diet of worms

Martin Luther, part IX – Diet of Worms Aftermath

by

After the Diet of Worms, Charles had returned to Spain. To conduct the affairs of state during his absence, had had appointed a Diet of Regency to administer from Nuremberg. The main business which brought the diet together was the inroads of the Turks. Soliman’s armies had made progress to a degree that it struck terror to the nations of Europe. At the diet, Chieregato, the papal nuncio, presented himself. Through Adrian VI, in common with the rest of Europe, was concerned about the Turks, his greater concern, and the one he sought to share with the diet, was for the rapid spread of Luther ‘s ideas in Germany. He longed to see them deal with Luther as Peter had struck Ananias and Sapphira with sudden death for lying against God.

On entering Germany, the nuncio found himself met with less than overwhelming enthusiasm. As Chieregato passed along, he raised his two fingers, after the usual manner, to bless the people, only to have them respond by raising theirs, to show how little they cared for either himself or his benediction. Though this was mortifying, greater mortifications awaited him.

Arriving in Nuremberg, he found, to his great dismay, that the pulpits were occupied by Protestant preachers and the churches were filled with attentive listeners. Upon presenting the diet with his concerns, they informed him that Nuremberg was a free city and that the magistrates were largely Lutheran. Frustrated, he next intimated that he might take matters into his own hands and, on his own authority, apprehended the ministers himself, in the pontiff’s name. The Archbishop of Mainz, and others, informed him that if he embarked on such a risky course, they would immediately quit the city and leave him to deal with the indignant burghers as best he could.

Greatly baffled and humiliated by the little reverence that he had received, the nuncio approached the diet. He admitted to past abuses by the Church but pointed out that Adrian was sincere in his desire to work reform. He was even ready to admit that corruption extended throughout the whole church; but he went to great lengths to urge that those who would push for reforms with too great haste should have nothing but the stake. He therefore urged the diet to execute the imperial edict of death for heresy upon Luther . As regarding the reforms that Adrian proposed to work out, he would neither move too precipitously nor too extremely; it must be done gently, and by degrees. Luther , in translating the papal brief into German, with marginal notes, interpreted this to mean a few centuries between each step.

The Diet Favors Reform

The diet responded by telling Adrian that the idea of executing the Edict of Worms against Luther would be madness. To put to death the Reformer for advocating the very changes that Adrian admitted of being necessary would be no less unjust than dangerous, as it would certainly deluge Germany in blood. Luther must be refuted from the Scriptures, since Luther ‘s writings were in the hands of the people. They knew of only one way that his controversy could be settled, and that was by a General Council. They therefore called for such a council to be held in a neutral town in Germany within the year and included a demand that both laity, as well as clergy, would have a seat and voice in it. Such an unpalatable request was made even more odious by the addition of “Hundred Grievances,” a terrible catalogue of the exactions, frauds, oppressions, and wrongs that Germany had suffered at the hands of the popes.

Chieregato, sensing that he had overstayed his welcome, promptly left Nuremberg, leaving it with someone else to be the bearer of the unwelcome tidings to the pontiff.

In due time, the decree of the diet reached Rome. The otherwise meek Adrian was beside himself with rage. Not only had the diet refused to execute the Edict of Worms and burn Luther and called for a General Council, but they had enumerated a hundred grievances that needed to be addressed. Only thinly veiled was the threat that if the pope failed to act, there were others who would. Seating himself, Adrian poured forth a torrent of threatenings that was more bitter than anything yet to have emanated from the Vatican. Frederick of Saxony, against whom the denunciation was aimed, placed his hand on the hilt of his sword when he read it. Luther, however, who was the only one of the three who was fully in control of his temper, quietly but firmly insisted that no one was to fight for the gospel. The peace was preserved.

Charles V would gladly have brought luther to the stake, had he the power to do so; but in Germany, he could act only so far as the princes would go with him. Consequently, it was the low countries to which he directed his displeasure. In Brussels, on July 1, 1523, three stakes were erected and the first of many martyrs were burned for their faith. This apparent victory for the powers of darkness was but the signal for its defeat. Luther received the news of their death with thanksgiving, knowing that a cause which had produced martyrs bore the seal of Divine authentication and was sure of victory. In the words of Erasmus, “Wherever the smoke of their burning blew, it bore with it the seeds of heretics.” Wylie, History of Protestantism, book 1, 490

Adrian’s Policies Reversed

Adrian lived to hear of the death of these youths, but in September of the same year, he died; and with him passed all interest in reforming the Church. Cardinal Guilio de Medici, an unsuccessful contender for the papal crown in the previous election, was more successful this time. Ascending to the pontifical throne under the name of Clement VII, he hastily reversed the policy of his predecessor.

As Clement assumed his duties, wherever the eye might turn, there was trouble. Two powerful kings were fighting in Italy; the Turks were threatening the Austrian frontier; but the most troublesome, and that which caused the greatest concern, was the situation in Wittenberg. Leo X had underestimated the threat. Adrian had thought to blunt it by working reforms in the church, but both had met with signal failure. Clement determined that for his part, he would prove himself an abler pilot; he would act as a statesman and a pope.

In the spring of 1524, Nuremberg was the scene of the second Imperial Diet. The pope’s first concern was to choose the right man to represent the interests of the Church. The man of his choosing was Cardinal Campeggio. An astute envoy, his great ability and experience seemed to qualify him as best. His journey to the northern Italian border was like a triumphal march; but upon crossing the German border, all tokens of public enthusiasm forsook him. Upon his arrival at Nuremberg, he looked in vain for the usual procession of magistrates and clergy to bid him welcome. As an ordinary traveler, the proud representative of Clement made his way, unescorted, through the streets and entered his hotel.

Campeggio’s instructions were to first of all soothe the Elector of Saxony, who was still smarting from Adrian’s furious letter. Second, he was to make any promise necessary and use whatever diplomacy that was required to bring the diet into submission. Having accomplished these preliminary tasks, he was to attend to Luther. If only the monk could be brought to the stake, all would be well.

A Plea for Loyalty to Rome

The papal nuncio presented himself to the diet. In addressing the princes, he alluded to his devotion to Germany, which had led him to accept this difficult mission when all others had declined. He described the tender solicitude of the pope for his flock. He could not, however, refrain from expressing wonderment that so many great and honorable princes should suffer the religion wherein they were born and in which their father’s had died, to be ill-treated and trampled upon. He begged them to consider what the end of such a course must be, namely, a universal uprising by the people against their rulers and the destruction of Germany. As for the Turks, it did not seem necessary that he should say much, as all knew of the threat that they posed to Christianity.

The princes listened with respect and thanked him for his goodwill and kindly counsel. The matter most pressing, however, and that for which they desired an answer, was the matter of the list of grievances which they had submitted to Rome; they would like to know if the pope had returned an answer and what that answer might be.

Feigning surprise, Campeggio replied that, “As to their demands, there had been only three copies of them brought privately to Rome, whereof one had fallen into his hands; but the pope and college of cardinals could not believe that they had been framed by the princes; they thought that some private persons had published them in hatred of the court of Rome; and thus he had no instructions in that particular.” Ibid., 491. Campeggio’s answer was met with mixed indignation and anger.

Charles had been prevented from attending because of his war with France, but he sent his ambassador, John Hunnaart, to complain that the diet had not enforced the Edict of Worms and to demand that it be put to execution—in other words, that Luther be put to death and the gospel proscribed in Germany.

The deputies, realizing the impossibility of such a thing, dissented; but Campeggio and Hunnaart insisted that they should put into effect the edict to which they had been consenting parties. The diet was in a quandary as to what course to pursue.

The Edict of Worms Nullified

Though they did not dare to repeal the edict, they finally hit upon a clever device for appeasing the pope without arousing the wrath of the people. They passed a decree saying that the Edict of Worms should be rigorously enforced as far as possible. For all practical purposes, it was a repeal of the edict, for the majority of the German states had already declared that it was not possible to enforce. While seeming to have gained a victory, Campeggio and Hunnaart had in reality met defeat, the first of more to come.

Undaunted by the signal failure of past councils to be an end in settling abuses and ending all controversies, the princes, haaving successfully nullified the emperor’s ban, next moved to demand a General Council. The papal legate and the envoy of Charles V both offered stout resistance, but to no avail. They presented to the princes what an affront such a resolve would be to papal authority, what an attack on the prerogatives of the pontiff. The princes, however, remained unchanged in their determination to call for a council and decreed that a diet should assemble at Spires in November. In the mean time, the free towns of Germany were encouraged to express their minds relative to the abuses to be corrected and the reforms to be instituted so that when the council met, the diet might be able to speak in the name of the Fatherland, demanding the reforms that the nation wished.

Sensing a political climate that favored the spread of the gospel, the Protestant preachers continued to preach the gospel with increased zeal. There were two cathedrals in Nuremberg and both were filled to overflowing with attentive audiences. The mass was forsaken, as were images, and the Scriptures were explained according to the early church fathers. The papal legate had the humiliating experience of being jostled in the streets by the throngs hurrying to the Protestant meetings, but there was nothing he could do about it. Germany seemed closer than at any previous time to a national reformation.

It was not only Clement’s authority that was tottering in Germany for if the German states should break away from the Roman faith, the emperor’s influence would be so greatly weakened as to be irreparable damaged. The imperial dignity would be so shorn of its splendor as to threaten the emperor’s schemes, leaving their implementation impracticable.

As alarmed as were the papal nuncio and Charles’s representative, it paled relative to the concern in the Vatican. Clement comprehended at a glance the full extent of the disaster that was threatening the full extent of the disaster that was threatening the papal throne; the half of his kingdom was about to be torn from him. He determined to leave no stone unturned to prevent at all costs the meeting scheduled to take place at Spires. Meanwhile, all eyes now turned to Spires where the fate of popedom was to be decided.

As preparations for the fateful meeting were in progress, the consternation of the Romish party was in proportion to the success of the princes friendly to the Reformed faith. To meet the challenge, Campeggio adopted the old policy of “divide and conquer.”

The Ratisbon Reformation

Withdrawing from the diet, Campeggio retired to Ratisbon where he set to work to form a party among the princes of Germany. Drawing around him Ferdinand, Archduke of Austria; the Dukes of Bavaria; the Archbishop of Salzburg; the Bishops of Trent and Ratisbon; and later the princes of southern Germany; he represented to them that should Wittenberg triumph, it would spell the end of their power as well as the dissolution of the existing order of things. He assured them that the prosperity of the papacy was closely linked with their own welfare. To avert these terrible evils, the princes passed a resolution that called for a ban on the printing of all of Luther’s books, the recall of all youth from their dominions, and no toleration for changes in the mass or public worship. In short, they determined to wage a war of extermination against the new faith. Offsetting these stern measures, they promised a few mind reforms.

The legate had done his work well, and now the pope urged Charles to act against a threat that was a greater detriment to the throne than was Rome. Charles needed no urging, having been stung to the quick by what he viewed as a usurpation of his authority by the princes in seeking to convene a diet. He informed them in sharp terms that it belonged to him as emperor to demand of the pope that a council be convoked and that he and the pope alone were the judge as to a fitting time to convoke such an assembly. Furthermore, he informed them that until such a council should be summoned, it was their responsibility to confine themselves to enforcing the previous Edict of Worms. He further forbade the meeting of the diet at Spires under penalty of high treason and the ban of the empire. The princes eventually submitted, and the proposed diet never met.

Persecution Renewed

Archduke Ferdinand and the papal legate, journeying together to Vienna, determined that to successfully carry out the league, the sword must be unsheathed. Gaspard Tauber of Vienna was charged with the crime of circulating Luther’s books. The idea was circulated that he was disposed to recant. Two pulpits were erected in the churchyard of St. Stephen’s. From the one Tauber was to read his recantation, while from the other a priest was to magnify the act as a new triumph for the Roman Church. Tauber arose and to the amazement of the waiting crowd, made a bolder confession of his faith than ever before. He was immediately dragged to execution, decapitated, and his body thrown to the flames.

This fanatical rage continued for some time and extended even to some parts of northern Germany. From the humble peasant to magistrate on his bench, there was no safety to be found. The countryside swarmed with spies.

While its enemies were forming leagues against the Reformation, new friends were stepping out of the ranks of the Romanists to place themselves on its side. No sooner had the members of the league left Ratisbon, than the deputies of the towns, whose bishops had taken part in the alliance, in surprise and indignation, met at Spires, declaring that their ministers, in spite of the prohibition of the bishops, should preach the gospel. Before the end of the year, the deputies of these cities, with many nobles, met and swore a mutual defense pact.

While the cities were aligning themselves with the Reformation, many princes were also joining the cause.

In early June of 1924, as Melancthon was returning from a visit to his mother, he met a brilliant train near Frankfort. It was Philip, the landgrave of Hesse, who three years earlier had met Luther at Worms. Philip was on his way to Heidelberg, where all the princes of Gemany were to be present at a tournament. Being informed by one of his attendants that it was Melancthon approaching, the young prince quickly rode up to the doctor and asked, “Is your name Philip?” “It is,” replied the surprised scholar. Somewhat intimidated, Melancthon prepared to dismount. “Keep your seat,” said the prince; “turn around, and come and pass the night with me; there are some matters on which I desire to have a little talk with you.” D’Aubigne’s History of the Reformation, book 10, chap. 8

The two Philips rode side by side, the prince asking questions, and the doctor answering them. The landgrave was impressed by the clear answers he received. Upon parting, the landgrave asked that Melancthon, upon further study, send him a replay to his questions in writing.

Shortly after returning from the tournament at Heidelberg, the prince published an edict, in opposition to the league of Ratisbon, allowing the free preaching of the gospel in his territory.

Other princes, including the King of Denmark soon followed in the same direction, lending their influence to the Reformation.

Charles V and the pope had opposed a national assembly at Spires for fear that it would release the Word of God, but, like the dawn spreading across the land, it made itself manifested in every part of the empire, attesting to the truth that the Word of God cannot be bound.

Martin Luther, part V – Called Before The Council

by

Realizing that he could expect little help from the Elector of Saxony, Aleander now turned his attention to the emperor. As he knew, the truth or falsehood of Luther’s opinions carried little weight with Charles; his course was one of policy. The case with him revolved around the point of ambition. Quite simply, which would mot further his political projects, to protect Luther or to burn him? At this time, Germany was not the center of Charles’ interest or policy. He understood neither the spirit nor the language of the German people. While not indifferent to the religious movement that was rapidly gaining ground as the result of Luther’s teaching, it had no meaning except so far as it threatened the pope.

Charles Indebted to Frederick

Though Charles appeared to be the most powerful man in Christendom, there were two men whom he could not afford to offend, the Elector of Saxony and the pontiff. To the first he owed the imperial crown. It was Frederick’s influence with the electoral conclave that had placed the crown upon his head; and while the memory of absolute rulers tends to be short with regard to such obligations, Charles could not dispense with the aid and advice of Frederick in governing the empire over which he had so recently been placed. On the other hand, Charles was on the brink of war with Francis I, the King of France. The war was inevitable, and the principle scene of that war was to be Italy. Under these circumstances, he could not afford to break with the pope as his influence would be indispensable in the coming conflict. Charles would have preferred to have detached Frederick from Luther, or to have been able to satisfy the pope without offending Frederick, but as neither of these options were open to him, it occurred to Charles that the monk of Wittenberg might yet be a most valuable card to be played in the game that was about to begin. If the pope should come to his aid against the king of France, then he was quite willing to fling the Reformer to the flames. If, on the other hand, the pope should refuse his aid and side with Francis, the emperor would protect Luther, making him an opposing power against Leo. Meanwhile, negotiations were being carried on with a view to ascertaining whether Leo would stand with the emperor or Francis. Leo, for his part, dreaded and feared both.

“In this fashion did these great ones deal with the cause of the world’s regeneration. . . . The monk was in their hands; so they thought. How would it have astonished them to be told that they were in his hands, to be used by him as his cause might require; that their crowns, armies, and policies were shaped and moved, prospered, or defeated, with sole reference to those great spiritual forces which Luther wielded! Wittenberg was small among the many proud capitals of the world; yet here, and not at Madrid or at Paris, was, at this hour, the center of human affairs.” Wylie, The History of Protestantism, vol. 1, 322.

Charles had summoned the Diet for January 6, 1521. The many interests that were involved in this meeting combined to bring together a more numerous and brilliant assemblage than any gathering since the days of Charlemagne. From far and near, in unprecedented numbers, the travelers, making their way to Worms, filled the roads of Germany. As the imperial court moved toward Worms, two papal representatives, Caraccioli and Aleander, followed in the emperor’s train.

Charles Racked by Indecision

When the diet opened on January 28, it appeared that Charles did not have a policy established by which to deal with the situation. Amid the splendor that surrounded him, numberless perplexities were continuously distracting him; but all centered around the monk of Wittenberg and the new religious movement. The papal nuncios were importuning Charles day and night to execute the papal bull against Luther. Should he fail to comply, he would certainly offend the pope and send him over to the side of he French king. On the other hand, should be concede to their wishes, he would alienate the Elector of Saxony and kindle a conflagration in Germany that, even with his resources and power, he might not be able to successfully extinguish.

While the emperor vacillated, the Protestant movement advanced from one day to another; and the cause of Rome was continually losing ground. Aleander wrote to Rome with the assurance that unless he had more money to spread around among the members of the diet, all hope of influencing the national body against Luther must be abandoned. Rome responded quickly. Not only did she send more ducats but more anathemas. Her first bull against Luther had been conditional, leaving him sixty days to retract, only threatening to excommunicate him if he failed to comply. The new communication not only confirmed the excommunication, but it went further in that it also included all of Luther’s adherents, placing them under the same curse with him, thus completing the separation between Protestantism and Rome.

But if the new bull simplified matters for Luther and Aleander, it only more certainly clouded the path of the politicians, making even more obscure than before the path of political expediency.

At this moment of crisis, a new plan was struck upon. There was at the court of the emperor a Spanish Franciscan, John Galapio, who held the office of confessor to Charles. An able man, he undertook to accomplish that which had proved an unmanageable conundrum to others. He sought an interview with Pontanus, the councilor of Frederick. Pontanus, on his part, was a man of sterling integrity, competently versed in questions of theology and sagacious enough to see through the most cunning diplomat in all the court. Galapio approached Pontanus with a sigh, and calling Jesus Christ as his witness, expressed his great desire to see a reformation take place in the Church. He asserted that he, as ardently as Luther, desired to see the Church reformed. He indicated that he had often expressed his zeal to the emperor and that Charles was largely in sympathy with him, a fact that would yet be more fully known.

From the generally high opinion that he held regarding Luther’s writings, he made one exception; and that was his work, Babylonish Captivity, in which Luther had so unsparingly attacked the papacy. That particular work, Galapio maintained, was unworthy of Luther’s learning, nor did it express his style. Regarding the rest of Luther’s work, that, he stated, could be submitted to a body of intelligent and impartial men who would allow Luther to explain some things and apologize for others. The pope, exercising his beneficent power, would then reinstate Luther; and the whole matter could thus be amicably settled. Pontanus listened with mind contempt to the plan to trap Luther. When the plot was told to Luther, he met it with feelings of derision. Clearly, Luther’s enemies had misjudged the character of the man with whom they were dealing.

Charles and the Pope Unite

The negotiations between the pope and Charles were now brought to a happy conclusion with the pope agreeing to fully ally himself with the emperor against the French king. The emperor, on his part, agreed to please the pope in the matter relating to Luther. “The two are to unite, but the link between them is a stake. The Empire and popedom are to meet and shake hands over the ashes of Luther. During the two centuries which included and followed the pontificate of Gregory VII, the imperial diadem and the tiara had waged a terrible war with each other for the supremacy of Christendom. In that stage, the two shared the world between them—other competitor there was none. But now a new power had risen up, and the hatred and terror which both felt to that new power made these old enemies friends. The die was cast. The spiritual and the temporal arms have united to crush Protestantism.” Ibid., 325, 326.

As the emperor prepared to fulfill his part, it was difficult to see what might hinder him. With the overwhelming force of arms at his command and with the spiritual sword now joining him, if such a combination of power should fail to succeed, it would be an unaccountable phenomenon, one for which history might search in vain to find a parallel.

The storm did not yet break. Charles had dared to imagine that he would be able to publish his edict without opposition from the states, but such was not the case. Before he could proceed against the Reformer, the constitution of the empire required that he should inquire as to whether the States knew of any better course and if they did, assure them of his readiness to hear them, which he did. While the majority of the German princes cared little for Luther, they had a great deal of respect for their sovereign rights and were weary of the tyranny and grinding extortions of Rome. They believed that to deliver Luther up to Rome would be the most effectual means of riveting even more securely the yoke of Roman servitude about their necks, so they begged time for deliberation. This change in the course of events infuriated Aleander, as he saw the prey slipping from his hands. Charles, however, submitted to the request of the princes; and nothing that Aleander said could move him. When pressed to move from the position that he had taken, Charles laid upon the nuncio the burden of changing the mind of the assembly. In pursuit of this goal, it was arranged that Aleander should be heard before the diet on February 13.

Never before had Rome been called to make its defense before so august an assembly. “This was an important duty, but Aleander was not unworthy of it. He was not only ambassador from the sovereign pontiff, and surrounded with all the splendor of his high office, but also one of the most eloquent men of his age. . . . The elector, pretending indisposition, was not present; but he gave some his councilors orders to attend, and take notes of the nuncio’s speech.” D’Aubigne, History of the Reformation, book 7, chapter 3.

The nuncio spoke for three hours.

“There was no Luther present, with the clear and convincing truths of God’s Word, to vanquish the papal champion. No attempt was made to defend the Reformer. There was manifest a general disposition not only to condemn him and the doctrines which he taught, but if possible to uproot the heresy. Rome had enjoyed the most favorable opportunity to defend her cause. All that she could say in her own vindication had been said. But the apparent victory was the signal of defeat. Henceforth the contrast between truth and error would be more clearly seen, as they should take the field in open warfare. Never from that day would Rome stand as secure as she had stood.” The Great Controversy, 149.

Had vote been taken at the conclusion f the nuncio’s delivery, all, save one, would have undoubtedly given consent to Luther’s condemnation. However, the diet broke up as Aleander sat down; and thus the victory that seemed so certain eluded Rome’s grasp.

When the princes next assembled, the emotions that had been stirred to such a high pitch by the rhetoric of Aleander had largely subsided, and the hard facts of Rome’s extortion alone remained deeply imprinted in the memories of the German princes. These abuses no eloquence of oratory could efface. The first person to address the assembly was Duke George. That fact that he was a known enemy of the Reformer and of the Reformed movement added weight to his words. “With noble firmness, Duke George of Saxony stood up in that princely assembly and specified with terrible exactness the deceptions and abominations of popery, and their dire results. In closing he said:

“These are some of the abuses that cry out against Rome. All shame has been put aside, and their only object is . . . money, money, money, . . . so that the preachers who should teach the truth, utter nothing but falsehoods, and are not only tolerated, but rewarded, because the greater their lies, the greater their gain. It is from this foul spring that such tainted waters flow. Debauchery stretches out the hand to avarice. . . . Alas, it is the scandal caused by the clergy that hurls so many poor souls into eternal condemnation. A general reform must be effected.’” D’Aubigne, History of the Reformation, book 7, chapter 4.

The Diet Calls For Luther

A committee was appointed by the diet to draw up a list of the oppressions under which the nation groaned. When it was completed, the document listed a hundred and one grievances. This list was presented to the emperor with the request that in fulfillment of the terms that he had signed at the time he was crowned, he move to effect the reformation of the enumerated abuses. Moreover, the princes demanded that Luther should be summoned to appear before them. It was unjust, they reasoned, to condemn him without knowing whether he was, in fact, the author of the books in question and without hearing what he had to say in defense of his opinions. Before the unified diet, the emperor gave way, though he covered his retreat by asserting that he had serious doubts that Luther actually authored the books.

Aleander was horrified at the emperor’s lack of resolution in dealing with the matter, but he strove in vain to stem the tide that was now moving in a direction that could only end in disaster for the papacy. He had but one hope left, and that was that Luther could be denied a safe-conduct; but ultimately even this proposal was denied him as well. On March 6, 1521, Luther was summoned to appear before the Diet in twenty-one days. Enclosed with the summons was a safe-conduct signed by the emperor and commanding all princes, lords, and magistrates, under pain of displeasure of the emperor and the Empire, to respect Luther’s safety.

A mightier hand than that of Charles was directing in the affairs of the empire. Instead of bearing his witness at the stake, Luther is to bear testimony on the loftiest stage that the world could provide. The kings, the lords of all Christendom must come to Worms and there patiently wait to listen while the miner’s son speaks to them.

Events had so transpired as to prepare Luther in a special way for this, the great crisis of his career. His study of Paul’s writings and the Apocalypse, when compared with history, convinced him that the Church of Rome, as it then existed, was the predicted “Apostasy” and that the dominion of the papacy was the reign of Antichrist. It was this that broke the spell of Rome, freeing him from the fear of her curse. The summons to the diet at Worms found him confident and secure in this knowledge.

On March 24, 1521, the imperial herald arrived at Wittenberg, placing in Luther’s hands the summons of the emperor to appear before the diet in Worms.