that could be looked on as a challenge or an insult should surely be avoided as a stupid blunder. I would therefore ask that the book be judged impartially, and without allowing feelings, in themselves quite natural, to interfere unduly; let the reader ask himself simply whether each assertion is, or is not, proved by the facts and witnesses. As regards the author, however, he would ask his readers to remember that we Catholics (to quote the words of a Swiss writer) “are not prevented by the view we hold of the Church, from rejoicing over all that our separated brethren throughout the world have preserved of the inheritance of Christ, and display in their lives, that, on the contrary, our best and sincerest esteem is for the bona fides of those who think otherwise than we” (“Schweizerische Kirchenzeitung,” 1910, No. 52, December 29).
With regard to “inconvenient facts,” Friedrich Paulsen wrote in his “Geschichte des gelehrten Unterrichts” (I², 1896, p. 196): “If Protestant historians had not yielded so much to the inclination to slur over inconvenient facts, Janssen’s ‘History of the German People’ [English trans., 1901-1909] would not have made the impression it did—surely an ‘inconvenient fact’ for many Protestants.” The same respected Protestant scholar also has a word to say to those who were scandalised at some disagreeable historical home-truths which he had published, “as though it were my fault that facts occurred in the history of the Reformation which a friendly biographer of Luther must regret.”
Even in the Protestant world of the present day there is a very general demand for a plain, unvarnished picture of Luther. “Amicus Lutherus magis amica veritas,” as Chr. Rogge said when voicing this demand; the same writer also admitted that there was “much to be learnt from the Catholics, even though they emphasised Luther’s less favourable qualities”; that, “we could not indeed expect them to look at Luther with our eyes, but nevertheless we have not lost all hope of again finding among them men who will fight the Monk of Wittenberg with weapons worthy of him.” And further, “the scholar given up to historical research can and ought to strive to bring the really essential element of these struggles to the knowledge and appreciation of his opponents, for, if anywhere, then surely in the two principal camps of Christendom, large-minded polemics should be possible” (“Zum Kampfe um Luther” in the “Türmer,” January, 1906, p. 490).
I have not only avoided theological polemics with Protestants, but have carefully refrained from considering Protestantism at all, whether that of to-day or of the two previous centuries. To show the effects of Luther’s work upon the history of the world was not my business. The object of my studies has not been Lutheranism, but Luther himself considered apart from later Protestantism, so far as this was possible; of course, we cannot separate Luther from the effects he produced, he foresaw the results of his work, and the acceptance of this responsibility was quite characteristic of him. I will only say, that the task I set myself in this work closes with the first struggles over his grave. I may remark further, that the Luther of theology, even in Protestant circles, is being considered more and more as an isolated fact. Are there not even many Protestant theologians who at the present day allow him no place whatever in the theological and philosophical doctrines which they hold? Indeed, is it not an understood thing with many of our Protestant contemporaries, to reject entirely or in part the doctrines most peculiar and most dear to Luther. Two years ago the cry was raised for “a further development of religion,” for “a return from Trinitarian to Unitarian Christianity, from the dogmatic to the historic Christ,” and at the same time the Allgemeine Evangelisch-Lutherische Konferenz at Hanover received a broad hint that, instead of wasting time in working for the Lutheran tenets, they would be better employed in devising a Christianity which should suit the needs of the day and unite all Protestants in one body. In these and similar symptoms we cannot fail to see a real renunciation of Luther as the founder of Protestant belief, for there are many who refuse to hold fast even to that rudimentary Christianity which he, in agreement with all preceding ages, continued to advocate. Only on account of his revolt against external authority in religious questions and his bitter opposition to the Papacy, is he still looked up to as a leader. There is therefore all the less reason for the historian, who subjects Luther to his scrutiny, to fear any reproach of having unwarrantably assailed the Protestantism of to-day.
As in these pages my only object has been to examine Luther’s person, his interior experiences and his opinions from the point of view of pure history, I think I have the right to refuse beforehand to be drawn into any religious controversy. On the other hand, historical criticism of facts will always be welcomed by me, whether it comes from the Catholic or from the Protestant camp, and will be particularly appreciated wherever it assists in elucidating those questions which still remain unsolved and to which I shall refer when occasion arises.
Finally, an historical reminiscence, which carries us back to the religious contradictions as they existed in Germany a hundred years ago, may not be out of place. At that time Gottlieb Jakob Planck of Württemberg, Professor of Theology at Göttingen, after the lengthy and unprofitable polemics of earlier ages, made a first attempt to pave the way for a more just treatment by the Protestant party of Luther’s history and theology. In his principal work, i.e. in the six volumes of his “Geschichte der Entstehung, der Veränderung und der Bildung unseres protestantischen Lehrbegriffs” (finished in 1800), he ventured, with all the honesty of a scholar and the frankness natural to a Swabian, to break through the time-honoured custom according to which, as he says, all “those who dared even to touch on the mistakes of our reformers were stigmatised as blasphemers.” “While engaged on this work,” he declares, “I never made any attempt to forget I was a Protestant, but I hope that my personal convictions have never led me to misrepresent other people’s doctrines, or to commit any injustice or even to pass an unkind judgment. Calm impartiality is all that can be demanded.” I should like, mutatis mutandis, to make his words my own, and to declare that, while I, too, have never forgotten that I am a Catholic, I stand in no fear of my impartiality being impugned.
I would likewise wish to appropriate the following words taken from Planck, substituting the word “Protestants” for “Catholics”: “The justice which I have thought it necessary to do to Catholics may perhaps excite some surprise, because some people can never understand one’s treating opponents with fairness.” But “I am convinced that, if my readers are scandalised, this will merely be on account of the novelty of the method. I really could not bring myself to sacrifice truth and justice to any fear of giving offence.” Planck admits, elsewhere, speaking of Lutheran history, that compliance with the demands of impartiality in respect of certain persons and events which he had to describe, was sometimes “incredibly hard,” and he proceeds: “There are circumstances where every investigator is apt to get annoyed unless indeed disinterestedness is to him a natural virtue.... It is exasperating [the present writer can vouch for this] to have to waste time and patience on certain things.” So speaks a theologian renowned among Protestants for his earnestness and kindliness.
With the best of intentions Planck spent part of his time and strength in the chimerical task of bringing about a “reunion of the principal Christian bodies.” He wrote a work, “Ueber die Trennung und Wiedervereinigung,” etc. (on Schism and Reunion, 1803), and another entitled “Worte des Friedens an die katholische Kirche” (Words of Peace to the Catholic Church, 1809). It was his desire “to seek out the good which surely exists everywhere.” The ideas he put forward were, it is true, unsuited for the realisation of his great plan. He was too unfamiliar with the organisation of the Catholic Church, and the limitations of his earlier education disqualified him for the undertaking he had in view. What really shattered the hopes of reunion held by many during that period of triumphant Rationalism was, not merely the shallowness of the views prevailing, but above all the spirit of animosity let loose among all fervent Lutherans by the celebration, in 1817, of the third centenary of the Reformation. Catholics soon perceived that reunion was unfortunately still very far distant, and that, in the interests of the public peace, all that could be expected was the retention of mutual esteem and Christian charity between the two great denominations.
It is also my most ardent desire that esteem and charity should increase, and this growth of appreciation between Catholics and Protestants will certainly not be hindered by the free and untrammelled discussion of matters of history.
On the contrary, as a Protestant critic