Mrs Luther and her sisters

Women in the Reformation

Derek Wilson

• Publisher: Lion Books
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9780745957937
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Theology & Religion
• Subtopic: History of Christianity

It is a frequent complaint that women have been airbrushed out of history, their contributions forgotten, their voices silenced. In this superbly written book, historian Derek Wilson redresses the balance, showing how women were crucial to the Reformation. Working alongside men - and sometimes in opposition to them - women were able to study, to speak, to write, to struggle and even to die for what they believed, and to leave behind a record of all these achievements. From Catharina Luther, through English martyr Anne Askew to Elizabeth I and onwards out into Europe - this book reveals the rich threads women brought to the tapestry of history.

CHAPTER 1

DR AND MRS LUTHER

Philip Melanchthon was stunned. His old friend, associate, and idol, Martin Luther, had done something incredibly stupid. Writing to a friend in the summer of 1525, he reported that he was completely at a loss to explain the pioneer reformer’s action: “In these unhappy times, in which good people are suffering so much, this man lacks compassion and rather, as it seems, revels and compromises his good reputation, precisely at a time when Germany stands in particular need of his spirit and authority.”¹ What grievous error had Luther fallen into? He had got married. Melanchthon was affronted, not because he disapproved of the institution of wedlock, nor because he was surprised that Luther was in favour of it. Both men had virulently opposed clerical celibacy. There was no theological reason why Luther should not take a wife. What annoyed Melanchthon was the timing of this event.

Germany was in chaos. A widespread revolt by the lower orders had mushroomed into what history knows as the Peasants’ War, and the evangelical movement was unavoidably caught up in it. Insurrectionist preachers took the liberty of the gospel and turned it into a manifesto for bloody social change. As villages burned, houses were looted and landowners exacted hideous revenge on the rebels, leaders on both sides looked to Luther for support. Melanchthon was not alone among reforming pastors and preachers in believing that their prime responsibility was to pour oil on the raging waters of civil unrest. A long-standing supporter expressed the opinion of many when he heard rumours of their wedding: “If this monk takes a wife, the whole world and the Devil himself will laugh and all the work he has done for now will have been for nought.”² Even committed reformers found it difficult to disentangle themselves from ancient orthodoxies concerning sexual relations.

For more than a thousand years, neoplatonic asceticism had provided the philosophical ground rules for the Christian understanding of human nature. Man was made up of sarx and pneuma, flesh and spirit. Anyone who sought holiness would strive to free him-/herself from “bondage” to the flesh. Monks, nuns, and priests were (theoretically) those who had chosen the path of abstinence in order to escape from worldly taint. Carnal desire was a satanic temptation. God permitted it for lay people within marriage, but strictly for the procreation of children. Thomas Aquinas had insisted that indulging in the sex act for the giving or receiving of pleasure, even within marriage, was fornication. A chaste life was something that set the priest apart from ordinary mortals and enabled him to be a means of mediation between God and man. In theory. Notoriously, abstention was practised more in the breach than the observance. Everyone knew this, but reality was not allowed to get in the way of theory. If the “otherness” of priests was ever to be called in doubt, then men might go on to question their sacerdotal function. The entire Catholic system of confession, absolution, and performance of the priestly miracle might be shaken.

In this Luther took his stand, as in all other issues, on the rock of Holy Scripture. As early as 1520, when he dramatically defied papal authority by making a bonfire of many Catholic books, he explained his action in a treatise pointing out the errors emanating from Rome. One such error was: “No-one who is married is able to serve God, even though Abraham and many saints have been married and God himself established marriage.”³ He consistently took his stand on Genesis 2:18: “It is not good that man should be alone. I will make him a helper.” What God had arranged as a fundamental component of human society, no pope had the authority to unarrange.

For Luther, experience as well as Scripture proved that, for those seeking holiness, pursuing the monastic path was a cul-de-sac. His revolt against traditional teaching began with his bitter frustration at not being able to achieve righteousness by his own efforts. It followed that the celibate life, far from being the highest vocation for a Christian man or woman, was no vocation at all. God called each and every one of them to a specific role, so that the tailor or the milkmaid, faithfully carrying out their allotted tasks, were being as true to their vocation as the diligent priest. Moreover, God had created male and female with inbuilt desires, and the suppression of those desires could have only unfortunate consequences. Nevertheless, Luther remained single. He did not even abandon his monastic vows until 1524. The fact that God had ordained marriage did not mean that every Christian had to be married, and he felt no pull in that direction himself. When he was asked why he did not practise what he preached, Luther replied that it would not be fair to involve a woman in his dangerous and highly stressful life. Hence the shock that went through the evangelical churches when, only a year later, he took to wife Catherine von Bora.

The series of events that culminated in this volte-face were little short of sensational. The members of several male and female orders who had been won over to reformed religion had left their convents and become members of lay society. For most men this change of lifestyle was not too much of a problem; they had families or local communities who could help them find employment. Women – and particularly women of some social standing – were not as fortunate. Most of them had a stark choice: marriage or the nunnery. And their decisions were dictated by economic rather than religious considerations. Daughters of landed families existed for the purpose of making advantageous alliances. A father wishing to see his girls married to “suitable” spouses had to provide them with tempting dowries. If he could not afford to do so and if he did not want to feed and clothe them in perpetuity, he would place them in a convent. For a modest down payment, the holy sisters would take a girl off her family’s hands at an early age and attend to her material and spiritual needs. In this way, religious houses were provided with financial support and also a pool of potential novices. Not all girls in nunneries espoused the religious life. For some the convent was merely a single-sex hostel where they could live chastely and in reasonable comfort. This, of course, did not banish their natural desires, a fact which gave rise to numerous scurrilous tales (some undoubtedly true) of “goings-on” within the cloistered precincts. Most young women doubtless preserved their virtue, but with varying degrees of reluctance. So, when Luther and his friends, in their books and sermons, condemned monastic life, some nuns as well as monks espied a welcome escape route.

One night in April 1523, twelve nuns of the Cistercian convent at Nimbschen in Saxony literally “escaped”. A local merchant who provided the sisters with herrings and who was, therefore, allowed in, smuggled the women out in his cart. The escapade was masterminded by Luther. It was risky because the abduction of nuns was a capital offence, but the cargo was safely delivered to Wittenberg and lodged in the Augustinian priory where Luther continued to live. One of those nuns was the twenty-four-year-old Catherine von Bora.

Catherine’s father was of the minor nobility, with estates near Leipzig. She had received a good basic education in a Benedictine cloister before being sent to Nimbschen at the age of nine or ten. Her family had close connections with the house and two of her aunts were of the sisterhood. We can imagine her leading a genteel life with forty or so other women and girls of noble breeding throughout her teenage years when she was not expected to submit to the full rigours of a contemplative life. However, the time came when she would have either to leave or to take religious vows. In all probability, the decision was made for her by her father and stepmother. She took the veil at the age of sixteen. Thus, from her birth to her mid-twenties, Catherine had no real experience of the outside world. But she could read and she could discuss what she read with her colleagues. They were a coterie of cultured, aristocratic ladies who took an interest in the theological debates which, from about 1520, were raging with increasing ferocity. Presumably, they were not supposed to be allowed access to the works of radicals and heretics, such as Martin Luther, but such dangerous material did come into their hands. Catherine was among the rebels who sent messages to Wittenberg begging for their release.

Once he had accepted responsibility for the Nimbschen ladies, what was Luther to do with them? The answer was to marry them off to his respectable friends and co-religionists. This he was able to do with no apparent difficulty. Except for Catherine von Bora. A year later she was still on his hands. The basic reason seems to have lain in Catherine’s character. She was a strong-willed woman who was determined to marry a man of her choice. Up to now, her way of life had been decided for her by her father. She was not about to leap from the frying pan into the fire. She was very conscious of her own aristocratic status and would only contemplate marriage with a man she considered worthy of her. Soon after her arrival in Wittenberg she fell in love with someone who came up to her expectations. Hieronymus Baumgartner was about the same age as her, was one of Luther’s students, and came from a good family. He returned her affection and they discussed marriage. But when Hieronymus reported to his family, they quickly scotched the romance and found him a younger – and wealthier – bride. Catherine watched all her erstwhile sisters settle into comfortable domesticity. This must have had some influence on her. She was currently in limbo. She could not continue to live in the Wittenberg cloister as a single woman but she was too proud to have any man foisted on her as a husband. Melanchthon believed – and it has been accepted as part of the story ever since – that Catherine set her cap at Luther and made all the running in their “courtship”. If she did take the initiative it was probably with the understandable conviction that the man who was determining her destiny should be prepared to become personally involved in it.

On Luther’s part, his affections were engaged by another of the Nimbschen maidens. But he, too, was destined to be disappointed when the lady in question married a local apothecary. Evidently his reluctance to espouse the married state was wearing thin. One reason was pressure from home. His father had always opposed Martin’s monastic vocation. He wanted his son to marry and provide him with grandchildren. Now that Martin was free (and not getting any younger!), there was no reason why he should not do his filial duty. So the old man reasoned, and his continued pestering had its effect. Another argument also weighed with the reformer: how could he urge other ex-monks to marry as a gesture of defiance to Rome if he was not prepared to set an example? He decided – as a matter of duty – that he would marry Catherine. When writing to a friend he was anxious to point out (in words which may seem to us ungallant) that this was God’s doing, “for I feel neither passionate love nor burning desire for my spouse”.⁴

It may be that we should take with a slight pinch of salt Luther’s claim to immunity from sexual desire. Not only did he reject the Catholic theologians’ neoplatonic spirituality, which asserted perpetual warfare between “flesh” and “spirit”, he actually revelled in his God-given human nature. Hearing him talk quite openly later about his intimate relations with Katie must have made some of his friends wince. Writing to his friend Georg Spalatin to congratulate him on his wedding, he urged him to embrace his bride eagerly, thanking God that this wonderful creature had been given to him by Christ, and he made a personal promise: “On the evening of the day on which … you will receive this, I shall make love to my Catherine while you make love to yours, and thus we will be united in love.”⁵ Many of the reformer’s friends and colleagues were never able to shake off their unease about this seemingly bizarre attitude. Whatever the reasons behind the union of Martin and Catherine, they plighted their troth to each other in a low-key ceremony on 13 June 1525. It was to prove one of the most significant marriages in European history.

What Catherine found in the old Augustinian cloister at Wittenberg was Luther, one other ex-monk, and a bevy of servants rattling around in the extensive monastic buildings. Luther’s old patron, Duke Frederick (who had recently died), had given permission for him to remain in the convent but he had no idea how to maintain the draughty old building, let alone how to find new uses for the accommodation and the grounds. Catherine had her work cut out to establish a viable domestic economy, especially as her husband received only a very modest stipend as a lecturer at Wittenberg University. She responded to the challenge with a will. The conventual buildings had to be turned into a home. Catherine designed a new entrance. She had a well dug. The old monastic cells were turned into student digs. Catherine competed with other landladies by undercutting their board and lodging prices and cashing in on her husband’s fame. Many undergraduates were attracted by the opportunity to sit at table with the great Dr Luther. Catherine made full use of the priory grounds. She cultivated vegetables and fruit and planted an orchard. She negotiated fishing rights in a local pond. She kept domestic animals on what amounted to a rapidly expanding smallholding. According to a tax return of 1542, she was rearing “five cows, nine calves, one goat with two kids, eight swine, two sows and three piglets”.⁶ Add to this the output of a well-regulated kitchen and it is clear that the household must have been virtually self-supporting. She had no hesitation about soliciting donations from wealthy friends or approaching landowners and businessmen who had embraced Lutheranism to finance the improvements. Within a few years the old, closed Augustinian house had become not just a home and a student hostel but also a meeting place for the local community, where parties and banquets were held – sometimes for as many as 130 guests.

Catherine was obviously an extremely able, practical woman. She lifted the domestic burden from Luther’s shoulders and enabled him to concentrate on his teaching and writing. It took him little time to realize that he had been extremely fortunate in his choice of wife. And he was more than grateful. Whatever his feelings may have been before his marriage, there can be no doubt that they blossomed into a deep love. “My Katie is in all things so obliging and pleasing to me that I would not exchange my poverty for the riches of Croesus,” Martin confided to a friend.⁷ To another he affirmed, “I would not give my Katie for France and Venice together.”⁸ When Luther was away from home on family or pastoral business he never failed to write to his wife, and his letters, with their mix of cheerful banter, news, and practical concerns, give a vivid picture of a relationship which was a team affair:

God greet you in Christ, my Sweetheart Kate. I hope that if Doctor Buick gives me permission to leave … I will be able come with him tomorrow … Because Johannes [a servant] is moving away necessity and honour demands that I let him depart … in an honourable condition. For you know that he has served faithfully and diligently and humbly and truly kept to the gospel and done everything and suffered … So dip into your purse, and do not let such a pious fellow lack for anything … I am well aware that there is little there; but I would happily give him 10 gulden if I had it. But you should not give him less than 5 gulden … Whatever you are able to give him above that, I ask you do it … Think of where you get everything. God will provide you with more, that I know … I cannot find anything to buy for the children. If I do not bring anything special, have something on hand for me to give them … ⁹

As this letter suggests, cash flow was often a problem. Catherine’s task would have been easier (as she doubtless pointed out whenever the household budget struck rock bottom) had her husband been remotely interested in money and the management of money. The Luthers could have become extremely wealthy. Martin was by far the best-selling author in Europe. His numerous books and pamphlets were eagerly read throughout Germany and were translated into several languages. From all this success the author profited by not so much as one pfennig. When he had become a monk he had forsworn personal wealth, and he continued to believe that his God-given gifts should be used solely for the spread of the gospel and the edification of Christians, and not for his personal profit. Fortunately, Catherine was not so other-worldly. As well as soliciting gifts from wealthy friends and followers, she invested in property. After considerable argument with Martin, sh...

Table of contents

• COVER
• PRAISE
• ALSO BY DEREK WILSON
• TITLE PAGE
• COPYRIGHT
• CONTENTS
• INTRODUCTION
• CHAPTER 1: DR AND MRS LUTHER
• CHAPTER 2: WIVES AND MOTHERS
• CHAPTER 3: WOMEN IN COMMUNITY
• CHAPTER 4: WOMEN IN POWER
• CHAPTER 5: THE EDUCATED WOMAN
• CHAPTER 6: WOMEN VENTURING INTO PRINT
• CHAPTER 7: PATRONS AND PROTÉGÉS
• CHAPTER 8: OTHER FEMALE ACTIVISTS
• CHAPTER 9: PERSECUTORS
• CHAPTER 10: VICTIMS
• CHAPTER 11: FROM THEN TO NOW
• NOTES
• BIBLIOGRAPHY