WHILE THE COMBAT was beginning beyond the confines of the empire, it appeared dying away within. The most impetuous of the Roman champions, the Franciscans of Juterbock, who had imprudently attacked Luther, had hastily become silent after the reformer’s vigorous reply. The papal partisans were mute: Tetzel was no longer in a condition to fight. Luther was entreated by his friends not to continue the discussion, and he had promised compliance. The theses were passing into oblivion. This treacherous peace rendered the eloquence of the reformer powerless. The Reformation appeared checked. "But," said Luther somewhat later, when speaking of this epoch, "men imagine vain things; for the Lord awoke to judge the people. God does not guide me," he said in another place; "He pushes me forward, He carries me away. I am not master of myself. I desire to live in repose; but I am thrown into the midst of tumults and revolutions."

Eck the scholastic, Luther’s old friend, and author of the Obelisks, was the man who recommenced the combat. He was sincerely attached to the papacy, but seems to have had no true religious sentiments, and to have been one of that class of men, so numerous in every age, who look upon science, and even theology and religion, as the means of acquiring worldly reputation. Vainglory lies hidden under the priests’s cassock no less than under the warrior’s coat of mail. Eck had studied the art of disputation according to the rules of the schoolmen and had become a master in this sort of controversy. While the knights of the middle ages and the warriors in the time of the Reformation sought for glory in the tournament, the schoolmen struggled for it in disputations – a spectacle of frequent occurrence in the universities. Eck, who entertained no mean idea of himself, and who was proud of his talents, of the popularity of his cause, and of the victories he had gained in eight universities of Hungary, Lombardy, and Germany, ardently desired to have an opportunity of trying his strength and skill against the reformer. He had spared no exertion to acquire the reputation of being one of the most learned men of the age. He was constantly endeavoring to excite some new discussion, to make a sensation, and aimed at procuring, by means of his exploits, all the enjoyments of life. A journey that he had made to Italy had been, according to his own account, one long series of triumphs. The most learned scholars had been forced to subscribe to his theses.

This experienced gladiator fixed his eyes on a new field of battle, in which he thought the victory already secure. The little monk who had suddenly grown into a giant – that Luther, whom hitherto no one had been able to vanquish, galled his pride and excited his jealousy. Perhaps in seeking his own glory, Eck might ruin Rome. But his scholastic vanity was not to be checked by such a consideration. Theologians, as well as princes, have more than once sacrificed the general interest to their personal glory. We shall see what circumstances afforded the Ingolstadt doctor the means of entering the lists with his importunate rival.

The zealous but too ardent Carlstadt was still on friendly terms with Luther. These two theologians were closely united by their attachment to the doctrine of grace, and by their admiration for Saint Augustine. Carlstadt was inclined to enthusiasm, and possessed little discretion: he was not a man to be restrained by the skill and policy of a Miltitz. He had published some theses in reply to Dr. Eck’s Obelisks, in which he defended Luther and their common faith. Eck had answered him; but Carlstadt did not let him have the last word. The discussion grew warm. Eck, desirous of profiting by so favorable an opportunity, had thrown down the gauntlet, and the impetuous Carlstadt had taken it up. God made use of the passions of these two men to accomplish His purposes. Luther had not interfered in their disputes, and yet he was destined to be the hero of the fight. There are men who by the force of circumstances are always brought upon the stage. It was agreed that the discussion should take place at Leipzig. Such was the origin of that Leipzig disputation which became so famous.

Eck cared little for disputing with and even conquering Carlstadt: Luther was his great aim. He therefore made every exertion to allure him to the field of battle, and with this view published thirteen theses, which he pointed expressly against the chief doctrines already set forth by the reformer. The thirteenth was thus drawn up: "We deny that the Roman Church was not raised above the other churches before the time of Pope Sylvester; and we acknowledge in every age, as the successor of St. Peter and the vicar of Jesus Christ, him who has filled the chair and held the faith of St. Peter." Sylvester lived in the time of Constantine the Great; by this thesis, Eck denied, therefore, that the primacy enjoyed by Rome had been conferred on it by that emperor.

Luther, who had reluctantly consented to remain silent, was deeply moved as he read these propositions. He saw that they were aimed at him, and felt that he could not honorably avoid the contest. "This man," said he, "calls Carlstadt his antagonist, and at the same time attacks me. But God reigns. He knows what He will bring out of this tragedy. It is neither Doctor Eck nor myself that will be at stake: God’s purpose will be accomplished. Thanks to Eck, this affair, which hitherto has been mere play, will become serious, and inflict a deadly blow on the tyranny of Rome and of the Roman pontiff."

Rome herself had broken the truce. She did more; in renewing the signal of battle, she began the contest on a point that Luther had not yet attacked. It was the papal supremacy to which Doctor Eck drew the attention of his adversaries. In this he followed the dangerous example that Tetzel had already set. Rome invited the blows of the gladiator; and, if she left some of her members quivering on the arena, it was because she had drawn upon herself his formidable arm.

The pontifical supremacy once overthrown, the whole edifice would crumble into ruin. The greatest danger was impending over the papacy, and yet neither Miltitz nor Cajetan took any steps to prevent this new struggle. Did they imagine that the Reformation would be vanquished, or were they struck with that blindness which often hurries along the mighty to their destruction?

Luther, who had set a rare example of moderation by remaining silent so long, fearlessly replied to the challenge of his antagonist. He immediately published some new theses in opposition to those of Doctor Eck. The last was conceived in these words: "It is by contemptible decretals of Roman pontiffs, composed within the last four centuries, that they would prove the primacy of the Church of Rome; but this primacy is opposed by all the credible history of eleven centuries – by the declarations of Holy Scripture – and by the resolutions of the Council of Nice, the holiest of all councils."

"God knows," wrote he at the same time to the elector, "that I was firmly resolved to keep silence, and that I was glad to see this struggle terminated at last. I have so strictly adhered to the treaty concluded with the papal commissary that I have not replied to Sylvester Prierio, notwithstanding the insults of my adversaries, and the advice of my friends. But now Doctor Eck attacks me, and not only me, but the University of Wittenberg also. I cannot suffer the truth to be thus covered with opprobrium."

At the same time Luther wrote to Carlstadt: "Most excellent Andrew, I would not have you enter upon this dispute, since they are aiming at me. I shall joyfully lay aside my serious occupations to take my part in the sports of these flatterers of the Roman pontiff." – Then addressing his adversary, he cries disdainfully from Wittenberg to Ingolstadt: "Now, my dear Eck, be brave, and gird thy sword upon thy thigh, thou mighty man! If I could not please thee as mediator, perhaps I shall please thee better as antagonist. Not that I imagine I can vanquish thee; but because, after all the triumphs thou hast gained in Hungary, Lombardy, and Bavaria (if at least we are to believe thee), I shall give thee opportunity of gaining the title of conqueror of Saxony and Misnia, so that thou shalt forever be hailed with the glorious title of August."

All Luther’s friends did not share in his courage; for no one had hitherto been able to resist the sophisms of Doctor Eck. But their greatest cause of alarm was the subject of the discussion: the pope’s primacy. The courtiers of the elector were alarmed. Spalatin, the prince’s confidant and Luther’s intimate friend, was filled with anxiety. Frederick was uneasy: even the sword of the knight of the holy sepulcher, with which he had been invested at Jerusalem, would be of little avail in this war. The reformer alone did not blench. The Lord (thought he) will deliver him into my hands. The faith by which he was animated gave him the means of encouraging his friends: "I entreat you, my dear Spalatin," said he, "do not give way to fear. You well know that if Christ had not been on my side, all that I have hitherto done must have been my ruin. Quite recently has not the Duke of Pomerania’s chancellor received news from Italy that I had turned Rome topsy-turvy, and that they knew not how to quiet the agitation? So that it was resolved to attack me, not according to the rules of justice, but by Roman artifices (such was the expression used), meaning, I suppose, poison, ambush, or assassination.

"I restrain myself, and from love to the elector and the university suppress many things that I would publish against Babylon, if I were elsewhere. O my poor Spalatin, it is impossible to speak with truth of the Scriptures and of the Church without arousing the beast. Never expect to see me free from danger unless I abandon the teaching of sound divinity. If this matter be of God, it will not come to an end before all my friends have forsaken me, as Christ was forsaken by His disciples. Truth will stand alone, and will triumph by its own right hand, not by mine, nor yours, nor any other man’s. If I perish, the world will not perish with me. But, wretch that I am, I fear I am unworthy to die in such a cause." – "Rome," he wrote again about the same time, "Rome is eagerly longing to kill me, and I am wasting my time in braving her. I have been assured that an effigy of Martin Luther was publicly burned in the Campo di Fiore at Rome, after being loaded with execrations. I await their furious rage. The whole world," he continued, "is moved, and totters in body and mind; what will happen, God only knows. For my part, I foresee wars and disasters. The Lord have mercy on us!"

Luther wrote letter upon letter to Duke George, begging this prince, in whose states Leipzig was situated, to give him permission to go and take part in the disputation; but he received no answer. The grandson of the Bohemian king, alarmed by Luther’s proposition on the papal authority, and fearing the recurrence of those wars in Saxony of which Bohemia had so long been the theater, would not consent to the doctor’s request. The latter therefore resolved to publish an explanation of the thirteenth thesis. But this writing, far from persuading the duke, made him only the more resolved; he positively refused the sanction required by the reformer to take a share in the disputation, allowing him only to be present as a spectator. This annoyed Luther very much: yet he had but one desire to obey God. He resolved to go – to look on – and to wait his opportunity.

At the same time the prince forwarded to his utmost ability the disputation between Eck and Carlstadt. George was attached to the old doctrine; but he was upright, sincere, a friend to free inquiry, and did not think that every opinion should be judged heretical simply because it was offensive to the court of Rome. More than this, the elector used his influence with his cousin; and George, gaining confidence from Frederick's language, ordered that the disputation should take place.

Adolphus, bishop of Merseburg, in whose diocese Leipzig was situated, saw more clearly than Miltitz and Cajetan the danger of leaving such important questions to the chances of single combat. Rome dared not expose to such hazard the hard-earned fruits of many centuries. All the Leipzig theologians felt no less alarm, and entreated their bishop to prevent the discussion. Upon this, Adolphus made the most energetic representations to Duke George, who very sensibly replied: "I am surprised that a bishop should have so great a dread of the ancient and praiseworthy custom of our fathers – the investigation of doubtful questions in matters of faith. If your theologians refuse to defend their doctrines, it would be better to employ the money spent on them in maintaining old women and children, who at least could spin while they were singing."

This letter had but little effect on the bishop and his theologians. There is a secret consciousness in error that makes it shrink from examination, even when talking most of free inquiry. After having imprudently advanced, it retreated with cowardice. Truth gave no challenge, but it stood firm; error challenged to the combat, and ran away. Besides, the prosperity of Wittenberg was an object of jealousy to the University of Leipzig. The monks and priests of the latter city begged and entreated their flocks from the pulpit to flee from the new heretics. They vilified Luther; they depicted him and his friends in the blackest colors in order to excite the ignorant classes against the doctors of the Reformation. Tetzel, who was still living, awoke to cry out from the depth of his retreat: "It is the devil who urges them to this contest."

All the Leipzig professors did not, however, entertain the same opinions: some belonged to the class of indifferents, always ready to laugh at the faults of both parties. Among this body was the Greek professor, Peter Mosellanus. He cared very little about either John Eck, Carlstadt, or Martin Luther; but he flattered himself that he would derive much amusement from their disputation. "John Eck, the most illustrious of goose-quill gladiators and of braggadocios," wrote he to his friend Erasmus, "John Eck, who like the Aristophanic Socrates despises even the gods themselves, will have a bout with Andrew Carlstadt. The match will end in loud cries. Ten such men as Democritus would find matter for laughter in it."

The timid Erasmus, on the contrary, was alarmed at the very idea of a combat, and his prudence would have prevented the discussion. "If you would take Erasmus’s word," wrote he to Melancthon, "you would labor rather in cultivating literature than in disputing with its enemies. I think that we should make greater progress by this means. Above all, let us never forget that we ought to conquer not only by our eloquence, but also by mildness and moderation." Neither the alarm of the priests nor the discretion of the pacificators could any longer prevent the combat. Each man got his arms ready.

While the electors were meeting at Frankfurt to choose an Emperor (June, 1519), the theologians assembled at Leipzig for an act, unnoticed by the world at large, but whose importance was destined to be quite as great for posterity.

Eck came first to the rendezvous. On the twenty-first of June he entered Leipzig with Poliander, a young man whom he had brought from Ingolstadt to write an account of the disputation. Every mark of respect was paid to the scholastic doctor. Robed in his sacerdotal garments, and at the head of a numerous procession, he paraded the streets of the city on the festival of Corpus Christi. All were eager to see him: the inhabitants were on his side, he tells us himself; "yet" adds he, "a report was current in the town that I should be beaten in this combat."

On the day succeeding the festival (Friday, June 24), which was the Feast of Saint John, the Wittenbergers arrived. Carlstadt, who was to contend with Dr. Eck, sat alone in his carriage, and preceded all the rest. Duke Barnim of Pomerania, who was then studying at Wittenberg and who had been named honorary rector of the university, came next in an open carriage: at each side were seated the two great divines – the fathers of the Reformation – Luther and Melancthon. The latter would not quit his friend. "Martin, the soldier of the Lord," he had said to Spalatin, "has stirred up this fetid pool. My spirit is vexed when I think of the disgraceful conduct of the papal theologians. Be firm, and abide with us!" Luther himself had wished that his Achates, as he called him, should accompany him.

John Lange, vicar of the Augustines, many doctors of law, several masters of arts, two licentiates in theology, and other ecclesiastics, among whom was Nicholas Amsdorff, closed the procession. Amsdorff, sprung from a noble family, valuing little the brilliant career to which his illustrious birth might have called him, had dedicated himself to theology. The theses on indulgences had brought him to a knowledge of the truth. He had immediately made a bold confession of faith. Possessing a strong mind and an ardent character, Amsdorff frequently excited Luther, who was naturally vehement enough, to acts that were perhaps imprudent. Born in exalted rank, he had no fear of the great, and he sometimes spoke to them with a freedom bordering on rudeness. "The gospel of Jesus Christ," said he one day before an assembly of nobles, "belongs to the poor and afflicted – not to you, princes, lords, and courtiers, who live continually in luxury and pleasures."

But these persons alone did not form the procession from Wittenberg. A great number of students followed their teachers: Eck affirms that they numbered two hundred. Armed with pikes and halberds, they surrounded the carriages of the doctors, ready to defend them, and proud of their cause.

Such was the order in which the cortege of the reformers arrived in Leipzig. They had already entered by the Grimma gate and advanced as far as St. Paul’s cemetery, when one of the wheels of Carlstadt’s carriage gave way. The archdeacon, whose vanity was delighted at so solemn an entry, rolled into the mud. He was not hurt, but was compelled to proceed to his lodgings on foot. Luther’s carriage, which followed next, rapidly outstripped him, and bore the reformer in safety to his quarters. The inhabitants of Leipzig, who had assembled to witness the entry of the Wittenberg champions, looked upon this accident as an evil omen to Carlstadt: and erelong the whole city was of opinion that he would be vanquished in the combat, but that Luther would come off victorious.

Adolphus of Merseburg was not idle. As soon as he heard of the approach of Luther and Carlstadt, and even before they had alighted from their carriages, he ordered placards to be posted upon the doors of all the churches, forbidding the opening of the disputation under pain of excommunication. Duke George, astonished at this audacity, commanded the town council to tear down the placards, and committed to prison the bold agent who had ventured to execute the bishop’s order. George had repaired to Leipzig, attended by all his court, among whom was that Jerome Emser at whose house in Dresden Luther had passed a remarkable evening. George made the customary presents to the respective combatants. "The duke," observed Eck with vanity, "gave me a fine deer; but he only gave a fawn to Carlstadt."

Immediately on hearing of Luther’s arrival, Eck went to visit the Wittenberg doctor. "What is this!" asked he; "I am told that you refuse to dispute with me!"

Luther. – "How can I, since the duke has forbidden me?"

Eck. – "If I cannot dispute with you, I care little about meeting Carlstadt. It was on your account I came here." Then after a moment’s silence be added: "If I can procure you the duke’s permission, will you enter the lists with me?"

Luther, joyfully. – "Procure it for me, and we will fight."

Eck immediately waited on the duke, and endeavored to remove his fears. He represented to him that he was certain of victory, and that the papal authority, far from suffering in the dispute, would come forth covered with glory. The ringleader must be attacked: if Luther remained standing, all would stand with him; if he fell, everything would fall with him. George granted the required permission.

The duke had caused a large hall to be prepared in his palace of the Pleissenburg. Two pulpits had been erected opposite each other; and tables were placed for the notaries commissioned to take down the discussion, and benches had been arranged for the spectators. The pulpits and benches were covered with handsome hangings. Over the pulpit of the Wittenberg doctor was suspended the portrait of Saint Martin, whose name he bore; over that of Doctor Eck, a representation of Saint George the champion. "We shall see," said the presumptous Eck, as he looked at this emblem, "whether I shall not ride over my enemies." Everything announced the importance that was attached to this contest.

On the twenty-fifth of June, both parties met at the palace to hear the regulations that were to be observed during the disputation. Eck, who had more confidence in his declamations and gestures than in his arguments, exclaimed, "We will dispute freely and extemporaneously; and the notaries shall not take down our words in writing."

Carlstadt. – "It has been agreed that the disputation should be reported, published, and submitted to the judgment of all men."

Eck. – "To take down everything that is said is dispiriting to the combatants, and prolongs the battle. There is an end to that animation which such a discussion requires. Do not check the flow of eloquence."

The friends of Doctor Eck supported his proposition, but Carlstadt persisted in his objections. The champion of Rome was obliged to give way.

Eck. – "Be it so; it shall be taken down. But do not let the notes be published before they have been submitted to the examination of chosen judges."

Luther. – "Does then the truth of Doctor Eck and his followers dread the light?"

Eck. – "We must have judges."

Luther. – "What judges?"

Eck. – "When the disputation is finished, we will arrange about selecting them."

The object of the partisans of Rome was evident. If the Wittenberg divines accepted judges, they were lost: for their adversaries were sure beforehand of them. If they refused these judges, they would be covered with shame, for their opponents would circulate the report that they were afraid to submit their opinions to impartial arbitrators.

The judges whom the reformers demanded were, not any particular individual whose opinion had been previously formed, but all Christendom. They appealed to this universal suffrage. Besides, it was a slight matter to them if they were condemned, if, while pleading their cause before the whole world, they brought a few souls to the knowledge of the truth. "Luther," says a Romanist historian, "required all men for his judges; that is, such a tribunal that no urn could have been vast enough to contain the votes."

They separated. "See what artifices they employ," said Luther and his friends one to another. "They desire no doubt to have the pope or the universities for judges."

In fact, on the next morning the Romanist divines sent one of their number to Luther, who was commissioned to propose that their judge should be – the pope! . . . "The pope!" said Luther; "how can I possibly agree to this?"

"Beware," exclaimed all his friends, "of acceding to conditions so unjust." Eck and his party held another council. They gave up the pope, and proposed certain universities. "Do not deprive us of the liberty which you had previously granted," answered Luther. "We cannot give way on this point," they replied. "Well then!" exclaimed Luther, "I will take no part in the discussion!"

Again the parties separated, and this matter was a general topic of conversation throughout the city. "Luther," everywhere exclaimed the Romanists, "Luther will not dispute! . . . He will not acknowledge any judge!" His words were commented on and misrepresented, and his adversaries endeavored to place them in the most unfavorable light. "What! does he really decline the discussion?" said the reformer’s best friends. They went to him and expressed their alarm. "You refuse to take any part in the discussion!" cried they. "Your refusal will bring everlasting disgrace on your university and on your cause." This was attacking Luther on his weakest side. "Well, then!" replied he, his heart overflowing with indignation, "I accept the conditions imposed upon me; but I reserve the right of appeal, and except against the court of Rome."

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