Cajetan was exceedingly mortified when he heard of Luther’s escape. He was thunderstruck, even frightened and alarmed. He had done nothing; he had neither humbled Luther nor punished him. He wrote a letter to the Elector desiring that prince either to send the reformer to Rome, or to banish him from his dominions; adding a postscript in his own writing entreating Frederick “not to tarnish his honor and that of his illustrious ancestors for the sake of a miserable friar.”
The Elector refused either to send Luther to Rome or to banish him from his States. Although secure in the Elector’s favor, Luther felt that he might be compelled to leave Germany. He looked to France as the country where he might hope to have the opportunity of announcing the truth without fear of opposition.
The hour of his departure indeed seemed at hand. He had written to the Elector begging that he might not be sent to Rome, but offering to resign himself to banishment. He had preached a farewell sermon to his congregation, and now he waited in humble trust the will of Him without whose knowledge not a sparrow falls to the ground.
The prince informed Luther that he desired him to leave Wittenberg. A farewell repast was provided. His friends once more gathered around him. He enjoyed their sweet conversation, their tender and anxious friendship. A knock came; a letter arrived! The Elector inquired why he delayed so long. He was sad, but a bright ray of comfort came. He lifted up his head and joyfully exclaimed, as he looked on those around him, “Father and mother abandon me, but the Lord takes me up.” Tears rolled down the cheeks of his friends. Another messenger; a second letter from the Elector! Everything was changed. “Since the Pope’s new envoy hopes that all may be arranged by a conference, remain for the present.”
Luther now published his report of the Augsburg Conference. On November 28, 1518, in the chapel of Corpus Christi at Wittenberg, he appealed from the Pope to a General Council of the Church. This was a bold step. A former Pope had pronounced the greater excommunication even against the emperors who should be guilty of such an act of revolt.
An event now happened which partly diverted the attention of the Pope from the German reformer. On January 12, 1519, the Emperor Maximilian of Germany died, and Frederick of Saxony became the administrator of the empire. He was, therefore, enabled more powerfully to protect Luther, and to disregard the projects of papal nuncios.
The Pope was also so much engaged in his plans concerning the election of a new emperor, that the contest about indulgences seemed of comparatively small importance.
The new papal nuncio, Charles Miltitz, arrived in Saxony about this time. Having been informed of the scandalous proceedings of Tetzel, he became very angry, summoned that monk before him, and, upon his refusing to appear, went to Dresden where he was, and so overwhelmed him with reproaches that he was driven to despair, and soon afterward died. Before his death, Luther, who pitied his old and bitter enemy, wrote him a letter full of kindness and consolation.
Miltitz thought that Cajetan had been too hasty in dealing with Luther, and therefore he tried flattery. They met in the house of Spalatin at Altenburg. “Do you know,” said Miltitz, addressing the reformer, “that you have drawn away all the world from the Pope; even if I had an army of 25,000 men I do not think that I should be able to carry you to Rome.” He had with him seventy briefs to be used for carrying him thither if the Elector delivered the reformer into his hands.
After preparing the way, as he thought, he cautiously hinted at a retraction; but Luther was determined not to retract unless it was proved that he was in error. He acknowledged that he might have spoken too violently sometimes. “But,” he said, “as for a retraction, never expect one from me.”
At the close of the conference, a truce was signed, both parties agreeing that they would in the future neither preach, write, nor do anything further in the discussion that had been raised.
Luther was at this time full of respect for the Church of Rome, and, in his desire for peace, went so far as to write a letter to the Pope, concluding with these words: “I confess that nothing in Heaven or in earth should be preferred above the Church of Rome, except Jesus Christ alone, the Lord of all.”
Strange words to our ears; but in Luther’s case light slowly came out of darkness. He afterward affirmed that “it is not necessary to salvation that we should believe the Roman Church superior to others.”
During the pause which now ensued in the strife, the reformer employed himself in studying the decretals of the Popes. The work of the Reformation also progressed, and the writings of the Wittenberg professor were scattered over France, the Low Countries, Italy, Spain, England, and Switzerland, everywhere creating the greatest sensation. The truce agreed to was soon broken, however, and the combat was renewed.
Dr. Eck commenced the strife, and the famous Leipsic discussion, which lasted seventeen days, was the immediate cause of setting in motion those powers which had for a short space lain dormant.
This disputation dealt with the free will of man, the supremacy of the Pope, the doctrines of indulgences, purgatory, repentance, absolution of the priest, and satisfaction. Eck, one of the most experienced schoolmen of his age, was a formidable opponent; but truth was on the side of Luther. The Catholic theologian had to resort to subtle and fallacious reasoning to meet the powerful arguments the reformer drew from the Word of God.
Luther thought that much time had been wasted without any seeking after truth; but good had been done. The truth had sunk into some hearts. Dr. Eck’s secretary, Poliander; John Callarius, a celebrated Hebrew professor; and Philip Melancthon, the theologian of the Reformation, dated their conversion from this period. Luther himself was brought to see the utter fallacy of the papal pretensions to supremacy.
From this time Eck became the reformer’s bitterest enemy; and early in the following year 1520, he set out for Rome, intending to rouse the papacy to crush his powerful rival.
Luther continued to advance. About this time he published his first Commentary on Galatians. He also questioned the authority of the Popes to canonize saints, and was led to see that the Lord’s Supper was not present in the mass (the mass was not a true observance of the Lord’s Supper).
He leadeth me, oh blessed thought!
O words with heavenly comfort fraught:
Whate’er I do, where’er I be,
Still ’tis God’s hand that leadeth me.