When the year 1520 opened, Maximilian was dead, and a new emperor had to be chosen. The imperial crown had been offered to the Elector Frederick, but that prince in his modesty declined it. The election fell upon Charles, who already possessed sovereign authority over the two Spains, Naples, Sicily, and Austria. As Charles V he was crowned Emperor of Germany, with unusual pomp and magnificence, at Aix-la-Chapelle. The date was October 22, 1520.
Luther, seeing that the cause of the Reformation would soon be carried before the new emperor, wrote to him before he left Madrid; but the young monarch took no notice of his letter.
His life was now in great danger. Fanaticism was kindled in Germany. “Now is the time,” he wrote, “when men will think they do Christ service by putting us to death.” One day as he was in front of the Augustine convent, a stranger, who held a pistol concealed under his cloak, accosted him: “Why do you go thus alone?”
“I am in God’s hands,” replied Luther. “He is my strength and my shield. What can man do unto me?” The stranger turned pale and fled trembling.
Serra Longa wrote to the Elector: “Let not Luther find an asylum in the States of your Highness; let him be rejected of all, and stoned in the face of Heaven; that will be more pleasing to me than if I received ten thousand crowns from you.”
The storm was gathering over his head, but more especially in the direction of Rome was it expected to burst. But while the distant murmurs of the storm might be heard, God aroused the German nobles to form a bulwark for His servant. Sylvester Schaumburg, one of the most powerful knights of Franconia, sent his son with a letter for the reformer. “Your life is in danger,” he wrote. “If the support of the electors, princes, or magistrates fails you, I entreat you to beware of going to Bohemia, where in former times learned men have had much to undergo; rather come to me. God willing, I shall soon have collected more than a hundred gentlemen, and with their help I shall be able to protect you, from every danger.”
Letters of sympathy also reached him from many noble-minded men of that age.
When Luther received these letters, he exclaimed, “The Lord reigns, I see Him there, as if I could touch Him.”
At this time the writings of the reformer were read and his words treasured in cottages and convents, in the homes of the citizens and in the castles of the nobles, in the universities and in the palaces of kings. He now issued his famous “Appeal to His Imperial Majesty, and to the Nobility of the German Nation, on the Reformation of Christianity.” In this he boldly condemned the false doctrines and bad practices of the Romish Church, and even went so far as to speak of the Pope as Antichrist. In a short time over 4,000 copies were sold.
The storm burst. The Pope issued a bull. Luther was given sixty days to forward his recantation. Failing to do this, he would be condemned, with all his adherents, as open and obstinate heretics.
Dr. Eck rejoiced, and brought the bull into Germany. Little encouragement was given to him as he advanced. The bull was treated as his bull, and was attributed to private revenge. In many places the German people tore it down and trampled it underfoot, and at Erfurt the students threw the copies they obtained into the river. Several of the bishops refused to publish it. But grave danger threatened the reformer. If the mighty hand of the Emperor united with that of the Pope, who could save the poor monk? For centuries the sentence of excommunication had been followed by death. What would Luther do? All eyes were turned toward him. While the bull was on its way he published his tract on “The Babylonian Captivity of the Church,” closing it with these words: “I hear that new papal excommunications have been concocted against me. If it be so, this book may be considered as a part of my recantations. The rest will follow shortly in proof of my obedience, and the complete work will, by Christ’s help, form such a whole as Rome has never yet seen or heard of.”
On October 3 the bull was published. Upon hearing of this, Luther said, “I despise it, and attack it as impious, false, and in every respect worthy of Eck.” A month later he issued his treatise “Against the Bull of Antichrist.” But a still more daring step was held in reserve. On November 17, he again appealed, in the presence of a notary and five witnesses, from the Pope to a General Christian Council hereafter to be held.
On December 10, a placard was fixed to the walls of the University of Wittenberg, inviting the professors and students to be present at nine o’clock the following morning at the east gate. A large number assembled. Luther led the way to the appointed spot. A fire was lighted, and as the flames rose high into the air, he approached and cast the canonical law books, some writings of Eck’s, and the Pope’s bull into the fire, saying as he did so, “Since thou hast vexed the Holy One of the Lord, may everlasting fire vex and consume thee.”
By this bold act he broke down the bridge of retreat; henceforth he must go onward or die. Great efforts were now made by the papal party to obtain from the Emperor an edict sentencing Luther to death. But Charles V referred the papal nuncios to the Elector of Saxony.
The importance of winning over the Elector to their side was fully estimated by Luther’s enemies, and an interview with that prince was sought. “In your Highness are reposed all our hopes for the salvation of the Church and the Holy Roman Empire,” pleaded Aleander the nuncio. Then he added with great vehemence, “Unless a remedy be speedily applied the empire is ruined. I require two things of you in the name of his Holiness: first, that you will burn Luther’s writings; secondly, that you will inflict on him the punishment he deserves, or at least that you will deliver him to the Pope.”
The Elector took time to reply to this violent speech. He was placed in a difficult position. He feared to offend the Pope, and he shrank from delivering up one whom he had long befriended. A youthful voice pleaded for the reformer. John Frederick, the Elector’s nephew, then seventeen years of age, wrote to his uncle on Luther’s behalf.
The Elector was just, and refused to give way to the wishes of the Pope. He replied to the nuncios that not any other person had shown that Luther’s writings had been refuted and deserved to be thrown into the fire. He requested Doctor Luther should be furnished with a safe-conduct, so that he might appear before a tribunal of learned, pious, and impartial judges.
But while the agents of Rome were trying their utmost to destroy the reformer, Germany was overwhelming him with acclamations. Although the plague was raging in Wittenberg, new students arrived every day, and from four to six hundred disciples habitually sat at the feet of Luther and Melancthon. The two churches that belonged to the convent and the town were not large enough to hold the crowds who came to hear the reformer. Princes, nobles, and learned men from every quarter wrote him letters full of consolation and faith. But some of his friends grew timid, and seemed about to leave him. Staupitz was one of these. To him Luther wrote, “You exhort me to be humble, I exhort you to be firm.”
God will keep His own anointed,
Naught shall harm them, none condemn,
All their trials are appointed,
All must work for good to them;
All shall help them
To their heavenly diadem.