, and accordingly call for careful examination at the hands of the Catholic critic. Where Luther himself speaks we are on safe ground, as the method employed above shows. Where, however, we have to listen to strangers doubt must needs arise, and the task of discriminating becomes inevitable, owing to the speaker’s probable prejudice either for or against Luther. This applies, as we have already seen, even to Luther’s contemporaries, but it holds good even more as we approach modern times, when, in the heat of controversy, things were said concerning alleged historical facts, for instance, Luther’s immorality, which were certainly quite unknown to his own contemporaries. Many of Luther’s accusers had never read his works, possibly had not even troubled to look up a single one of the facts or passages cited. We must, however, remember—a fact which serves to some extent to explain the regrettable lack of exactitude and discernment—that the prohibition of reading Luther’s writings was on the whole strictly enforced by the authorities of the Church and conscientiously obeyed by the faithful, even by writers. Only rarely in olden days[925] were dispensations granted. Thus, when attacking Luther, writers were wont to utilise passages quoted by earlier writers, often truncated excerpts given without the context. Misunderstood or entirely incorrect accounts of events connected with his life were accepted as facts, of which now, thanks to his works and

## particularly to his letters, we are in a better position to judge.

Many seemed unaware that the misunderstandings were growing from age to age, the reason being that instead of taking as authorities the best and oldest Luther controversialists, those of a later date were preferred in whose writings facts and quotations had already undergone embellishment. In this wise the older popular literature came to attribute to Luther the strangest statements and to make complaints for which no foundation existed in fact. Incautious interpretation by more recent writers, whose training scarcely fitted them for the task and who might have learnt better by consulting Luther’s works and letters, has led to a still greater increase of the evil.

In the following pages we propose to examine rather more narrowly certain statements which appear in the older and also more recent controversial works.

_Had Luther three children of his own apart from those born of his union with Bora?_

By his wife Luther was father to five children, viz. Hans (1526), Magdalene (1529), Martin (1531), Paul (1533) and Margaret (1534).

The paternity of another child born of a certain Rosina Truchsess, a servant in his house, has also been ascribed to him, it being alleged that his references to this girl are very compromising.[926] The latter assertion, however, does not hold good, if only we read the passages in an unprejudiced spirit; at most they prove that Luther allowed his kindliness to get the better of his caution in receiving into his house one who subsequently proved herself to be both untruthful and immoral, and that, when by her misconduct she had compromised her master and his family, he was exceedingly angry with her. It is incorrect to say that Rosina ever designated Luther as the father of her baby.

The second child was one named Andreas, of whom Luther is said to have spoken as his son. This boy, however, has been proved to have been his nephew, Andreas Kaufmann, who was brought up in Luther’s family. Only through a mistake of the editor is he spoken of in the Table-Talk as “My Enders” and “My son”; later a fresh alteration of the text resulted in: “_filius meus Andreas_.”[927]

The third child was said to have been referred to in the Table-Talk as an “_adulter infans_,” in a passage where mention is made of its having been suckled by Catherine during pregnancy. In Aurifaber’s Table-Talk (1569 edition) “_adulterum infantem_” is, however, a misprint for “_alterum infantem_,” which is the true reading as it appears in the first (1568) edition. It is true that the passage in question mentions of two of Luther’s own children, that his wife was already with child before the first had been weaned.[928]

_Luther and Catherine Bora._

A letter which Luther wrote to his wife from Eisleben shortly before the end of his life, when he was staying at the Court of the Count of Mansfeld, has been taken as an admission of immorality: “I am now, thanks be to God, in a good case were it not for the pretty women who press me so hard that I again go in fear and peril of unchastity.”[929] What exactly means this reference to unchastity? As a matter of fact, after having partially recovered from his malady, he is here seeking to allay his wife’s anxiety by adopting a jesting tone, though perhaps exception might be taken to the nature of his jest. That what he says was intended as a joke is plain also from the superscription of the letter, addressed to the “Pork dealer,” an allusion to her purchase of a garden close to the Wittenberg pig-market. In the letter he explains humorously to his anxious wife (this too has been taken seriously), that his catarrh and giddiness had been wholly caused by the Jews, viz. by a cold wind raised up against him by them or their God (he was just then engaged in a controversy with the Jews).—The superscriptions of the various letters to Catherine and the jesting remarks they contain have also been taken far too tragically. Luther was wont to address her as deeply-learned dame, gracious lady, holy and careful lady, most holy Katey, Doctoress, etc., also as My Lord Katey and Gracious Lord Katey. It may be that the latter appellations refer to a certain haughtiness peculiar to her; but it would be to misunderstand him entirely to see in this or even in the name “Kette” = chain, which he applies to her now and then, an involuntary admission that he was bound by the fetters of a self-willed wife. We have seen how he once spoke of her in a letter previous to his marriage as his “mistress” (Metze), which has led careless controversialists to fancy that Luther quite openly had admitted that she was “his concubine” (vol. ii., p. 183). At any rate, not only was Luther’s language unseemly in many of his letters and in his intercourse with his Wittenberg circle, but this license of speech seems even to have infected the ladies of the party, at least if we may credit Simon Lemnius who, on the strength of what he had seen at Wittenberg, says that the wives of Luther, Justus Jonas and Spalatin vied with each other in indecent stories and confidences.[930] Thus we cannot take it amiss if the Catholics of that day, to whose ears came such rumours—doubtless already magnified—were too ready to credit them and to give open expression to their surmises. An instance of this is what Master Joachim von der Heyden wrote, in 1528, to Catherine Bora, viz. that she had lived with Luther before their marriage in shameful and open lewdness—_as was said_.[931]

_Did Luther indulge in “the Worst Orgies” with the Escaped Nuns in the Black Monastery of Wittenberg?_

To give an affirmative reply to this would call for very strong proofs, which, in point of fact, are not forthcoming. The passage in the Latin Table-Talk[932] quoted in justification contains nothing of the sort, but, strange to say, a very fine exhortation to continence. For this reason we must again consider it, though it has already been dealt with. The exhortation commences with the words: “God is Almighty, Eternal, Merciful, Longsuffering, Chaste, etc. He loves chastity, purity, modesty. He aids and preserves it by the sacred institution of marriage in order that [as Paul says] each one may possess his vessel in sanctification, free from unbridled lust. He punishes rape, adultery, fornication, incest and secret sins with infamy and terrible bodily consequences. He warns such sinners that they shall have no part in the Kingdom of God. Therefore let us be watchful in prayer,” etc. It is true, however, that this pious exhortation is set off by frivolous remarks, and it is probably one of these which suggested the erroneous reference. Luther here speaks of his young “relative,” Magdalene Kaufmann—a girl of marriageable age living in his house—and of two other maidens of the same age, remarking that formerly people had been ready for marriage at an earlier age than now, but that he was ready to vouch for the fitness of these three wenches for conjugal work, even to staking his wife on it, etc. Of any “wicked orgies” we hear nothing whatever. Further, it is inexact to state, as has been done, that Luther was surrounded in “his dwelling” by nuns whom he had given a lodging. Neither before nor after his marriage did they stay with him permanently; as already stated (vol. ii., p. 138) he either handed over the escaped nuns to their friends or lodged them in families at Wittenberg. Only on one occasion, in September, 1525, when in the hurry it was impossible to find accommodation for a new band of fugitives, did he receive them temporarily, possibly only for a few days, in the great “Black Monastery.”[933] There, as he himself then expressed it, he was “_privatus pater familias_.”

_The Passages “which will not bear repetition.”_

The popular writer who is responsible for the tale of the “orgies” also declares, there are “other admissions of Luther’s” “which will not bear repetition.” No such admissions exist. The phrase that this or that will not bear repetition is, however, a favourite one among controversialists of a certain school, though very misleading; many, no doubt, will have been quite disappointed on looking up the passages in question in Luther’s writings to find in them nothing nearly so bad as they had been led to expect; this, indeed, was one of the reasons which impelled us rigidly to exclude from the present work any reservation and to give in full even the most revolting passages. Of one of Luther’s Theses against the theologians of Louvain we read, for instance, in a controversial pamphlet which is not usually

## particular about the propriety of its quotations, that the author does

“not dare reproduce it”; yet, albeit coarsely worded, the passage in question really contains nothing so very dreadful, and, as for its coarseness, it is merely such as every reader of Luther’s works is prepared to encounter. The passage thus incriminated, which reads comically enough in its scholastic presentation (Thesis 31), runs as follows: “_Deinde nihil ex scripturis, sed omnia ex doctrinis hominum ructant [Lovanienses], vomunt et cacant in ecclesiam, non suam sed Dei viventis_.”[934] The German translation in the original edition of 1545 slightly aggravates the wording of the Thesis.[935]

Two other assertions to Luther’s disadvantage have something in common; one represents as the starting-point of the whole movement which he inaugurated his desire to “wed a girl”; the other makes him declare, three years before the end of his life and as the sum-total of his experience, that the lot of the hog is the most enviable goal of happiness.[936] A third statement goes back to his early youth and seeks to find the explanation of his later faults in a temptation succumbed to when he was little more than a boy. The facts, alleged to belong to his early history, may be taken in connection with kindred matters and examined more carefully than was possible when relating the details of his early development. After that we shall deal with the story of the “hog.”

_Did Luther, as a Young Monk, say that he would push on until he could wed a Girl?_

Such is the story, taken from a Catholic sermon preached in 1580 by Wolfgang Agricola and long exploited in popular anti-Lutheran writings as a proof that Luther really made such a statement. A “document,” an “ancient deed,” nay, even a confidential “letter to his friend Spalatin,” containing the statement have also been hinted at; all this, however, is non-existent; all that we have is the story in the sermon.

The sermon, which is to be found in an old Ingolstadt print,[937] contains all sorts of interesting religious memories of Spalatin, the influential friend of Luther’s youthful days. The preacher was Dean in the little town of Spalt, near Nuremberg, Spalatin’s birthplace, from which the latter was known by the name of Spalatinus, his real name being Burkard. The recollections are by no means all of them equally vouched for, and hence we must go into them carefully in order rightly to appreciate the value of each. We shall see that those dealing with Luther’s love-adventures are the least to be trusted.

Agricola first gives some particulars concerning Spalatin’s past, which seem founded on reliable tradition; in this his object is to confirm Catholics in their fidelity to the Church. Spalatin, in the course of a journey, came to his birthplace and, with forty-six gulden, founded a yearly Mass for his parents, the anniversary having been kept ever since, “even to the present day.” It is evident that this was vouched for by written documents. To say, as some Protestants have, that this and what follows is the merest invention, is not justified. Agricola goes on to inform us that Spalatin settled the finances of the family, and that, on this occasion, he presented to the township of Spalt a picture of Our Lady, which had once belonged to the Schlosskirche of Wittenberg, requesting, however, that, out of consideration for Luther, the fact of his being the donor should be kept secret until after his death. Agricola also tells how, during his stay, Spalatin invited the “then Dean, Thomas Ludel,” with the members of the chapter to be his guests, and in turn accepted their hospitality; he also attended the Catholic sermons in order to ascertain how the Word of God was preached. Thomas Ludel, the Dean, found opportunity quite frankly to discuss Spalatin’s religious attitude, whereupon the latter said: “Stick to your own form of Divine Service,” nor did Spalatin shrink from giving the same advice to the people. Every year, says Agricola, the picture of Our Lady which he had presented was placed on the High Altar to remind the faithful of the exhortation of their fellow-citizen.[938] The picture in question is still to be seen to-day at Spalt.[939] The narrator goes so far as to declare, that during the Dean’s observations on his religious conduct “the tears came to Spalatin’s eyes”; “I admit,” he said, “that we carried things too far.... God be merciful to us all!” From Luther’s correspondence we know that Spalatin, in later days, was much disquieted by melancholy and temptations to despair. Luther, by his letters, sought to inspire his friend as he approached the close of his life with confidence in Christ, agreeably with the tenets of the new Evangel.[940]

Almost all that Agricola here relates appears, from its local colouring, to be absolutely reliable, but this is by no means the case with what is of more interest to us, viz. the account of Luther as prospective bridegroom which he appends to his stories of Spalatin. The difference between this account and what has gone before cannot fail to strike one.

According to this story of Agricola’s, set in a period some three-quarters of a century earlier, Luther, as a young Augustinian, at Erfurt struck up a friendship with Spalatin who was still studying there. At the University were two other youths from Spalt, George Ferber, who subsequently became Doctor, parish-priest and Dean of Spalt, and Hans Schlahinhauffen. All four became fast friends, and Luther was a frequent visitor at the house where they lived with a widow who had a pretty daughter. He became greatly enamoured of the girl and “taught her lace-making,” until the mother forbade him the house. He often declared: “Oh, Spalatin, Spalatin, you cannot believe how devoted I am to this pretty maid; I will not die before I have brought things to such a pass that I also shall be able to marry a nice girl.” Eventually, with the assistance of Spalatin, Luther, so we are told, introduced his innovations, partly in order to make himself famous, partly in order to be able to marry a girl.[941]

It is hardly probable that Wolfgang Agricola himself invented this story of the monk; more likely he found it amongst the numerous tales concerning Spalatin current at Spalt. His authority for the tale he does not give. It can scarcely have emanated from Spalatin himself—for instance, have been told by him on the occasion of the visit mentioned above—for then Agricola would surely have said so. It more probably belongs to that category of obscure myths clustering round the early days of Luther’s struggle with the Church.

What is, however, of greater importance is that the monk’s behaviour, as here described, does not tally with the facts known. During his first stay at the Erfurt monastery Luther was not by any means the worldly young man here depicted, and even during his second sojourn there (autumn, 1508—autumn, 1510) no one remarked any such tendency in him; on the contrary, the seven Observantine priories chose him as their representative at Rome, presumably because he was a man in whom they could trust. We may call to mind that the then Cathedral Provost of Magdeburg, Prince Adolf of Anhalt, received letters from him at this time attesting his zeal for the “spiritual life and doctrine,”[942] and that Luther’s opponent, Cochlæus, from information received from Luther’s brethren, gives him credit for the careful observance of the Rule in the matter of spiritual exercises and studies during his first years as a monk.[943] The notable change in Luther’s outward mode of life took place only after his return from Rome when he abandoned the cause of the Observantine party.

Spalatin commenced his studies at Erfurt in 1498 and continued them from 1502 at Wittenberg; thence, on their termination, he returned to Erfurt in order to take up the position of tutor at a mansion, which he soon quitted to become (1505-1508) spiritual preceptor in the neighbouring convent of Georgenthal. Thus the date of his first stay at Erfurt was too early for him, while himself a student, to have met Luther as a monk, seeing that the latter only entered the monastery in 1505. His second stay presents this further difficulty, that it is not likely that Spalatin lived with the other students at the widow’s house, but, first in a wealthy family, and, later, either in or near the convent. Further, were the other two youths hailing from Spalt then at Erfurt? A certain Johannes Schlaginhaufen from Spalt was there in 1518 and is also mentioned as being at the University in 1520. He is, perhaps, the same as the compiler of the Table-Talk edited by Wilhelm Preger,[944] but, if so, he was not a fellow-student of Luther’s at Erfurt. No other similar name appears in the register. The name of the second, George Ferber, cannot be found at all in the Erfurt University register, nor any Farber, Färber or Tinctoris even with another Christian name. Thus there are difficulties on every side.

Then again, the familiar visits to the girl, as though there had been no Rule which debarred the young religious from such intercourse. We know that even in 1516 the Humanist Mutian had great trouble in obtaining permission for an Augustinian frequently to visit his house at Erfurt, even accompanied by another Friar.[945]

Hence, however deserving of credit Agricola’s other accounts of Spalatin may be, we cannot accept his story of Luther’s doings as a monk. Nor is this the only statement concerning the earlier history of the Reformation in which Agricola has gone astray. The story may have grown up at Spalt owing to some misunderstanding of something said by George Ferber, the Dean of Spalt, who was supposed to have been a fellow-student of Luther’s at Erfurt, and who may possibly have related tales of the young Augustinian’s early imprudence. It is however possible, in fact not at all unlikely, that, in 1501, when Luther was still a secular student at Erfurt, and according to the above, a contemporary of Spalatin’s, he took a passing fancy to a girl in the house where Spalatin boarded, and that, during the controversies which accompanied the Reformation, a rumour of this was magnified into the tale that, as a monk, Luther had courted a girl, had been desirous of marrying, and, for this reason, had quitted both his Order and the Church.

_Luther’s stay as a boy in Cotta’s house at Eisenach no ground for a charge of immorality._

Entirely unfounded suspicions have been raised concerning Luther’s residence in Frau Cotta’s house at Eisenach (vol. i., p. 5). There is not the slightest justification for thinking that Frau Cotta—who has erroneously been described as a young widow—acted from base motives in thus receiving the youth, nor for the tale of his charming her by his playing on the lute or the flute.

Cuntz (Conrad) Cotta, the husband of Ursula Cotta (her maiden-name was Schalbe), was still living when Luther, at the age of fifteen or sixteen, was so kindly received into the house and thus dispensed from supplementing his small resources by singing in the streets. Conrad’s name appears in 1505 in the Eisenach registers as one of the parish representatives. His wife Ursula, witness her tombstone, died in 1511.[946] How old she was at the time she became acquainted with Luther cannot be determined, but quite possibly, she, like her husband, was no longer young. The date of death of two supposed sons of hers would certainly tend to show that she was then still young, but these two Cottas, as has been proved, were not her sons, though they may have been nephews. Conrad Cotta is not known to have had any children, and the fact of his being childless would explain all the more readily Luther’s reception into his household.

Mathesius, in his frequently quoted historical sermons on Luther,[947] says, that “a pious matron” admitted the poor scholar to her table. He is referring to Ursula Cotta. The word matron which he makes use of seems intended to denote rather respectability than advanced age. That he should mention only the wife is probably due to the fact that she, rather than her husband, was Luther’s benefactress. He seems to have had the account from Luther himself, who, it would appear, told him the story together with the edifying cause of his reception. This Mathesius relates in a way which excludes rather than suggests any thought of dishonourable motives. He says that the matron conceived a “yearning attraction for the boy on account of his singing and his earnest prayer in the churches.” The expression “yearning attraction,” which sounds somewhat strange to us, was not unusual then and comes naturally to a preacher rather inclined to be sentimental, as was Mathesius. Ratzeberger the physician, a friend of Luther’s to whom the latter may also have spoken of his stay at Eisenach, merely says, that the scholar “found board and lodging at Cuntz Cotta’s.” Thus he credits the husband with the act of charity.

Luther could not well have played the flute there, seeing that he never learned to play that instrument; as for the lute, he became proficient on it only during his academic years; nor does any source allude to musical entertainments taking place in the Cotta household.

Luther relates later in the Table-Talk,[948] that he had learned this saying from his “hostess at Eisenach,” i.e. Frau Cotta: “There is nought dearer on earth than the love of woman to the man who can win it.” This, however, affords no ground for thinking evil. The saying was a popular one in general use and may quite naturally refer to the love existing between husband and wife. It is another question whether it was quite seemly on Luther’s part to quote this saying as he did in his Glosses on the Bible, in connection with the fine description of the “_mulier fortis_” (Proverbs xxxi. 10 ff.), so distinguished for her virtue.

_Did Luther describe the lot of the Hog as the most enviable Goal of Happiness?_

In view of the fear of death which he had often experienced when lying on the bed of sickness, Luther, so we are told, came to envy the lot of the hog, and to exclaim: “I am convinced that anyone who has felt the anguish and terror of death would rather be a pig than bear it for ever and ever.” That such are his words is perfectly true, and he even goes on to give a graphic description of the happy and comfortable life a pig leads until it comes under the hand of the butcher, all due to its unacquaintance with death.[949]

It should first be noted that, throughout the work in question, “Von den Jüden und jren Lügen,” Luther is busy with the Jews. He compares the happiness which, according to him, they await from their Messias, with that enjoyed by the pig.[950] In his cynical manner he concludes that the happiness of the pig was even to be preferred to Jewish happiness, for the Jews would not be “secure for a single hour” in the material happiness they expected, for they would be oppressed by the “horrible burden and plague of all men, viz. death,” seeing that they merely look for a temporal king as their Messias, who shall procure them riches, mirth and pleasure. Thereupon we get one of his customary outbursts: “Were God to promise me no other Messias than him for whom the Jews hope, I would very much rather be a pig than a man.”

Yet he proceeds: I, however, as a Christian, have a better Messias, “so that I have no reason to fear death, being assured of life everlasting,” etc. Well might our “heart jump for joy and be intoxicated with mirth.” “We give thanks to the Father of all Mercy.... It was in such joy as this that the Apostles sang and gave praise in prison amidst all their misery, and even young maidens, like Agatha and Lucy,” etc. But the wretched Jews refused to acknowledge this Messias.

How then can one infer from Luther’s words, “I am convinced that anyone who has felt the anguish and terror of death,” etc., that he represented the lot of the hog as the supreme goal of Christians in general and himself in particular? It is true that he magnifies the fear of death which naturally must oppress the heart of every believer, and for the moment makes no account of the consolation of Christian hope, but all this is merely with the object of forcing home more strongly to the Jews whom he is addressing, what he had just said: “Of what use would all this be to me [viz. the earthly happiness which you look for] if I could not be sure of it even for one hour? If the horrible burden and plague of all men, death, still presses on me, from which I am not secure for one instant, but go in fear of it, of hell and the wrath of God, and tremble and shiver at the prospect, and this without any hope of its coming to an end, but continuing for all eternity?” His closing words apply to unbelievers who are ignorant of the salvation which is in Christ: “It is better to be a live pig than a man who is everlastingly dying.” The passage therefore does not convey the meaning which has been read into it.

We may here glance at some charges in which his moral character is involved, brought against certain doctrines and sayings of Luther.

_Did Luther allow as valid Marriage between Brother and Sister?_

The statement made by some Catholics that he did can be traced back to a misunderstanding of the simple word “dead.” This word he wrote against several passages of a memorandum of Spalatin’s on matrimonial questions submitted by the Elector in 1528, for instance, against one which ran: “Further, brother and sister may not marry, neither may a man take his brother’s or sister’s daughter or granddaughter. And similarly it is forbidden to marry one’s father’s, grandfather’s, mother’s or grandmother’s sister.”[951] The word “dead” here appended does not mean that the prohibition has ceased to hold, but is equivalent to “delete,” and implies that the passage should be omitted in print. Luther considered it unnecessary or undesirable that the impediments in question should be mentioned in this “Instruction”; he prefers that preachers should as a general rule simply insist on compliance with the Laws of the Empire.

The accompanying letter of the Elector, in which he requests Luther to read through the memorandum, anticipates such a recommendation to omit. In it the writer asks whether “it would perhaps be better to leave this out and to advise the pastors and preachers of this fact in the Visitation,”[952] since, in any case, the “Imperial Code,” in which everything was contained in detail, was to be taken as the groundwork. Against many clauses of the Instruction Luther places the word “_placet_”; a “_non placet_” occurs nowhere; on the other hand, we find frequently “_omittatur_, dead, all this dead” (i.e. “delete”); he also says: “_hoc manebit, hactenus manebit textus_” (equivalent to “stet”). If “dead” had meant the same as “this impediment no longer holds,” then Luther would here have removed the impediment even between father and daughter, mother and son, seeing that he writes “dead” also against the preceding clause, which runs: “Firstly, the marriage of persons related in the ascending and descending line is prohibited throughout and _in infinitum_.”

_Did Luther Recommend People to Pray for Many Wives and Few Children?_

This charge, too, belongs to the old armoury of well-worn weapons beloved of controversialists. The answer to the question may possibly afford material of some interest to the historian and man of letters.

Down to quite recent times it was not unusual to find in Catholic works a story of a poem, said to have been by Luther, found in a MS. Bible in the Vatican Library, in which Luther prayed that God in His Goodness would bestow “many wives and few children.” At the present day no MS. Bible containing a poem by Luther, or any similar German verses, exists in the Vatican Library. What is meant, however, is a German translation of Holy Scripture, in five volumes, dating from the fifteenth century, which was formerly kept in the Vatican and now belongs to the Heidelberg University library. It is one of those Heidelberg MSS. which were brought to Rome in 1623 and again wandered back to their old quarters in 1816 (Palat. German. n. 19-23). The “poem” in question is at the end of vol. ii. (cod. 20). Of it, as given by Bartsch (“Die altdeutschen Handschriften der Universität Heidelberg”) and Wilken (“Heidelberger Büchersammlung”),[953] we append a rough translation:

God Almighty, Thou art good, Give us coat and mantle and hood,

* * * * *

Many a cow and many a ewe, _Plenty of wives and children few_.

Explicit: A small wage Makes the year to seem an age.

The “poem” has nothing whatever to do with Luther. It is a product of the Middle Ages, met with under various forms. The “Explicit,” too, is older than Luther and presumably was added by the copyist of the volume. In the seventeenth century the opinion seems to have gained ground that Luther was the author, though no Roman scholar can be invoked as having said so. Of the MS. Montfaucon merely says: “A very old German Bible is worthy of notice”; Luther’s name he does not mention.[954]

One witness for the ascription of its authorship to Luther was Max. Misson, who, in his “Nouveau voyage d’Italie,”[955] gives the “poem” very inaccurately and states that a Bible was shown him at the Vatican in which Luther was said to have written it, and that the writing was the same as that of the rest of the volume. He adds, however, that it was hardly credible that Luther should have written such things in a Bible.

Later, Christian Juncker, a Protestant, relates the same thing in his “Life of Luther,” published in 1699, but likewise expresses a doubt. He quotes the discourse on Travels in Italy by Johann Fabricius, the theologian of Helmstedt, where the version of the verses differs from that given by Misson.[956]

According to a record of a journey to Rome undertaken in 1693, given by Johann Friedrich von Wolfframsdorf, he, too, was shown a MS. Bible alleged to have been written by Luther, doubtless that mentioned above.[957]

As a matter of fact the “poem” in question was a popular mediæval one, frequently met with in manuscripts, sometimes in quite inoffensive forms. At any rate, the jingling rhymes (in the German original: Güte, Hüte, Rinder, Kinder) are the persistent feature. According to Bartsch it occurs in the Zimmern Chronik[958] in a version attributed to Count Hans Werdenberg (1268), which, while retaining the same rhymes (in the German), inverts the meaning. Here the prayer is for:

Potent stallions, portly oxen, Buxom women, _plenty children_.

From a MS., “_Gesta Romanorum_,” of 1476, J. L. Hocker (“_Bibliotheca Heilbronnensis_”[959]), quotes a similar but shorter verse.[960] A different rendering of the poem was entered into a Diary in 1596 by Wolff von Stechau.[961]

Certain Protestant writers of the present day, not content with “saving Luther’s honour” by emphasising the fact that the above verses of the Heidelberg MS. are not his, proceed to insinuate that they were really “aimed at the clergy”; the “hoods” and “hats” of which they speak were forsooth the monks’ and the cardinals’, and the rhymester was all the time envying the gay life of the clergy; thus the poem, so we are told, throws a “lurid light on the esteem in which the mediæval monks and clergy were held by the laity committed to their care.”—Yet the verses contain no reference whatever to ecclesiastics. “Hoods” were part of the layman’s dress and presumably “hats,” too. And after all, would it have been so very wicked even for a pious layman to wish to share in the good things possessed by the clergy? If satires on the mediæval clergy are sought for, sufficient are to be found without including this poor jingle.

_Did Luther include Wives in the “Daily Bread” of the Our Father?_

Controversial writers have seen fit to accuse Luther of including wives in the “daily bread” for which we ask, and, in support of their charge, refer to his explanation of the fourth request of the Our Father. In point of fact in the Smaller Catechism the following is his teaching concerning this petition: It teaches us to ask God “for everything required for the sustenance and needs of the body, such as food, drink, clothes, shoes and house, a farm, fields, cattle, money, goods, a _pious spouse,_ pious children and servants, and good masters, etc.[962] In the Larger Catechism the list is similar: Food and drink, clothes, a house and farm, health of body, grain and fruits, a pious wife, children and servants,” etc.[963] With all this surely no fault can be found.

_Was Luther the originator of the proverb: “Who loves not woman, wine and song remains a fool his whole life long”?_

These verses are found neither in Luther’s own writings nor in the old notes and written traditions concerning him. Joh. Heinrich Voss was the first to publish them in the “Wandsbeker Bote” in 1775, reprinting them in his Musenalmanach (1777). When he was charged by Senior Herrenschmidt with having foisted them on to Luther, he admitted that he was unable to give any account of their origin.[964] Several proverbs of a similar type, dating from mediæval times, have been cited.

A humorous remark of Luther’s would appear, according to Seidemann, to refer to some earlier proverb linking together women, wine and song. The remark in question is contained in the MS. collection of the Table-Talk preserved at Gotha and known as “_Serotina_,” now available in the work of E. Kroker, published in 1903.[965] The entire passage is not to be taken seriously: “To-morrow I have to lecture on Noe’s drunkenness, so to-night I shall drink deeply so as to be able to speak of the naughty thing from experience. ‘Not at all,’ said Dr. Cordatus, ‘you must do just the opposite.’ Thereupon Luther remarked: ‘Each country must be granted its own special fault. The Bohemians are gluttons, the Wends thieves, the Germans hard drinkers; for my dear Cordatus, in what else does a German excel than ‘_ebrietate, praesertim talem, qui non diligit musicam et mulieres_’?” This saying of Luther’s, which was noted down by Lauterbach and Weller, belongs to the year 1536.

7. The “Good Drink”

Among the imputations against Luther’s private life most common among early controversial writers was that of being an habitual drunkard.

On the other hand, many of Luther’s Protestant supporters down to our own day have been at pains to defend him against any charge of intemperance. Even scholarly modern biographers of Luther pass over this point in the most tactful silence, or with just the merest allusion, though they delight to dwell on his “natural enjoyment of life.”

The following pages may help to show the failings of both methods, of that pursued by Luther’s opponents, with their frequently quite unjustifiable exaggerations, and of that of his defenders with their refusal to discuss even the really existing grounds for complaint.[966] To begin with, Luther’s enemies must resign themselves to abandon some of the proofs formerly adduced for his excessive addiction to drink.

_Unsatisfactory Witnesses._

Luther’s saying: “If I have a can of beer, I want the beer-barrel as well,”[967] has often been cited against him, the fact being overlooked, that he only made use of this expression in order to illustrate, by a very common example, the idea, expressed in the heading of the chapter in which it occurs, viz. that “No one is ever satisfied.” Everyone, he continues, desires to go one step higher, everyone wants to attain to something more, and, then, with other examples, he gives that mentioned above, where, for “I,” we might equally well substitute “we,” which indeed we find employed elsewhere in this same connection: “If we have one Gulden, we want a hundred.”

Another passage, alleged, strange to say, by older writers, proves nothing: “We eat ourselves to death, and drink ourselves to death; we eat and drink ourselves into poverty and down to hell.” Here Luther is merely speaking against the habit of drinking which had become so prevalent, and dominated some to such an extent that death and hell were the lamentable consequences to be feared. (See below, p. 308 f.)

Luther, wishing to drive a point home, says that he is not “drunk,”[968] but is writing “in the morning hours.”[969] Must we infer, then, that he was in the habit of writing when drunk, or that in the afternoon he was not usually sober? Must he be considered drunk whenever he does not state plainly that he is sober? The truth is that such expressions were merely his way of speaking. In the important passage here under consideration he writes: “Possibly it may be asserted later that I did not sufficiently weigh what I say here against those who deny the presence of Christ in the Sacrament; but I am not drunk or giddy; I know what I am saying and what it will mean to me on Judgment Day and at the second coming of the Lord Jesus Christ.”[970] Thus he is speaking most seriously and uses this curious verbal artifice simply to emphasise his earnestness. Were additional proof necessary it might be found in other passages; for instance: “Christ was not drunk when He said this,” viz. the Eucharistic words of consecration, the literal meaning of which Luther is upholding against the Strasburg Sacramentarians.[971]

For the purpose of discrediting Luther an old opponent wrote: “The part that eating and drinking play in the life of the Reformer is evident from his letters to his Katey,” and then went on to refer to the perfectly innocent passage where Luther says, that he preferred the beer and wine he was used to at home to what he was having at Dessau, whence he wrote. The rest of the letter has also been taken in an unnecessarily tragic sense: “Yesterday I had some poor stuff to drink so that I had to begin singing: ‘If I can’t drink deep then I am sad, for a good deep drink ever makes me so glad.’” It is quite unnecessary to take this as a song sung by a “tipsy man”; it is simply a jesting reference to a popular ditty which quite possibly he had actually struck up to get rid of his annoyance at the quality of the liquor. “You would do well,” he continues in the same jocular vein, “to send me over the whole cellar full of my usual wine, and a bottle of your beer as often as you can, else I shall not turn up any more for the new brew.”[972]

No one who is familiar with his homely mode of speech will take offence at his calling himself on one occasion the “corpulent Doctor,” and in any case this involves neither gluttony nor drunkenness. Moreover, the words occur in a serious connection, for we shall hear it from him during the last days of his life: “When I return again to Wittenberg I shall lay myself in my coffin and give the worms a corpulent doctor to feast on,”[973] referring, of course, to his natural stoutness. Offence has also been taken at a sentence met with in Luther’s Table-Talk, where he says of his contemporaries of fifty years before: “How thin they [i.e. their ranks] have become”; from which it was inferred that he wished them a luxurious life and corpulence, and that he “regarded pot bellies as an ornament and a thing to be desired.” From its context, however, the meaning of the word “thin” is clear. What Luther means is: How few of them remain in the land of the living.

But does not Luther in a letter of his let fall a remark scarcely beseeming one in his position, viz. that he would like to be more frequently in the company of those “good fellows, the students,” “the beer is good, the parlour-maid pretty, the lads friendly (innig)”?[974] Such is one of the statements brought forward against him to show his inordinate love of drink. Yet, when examined, the letter is found to say nothing of any yearning of Luther’s to join in the drinking-bouts of the students or of any interest of his in the maid. “Two honest students” had been recommended to Luther, and the letter informs its addressee, the Mansfeld Chancellor Müller at Eisleben, of the rumour that “too much was being consumed without any necessity by the pair”; the Chancellor was to inform the Count of Mansfeld of the fact in order that he (whose protégés they may have been) “might keep an eye on them.” Then come the words: “What harm would friendly supervision do? The beer is good, the parlour-maid pretty and the lads young (‘jung’ not ‘innig’); the students really behave very well, and my only regret is that, owing to my weak health, I am unable to be oftener with them.” This letter surely does Luther credit. It testifies to his solicitude for the two youths committed to his care; seeing they are still “good and pious,” he is anxious to preserve them from intemperance and other dangers, and regrets that, owing to his poor state of health, he is unable to have the pleasure of visiting these young fellows more often.

We must also caution our readers against an alleged quotation from Luther’s contemporary, Simon Lemnius. Lemnius is reported to have said: “His excessive indulgence in wine and beer made Luther at times so ill that he quite expected to die.” No such statement occurs in the works of Lemnius. What this writer actually did say of Luther on the score of drunkenness will be given later. The above words are a modern invention, though one author, strange to say, actually tacked them on to the authentic passage in Lemnius as though they had belonged to the latter.

Again, it has been said that excessive indulgence in some Malvasian wine was, on Luther’s own admission, the cause of a malady which troubled him for a considerable time in 1529. Luther’s letter in question speaks, however, of a “severe and almost fatal catarrh,” which lasted for a long time and almost deprived him of his voice; others, too, says Luther, had suffered from the catarrh (no great wonder in the month of March or April), but not to the same extent as he. He had imprudently aggravated the trouble possibly by preaching too energetically or—and here comes the incriminating passage—“by drinking some adulterated Malvasian to the health of Amsdorf.” Such were his words to his confidential friend Jonas. The fact is that a wine so expensive as Malvasian was then very liable to being adulterated, the demand far exceeding the supply of this beverage, which was always expected to figure on the table on great occasions. At any rate, there is no mention here of Luther’s illness having arisen from continuous and excessive indulgence in wine. At the conclusion of this chapter we shall have to consider a similar passage.

In the above we have examined about a dozen witnesses, whose testimony has been shown quite valueless to prove Luther’s alleged devotion to drink.

The conclusions which have been drawn from the character of certain of Luther’s writings or utterances are also worthless. It has been affirmed that his “Wider das Bapstum vom Teuffel gestifft” could only have been written “under the excitement produced by drink,” and that many of his sayings, such as his exhortation to “pray for Our Lord God,” could have been uttered “only by a drunken man.”

Yet his incredible hatred sufficed of itself to explain the frenzy of his utterances, nor must we forget that some of his expressions, out of place though they may seem, were chosen as best fitted to appeal to the populace. “Pray for Our Lord God,” interpreted in the light of other similar expressions used by him, means: Pray for the interests of our Lord God and of the new Evangel.

_Other Witnesses, Friendly and Hostile._

Before proceeding to scrutinise in detail the more cogent testimonies, we may remark that one trait in Luther’s character, that namely which caused him to be called the “merry boon companion,” might possibly be invoked in support of the charge now under consideration.

It was his struggle with the gloomy moods to which he was so prone that drove Luther into cheerful company and to seek relief in congenial conversation and in liquor. That he was not over-scrupulous concerning indulgence in the latter comfort is attested by his own words, viz. that he was too fond of jests and convivial gatherings (“_iocis aut conviviis excedere_”), and that the world had some grounds for taking offence (“_inveniat in me quo offendatur et cadat_”).[975] Yet he was very desirous of avoiding such accusations on the part of his opponents, though, as he puts it, they “calumniate even what is best and most inoffensive.”[976] When he says elsewhere in his usual gross way: “They spy out everything that concerns me, and no sooner do I pass a motion than they smell it at Rome,”[977] this exclamation was called forth by the scandalous excess in drinking of which a member of his family was habitually guilty.

Then, again, the drinking habits of the Germans of those days must be borne in mind. A man had to be a very hard drinker to gain the reputation of being a drunkard. Instances will be given later showing how zealously Luther attacked the vice of drunkenness in Germany. At that time a man (even though a theologian or other person much exposed to the gaze of the public) was free to imbibe far more than was good for him without remarks being made or his conduct censured.

Luther’s extraordinary industry and the astounding number of his literary productions must likewise not be lost sight of. We are compelled to ask ourselves whether it is likely that the man who wrote works so numerous and profound, in the midst, too, of the many other cares which pressed on him, was addicted to habitual drunkenness. How could the physical capacity for undertaking and executing such immense labours, and the energy requisite for the long, uninterrupted religious and literary struggle into which Luther threw himself, be found in one who unceasingly quenched an excessive thirst with alcoholic drink? Kawerau has sketched Luther’s “colossal mental productivity” during the one year 1529, a year in which he was not engaged in any of his accustomed literary feuds.[978] Works published during that year cover, in the Weimar edition, 287 pages, in imperial octavo, his lectures on Deuteronomy 247 pages and the notes of his sermons (some, however, in duplicate) 824 pages. In addition to this he was at work on his German translation of the Old Testament, completing the Pentateuch and making a beginning with the remaining historical books. Besides this he wrote in that year countless letters, of which comparatively few, viz. 112, are still extant. He also undertook five short journeys lasting together about a fortnight.

During the short and anxious period, amounting to 173 days, which he spent, in 1530, in the Castle of Coburg (it is to this time that some of the charges of excessive drinking refer), he wrote and forwarded to the press various biblical expositions which in the Erlangen edition occupy 718 pages in small octavo, re-wrote in its entirety “Von den Schlüsseln,” a work of 87 pages, was all the while busy with his translation of Jeremias, of a portion of Ezechiel and all the minor Prophets, and finally wrote at least the 128 letters and memoranda which are still extant.[979] Yet, for whole days during this sojourn in the Coburg, he was plagued with noises in the head and giddiness, results, no doubt, of nervous excitement.

That such productivity would not have been possible “without meditation and study”[980] is, however, not quite true in his case. Luther wrote most of his works without reflection and without any real study, merely jotting down carelessly whatever his lively fancy suggested.

Thus we may rightly ask whether the accusation of habitual

## participation in drinking-bouts and constant private excess is

compatible with the work he produced.

In the case of reports of an unfavourable nature it is of course necessary to examine their origin carefully; this unfortunately is not always done. As we already had occasion to remark when dealing with the imputations against his moral character, it makes all the difference whether the witness against him is a Catholic opponent or represents the New Evangel. Amongst Catholics, again, we must discriminate between foreigners, who were ignorant of German customs and who sometimes wrote merely on hearsay, and Luther’s German compatriots. We shall not characterise the method of those of Luther’s defenders who simply refuse to listen to his opponents on the ground that, one and all, they are prejudiced.

Wolfgang Musculus (Mäuslin), an Evangelical theologian, in the account of a journey in May, 1536, during which he had visited Luther, gives an interesting and unbiassed report of what he saw at Wittenberg.[981] On May 29, Luther came, bringing with him Melanchthon and Lucas Cranach, to dine as Mäuslin’s guest at the inn where he was staying. There all had their share of the wine. “When dinner was over,” says the chronicler, “we all went to the house of Master Lucas, the painter, where we had another drink....[982] After this we escorted Luther home, where we drank in true Saxon style. He was marvellously cheerful and promised everything most readily” (i.e. probably all that Musculus proposed concerning the agreement to be come to with the Zwinglians, of whom Musculus was one). The allusion to the “Saxon style” reminds us of Count Hoyer’s reference to the “custom at Mansfeld” (vol. ii., p. 131). Luther’s country does not seem to have been noted for its temperance.

Melanchthon, as one of his pupils relates in the “_Dicta Melanchthoniana_,” tells how on a certain day in March, 1523: “Before dinner (‘_ante coenam_’)” Luther, with two intimates, Justus Jonas and Jacob Probst, the Pastor of Bremen, arrived at Schweinitz near Wittenberg. Here, owing to indigestion, “_cruditas_,” Luther was sick in a room. In order to remove the bad impression made on the servant who had to clean the apartment, Jonas said: “Do not be surprised, my good fellow, the Doctor does this sort of thing every day.” By this he certainly did not mean, as some have thought, that Luther was in the habit of being sick every day as the result of drink; he was merely trying to shield his friend in an embarrassing situation by alleging a permanent illness. Pastor Probst, however, according to Melanchthon’s story, betrayed Jonas by exclaiming: “What a fine excuse!” Jonas thereupon seized him by the throat and said: “Hold your tongue!” At table the pastor was anxious to return to the matter, but Jonas was able to cut him short. Melanchthon concludes the story with a touch of sarcasm: “_Hoc est quando posteriora intelliguntur ex prioribus_.” Was the sickness in this case due to previous drinking?

A letter, written by Luther himself, perhaps will help to explain the matter. On the eve of his return to Wittenberg he writes from Schweinitz on Oculi Sunday, March 8, 1523, to his friend the Court Chaplain Spalatin, that he had come to Schweinitz, where the Elector’s castle stood, in order to celebrate with the father the baptism of the son of a convert Jew named Bernard. “We drank good, pure wine from the Elector’s cellar,” he says; “we should indeed be grand Evangelicals if we feasted to the same extent on the Evangel.... Please excuse us to the Prince for having drunk so much of his Grüneberger wine (‘_quod tantum vini Gornbergici ligurierimus_’). Jonas and his wife greet you, also the godfathers, godmothers and myself; three virgins were present, certainly Jonas, for, as he has no child, we call him a virgin.”[983] The letter, curiously disconnected and containing such strange jests, quite gives the impression of having been written after such a festive gathering as that described by the writer.

In connection with Melanchthon’s story some Protestants have recently urged that, in 1523, Luther was subject to attacks of “sudden indisposition” which came on him in the morning and from which he found relief in vomiting, and that the above incident is explained by this circumstance; the fact that he was sick “before the meal and after a lengthy drive proves that we have to do with a result not of intemperance but of nervous irritation.” Of such “sudden indispositions” arising from nervousness we, however, hear nothing, either during that year or for long after. None of the sources mention anything of the kind. On the contrary, at Whitsun, 1523, Luther wrote to Nicholas Hausmann that he felt “fairly well” (“_satis bene valeo_”); that he was of a nervous temperament is of course true, but that the morning hours were, as a rule, his worst we only begin to learn from his letters in 1530 and 1532; there, moreover, he does not mention sickness, but merely “giddiness and the attacks of Satan,” which were wont to come on him before breakfast, (“_prandium_,”[984] a meal taken about 9 or 10 a.m.). Melanchthon’s story speaks, however, not of the morning at all, but of the time before the “_coena_” (i.e. the principal meal, taken about 5 p.m.), when Luther was presumably no longer fasting.

Still, it would be better not to lay too much stress on this isolated

## particular incident.[985]

Next in the series of statements coming from preachers of the new Evangel, we meet that of Johann Agricola, who, according to Thiele, in the recently discovered notes of his (above, p. 216), when he had already separated from Luther, represents him as a “drunken profligate,” “who gave the rein to his passions and whom only his wife’s sway could influence for good.” Agricola says that Luther had contemptuously put aside certain letters of his, but “at last read them one morning before the wine had mounted to his head (‘_mane, nondum vino calefactus_’). Then he showed himself willing to take me into favour again”; this being the result of Katey’s intercession.

After this we have the testimony of the Swiss theologian, Leo Judæ, who, as Kolde tells us,[986] in the letter to Bucer quoted above (p. 277) and dated April 24, 1534, “reproaches Luther with drunkenness and all manner of things, and declares that such a bishop he would not tolerate even in the tiniest diocese.”

Valentine Ickelsamer, in 1525, voices the “fanatics,” whom Luther was attacking so vigorously, in his complaint, that the latter was “careless and heedless amidst all our needs, and spent his time in utter unconcern with the beer-swillers”; before this he had already said: “I am well acquainted with your behaviour, having been for a while a student at Wittenberg; I will, however, say nothing of your gold finger-ring, which gives scandal to so many people, or of the pleasant room overlooking the water where you drink and make merry with the other doctors and gentlemen.”[987] Neither Ickelsamer nor his friends formulate against Luther any explicit charge of startling or habitual excess. His daily habits, as just depicted, seemed to them to be at variance with his claim to being a divinely appointed preacher, called to raise mankind to higher things, but this was chiefly on account of their own peculiar narrow mysticism. It was from the same standpoint that, wishing to absolve himself from the charge of “inciting to rebellion,” Thomas Münzer, in 1524, writes in his “Schutzrede”[988] against the “witless, wanton lump of flesh at Wittenberg,” also twitting Luther with his “luxurious living” (vol. ii., p. 131), i.e. the daintiness of his food.

With regard to Simon Lemnius, it will suffice to refer to the passage already adduced (p. 274): “Luther boasts of being an evangelical bishop; how then comes it that he lives so far from temperately, being wont to surfeit himself with food and drink?” It is unnecessary to repeat how much caution must be exercised in appealing to this writer’s statements.

Among Catholic critics the first place is taken by the theologian, Ambrosius Catharinus, an Italian who lived far from Germany. His statement regarding Luther’s dancing and drinking has already been given (p. 276). This, together with many other of his strictures[989] on Luther’s teaching and work, were collected by Cochlæus. Catharinus was present at the Council of Trent from 1546-1547 and such reports as these may there have reached his ears. That Luther danced, or as Catharinus says, even led the dances, is not vouched for in any source. Only concerning Melanchthon have we a credible report, that he “sometimes danced.” On the other hand, we do know that Luther was frequently present at balls, weddings, christenings and other such occasions when food and drink were to be had in plenty. So distinguished and pleasant a guest was naturally much in demand, as Luther himself tells us on several occasions.

Luther’s letter to Spalatin, on January 14, 1524, concerning the (real or imaginary) agent sent by King Ferdinand to enquire into his life at Wittenberg, also speaks of the report carried to Court of his intercourse with women and habits of drunkenness (vol. ii., p. 132 f.).

Shortly before, in 1522, Count Hoyer of Mansfeld, a Catholic, wrote in a letter to Count Ulrich of Helfenstein, brought to light by a Protestant historian, “that Luther was a thorough scoundrel, who drank deeply, as was the custom at Mansfeld, played the lute, etc.” (vol. ii., p. 131). If, as we find recounted elsewhere, Luther, on his journey to the Diet, and at Worms itself, partook freely of the costly wines in which his enthusiastic friends pledged him, this was, after all, no great crime. It is probable, however, that some worse tales to Luther’s discredit in this matter of drinking had come to Hoyer’s ear.

At the time of the Diet of Worms, Aleander, the Papal Legate there present, indeed writes that Luther was “addicted to drunkenness,”[990] but the credulous diplomat probably trusted to what he heard from

## parties hostile to Luther and little acquainted with him. (See vol.

ii., p. 78 f.) It is also a fact that, to Italians imbued with the idea that the Germans were drunkards, even quite moderate drinking might seem scandalous.

Cochlæus says of Luther in 1524: “According to what I hear, in his excessive indulgence in beer, Luther is worse than a debauchee.”[991] Here again we have merely an echo of statements made by strangers, albeit in this instance stronger and more positive.—Less weight is to be attached to the account of Jacob Ziegler of Landau, who writes from Rome to Erasmus on February 16, 1522, that there Luther was regarded as “given to fornication and tippling,” adding that he was considered as the precursor of Antichrist.[992]—Of the inhabitants of Wittenberg generally Ulrich Zasius complains, in a letter of December 21, 1521, to Thomas Blaurer, that it was reported they ran almost daily to communion but afterwards swilled beer to such an extent that they were unable to recognise each other.[993] To his other charges against the life led there and against the heads of the movement, Blaurer replied, but, curiously enough, the complaint of drunkenness he does not even refer to.[994] From the detailed description given by a Catholic Canon of Wittenberg on December 29, 1521, we do, however, learn that the greatest abuses prevailed in connection with the Supper, and that some even communicated who had previously been indulging in brandy.[995]

The last witness had nothing to say of Luther personally. On the other hand, another does state that, the night before his death, he was “_plane obrutus potu_.” This, however, comes from a later writer, who lived far away and has shown himself otherwise untrustworthy.[996]

Another less unreliable report also has to do with Luther’s death-bed. Johann Landau, the Mansfeld apothecary, who was a Catholic, and had occasion to handle Luther’s corpse, left the following in the notes he made: “In consequence of excessive eating and drinking the body was full of corrupt juices,” Luther had “exceeded in the use of sweet foreign wines.” “It is said,” he continues, “that he drank every day at noon and in the evening a sextar of rich foreign wine.”[997] This statement does not appear to be restricted to the last days of Luther’s life, which were spent with Count Mansfeld. It is well known that Luther died after a meal. What amount the “sextar” and the “stuebchen,” to be mentioned immediately, represented has not yet been determined, as the measures differed so much in various parts of the country. The sextar, according to G. Agricola, was usually a quarter of the stuebchen, as, according to him, twenty-four sextars or six stuebchen went to one amphora; the sextar itself contained four gills.[998] In a letter of Luther’s, dating from the period of his stay at Mansfeld, we find the following: “We live well here,” he writes to Katey, “and the council allows me for each meal half a gallon of excellent Rheinfall. Sometimes I drink it with my companions. The wine produced here is also good and the Naumburg beer quite capital.”[999] Rheinfall (more correctly Reinfal) was a southern wine then highly prized.[1000] Luther, as a rule, preferred to keep to Naumburg beer.[1001]

_Luther’s Own Comments on the “Good Drink.”_

The following statements of Luther’s concerning his indulgence in spirituous liquors are especially noteworthy; of these some have been quoted without sufficient attention being paid to their real meaning.

“Know that all goes well with me here,” Luther writes in 1540 from Weimar to his Katey, who was anxious about him; “I feed like a Bohemian, and swill like a German, for which God be thanked, Amen.”[1002] Soon after he repeats, in a letter to the same addressee, the phrase which has since grown famous, this time in a slightly amended form: Know “that we are well and cheerful here, thanks be to God; we feed like Bohemians, though not too much, and swill like Germans, not deeply but with jollity.”[1003] He is fond of thus speaking of his “feeding and swilling,” though, such expressions being less unconventional then than now, stress must not be laid on them. In both letters he was clearly seeking by his jests to reassure his wife, who was concerned for his health. During his last weeks at Eisleben he also wrote to Katey: “We have plenty on which to feed and swill.”[1004]

“If the Lord God holds me excused,” he says in a famous utterance in the Table-Talk, “for having plagued Him for quite twenty years by celebrating Mass, He assuredly will excuse me for sometimes indulging in a drink to His honour; God grant it and let the world take it as it will.”[1005]

Of the last decade of Luther’s life his pupil Mathesius relates, that, in the evening, “if not inclined for sleep, he had to take a draught to promote it, often making excuse for so doing: ‘You young fellows must not mind if our Elector and an old chap like me take a generous drink; we have to try and find our pillow and our bolster in the tankard.’”[1006] The same witness relates another utterance of about the same time: “He came home from a party and drank the health of a guest: ‘I must make merry to-day, for I have received bad tidings; for this there is no better cure than a fervent Paternoster and a brave heart. For the demon of melancholy is much put out when a man insists upon being merry.’”[1007]

Here we have two reasons, want of sleep and depression resulting from bad news, which induced him to have a “good drink.” A third reason was furnished by his temptations to doubt and vacillate in faith. The “good drink” must not, however, be too deep as it “recently was at the Electoral couchee at Torgau, where, not satisfied with the usual measures, they pledged each other in half-gallon cans. That they called a good drink. _Sic inventa lege inventa est et fraus legis._”[1008]

Luther’s advice to his pupil Hieronymus Weller, when the latter was tempted and troubled, as stated above (p. 175), was to follow his example and “to drink deeper and jest more freely,” and to answer the devil when he objected to such drinking, that “he would drink all the more because he forbade it”; he himself (Luther), for no other reason, was wont to drink more deeply and talk more freely than to scorn the devil by his “hard drinking.”[1009] “When troubled with gloomy thoughts,” he declared on another occasion, it was his habit “to have a good pull at the beer”; Melanchthon had a different sort of remedy, viz. consulting the stars; Luther, however, considered his practice the better one.[1010]

These and such-like utterances circulated far and wide, often in a highly exaggerated form, and Luther had only himself to thank if many Catholics, on the strength of them, came to regard him as a regular drunkard. This impression was in no way diminished by the rough humour which accompanied his talk of eating and drinking. People then were perfectly acquainted with the fact that the Table-Talk was regarded, even by some enthusiastic Lutherans, as only a half revelation, the truth being that they did not make sufficient allowance for Luther’s vein of humour and exaggeration.

It was, however, quite seriously that Luther spoke in August, 1540, when the excessive drinking of the miners was discussed at table: “It is not well,” he said, “but if they work hard for the rest of the week, then we must allow them some relaxation (at the week-end). Their work is hard and very dangerous and some allowance must be made for the custom of the country. I, too, have an occasional tipple, but not everybody must follow my example, for not all have the work to do that I have.”[1011] Here, accordingly, we have a fourth reason alleged in excuse of his drinking, possibly the most usual and practical one, viz. his fatiguing work.—In May of the same year he expressed his opinion of the extent to which drinking might be allowable in certain circles; this he did because he had been accused of not reproving drunkenness at the Court: “On the contrary,” he says, “I have spoken strongly about it before the whole Court; truly I spoke forcibly and severely to the nobles, reproaching them with tempting and corrupting the Prince. This greatly pleased the old gentleman [the Elector Johann], for he lived temperately.... I said to the nobles: ‘You ought to employ yourselves after dinner in the Palæstra or in some other good exercise, after which you might have a good drink, for drinking is permissible, but drunkenness never (_ebrietas est ferenda, sed ebriositas minime_).’”[1012] “Cheerful people,” he said in May or June, “may sometimes indulge more freely in wine,” but if drinking makes a man angry, he must avoid it like “poison.” These words were meant for his nephew, Hans Polner, who was in the habit of returning to Luther’s house much the worse for drink. With him Luther was very wroth: “On your account I am ill-spoken of by foreigners. My foes spy out everything that goes on about me.... When you do some mischief while drunk, you forget what shame you are bringing not only upon me and on my house, but on the town, the Church and the Evangel. Others after a drinking-bout are merry and friendly; such was the case with my father; they simply sing and jest; but you, you fly into a rage.”[1013]

Luther, when preaching to the people, often denounced the prevalent habit of drinking, a circumstance which must not be overlooked when passing judgment upon him. The German vice of drunkenness which he saw increasing around him in the most alarming manner caused him such distress, that he exclaimed in one of his postils: “Our poor German land is chastised and plagued with this devil of drink, and altogether drowned in this vice, so that life and limb, possessions and honour, are shamefully lost while people lead the life of swine, so that, had we to depict Germany, we should have to show it under the image of a sow.”[1014] Only “the little children, virgins and women” were exempt from the malady; “unless God strikes at this vice by a national calamity everything will go down to the abyss, all sodden through and through with drink.”[1015] Was this the way to be grateful “to the light of the Evangel” which had burst upon Germany?[1016] His question shows that he was speaking primarily of the conditions prevailing under the new Evangel. Looking back on the Catholic past he has perforce to admit, that, although this vice was by no means unknown then, yet “I remember that when I was young it [drunkenness] was looked upon by the nobility as a great shame, and that worthy gentry and Princes sought to combat it by wise prohibitions and penalties; but now it is even worse and more prevalent amongst them than amongst the peasants; so far has it come that even Princes and men of gentle birth learn it from their squires, and are not ashamed of it; it is regarded as honourable and quite a virtue by Princes, nobles and burghers, so that whosoever refuses to become a sodden brute is despised.”[1017]

In powerful passages such as these he assails the vice from both the natural and the supernatural standpoint. Yet his chief complaint is not so much its existence as its appalling extent; his reproofs are intended for those who “get drunk daily,” for those “maddened and sodden with drink,” for those who “day and night are ever pouring the liquor down their throats.” He expressly states that he is willing to be lenient in cases where a man is drunk only now and again. “It may be borne with and overlooked,” he says in the sermon quoted, “if from time to time a person by mistake takes a glass too much, or, after being exhausted by labour and toil, gets a little the worse for drink.”[1018]

In 1534, in an exposition of Psalm ci., where he describes the doings of the “Secular Estate,” he is no less hopeless concerning this plague which afflicts Germany: “Every country must have its own devil; our German devil is a good skin of wine and surely his name is Swill”; until the last day eternal thirst would remain the German’s curse; it was quite useless to seek to remedy matters, Swill still remained the all-powerful god.[1019] More dignified language would assuredly have been better in place here and elsewhere where he deals with this subject. For quaint homeliness it would, however, be hard to beat him; referring to their drinking habits, he tells the great men at the Court: “In the morning you really look as though your heads had been pickled in brine.”[1020] Yet, from the very passage in the Table-Talk where this is recounted, we learn that he said to the guests, again in a far too indulgent strain: “The Lord God must account the drunkenness of us Germans a mere daily [i.e. venial] sin, for we are unable to give it up; nevertheless, it is a shameful curse, harmful alike to body, soul and property.”

_Witnesses to Luther’s Temperate Habits._

Within Luther’s camp the chief witnesses to his temperate habits are Melanchthon and Mathesius.

Melanchthon in his formal panegyric on the deceased says, that “though a stout man, he was very moderate in eating and drinking (‘_natura valde modici cibi et potus_’). I have seen him, when quite in good health, abstaining entirely from food and drink for four days. At other times I frequently saw him content himself for many days with a little bread with kippers.”[1021] His four days’ abstinence, however, probably coincided with one of his attacks—“temptations,” which, as we know from Ratzeberger, his medical adviser, were usually accompanied by intense dislike for food. Besides, before his marriage, Luther had not the same attention and care he received later from his wife. It is not unlikely that Melanchthon was thinking of this period when he speaks of the “bread and kippers,” for the passage really refers to the beginning of his acquaintanceship with Luther, possibly even to his monastic days. However this may be, we must not forget that the clause is part of a panegyric.

Mathesius, Luther’s attentive pupil and admirer, says of him in his sermons, that Luther, “although he was somewhat corpulent, ate and drank little and rarely anything out of the common, but contented himself with ordinary food. In the evening, if not inclined to sleep, he had to take a draught to promote it, often making excuse for so doing.”[1022]

That Luther was perfectly content “without anything out of the common” is confirmed by other writers, and concerning the general frugality of his household there can be no question. In this respect we may well believe what Mathesius says, for he was a regular attendant at Luther’s evening table in the forties of the century. His assertion that Luther “drank but little” must, however, be considered in the light of other of his statements.

What Mathesius thought of the “sleeping-draught” and the feasts at which, so he relates, Luther assisted from time to time, appears from a discourse incorporated by him in his “Wedding-sermons.” Here he speaks of the “noble juice of the grape and how we can make use of it in a godly fashion and with a good conscience”; he is simply the mouthpiece of Luther. Like Luther, he condemns gluttony and “bestial drunkenness,” but is so indulgent in the matter of cheerful carousing that a Protestant Canon in the eighteenth century declared, that Mathesius had gone astray in his sermon on the use of wine.[1023] Mathesius says that we must have “a certain amount of patience” with those who sometimes, for some quite valid reason, “get a little tipsy,” or “kick over the traces,” provided they “don’t do so every day” and that “the next morning they are heartily sorry for it”; the learned were quite right in distinguishing between “_ebriositas_” and “_ebrietas_”; if a ruling Prince had worked industriously all day, or a scholar had “read and studied till his head swam,” such busy and much-tired people, if they chose “in the evening to drink away their cares and heavy thoughts, must be permitted some over-indulgence, particularly if it does not hinder them in the morning from praying, studying and working.”[1024]

This is the exact counterpart of Luther’s theory and practice as already described, in the distinction made between “_ebriositas_” and “_ebrietas_,” in the statement that drunkenness is no more than a venial sin, in the unseemly and jocose tone employed when speaking of tipsiness, and in the license accorded those who (like Luther) had much work to do, or (again, like Luther), were plagued with “gloomy thoughts.” The other conditions are also noteworthy, viz. that it must not be of “daily occurrence” and that the offender must afterwards be “heartily sorry”; in such a case we must be tolerant. All this agrees with Luther’s own teaching.

Such passages, coming from the master and his devoted disciple, must be taken as the foundation on which to base our judgment. Such general statements of principle must carry more weight than isolated instances of Luther’s actual practice, more even than the various testimonies considered above. In the eyes of the impartial historian, moreover, the various elements will be seen to fit into each other so as to form a whole, the elements being on the one hand the highly questionable principle we have just heard expressed, and on the other his own admissions concerning his practice, supplemented by the testimony of outsiders.

In the first place, there is no doubt that his theory was dangerously lax. We need only call to mind the string of reasons given in vindication of a “good drink” and mere “_ebrietas_.” Such excuses were not only insufficient but might easily be adduced daily in ever-increasing number. Luther’s limitation of the permission to occasional bouts, etc., was altogether illusory and constituted no real barrier against excess. How could such theories, we may well ask, promote temperance and self-denial? Instead of resisting the lower impulses of nature they give the reins to license. They are part and parcel of the phenomenon so noticeable in early Lutheranism, where Christian endeavour, owing to the discredit with which penance and good works were overwhelmed, was not allowed to rise above the level of ordinary life, and indeed often failed to attain even to this standard. How different sound the injunctions of Christ and His Apostles to the devoted followers of the true Gospel: Take up thy cross; resist the flesh and all its lusts; be sober and watch.

The result as regards Luther’s practice must on the whole be considered as unfavourable, though it is not of course so well known to us as his theory. It may also, quite possibly, have varied at different periods of his life, for instance, may not have been the same when Mathesius was acquainted with him, i.e. when his mode of life had become more regular, as when Count Hoyer of Mansfeld wrote so scornfully after the Diet of Worms. Nevertheless, Luther’s vigorous denunciation of habitual drunkenness on the one hand, and the extraordinary amount of work he contrived to get through on the other, also the absence of any very damaging or definite charge by those who had every opportunity of observing him at Wittenberg, for instance, the hostile Anabaptists and other “sectarians,” all this leads us to infer, that he availed himself of his theories only to a very limited extent. His own statements, however, as well as those of his friends and opponents, enable us to see that his lax principle, “_ebrietas est ferenda_,” was not without its effects upon his habits of life. The allegation of his joy of living, and his healthy love of the things of sense, does not avail to explain away his own admissions, nor what others laid to his charge. The worst of it is, that we gain the impression that the lax theory was conceived to suit his own case, for all the reasons which he held to excuse the “good drink” and the subsequent “_ebrietas_” were present in his case—depression caused by bad news, cares and gloomy thoughts, pressure of work, temptations to sadness and doubts, sleeplessness and mental exhaustion.

_From the Cellar and the Tap-Room._

The task remains of considering certain further traits in Luther’s life with regard to his indulgence in drinking.

During the first part of his public career Luther himself speaks of the temptation to excessive eating and drinking and other bad habits to which he was exposed. This he did in 1519 in his remarkably frank confession to his superior Staupitz.[1025] Here the expression “_crapula_” must be taken more seriously than on another occasion when, in a letter to a friend written from the Wartburg in the midst of his arduous labours, he describes himself as “sitting idle, and ‘_crapulosus_.’”[1026]

After Luther’s marriage, when he had settled down comfortably in the Black Monastery, it was Catherine, who, agreeably with the then custom, brewed the beer at home. It seems, however, to have been of inferior quality, indeed not fit to set before his guests. That he had several sorts of wine in his cellar we learn on the occasion of the marriage of his niece Lena in 1538. He complains that in Germany it was very hard to buy “a really trustworthy drink,” as even the carriers adulterated the wines on the way.[1027]

As already stated, beer was his usual drink. Whilst he was “drinking Wittenberg beer with Philip and Amsdorf,” he said as early as 1522, in a well-known passage, “the Papacy had been weakened through the Word of God” which he had preached.[1028]

It was, however, with wine that on great occasions the ample “Catechismusglas” (see above, p. 219) was filled.[1029] How much this bowl contained which Luther, though not his guest Agricola, could empty at one draught, has not been determined, though illustrations of it were thought to exist. Agricola’s statement concerning his vain attempt to drain it leads us to conclude that the famous glass was of considerable size. It impresses one strangely to learn that Luther occasionally toasted his guests in a crystal beaker reputed to have once belonged to St. Elizabeth of Hungary; this too, no doubt, passed from hand to hand.[1030]

An example of Luther’s accustomed outspokenness was witnessed by some of those who happened to be present on the arrival of a Christmas gift of wine in 1538. The cask came from the Margrave of Brandenburg and, to the intense disappointment of the recipient, contained Franconian wine. Luther, in spite of the importance of the gift, made no secret of his annoyance, and his complaints would appear to have duly reached the ear of the Margrave. In order to efface the bad impression made at Court, Luther was obliged to send a letter of excuse to Sebastian Heller, the Chancellor. Therein he says he had been quite unaware of the excellence of Franconian wine, and, “like the big fool” he was, had not known that the inhabitants of Franconia were so fortunate in their wine as now, after tasting it, he had ascertained to be the case. In future he was going to stick to Franconian wine; to the Prince he sent his best thanks and trusted he would take nothing amiss.[1031]—From the Landgrave Philip of Hesse, after he had forwarded him his memorandum regarding his bigamy, he received a hogshead of Rhine wine.[1032] In the same year he received from the Town Council of Wittenberg a present of a gallon of Franconian “and four quarts of Gutterbogk wine” on the occasion of the marriage of his niece, mentioned above.

From the magistrates, in addition to other presents, came frequent gifts of liquor for himself and his guests, of which we find the entries since 1519 recorded in the Town-registers.

Only recently has attention been drawn to this.[1033]

In 1525 we find the following items: “7 Gulden for six cans of Franconian wine at 14 Groschen the quart presented _Doctori Martino_ on his engagement; 136 Gulden, 6 Groschen for a barrel of Einbeck beer presented _Doctori Martino_ for his wedding; 440 Gulden _Doctori Martino_ for wine and beer presented by the Council and the town on the occasion of his nuptials and wedding. Fine of 120 Gulden paid by Clara, wedded wife of Lorenz Eberhard dwelling at Jessen for abusive language concerning Doctor Martin and his honourable wife, and also for abusing the Pastor’s [Bugenhagen] wife at Master Lubeck’s wedding; 136 Gulden, 2 Groschen for wine sent for during the year by Doctor Martin from the town vaults and paid for by the Council.” In addition to the various “presents” made by the Council, we meet repeatedly in other years with items recording deliveries of beer or wine which Luther had sent for from the town cellar. These are entered as “owing.... The Council loath to sue him for them....” And again, “allowed to Doctor Martin this year....”

This explains the low items for liquor in Luther’s own list of household expenses, which were frequently quoted in proof of his exceptional abstemiousness. As a matter of fact, they are so small simply owing to the presents and to his requisitions on the town cellars, for much of which he never paid. “Four pfennigs daily for drink” we read in his household accounts in a Gotha MS., the date of which is uncertain.[1034] Seeing that at Wittenberg a can of beer cost 3 pfennigs, this would allow him very little. According to another entry Katey required 56 pfennigs weekly for making the beer; the date of this is equally uncertain. It is to the filial devotion of Protestant researchers that we owe this information.[1035]

Luther was in a particularly cheerful mood when he wrote, on March 18, 1535, the letter, already quoted (p. 296 f.), to his friend Caspar Müller, the Mansfeld Chancellor at Eisleben. The letter is to some extent a humorous one, but is it really a fact that in the last of the three signatures appended he qualifies himself as “_Doctor plenus_”?[1036] According to some controversialists such is the case.

It is true that Denifle says of this signature, now-preserved with the letter in the Vatican Library,[1037] “that the badly written and scarcely legible word ... either reads or might be read as ‘_plenus_.’”[1038] According to R. Reitzenstein, on the other hand, who also studied them, the characters cannot possibly be read thus. E. Thiele, who mentions this, suggests[1039] that perhaps we might read it as “Doctor Hans,” and that the signature in question might refer to Luther’s little son who was with him and whose greetings with those of the mother Luther sends at the end of the letter to Müller, who was the child’s godfather.

First comes the legible signature “_Doctor Martinus_” in Luther’s handwriting; below this, also quite legible, stands “_Doctor Luther_,” possibly denoting his wife, as Thiele very reasonably conjectures; finally we have the questionable “_Doctor plenus_.” To read “Hans” instead of “_plenus_,” is, according to Denifle, “quite out of the question,” as I also found when I came to examine the facsimile published by G. Evers in 1883.[1040] On the other hand, to judge by the facsimile, it appeared to me that “_Johannes_” might possibly be the true reading, and the Latin form also seemed to agree with that of the previous signatures. When I was able to examine the original in Rome in May, 1907, I convinced myself that, as a matter of fact, the badly formed and intertwined characters could be read as “_Johannes_”; this reading was also confirmed by Alfredo Monaci, the palæologist.[1041] Hence the reading “_Doctor plenus_,” too confidently introduced by Evers and repeated by Enders, though with a query, in his edition of Luther’s letters, may safely be consigned to oblivion. Even had it been correct, it would merely have afforded a fresh example of Luther’s jokes at his own expense, and would not necessarily have proved that his mirth was due to spirituous influence.

In one letter of Luther’s, which speaks of the time he passed in the Castle of Coburg, we hear more of the disagreeable than of the cheering effects of wine.

“I have brought on headache by drinking old wine in the Coburg,” he complains to his friend Wenceslaus Link, “and this our Wittenberg beer has not yet cured. I work little and am forced to be idle against my will because my head must have a rest.”[1042] In the Electoral accounts 25 Eimer of wine are set down for the period of Luther’s stay at the Coburg;[1043] seeing that he and two companions spent only 173 days there, our Protestant friends have hastened to allege “the frequent visits he received” in the Coburg.[1044] It is true that he had a good many visitors during the latter part of his stay. However this may be, the illness showed itself as early as May, 1530. His own diagnosis here is no less unsatisfactory than the accounts concerning the other maladies from which he suffered. No doubt the malady was chiefly nervous.

In October of that same year, Luther protested that he had been “very abstemious in all things”[1045] at the Coburg, and Veit Dietrich, his assistant at that time, wrote in the same sense on July 4: “I carefully observed that he did not transgress any of the rules of diet.”[1046] His indisposition showed itself in unbearable noises in the head, at times accompanied by extreme sensitiveness to light.[1047] Luther was convinced that the trouble was due to the qualities of the strong wines provided for him at the castle—or, possibly, to the devil. “We are very well off,” he says in June, 1530, “and live finely, but for almost a month past I have been plagued not only with noises but with actual thundering in my head, due, perhaps, to the wine, perhaps to the malice of Satan.”[1048] Veit Dietrich inclined strongly to the latter view. He tells us of the apparition of a “flaming fiery serpent” under which form the devil had manifested himself to Luther during his solitude in the Coburg: “On the following day he was plagued with troublesome noises in his head; thus the greater part of what he suffered was the work of the devil.”[1049] Luther himself complained in August of a fresh indisposition, this time scarcely due to nerves, which, according to him, was the result either of wine, or of the devil. “I am troubled with a sore throat, such as I never had before; possibly the strong wine has increased the inflammation, or perhaps it is a buffet of Satan [2 Cor. xii. 7].”[1050] Four days later he wrote again: “My head still buzzes and my throat is worse than ever.”[1051] In the following month some improvement showed itself, and even before this he had days free from suffering; still, after quitting the Coburg, he still complained of incessant headache caused, as he thought, by the “old wine.” When all is said, however, it does seem that later controversialists were wrong in so confidently attributing his illness in the Coburg merely to excessive love of the bottle.

Luther often vaunted the wholesome effects of beer. In a letter to Katey dated February 1, 1546, he extols the aperient qualities of Naumburg beer.[1052] In another to Jonas, dated May 15, 1542, he speaks of the good that beer had done in relieving his sufferings from stone; beer was to be preferred to wine; much benefit was also to be derived from a strict diet.[1053]

All these traits from Luther’s private life, taken as a whole, may be considered to confirm the opinion expressed above, p. 311 f., regarding the charges which may stand against him and those of which he is to be acquitted.

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