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this time by the special providence of the Almighty.

Under Luther's direction the changes in the worship of the city church violently made during his absence were abandoned, and the old forms for the most part restored. Calm was reëstablished, and the town again speedily resumed its normal aspect. Early in May he could write Spalatin, with great relief, "Here there is nothing but love and friendship."

More important than the return to the old forms was the public stand Luther now took against social and economic revolution, and his emphatic denial that his gospel meant the violent overthrow of the existing religious system. The consequence was a great revulsion of feeling toward him on the part of many of the princes of Germany. They saw that he was less radical than they had supposed; that he stood for order, not anarchy; and that he was able to control the seething masses as nobody else could. When at the Diet of Nuremberg, in the autumn of 1522, the attempt was made by the representatives of the devout and pious Pope Adrian VI, successor of Leo X, to induce the German rulers to take steps for the more vigorous enforcement of the Edict of Worms, the majority refused to give their consent. Though the edict had been adopted only a year and a half before, the situation was so changed that they now declined to reaffirm it, and left it to the conscience of each prince to execute it so far as he pleased, while they appealed to a general council for the final settlement. of the matter. Thus the whole question, already decided both by pope and diet, was again thrown open, and a quasi and temporary license given to the new movement.

In the meantime its organization was proceeding steadily. Town after town. took the management of religious affairs into its own hands and adopted new forms better fitted to the principles of the Reformation. Luther was continually appealed to for counsel, and his help was sought in securing preachers of the right stamp to take the place of those out of sympathy with the new order of things. He was becoming more and more the bishop, or general overseer, of the churches accepting the Reformation, and all sorts of administrative problems were constantly

upon his mind. His correspondence during 1522 and the following years had to do increasingly with such matters. He also traveled widely, visiting places in need of advice and bringing his wisdom to bear upon the many difficult questions that were emerging month by month.

The constant temptation, as in Wittenberg, was to go too fast, and he was obliged often to remonstrate with the authorities and urge upon them the considerations governing his own conduct. But as time passed and the influence of his principles spread, he approved both for Wittenberg and elsewhere more radical changes than at first. In 1523, we hear him frequently declaring that the prejudices of the weak had been long enough regarded, and the time had come to do away with many of the more obnoxious forms and customs of the past. Even now he was surprisingly conservative. Many of his followers. wished to cast aside everything not sustained by direct warrant of Scripture; but he took the position, and maintained it to the end of his life, that the old was to be left unmolested whenever it did not contradict or obscure the gospel of Christ. He also continued to oppose hasty and violent innovations of every kind. Usually his advice was followed, but occasionally, particularly in places at a distance from Wittenberg, he was unable to control the more radical spirits and had to witness changes he greatly disliked. He did not hesitate in such cases to express himself with the same sharpness he employed against his papal opponents. Carlstadt, who left Wittenberg in disgust in 1523, and Thomas Münzer, a clergyman of Zwickau and one of the leaders of the fanatical prophets of that neighborhood, made him most trouble. They denounced him as a tyrant, declared him recreant to his own principles and untrue to the word of God, and strove in every way to undermine his influence and force a radical reform.

In Orlamünde, a little town not far from Zwickau, he had a humiliating, if somewhat amusing, experience in the autumn of 1524. Carlstadt was for a time pastor there, and gained a large following. Under his influence, images were destroyed, convents forcibly closed, and one after another of the old customs violently set aside. In the course of a tour of visita

tion, Luther appeared upon the scene, and in an extended interview with the authorities of the town tried to convince them of the error of their ways. They defended themselves warmly, insisting they were truer to the word of God than he. If to be true to it means to follow it slavishly in all its parts, they were certainly right. But in contrast with their narrow literalism, Luther's moderation and common sense appear to great advantage. He would not allow himself to be carried to fanatical extremes even by his own principle of loyalty to the Bible. In the course of the discussion, a shoemaker justified the destruction of images by a Scriptural argument so picturesque and farfetched that Luther was nearly overcome with laughter and was quite unable to answer. As a matter of fact, he produced no impression upon his interlocutors, and only confirmed them in the opinion that he was inconsistent and half-hearted in the work of reformation. He wrote afterward: "I was glad enough not to be driven out of Orlamünde with stones and mud, for some of them blessed me with the words, 'Get out, in the name of a thousand devils, and break your neck before you leave!''

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Meanwhile there occurred an event which served only to confirm Luther in his attitude toward violence and anarchy. Franz von Sickingen, whose offers of support had meant a great deal to him not long before, and to whom he had dedicated a book on the confessional, written in the early days of his stay at the Wartburg, began war in the summer of 1522 upon an old enemy, the Elector and Archbishop of Treves. The campaign was intended to be only the beginning of a general struggle to curtail the power of the great princes of the realm and restore the nobles to their rapidly waning influence. Its controlling motive was certainly political and economic, but Sickingen claimed to be a champion of the Reformation, interested to promote the true gospel, and announced his intention to revolutionize ecclesiastical and religious conditions. He undoubtedly hoped thus to enlist the support of Luther's sympathizers, but the hope proved vain. real significance of the affair was generally understood, and the Archbishop of Treves was supported by the Count Pala

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tinate and the young Landgrave Philip of Hesse, both of them already favorably inclined toward Luther and his cause.

Sickingen's campaign was a complete failure. He was obliged to return to his stronghold, the Landstuhl, where he was besieged in the spring of 1523, and where he died of his wounds on the seventh of May, just after the castle was taken by his enemies. His defeat foreshadowed the speedy dissolution of the knights' revolutionary party, and their influence in German affairs was permanently broken.

Ulrich von Hutten, who had done much to encourage the formation of the party, survived his old friend and protector only a few months. He left before the beginning of Sickingen's last campaign, and in August, 1523, after wandering_from place to place, died in poverty at Zurich, befriended by the Swiss reformer Zwingli, but deserted by all his old friends. Melanchthon spoke bitterly and contemptuously of him after his death. Happily, so far as we are aware, Luther did not follow his example, but one searches his writings in vain for an expression of regret at the death of his erstwhile champion and confidant. The cause meant so much to him that he found it difficult to think kindly of any one who hindered or brought disrepute upon it, as Hutten's incendiary writings and final loss of prestige had done.

It was well Sickingen's attempt miscarried. His success would have meant at least a partial return to a state of society already largely outgrown and quite unsuited to the demands of the new age; and had the Reformation become identified with the class interests of the nobles, it would have perished with them in the fall that was bound to come ultimately, if not then.

Naturally, the affair was used by Luther's enemies to discredit the whole Reformation movement. The confident expectation was expressed that now the rival emperor was fallen, the anti-pope would soon follow. There was some apparent justification for this attitude. Luther's famous address to the German nobility, written in 1520, and his occasional warlike declarations of the same year, which still echoed in the dedication of his book on the confessional, had led many to identify his cause with that of the

nobles, and Sickingen's avowed plan to promote the Reformation was taken to mean he had Luther's support, and was fighting the reformer's battles as well as his own.

Melanchthon complained of this as early as January, 1523, denouncing Sickingen's campaign as a dishonorable act of robbery and declaring that Luther was greatly distressed by it. Luther himself had very little to say on the subject. In a letter of December, 1522, to his friend Link, he wrote: "Franz von Sickingen has declared war against the Palatinate. It will be a very bad affair." Beyond this casual remark we have no reference to the matter in his writings; but when a rumor of Sickingen's death reached him, he wrote Spalatin he hoped it was false; and upon its confirmation a day or two later, he added: "The true and miserable history of Franz Sickingen I heard and read yesterday. God is a just but wonderful judge."

Despite the effort of his opponents to hold Luther responsible for Sickingen's abortive attempt, its controlling motive was too apparent and too completely in line with the warlike knight's entire career to furnish an adequate ground for a serious attack upon the reformer, and probably the affair lost him few friends or supporters. On the other hand, it very likely affected his own attitude, serving to confirm his conviction that the preaching of the gospel is incompatible with the use of physical force. He saw more clearly than ever the undesirability and impossibility of promoting the Reformation by the sword. It may be, had Sickingen been victorious, Luther would have seen the hand of God in his victory, as he did in his defeat, and would have been led to tolerate, if not actively to favor, such warlike measures. His somewhat inconsistent utterances seem to show that while feeling the unchristian character of war and violence, he was yet not sure it might not be God's will in the present juncture, as occasionally in the past, to put an end to existing evils by the sword. But if he was really in doubt, Sickingen's fate settled the question for him. Thenceforth he insisted always on the use of peaceful measures only.

Much more disastrous in its effect upon the Reformation was the Peasants' War.

This greatest tragedy of the age had been long preparing. Frequently during recent generations the unhappy conditions of the peasant class had led to more or less serious outbreaks, but none of them compared in importance with the tremendous movement of 1525. Luther was not responsible for it, nor did it begin among his disciples. It was only the repetition on a large scale of many similar attempts, and the interests underlying all of them were not religious, as with him, but economic. At the same time it was due in no small part to him that this particular uprising surpassed in magnitude any seen in Germany before or since. His attacks upon many features of the existing order, his criticisms of the growing luxury of the wealthier classes, his denunciations of the rapacity and greed of great commercial magnates and of the tyranny and corruption of rulers both civil and ecclesiastical, all tended to inflame the populace and spread impatience and discontent. His gospel of Christian liberty also had its effect. For the spiritual freedom he taught, multitudes substituted freedom from political oppression, from social injustice, and from economic burdens. Then, too, the extraordinary response he had met with, the confusion all Germany had been thrown into by the Reformation, and the wide-spread weakening of respect for traditional authority resulting therefrom, made this seem a peculiarly favorable time for the peasants to press their claims.

Early in 1525 a series of twelve brief articles was published in southwestern Germany, containing a very moderate statement of the demands of the peasants, as, for instance, the privilege of electing their own pastors, the abolition of villeinage, freedom to hunt and fish and to supply themselves with fuel from the forest, reduction of exorbitant rents, extra payment for extra labor, and restoration to the community of lands unjustly appropriated by private persons. With such demands as these no one could justly find fault. They involved social reform only, not revolution, and looked for the most part simply to the more equitable adjustment of existing conditions.

At first there was apparently no thought of violence. The peasants were a harmless and peaceable folk. But here and there they gathered in large numbers to present

their grievances and impress the rulers with the magnitude of the movement. Unfortunately, instead of listening sympathetically to their complaints, some of the princes, fearing the effects of such demonstrations, treated the assembled peasants as insurrectionists and dispersed them with the sword, maltreating and killing them without mercy. Their violence and cruelty added fuel to the flames, and the inevitable result was a rapid growth of revolutionary sentiment and the spread of a desire for retaliation. The demands of the peasants became more extreme and unreasonable, and their peaceful intentions. widely gave way to thoughts of war. Their minds became filled with fantastic and impossible notions of a society wherein they should be in complete control. Communistic ideas of a radical type gained currency, and the desire grew to overthrow the whole social structure and destroy all inequalities in property, employment, and rank. Thomas Münzer and other fanatical religious leaders threw themselves into the movement, and preached a new social order in which there should be no rulers or subjects, no rich or poor, no cities or commerce, no art or science, but all should live in primitive simplicity and equality. What was more, they summoned the peasants and the proletariate of the cities to bring in the new order by the sword. In fiery and impassioned discourse they told the people it was God's will they should everywhere kill and destroy without mercy until all the mighty were laid low and the promised kingdom of God established. Social and religious ideals became inextri

cably mingled. Counting confidently upon supernatural aid, multitudes without discipline or adequate military preparation threw themselves blindly into a conflict for which, as the event proved, they were wholly unequipped.

During all this time the peasants' attitude toward Luther was very diverse. Münzer and many other radicals hated him, and could not say enough against him; but there were also those who regarded him as the great prophet of the

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themselves his followers, and declared it their purpose to put his principles into practice. And whatever was true of the leaders, by the great mass of the peasants themselves it was doubtless honestly believed that Luther was with them, and that they could count on his sympathy and support.

But they utterly mistook their man. For a while he paid no attention to the more or less spasmodic outbreaks in different parts of the country; but as they began to grow serious, he came out in April, 1525, with a brief tract entitled, "An Exhortation to Peace in Response to the Twelve Articles of the Swabian Peasants." Had he been a demagogue, he would have catered to popular passion and spurred the excited peasants on to war. Had he been a politician, he would have kept still and refrained from taking sides until he saw what the outcome was to be. But he was neither the one nor the other, and he spoke his mind in frankest fashion, sparing neither prince nor peasant. Both sides he declared were alike in the wrong, and with his usual vigor and fearlessness he called them both sharply to account, the former for their tyranny and oppression, the latter for their threats of violence. He informed the princes that God was against them, not merely the peasants, and if they did not cease exploiting their subjects, they would suffer the divine vengeance. On the other hand, he exhorted the peasants to present their grievances in an orderly way, without uproar or show of force. Their complaints might be well founded, but violence was not thereby justified. Only the constituted authorities have the right to use the sword, and he who attacks them on any ground whatever is worse than those whom he attacks. The doctrine of the divine right of civil rulers, already stated more than once by Luther, here again finds emphatic expression.

It was still worse of the peasants, it seemed to him, to seek justification for their conduct in the gospel of Christ. If they wished to fight for their rights like ordinary men, well and good, but he would not stand by in silence while they used Christ's name in support of their course and brought scandal upon the gospel. Christianity comports only with passive resistance. If they really wished to follow Christ, they would drop the sword

and resort to prayer. The gospel has to do with spiritual, not temporal, affairs. Even to condemn slavery on Christian grounds is to turn spiritual freedom into physical, and reduce the gospel to a fleshly thing. Earthly society cannot exist without inequalities; the true Christian finds his Christian liberty and his opportunity for Christian service in the midst of them and in spite of them. To this familiar Pauline point of view Luther always remained true.

But he did not stop with this summary treatment of the matter, dismissing the whole thing with a mere exhortation to Christian resignation. Recognizing the justice of many of the peasants' complaints, he went on to propose that their grievances be submitted to arbitration, both they and their rulers agreeing to abide by the result. The suggestion was eminently wise, but it showed how little sympathy he had with social revolution or reconstruction. At best, arbitration could do no more than promote justice in the working of the existing system. It could not effect its overthrow. Had Luther's advice been followed, much bloodshed would have been avoided and the more moderate demands of the peasants might have had some chance of satisfaction. But it was wholly disregarded. Whatever was true of the princes, and some of them actually did show themselves ready enough to redress the worst grievances, the peasants were by this time too much inflamed and their leaders far too radical to listen to such counsel. Their violence and the depredations committed by them have without doubt been grossly exaggerated; but they were bad enough, as it was, and consternation and alarm were spreading rapidly among the middle and upper classes.

In the course of an extended tour through Thuringia, when the excitement was at its height, Luther saw many evidences of the riotous activities of the insurrectionists, and outraged by what he witnessed, he came out early in May with another and still more powerful pamphlet "Against the Murderous and Thieving Mobs of Peasants." In some quarters rulers were in doubt as to their duty. The peasants' appeal to the gospel and to the word of God perplexed them, and they were at a loss how to meet the situation.

But in Luther's mind there was no doubt. Consistently with the principle frequently laid down and reiterated in the previous tract, he denounced the peasants in unsparing terms for their resort to arms.

More than three years before, in his protest against uproar and violence, he had said he would support the side attacked, however bad it might be, rather than those who attacked, however good their cause. Now he suited his action to his words, and turned upon the peasants with a fury all his own.

The pamphlet opened with the strong words:

In my previous book I did not judge the peasants, for they offered to listen to instruction and yield to the right. But before I could do anything, forgetting their offer,

they rushed forward and plunged into the

affair with clenched fists. They rob and rage and act like mad dogs. It is easy enough to see now what they had in their false minds. The proposals they made in the twelve articles on the basis of the gospel were evidently nothing but lies.

And a little later: "Our peasants want to share the goods of others and keep their own. Fine Christians they are! I doubt whether there are any devils left in hell, for they all seem to have entered into the peasants, and passion has gone beyond all bounds."

He called upon the rulers, to whom God had intrusted the sword for the punishment of the wicked, to put down the warring rebels with a stern hand. They were public enemies, and, like mad dogs, were to be killed without mercy. He even went so far in the violence of his wrath as to declare that if any ruler, actuated with the desire of doing God's will in the matter, died in the attempt to suppress the uprising, he was a true martyr and entitled to eternal bliss, while the warring peasant was doomed to hell. To be sure, not all were to be treated with equal severity. Mercy was to be shown to those deluded and misled by others, and if they surrendered, they were to be pardoned, and spared. But the ringleaders and those responsible for violence and uproar were to be visited with speedy vengeance, and at any cost the rebellion was to be summarily crushed.

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