Chapter 8 : Luther Before the Diet

A new emperor, Charles V., had ascended the throne of Germany,

and the emissaries of Rome hastened to present their congratulations,

and induce the monarch to employ his power against the Reformation.

On the other hand, the Elector of Saxony, to whom Charles

was in great degree indebted for his crown, entreated him to take

no step against Luther until he should have granted him a hearing.

The emperor was thus placed in a position of great perplexity and

embarrassment. The papists would be satisfied with nothing short

of an imperial edict sentencing Luther to death. The elector had

declared firmly that “neither his imperial majesty nor any one else

had yet made it appear to him that the reformer’s writings had been

refuted; “therefore he requested “that Doctor Luther be furnished

with a safe-conduct, so that he might answer for himself before a

tribunal of learned, pious, and impartial judges.”

The attention of all parties was now directed to the assembly

of the German States which convened at Worms soon after the accession

of Charles to the empire. There were important political

questions and interests to be considered by this national council; for

the first time the princes of Germany were to meet their youthful

monarch in deliberative assembly. From all parts of the Fatherland

had come the dignitaries of Church and State. Secular lords,

highborn powerful, and jealous of their hereditary rights; princely

ecclesiastics, flushed with their conscious superiority in rank and

power; courtly knights and their armed retainers; and ambassadors

[146] from foreign and distant lands—all gathered at Worms. Yet in that

vast assembly the subject that excited the deepest interest, was the

cause of the Saxon reformer.

Charles had previously directed the elector to bring Luther with

him to the Diet, assuring him of protection, and promising a free

discussion, with competent persons, of the questions in dispute.

Luther was anxious to appear before the emperor. His health was

at this time much impaired; yet he wrote to the elector: “If I cannot

perform the journey to Worms in good health, I will be carried there,

sick as I am. For, since the emperor has summoned me, I cannot

doubt that it is the call of God himself. If they intend to use violence

against me, as they probably do, for assuredly it is with no view of

gaining information that they require me to appear before them, I

place the matter in the Lord’s hands. He still lives and reigns who

preserved the three Israelites in the fiery furnace. If it be not his will

to save me, my life is of little consequence. Let us only take care

that the gospel be not exposed to the scorn of the ungodly, and let

us shed our blood in its defense rather than allow them to triumph.

Who shall say whether my life or my death would contribute most to

the salvation of my brethren?” “Expect anything from me but flight

or recantation. Fly I cannot; still less can I recant.”

As the news was circulated at Worms that Luther was to appear

before the Diet, a general excitement was created. Aleander, the

papal legate to whom the case had been specially intrusted, was

alarmed and enraged. He saw that the result would be disastrous to

the papal cause. To institute inquiry into a case in which the pope

had already pronounced sentence of condemnation, would be to cast

contempt upon the authority of the sovereign pontiff. Furthermore,

he was apprehensive that the eloquent and powerful arguments of

this man might turn away many of the princes from the cause of the

pope. He therefore, in the most urgent manner remonstrated with

Charles against Luther’s appearance at Worms. About this time the [147]

bull declaring Luther’s excommunication was published; and this,

coupled with the representations of the legate, induced the emperor

to yield. He wrote to the elector that if Luther would not retract, he

must remain at Wittenberg.

Not content with this victory, Aleander labored with all the power

and cunning at his command to secure Luther’s condemnation. With

a persistence worthy of a better cause, he urged the matter upon the

attention of princes, prelates, and other members of the assembly,

accusing the reformer of sedition, rebellion, impiety, and blasphemy.

But the vehemence and passion manifested by the legate revealed

too plainly the spirit by which he was actuated. “Hatred and thirst

for vengeance,” said a papist writer, “are his motives, rather than

true zeal for religion.” The majority of the Diet were more than ever

inclined to regard Luther’s cause with favor.

With redoubled zeal, Aleander urged upon the emperor the duty

of executing the papal edicts. But under the laws of Germany this

could not be done without the concurrence of the princes, and, overcome

at last by the legate’s importunity, Charles bade him present

his case to the Diet. “It was a proud day for the nuncio. The assembly

was a great one; the cause was even greater. Aleander was to

plead for Rome, the mother and mistress of all churches; he was to

vindicate the princedom of Peter before the assembled principalities

of Christendom. He had the gift of eloquence, and he rose to the

greatness of the occasion. Providence ordered it that Rome should

appear and plead by the ablest of her orators in the presence of the

most august of tribunals, before she was condemned.” With some

misgivings those who favored the reformer looked forward to the

effect of Aleander’s speech. The Elector of Saxony was not present,

but by his direction some of his councillors attended, to take notes

of the nuncio’s address.

[148] With all the power of learning and eloquence, Aleander set himself

to overthrow the truth. Charge after charge he hurled against

Luther as an enemy of the Church and the State, the living and the

dead, clergy and laity, councils and private Christians. “There is

enough in the errors of Luther,” he declared, “to warrant the burning

of a hundred thousand heretics.

In conclusion, he endeavored to cast contempt upon the adherents

of the reformed faith: “What are all these Lutherans?—A

motley rabble of insolent grammarians, corrupt priests, dissolute

monks, ignorant lawyers, and degraded nobles, with the common

people whom they have misled and perverted. How greatly superior

is the Catholic party in numbers, intelligence, and power! A unanimous

decree from this illustrious assembly will open the eyes of the

simple, show the unwary their danger, determine the wavering, and

strengthen the weak-hearted.”

With such weapons the advocates of truth in every age have

been attacked. The same arguments are still urged against all who

dare to present, in opposition to established errors, the plain and

direct teachings of God’s Word. “Who are these preachers of new

doctrines?” exclaim those who desire a popular religion. “They are

unlearned, few in numbers, and of the poorer class. Yet they claim to

have the truth, and to be the chosen people of God. They are ignorant

and deceived. How greatly superior in numbers and influence is our

church! How many great and learned men are among us! How much

more power is on our side!” These are the arguments that have a

telling influence upon the world, but they are no more conclusive

now than in the days of the reformer.

The Reformation did not, as many suppose, end with Luther. It

is to be continued to the close of this world’s history. Luther had

a great work to do in reflecting to others the light which God had

permitted to shine upon him; yet he did not receive all the light

which was to be given to the world. From that time to this, new light

has been continually shining upon the Scriptures, and new truths [149]

have been constantly unfolding.

The legate’s address made a deep impression upon the Diet.

There was no Luther present, with the clear and convincing truths of

God’s Word, to vanquish the papal champion. No attempt was made

to defend the reformer. There was manifest a general disposition

not only to condemn him and the doctrines which he taught, but if

possible to uproot the heresy. Rome had enjoyed the most favorable

opportunity to defend her cause. All that she could say in her own

vindication had been said. But the apparent victory was the signal

of defeat. Henceforth the contrast between truth and error would

be more clearly seen, as they should take the field in open warfare.

Never from that day would Rome stand as secure as she had stood.

While most of the members of the Diet would not have hesitated

to yield up Luther to the vengeance of Rome, many of them saw and

deplored the existing depravity in the church, and desired a suppression

of the abuses suffered by the German people in consequence of

the corruption and greed of the hierarchy. The legate had presented

the papal rule in the most favorable light. Now the Lord moved

upon a member of the Diet to give a true delineation of the effects of

papal tyranny. With noble firmness, Duke George of Saxony stood

up in that princely assembly, and specified with terrible exactness

the deceptions and abominations of popery, and their dire results. In

closing he said:—

“These are but a few of the abuses which cry out against Rome

for redress. All shame is laid aside, and one object alone incessantly

pursued: money! evermore money! so that the very men whose duty

it is to teach the truth, utter nothing but falsehoods, and are not only

tolerated but rewarded; because the greater their lies, the greater

are their gains. This is the foul source from which so many corrupt

streams flow out on every side. Profligacy and avarice go hand in

[150] hand.” “Alas! it is the scandal caused by the clergy that plunges so

many poor souls into everlasting perdition. A thorough reform must

be effected.”

A more able and forcible denunciation of the papal abuses could

not have been presented by Luther himself; and the fact that the

speaker was a determined enemy of the reformer, gave greater influence

to his words.

Had the eyes of the assembly been opened, they would have

beheld angels of God in the midst of them, shedding beams of

light athwart the darkness of error, and opening minds and hearts

to the reception of truth. It was the power of the God of truth and

wisdom that controlled even the adversaries of the Reformation, and

thus prepared the way for the great work about to be accomplished.

Martin Luther was not present; but the voice of One greater than

Luther had been heard in that assembly.

A committee was at once appointed by the Diet to prepare an

enumeration of the papal oppressions that weighed so heavily on the

German people. This list, containing a hundred and one specifications,

was presented to the emperor, with a request that he would

take immediate measures for the correction of these abuses. “What a

loss of Christian souls,” said the petitioners, “what injustice, what extortion,

are the daily fruits of those scandalous practices to which the

spiritual head of Christendom affords his countenance. The ruin and

dishonor of our nation must be averted. We therefore very humbly,

but very urgently, beseech you to sanction a general Reformation, to

undertake the work, and to carry it through.”

The council now demanded the reformer’s appearance before

them. Notwithstanding the entreaties, protests, and threats of Aleander,

the emperor at last consented, and Luther was summoned to

appear before the Diet. With the summons was issued a safe-conduct,

insuring his return to a place of security. These were borne to

Wittenberg by a herald, who was commissioned to conduct him to

Worms.

[151] The friends of Luther were terrified and distressed. Knowing

the prejudice and enmity against him, they feared that even his

safe-conduct would not be respected, and they entreated him not to

imperil his life. He replied: “The papists have little desire to see me

at Worms, but they long for my condemnation and death. It matters

not. Pray not for me, but for the Word of God.... Christ will give

me his Spirit to overcome these ministers of Satan. I despise them

while I live; I will triumph over them by my death. They are busy at

Worms about compelling me to recant. My recantation shall be this:

I said formerly that the pope was Christ’s vicar; now I say that he is

the adversary of the Lord, and the apostle of the devil.”

Luther was not to make his perilous journey alone. Besides

the imperial messenger, three of his firmest friends determined to

accompany him. Melancthon earnestly desired to join them. His

heart was knit to Luther’s, and he yearned to follow him, if need be,

to prison or to death. But his entreaties were denied. Should Luther

perish, the hopes of the Reformation must center upon his youthful

co-laborer. Said the reformer as he parted from Melancthon, “If I do

not return, and my enemies put me to death, continue to teach; stand

fast in the truth. Labor in my stead; ... if thy life be spared, my death

will matter little.” Students and citizens who had gathered to witness

Luther’s departure were deeply moved. A multitude whose hearts

had been touched by the gospel, bade him farewell with weeping.

Thus the reformer and his companions set out from Wittenberg.

On the journey they saw that the minds of the people were oppressed

by gloomy forebodings. At some towns no honors were

proffered them. As they stopped for the night, a friendly priest

expressed his fears by holding up before Luther the portrait of an

Italian reformer who had suffered martyrdom. The next day they

learned that Luther’s writings had been condemned atWorms. Imperial

messengers were proclaiming the emperor’s decree, and calling

upon the people to bring the proscribed works to the magistrates. [152]

The herald, fearing for Luther’s safety at the council, and thinking

that already his resolution might be shaken, asked if he still wished

to go forward. He answered, “I will go on, though I should be put

under interdict in every town.”

At Erfurt, Luther was received with honor. Surrounded by admiring

crowds, he passed through the streets that he had often traversed

with his beggar’s wallet. He visited his convent cell, and thought

upon the struggles through which the light now flooding Germany

128 The Great Controversy 1888

had been shed upon his soul. He was urged to preach. This he had

been forbidden to do, but the herald granted him permission, and

the friar who had once been made the drudge of the convent, now

entered the pulpit.

To a crowded assembly he spoke from the words of Christ,

“Peace be unto you.” “Philosophers, doctors, and writers,” he said,

“have endeavored to teach men the way to obtain everlasting life,

and they have not succeeded. I will now tell it to you.” “God has

raised one Man from the dead, the Lord Jesus Christ, that he might

destroy death, expiate sin, and shut the gates of hell. This is the work

of salvation. Christ has vanquished! This is the joyful news! And

we are saved by his work, and not by our own.... Our Lord Jesus

Christ said, ‘Peace be unto you! behold my hands’—that is to say,

Behold, O man! it is I, I alone, who have taken away thy sins, and

ransomed thee; and now thou hast peace, saith the Lord.”

He continued, showing that true faith will be manifested by a

holy life. “Since God has saved us, let us so order our works that

he may take pleasure in them. Art thou rich?—let thy riches be

the supply of other men’s poverty. Art thou poor?—let thy service

minister to the rich. If thy labor is for thyself alone, the service thou

offerest to God is a mere pretense.”

The people listened as if spell-bound. The bread of life was

[153] broken to those starving souls. Christ was lifted up before them as

above popes, legates, emperors, and kings. Luther made no reference

to his own perilous position. He did not seek to make himself the

object of thought or sympathy. In the contemplation of Christ, he

had lost sight of self. He hid behind the Man of Calvary, seeking

only to present Jesus as the sinner’s Redeemer.

As the reformer proceeded on his journey, he was everywhere

regarded with great interest. An eager multitude thronged about him;

and friendly voices warned him of the purpose of the Romanists.

“You will be burned alive,” said they, “and your body reduced to

ashes, as was that of John Huss.” Luther answered, “Though they

should kindle a fire all the way from Worms to Wittenberg, whose

flames should rise up to heaven, I would go through it in the name

of the Lord, and stand before them; I would enter the jaws of this

behemoth, and break his teeth, confessing the Lord Jesus Christ.”

The news of his approach to Worms created great commotion.

His friends trembled for his safety; his enemies feared for the success

of their cause. Strenuous efforts were made to dissuade him from

entering the city. At the instigation of the papists he was urged to

repair to the castle of a friendly knight, where, it was declared, all

difficulties could be amicably adjusted. Friends endeavored to excite

his fears by describing the dangers that threatened him. All their

efforts failed. Luther, still unshaken, declared, “Though there should

be as many devils at Worms as there are tiles on its roofs, I would

enter.”

Upon his arrival at Worms, a vast crowd flocked to the gates to

welcome him. So great a concourse had not assembled to greet the

emperor himself. The excitement was intense, and from the midst

of the throng a shrill and plaintive voice chanted a funeral dirge, as

a warning to Luther of the fate that awaited him. “God will be my

defense,” said he, as he alighted from his carriage.

The papists had not believed that Luther would really venture [154]

to appear at Worms, and his arrival filled them with consternation.

The emperor immediately summoned his councillors to consider

what course should be pursued. One of the bishops, a rigid papist,

declared: “We have long consulted on this matter. Let your majesty

rid yourself of this man at once. Did not Sigismund bring John Huss

to the stake? We are under no obligation either to give or to observe

the safe-conduct of a heretic.” “Not so,” said the emperor; “we must

keep our promise.” It was therefore decided that the reformer should

be heard.

All the city were eager to see this remarkable man, and a throng

of visitors soon filled his lodgings. Luther had scarcely recovered

from his recent illness; he was wearied from the journey, which had

occupied two full weeks; he must prepare to meet the momentous

events of the morrow, and he needed quiet and repose. But so great

was the desire to see him, that he had enjoyed only a few hours’

rest, when noblemen, knights, priests, and citizens gathered eagerly

about him. Among these were many of the nobles who had so boldly

demanded of the emperor a reform of ecclesiastical abuses, and who,

says Luther, “had all been freed by my gospel.” Enemies, as well as

friends, came to look upon the dauntless monk, but he received them

with unshaken calmness, replying to all with dignity and wisdom.

His bearing was firm and courageous. His pale, thin face, marked

with the traces of toil and illness, wore a kindly and even joyous

expression. The solemnity and deep earnestness of his words gave

him a power that even his enemies could not wholly withstand. Both

friends and foes were filled with wonder. Some were convinced

that a divine influence attended him; others declared, as had the

Pharisees concerning Christ, “He hath a devil.”

On the following day, Luther was summoned to attend the Diet.

An imperial officer was appointed to conduct him to the hall of

audience; yet it was with difficulty that he reached the place. Every

[155] avenue was crowded with spectators, eager to look upon the monk

who had dared resist the authority of the pope.

As he was about to enter the presence of his judges, an old

general, the hero of many battles, said to him kindly, “Poor monk!

poor monk! thou hast a march and a struggle to go through, such

as neither I nor many other captains have ever known in our most

bloody battles. But if thy cause be just, and thou art sure of it, go

forward in God’s name, and fear nothing! He will not forsake thee.”

At length Luther stood before the council. The emperor occupied

the throne. He was surrounded by the most illustrious personages in

the empire. Never had any man appeared in the presence of a more

imposing assembly than that before which Martin Luther was to

answer for his faith. “This appearance was of itself a signal victory

over the papacy. The pope had condemned the man, and he was now

standing before a tribunal which, by this very act, set itself above

the pope. The pope had laid him under an interdict, and cut him

off from all human society, and yet he was summoned in respectful

language, and received before the most august assembly in the world.

The pope had condemned him to perpetual silence, and he was now

about to speak before thousands of attentive hearers drawn together

from the furthest parts of Christendom. An immense revolution had

thus been effected by Luther’s instrumentality. Rome was already

descending from her throne, and it was the voice of a monk that

caused this humiliation.”

In the presence of that powerful and titled assembly, the lowlyborn

reformer seemed awed and embarrassed. Several of the princes,

observing his emotion, approached him, and one of them whispered,

“Fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul.”

Another said, “When ye shall be brought before governors and kings

for My sake, it shall be given you, by the Spirit of your Father, what

ye shall say.” Thus the words of Christ were brought by the world’s

great men to strengthen his servant in the hour of trial.

Luther was conducted to a position directly in front of the em- [156]

peror’s throne. A deep silence fell upon the crowded assembly.

Then an imperial officer arose, and, pointing to a collection of

Luther’s writings, demanded that the reformer answer two questions,—

whether he acknowledged them as his, and whether he proposed

to retract the opinions which he had therein advanced. The

titles of the books having been read, Luther replied that as to the first

question, he acknowledged the books to be his. “As to the second,”

he said, “seeing it is a question which concerns faith, the salvation of

souls, and the Word of God, which is the greatest and most precious

treasure either in Heaven or earth, it would be rash and perilous for

me to reply without reflection. I might affirm less than the circumstances

demand, or more than truth requires; in either case I should

fall under the sentence of Christ: ‘Whosoever shall deny me before

men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in Heaven.’

[Matthew 10:33] For this reason I entreat your imperial majesty, with

all humility, to allow me time, that I may answer without offending

against the Word of God.”

In making this request, Luther moved wisely. His course convinced

the assembly that he did not act from passion or impulse.

Such calmness and self-command, unexpected in one who had

shown himself bold and uncompromising, added to his power, and

enabled him afterward to answer with a prudence, decision, wisdom,

and dignity, that surprised and disappointed his adversaries, and

rebuked their insolence and pride.

The next day he was to appear to render his final answer. For a

time his heart sunk within him as he contemplated the forces that

were combined against the truth. His faith faltered; fearfulness and

trembling came upon him, and horror overwhelmed him. Dangers

multiplied before him, his enemies seemed about to triumph, and

the powers of darkness to prevail. Clouds gathered about him, and

seemed to separate him from God. He longed for the assurance that [157]

the Lord of hosts would be with him. In anguish of spirit he threw

himself with his face upon the earth, and poured out those broken,

heart-rending cries, which none but God can fully understand.

“O God,” he pleaded, “Almighty God everlasting! How dreadful

is the world! Behold how it opens its mouth to swallow me up, and

how small is my faith in thee! ... If I am to depend upon any strength

of this world—all is over.... The knell is struck.... Sentence is gone

forth.... O thou my God! help me against all the wisdom of this

world. Do this, I beseech thee ... by thine own mighty power....

The work is not mine, but thine. I have no business here.... I have

nothing to contend for with the great men of the world.... But the

cause is thine, ... and it is righteous and everlasting.... O faithful and

unchangeable God! I lean not upon man.... Whatever is from man is

tottering, whatever proceeds from him must fall.... Thou hast chosen

me for this work.... Therefore, O God, accomplish thine own will;

forsake me not, for the sake of thy well-beloved Son, Jesus Christ,

my defense, my buckler, and my stronghold.”

An all-wise Providence had permitted Luther to realize his peril,

that he might not trust to his own strength, and rush presumptuously

into danger. Yet it was not the fear of personal suffering, a dread

of torture or death, which seemed immediately impending, that

overwhelmed him with its terror. He had come to the crisis, and he

felt his insufficiency to meet it. Through his weakness the cause of

truth might suffer loss. Not for his own safety, but for the triumph

of the gospel, did he wrestle with God. Like Israel’s, in that night

struggle beside the lonely stream, was the anguish and conflict of his

soul. Like Israel, he prevailed with God. In his utter helplessness his

faith fastened upon Christ, the mighty deliverer. He was strengthened

with the assurance that he would not appear alone before the council.

[158] Peace returned to his soul, and he rejoiced that he was permitted to

uplift the Word of God before the rulers of the nation.

With his mind stayed upon God, Luther prepared for the struggle

before him. He thought upon the plan of his answer, examined

passages in his own writings, and drew from the Holy Scriptures

suitable proofs to sustain his positions. Then, laying his left hand on

the sacred volume, which was open before him, he lifted his right

hand to heaven, and vowed “to adhere constantly to the gospel, and

to confess his faith freely, even though he should be called to seal

his testimony with his blood.”

When he was again ushered into the presence of the Diet, his

countenance bore no trace of fear or embarrassment. Calm and

peaceful, yet grandly brave and noble, he stood as God’s witness

among the great ones of the earth. The imperial officer now demanded

his decision as to whether he desired to retract his doctrines.

Luther made his answer in a subdued and humble tone, without

violence or passion. His demeanor was diffident and respectful; yet

he manifested a confidence and joy that surprised the assembly.

“Most serene emperor, illustrious princes, most clement lords,”

said Luther, “I this day appear before you in all humility, according

to your command; and I implore your majesty, and your august

highnesses, by the mercies of God, to listen with favor to the defense

of a cause which I am well assured is just and right. If in my reply I

do not use the just ceremonial of a court, pardon me, for I am not

familiar with its usages. I am but a poor monk, a child of the cell,

and I have labored only for the glory of God.”

Then, proceeding to the question, he stated that his published

works were not all of the same character. In some he had treated of

faith and good works, and even his enemies declared them not only

harmless but profitable. To retract these would be to condemn truths

which all parties confessed. The second class consisted of writings

exposing the corruptions and abuses of the papacy. To revoke these

works would strengthen the tyranny of Rome, and open a wider door [159]

to many and great impieties. In the third class of his books he had

attacked individuals who had defended existing evils. Concerning

these he freely confessed that he had been more violent than was

becoming. He did not claim to be free from fault; but even these

books he could not revoke, for such a course would embolden the

enemies of truth, and they would then take occasion to crush God’s

people with still greater cruelty.

“But as I am a mere man, and not God,” he continued, “I will

defend myself as did Christ, who said, If I have spoken evil, bear

witness of the evil.’ By the mercy of God, I implore your imperial

majesty, or any one else who can, whoever he may be, to prove to

me from the writings of the prophets and apostles that I am in error.

As soon as I shall be convinced, I will instantly retract all my errors,

and will be the first to cast my books into the fire. What I have

just said, will show that I have considered and weighed the dangers

to which I am exposing myself; but far from being dismayed by

them, I rejoice exceedingly to see the gospel this day, as of old, a

cause of trouble and dissension. This is the character, the destiny, of

God’s Word. Said Christ, ‘I came not to send peace, but a sword.’

[Matthew 10:34.] God is wonderful and terrible in his counsels. Let

us have a care lest in our endeavors to arrest discords we be found

to fight against the holy Word of God, and bring down upon our

heads a frightful deluge of inextricable dangers, present disaster,

and everlasting desolation.... I might cite examples drawn from the

oracles of God. I might speak of Pharaohs, of kings of Babylon,

or of Israel, who were never more contributing to their own ruin

than when, by measures in appearance most prudent, they thought

to establish their authority. God ‘removeth the mountains, and they

know not.’” [Job 9:5.]

[160] Luther had spoken in German; he was now requested to repeat

the same words in Latin. Though exhausted by the previous effort,

he complied, and again delivered his speech, with the same clearness

and energy as at the first. God’s providence directed in this matter.

The minds of many of the princes were so blinded by error and

superstition that at the first delivery they did not see the force of

Luther’s reasoning; but the repetition enabled them to perceive

clearly the points presented.

Those who stubbornly closed their eyes to the light, and determined

not to be convinced of the truth, were enraged at the power

of Luther’s words. As he ceased speaking, the spokesman of the

Diet said angrily, “You have not answered the question. A clear and

express reply is demanded. Will you or will you not retract?”

The reformer answered: “Since your most serene majesty and

the princes require a simple, clear, and direct answer, I will give one,

and it is this: I cannot submit my faith either to the pope or to the

councils, because it is as clear as noonday that they have often fallen

into error, and even into glaring inconsistency with themselves. If,

then, I am not convinced by proof from Holy Scripture, or by cogent

reasons; if I am not satisfied by the very texts that I have cited, and

if my judgment is not in this way brought into subjection to God’s

Word, I neither can nor will retract anything; for it cannot be right

for a Christian to speak against his conscience. Here I take my stand;

I cannot do otherwise. God be my help! Amen.”

Thus stood this righteous man, upon the sure foundation of the

Word of God. The light of Heaven illuminated his countenance.

His greatness and purity of character, his peace and joy of heart,

were manifest to all as he testified against the power of error, and

witnessed to the superiority of that faith that overcomes the world.

The whole assembly were for a time speechless with amazement.

At his first answer, Luther had spoken in a low tone, with a respectful,

almost submissive bearing. The Romanists had interpreted this as [161]

evidence that his courage was beginning to fail. They regarded the

request for delay as merely the prelude to his recantation. Charles

himself, noting, half contemptuously, the monk’s worn frame, his

plain attire, and the simplicity of his address, had declared, “This

man will never make a heretic of me.” The courage and firmness

which he now displayed, as well as the power and clearness of his

reasoning, filled all parties with surprise. The emperor, moved to

admiration, exclaimed, “The monk speaks with intrepid heart and

unshaken courage.” Many of the German princes looked with pride

and joy upon this representative of their nation.

The partisans of Rome had been worsted; their cause appeared

in a most unfavorable light. They sought to maintain their power,

not by appealing to the Scriptures, but by a resort to threats, Rome’s

unfailing argument. Said the spokesman of the Diet, “If you do not

retract, the emperor and the States of the empire will proceed to

consider how to deal with an obstinate heretic.”

Luther’s friends, who had with great joy listened to his noble

defense, trembled at these words; but the doctor himself said calmly,

“May God be my helper! for I can retract nothing.”

He was directed to withdraw from the Diet, while the princes

consulted together. It was felt that a great crisis had come. Luther’s

persistent refusal to submit, might affect the history of the church for

ages. It was decided to give him one more opportunity to retract. For

the last time he was brought into the assembly. Again the question

was put, whether he would renounce his doctrines. “I have no other

answer to give,” he said, “than I have already given.” It was evident

that he could not be induced, either by promises or threats, to yield

to the mandate of Rome.

The papist leaders were chagrined that their power, which had

caused kings and nobles to tremble, should be thus despised by a

136 The Great Controversy 1888

[162] humble monk; they longed to make him feel their wrath by torturing

his life away. But Luther, understanding his danger, had spoken to

all with Christian dignity and calmness. His words had been free

from pride, passion, and misrepresentation. He had lost sight of

himself, and of the great men surrounding him, and felt only that

he was in the presence of One infinitely superior to popes, prelates,

kings, and emperors. Christ had spoken through Luther’s testimony

with a power and grandeur that for the time inspired both friends and

foes with awe and wonder. The Spirit of God had been present in that

council, impressing the hearts of the chiefs of the empire. Several of

the princes boldly acknowledged the justice of Luther’s cause. Many

were convinced of the truth; but with some the impressions received

were not lasting. There was another class who did not at the time

express their convictions, but who, having searched the Scriptures

for themselves, at a future time became fearless supporters of the

Reformation.

The elector Frederick had looked forward anxiously to Luther’s

appearance before the Diet, and with deep emotion he listened to

his speech. With joy and pride he witnessed the doctor’s courage,

firmness, and self-possession, and determined to stand more firmly

in his defense. He contrasted the parties in contest, and saw that the

wisdom of popes, kings, and prelates had been brought to naught by

the power of truth. The papacy had sustained a defeat which would

be felt among all nations and in all ages.

As the legate perceived the effect produced by Luther’s speech,

he feared, as never before, for the security of the Romish power,

and resolved to employ every means at his command to effect the

reformer’s overthrow. With all the eloquence and diplomatic skill

for which he was so eminently distinguished, he represented to the

youthful emperor the folly and danger of sacrificing, in the cause of

an insignificant monk, the friendship and support of the powerful

see of Rome.

[163] His words were not without effect. On the day following Luther’s

answer, Charles caused a message to be presented to the Diet, announcing

his determination to carry out the policy of his predecessors

to maintain and protect the Catholic religion. Since Luther had

refused to renounce his errors, the most vigorous measures should

be employed against him and the heresies he taught. “A single monk,

led astray by his own madness, erects himself against the faith of

Christendom. I will sacrifice my kingdoms, my power, my friends,

my treasure, my body and blood, my thoughts, and my life, to stay

the further progress of this impiety. I am about to dismiss the Augustine

Luther, forbidding him to cause the least disturbance among

the people. I will then take measures against him and his adherents,

as open heretics, by excommunication, interdict, and every means

necessary to their destruction. I call on the members of the States

to comport themselves like faithful Christians.” Nevertheless the

emperor declared that Luther’s safe-conduct must be respected, and

that before proceedings against him could be instituted, he must be

allowed to reach his home in safety.

Two conflicting opinions were now urged by the members of the

Diet. The emissaries and representatives of the pope again demanded

that the reformer’s safe-conduct should be disregarded. “The Rhine,”

they said, “should receive his ashes, as it received those of John Huss

a century ago.” But princes of Germany, though themselves papists

and avowed enemies to Luther, protested against such a breach of

public faith, as a stain upon the honor of the nation. They pointed to

the calamities which had followed the death of Huss, and declared

that they dared not call down upon Germany, and upon the head of

their youthful emperor, a repetition of these terrible evils.

Charles himself, in answer to the base proposal, said that though

faith should be banished from all the earth, it ought to find refuge

with princes. He was still further urged by the most bitter of Luther’s

popish enemies to deal with the reformer as Sigismund had dealt [164]

with Huss—abandon him to the mercies of the church; but, recalling

the scene when Huss in public assembly had pointed to his chains

and reminded the monarch of his plighted faith, Charles V. declared,

“I would not like to blush like Sigismund.”

Yet Charles had deliberately rejected the truths presented by

Luther. “I am firmly resolved to tread in the footsteps of my ancestors,”

wrote the monarch. He had decided that he would not step

out of the path of custom, even to walk in the ways of truth and

righteousness. Because his fathers did, he would uphold the papacy,

with all its cruelty and corruption. Thus he took his position, refusing

to accept any light in advance of what his fathers had received,

or to perform any duty that they had not performed.

There are many at the present day thus clinging to the customs

and traditions of their fathers. When the Lord sends them additional

light, they refuse to accept it, because, not having been granted to

their fathers, it was not received by them. We are not placed where

our fathers were; consequently our duties and responsibilities are not

the same as theirs. We shall not be approved of God in looking to the

example of our fathers to determine our duty instead of searching

the Word of truth for ourselves. Our responsibility is greater than

was that of our ancestors. We are accountable for the light which

they received, and which was handed down as an inheritance for us,

and we are accountable also for the additional light which is now

shining upon us from the Word of God.

Said Christ of the unbelieving Jews, “If I had not come and

spoken unto them, they had not had sin; but now they have no cloak

for their sin.” [John 15:22.] The same divine power had spoken

through Luther to the emperor and princes of Germany. And as

the light shone forth from God’s Word, his Spirit pleaded for the

last time with many in that assembly. As Pilate, centuries before,

permitted pride and popularity to close his heart against the world’s

[165] Redeemer; as the trembling Felix bade the messenger of truth, “Go

thy way for this time; when I have a convenient season, I will call

for thee;” [Acts 24:25.] as the proud Agrippa confessed, “Almost

thou persuadest me to be a Christian,” [Acts 26:28.] yet turned away

from the Heaven-sent message,—so had Charles V., yielding to the

dictates of worldly pride and policy, decided to reject the light of

truth.

Rumors of the designs against Luther were widely circulated,

causing great excitement throughout the city. The reformer had

made many friends, who, knowing the treacherous cruelty of Rome

toward all that dared expose her corruptions, resolved that he should

not be sacrificed. Hundreds of nobles pledged themselves to protect

him. Not a few openly denounced the royal message as evincing a

weak submission to the controlling power of Rome. On the gates of

houses and in public places, placards were posted, some condemning

and others sustaining Luther. On one of these were written merely

the significant words of the wise man, “Woe to thee, O land, when

thy king is a child.” [Ecclesiastes 10:16.] The popular enthusiasm in

Luther’s favor throughout all Germany convinced both the emperor

and the Diet that any injustice shown him would endanger the peace

of the empire, and even the stability of the throne.

Frederick of Saxony maintained a studied reserve, carefully concealing

his real feelings toward the reformer, while at the same time

he guarded him with tireless vigilance, watching all his movements

and all those of his enemies. But there were many who made no

attempt to conceal their sympathy with Luther. He was visited by

princes, counts, barons, and other persons of distinction, both lay

and ecclesiastical. “The doctor’s little room,” wrote Spalatin, “could

not contain all who presented themselves.” The people gazed upon

him as if he were more than human. Even those who had no faith in

his doctrines, could not but admire that lofty integrity which led him

to brave death rather than violate his conscience.

Earnest efforts were made to obtain Luther’s consent to a com- [166]

promise with Rome. Nobles and princes represented to him that if he

persisted in setting up his own judgment against that of the church

and the councils, he would soon be banished from the empire, and

then would have no defense. To this appeal Luther answered: “It

is impossible to preach the gospel of Christ without offense. Why,

then, should the fear of danger separate me from the Lord and that

divine Word which alone is truth? No; I would rather give up my

body, my blood, and my life.”

Again he was urged to submit to the judgment of the emperor,

and then he would have nothing to fear. “I consent,” said he in

reply, “with all my heart, that the emperor, the princes, and even the

humblest Christian, should examine and judge my writings; but on

one condition, that they take God’s Word for their guide. Men have

nothing to do but to render obedience to that. My conscience is in

dependence upon that Word, and I am the bounden subject of its

authority.”

To another appeal he said, “I consent to forego my safe-conduct,

and resign my person and my life to the emperor’s disposal; but as to

the Word of God—never!” He stated his willingness to submit to the

decision of a general council, but only on condition that the council

be required to decide according to the Scriptures. “In what concerns

the Word of God and the faith,” he added, “every Christian is as

good a judge as the pope, though supported by a million councils,

can be for him.” Both friends and foes were at last convinced that

further effort for reconciliation would be useless.

Had the reformer yielded a single point, Satan and his hosts

would have gained the victory. But his unwavering firmness was the

means of emancipating the church, and beginning a new and better

era. The influence of this one man, who dared to think and act for

himself in religious matters, was to affect the church and the world,

[167] not only in his own time, but in all future generations. His firmness

and fidelity would strengthen all, to the close of time, who should

pass through a similar experience. The power and majesty of God

stood forth above the counsel of men, above the mighty power of

Satan.

Luther was soon commanded by the authority of the emperor

to return home, and he knew that this notice would be speedily

followed by his condemnation. Threatening clouds overhung his

path; but as he departed from Worms, his heart was filled with joy

and praise. “Satan himself,” said he, “kept the pope’s citadel; but

Christ has made a wide breach in it, and the devil has been compelled

to confess that Christ is mightier than he.”

After his departure, still desirous that his firmness should not

be mistaken for rebellion, Luther wrote to the emperor. “God is

my witness, who knoweth the thoughts,” he said, “that I am ready

with all my heart to obey your majesty through good or evil report,

in life or death, with no one exception, save the Word of God, by

which man liveth. In all the affairs of this life my fidelity shall be

unshaken; for, in these, loss or gain has nothing to do with salvation.

But it is contrary to the will of God, that man should be subject to

man in that which pertains to eternal life. Subjection in spirituals is

a real worship, and should be rendered only to the Creator.”

On the journey from Worms, Luther’s reception was even more

flattering than during his progress thither. Princely ecclesiastics

welcomed the excommunicated monk, and civil rulers honored the

man whom the emperor had denounced. He was urged to preach,

and, notwithstanding the imperial prohibition, he again entered the

pulpit. “I have never pledged myself to chain up the Word of God,”

he said, “nor will I.”

He had not been long absent from Worms, when the papists

prevailed upon the emperor to issue an edict against him. In this

decree Luther was denounced as “Satan himself under the semblance [168]

of a man in a monk’s hood.” It was commanded that as soon as his

safe-conduct should expire, measures be taken to stop his work. All

persons were forbidden to harbor him, to give him food or drink, or

by word or act, in public or private, to aid or abet him. He was to be

seized wherever he might be, and delivered to the authorities. His

adherents also were to be imprisoned, and their property confiscated.

His writings were to be destroyed, and finally, all who should dare to

act contrary to this decree were included in its condemnation. The

Elector of Saxony, and the princes most friendly to Luther, had left

Worms soon after his departure, and the emperor’s decree received

the sanction of the Diet. Now the Romanists were jubilant. They

considered the fate of the Reformation sealed.

God had provided a way of escape for his servant in this hour

of peril. A vigilant eye had followed Luther’s movements, and a

true and noble heart had resolved upon his rescue. It was plain

that Rome would be satisfied with nothing short of his death; only

by concealment could he be preserved from the jaws of the lion.

God gave wisdom to Frederick of Saxony to devise a plan for the

reformer’s preservation. With the co-operation of true friends, the

elector’s purpose was carried out, and Luther was effectually hidden

from friends and foes. Upon his homeward journey, he was seized,

separated from his attendants, and hurriedly conveyed through the

forest to the castle of Wartburg, an isolated mountain fortress. Both

his seizure and his concealment were so involved in mystery that

even Frederick himself for a long time knew not whither he had

been conducted. This ignorance was not without design; so long as

the elector knew nothing of Luther’s whereabouts, he could reveal

nothing. He satisfied himself that the reformer was safe, and with

this knowledge he was content.

Spring, summer, and autumn passed, and winter came, and

Luther still remained a prisoner. Aleander and his partisans exulted

as the light of the gospel seemed about to be extinguished. But [169]

instead of this, the reformer was filling his lamp from the store-house

of truth; and its light was to shine forth with brighter radiance.

In the friendly security of theWartburg, Luther for a time rejoiced

in his release from the heat and turmoil of battle. But he could not

long find satisfaction in quiet and repose. Accustomed to a life of

activity and stern conflict, he could ill endure to remain inactive. In

those solitary days, the condition of the church rose up before him,

and he cried in despair, “Alas! there is no one, in this latter day of His

anger, to stand like a wall before the Lord, and save Israel!” Again,

his thoughts returned to himself, and he feared being charged with

cowardice in withdrawing from the contest. Then he reproached

himself for his indolence and self-indulgence. Yet at the same time

he was daily accomplishing more than it seemed possible for one

man to do. His pen was never idle. While his enemies flattered

themselves that he was silenced, they were astonished and confused

by tangible proof that he was still active. A host of tracts, issuing

from his pen, circulated throughout Germany. He also performed a

most important service for his countrymen by translating the New

Testament into the German tongue. From his rocky Patmos he

continued for nearly a whole year to proclaim the gospel, and rebuke

the sins and errors of the times.

But it was not merely to preserve Luther from the wrath of his

enemies, nor even to afford him a season of quiet for these important

labors, that God had withdrawn his servant from the stage of public

life. There were results more precious than these to be secured.

In the solitude and obscurity of his mountain retreat, Luther was

removed from earthly supports, and shut out from human praise. He

was thus saved from the pride and self-confidence that are so often

caused by success. By suffering and humiliation he was prepared

again to walk safely upon the dizzy heights to which he had been so

suddenly exalted.

[170] As men rejoice in the freedom which the truth brings them, they

are inclined to extol those whom God has employed to break the

chains of error and superstition. Satan seeks to divert men’s thoughts

and affections from God, and to fix them upon human agencies; he

leads them to honor the mere instrument, and to ignore the Hand that

directs all the events of providence. Too often, religious leaders who

are thus praised and reverenced lose sight of their dependence upon

God, and are led to trust in themselves. As a result, they seek to

control the minds and consciences of the people, who are disposed

to look to them for guidance instead of looking to the Word of God.

The work of reform is often retarded because of this spirit indulged

by its supporters. From this danger, God would guard the cause of

the Reformation. He desired that work to receive, not the impress of

man, but that of God. The eyes of men had been turned to Luther as

the expounder of the truth; he was removed that all eyes might be

directed to the eternal Author of truth.