Leo the tenth ascended the papal throne in the year 1513. He was the third son of Lorenzo de' Medici, the Magnificent, and brought with him to the pontifical court the refined, luxurious, and expensive style of his family. Besides, Michael Angelo had furnished him with finished design of St. Peter's, which was then in progress, and greatly increased his expenditure. The important question now was, how to find money to complete the grand cathedral, and to replenish the papal treasury for the purposes of Leo's pontificate?
The letters of Luther to this pontiff are misleading. He seems not to have known Leo's character, though he had so much to do with him; they have all the appearance of flattery. While Leo has the reputation of being one of the most polished and cultivated men of his day, he was far from being even a moral man. His court was gay, he was devoted to pleasure, and utterly careless of the duties of religion. Compared with his immediate predecessors—the dissolute Alexander VI., whose name can never be mentioned without loathing—and the wild warrior-pope, Julius II., whose stormy career filled a great part of Europe with blood and massacres—compared, we say, with such popes, the person and court of Leo would present a favorable contrast; and Luther no doubt addressed him under his superstitious veneration for the head of the church, and because of his fame as a man of learning.
To meet the various and heavy expenses of the extravagant Leo, the cry for money became louder and louder. "Money! money!" was the cry. "It was money," says one, "not charity, that covered a multitude of sins." Necessity suggested that the price of indulgences should be lowered, and that clever salesmen should be employed to push the trade all over Europe. The plan was adopted; but God overruled the shameless traffic for the accomplishment of the Reformation, and for the overthrow of the despotism of Rome. Germany, it was agreed, should be the first and especially favored place with the sale of indulgences, as the geographical position of the country might have prevented many of the faithful from reaping the advantages of the Jubilee in Rome.
The original idea of indulgences seems to have been nothing more than a shortening of the outward penance imposed on penitents by the payment of a fine, such as we have constantly decreed in our courts of law—say, "Fined in fifty pounds, or six months' imprisonment." If the money is paid, it is placed to the credit of the criminal, and he is released and receives his discharge. In like manner the poor deluded papist supposes that the indulgence which he buys is placed to his credit in the statute-book of heaven, which balances the account against him for lies, slanders, robberies, murders, and wickedness of all kinds; or, as some have compared it, to a letter of credit on heaven, signed by the pope, in consideration of value received. Of course, if the delinquent's sins are great and many, he must pay heavily for his indulgences.
This pardon system expanded, and was so worked by the priesthood, that it became the means of enormous wealth to the papacy. Works meet for repentance were demanded from the sinner—and all were sinners—works such as fasting, castigation, pilgrimages, and after death so many years in purgatory. But the sinner was reminded that the burden of these works might be removed, and the years of purgatorial fire shortened, through the power delegated by Christ to the blessed Peter and his successors, on certain conditions. The easiest of these conditions to the penitent, and the most convenient to the pope, was "money! money!"