Elector Frederick’s Dream

Conrad Grahle, Göttlicher, Schriftmessiger, woldennckwürdiger Traum Welchen…Churfürst Friederich Zusachsen…gehabt, 1617, copperplate engraving. See the translation of Elector Frederick’s dream and the “Brief Description of the Engraving” below for more details.

Translator’s Introduction

The 1885 Reformation sermon by Georg Stöckhardt (1842–1913) first acquainted me, in my college days, with the famous dream ascribed to Elector Frederick the Wise of Saxony (1463–1525).¹ I recalled that reference when preparing a previous post and dug a little deeper into the sources. As I have done more and more Reformation reading, I keep returning to this dream, poorly attested as it is, as a more plausible explanation for the elector’s actions, or lack thereof, with respect to Martin Luther than any of the political explanations I’ve read thus far—assuming that a given author even attempts to provide any. Some act of special, divine intervention is almost required in order to understand why this otherwise loyal Catholic prince went out of his way to protect a subject who caused him so many headaches.² Certain circumstances recently led me to delve more deeply into this dream and the history of its transmission, and to translate it in its entirety.

Elector Frederick’s dream is indeed not that well attested, assuming that the research that has been done on it so far is at least somewhat complete. (And I must confess that I have not read all of that research.³) There is, however, an alleged chain of transmission that we can follow. The earliest manuscript of the dream, held by the Saxon State and University Library of Dresden, is written in the hand of David Krautvogel (1529–1601), superintendent of Freiberg. He or someone else—I have not seen the manuscript, and thus have not examined and compared the handwriting—writes at the end of the manuscript that, on November 1, 1591, Krautvogel copied the content from a manuscript written in the hand of Anton Musa (c. 1485–1547), the former superintendent of Rochlitz.⁴ At some point after Krautvogel’s passing in 1601, his copy apparently got into the hands of Peter Kirchbach (1590–1638), a minister in Freiberg. Kirchbach was responsible for having Conrad Grahle turn the dream into an engraving to celebrate the centennial of the Reformation in 1617.⁵

But since Musa was more than forty years deceased by 1591, how was Krautvogel able to copy it? The 1699 version that I share below begins by saying that Musa’s manuscript was in the possession of Bartholomaeus Schönbach (1532–1595), a minister of the gospel who had been born in Rochlitz and was serving in Joachimsthal⁶ in 1591. According to Peter Marschall, Krautvogel found himself stationed in Joachimsthal in 1591 after he had been temporarily removed from his position in Freiberg by the Calvinists, thus enabling him to borrow Musa’s manuscript from Schönbach.⁷

According to Krautvogel’s copy, Anton Musa heard the story of the dream orally recounted to him by Georg Spalatin (1484–1545), who had been Elector Frederick the Wise’s secretary and had heard the dream recounted to him by the elector himself. It has been noted that Spalatin did not include anything about the dream in his Reformation annals. But it also must be noted (and usually is not) that Spalatin’s annals begin with the year 1518, the year after the elector supposedly had his famous dream.⁸

A stronger argument against the story’s authenticity is the fact that Anton Musa left Rochlitz for Merseburg in 1544, when Bartholmaeus Schönbach was only about twelve years old. It seems improbable for Musa to have left such a valuable manuscript in the possession of a boy. But of course there is no documented claim that he did. We simply know that Schönbach possessed the manuscript in 1591. There certainly could have been another link or other as-yet-unknown details in the chain of transmission between Musa and Schönbach. However, it is also curious, at best, that neither Luther nor Melanchthon, both in close contact with Spalatin, make any mention of the elector’s dream. Yet this silence does not prove anything either.

So the alleged chain of transmission, from dream to earliest manuscript (*) to engraving, goes: Elector Frederick the Wise—Georg Spalatin (Schweinitz, 1517)—Anton Musa (unknown place, appar. before 1544)—(unknown person in Rochlitz?)—Bartholomaeus Schönbach (appar. Rochlitz, unknown year)—*David Krautvogel (Joachimsthal, 1591)—(unknown person in Freiberg?)—Peter Kirchbach (Freiberg, before October 1617).

If I myself were to seriously undertake to verify the dream, I would start by checking archival records to learn, if possible, whether Elector Frederick and his brother Duke Johann did in fact stay in Schweinitz Castle the night of October 30, 1517, and if so, how usual that was (especially so close to the Feast of All Saints). That alone could go a long way in verifying the story’s truthfulness, since not many people besides Spalatin could have or would have known that fact, and Spalatin was an otherwise reliable, conscientious Christian.

Even if Elector Frederick did not have this dream, the tale remains not only an interesting story, but also an extremely clever allegory and metaphor for the effect of Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses. Plus, the dream’s artistic depictions in particular remind us of the power and impact of published words and ideas, especially when those words and ideas tap into, and are drawn from, the truth.

I present this translation as a special encouragement to all those Christians engaged in writing and publishing, to the glory of the triune God, the God of our full and free salvation.

Elector Frederick the Wise’s Dream

In 1591 Master Bartholomaeus Schönbach, a minister of the Church who had been born in Rochlitz, was living in Joachimsthal.⁹ He had a manuscript of Master Anton Musa’s, formerly the superintendent of Rochlitz, in which he had recorded the dream that Elector Frederick of Saxony had in Schweinitz¹⁰ about Luther, as recounted orally by Dr. Georg Spalatin. The content, word for word, is as follows:

The estimable gentleman, Georg Spalatin, reliably recounted to me, Anton Musa, a dream that Duke Frederick, Elector of Saxony, had in Schweinitz the night before Dr. Martin Luther posted his propositions in Wittenberg for public debate—namely, his first propositions against the pope and Johann Tetzel’s two sermons on Romish grace and indulgences. His Electoral Grace described this dream to him early the next morning for later recollection. He also related it to his lord brother, Duke Johann of Saxony, in the presence of the chancellor. He said, “Lord brother, I must tell Your Dearness¹¹ what I dreamed last night, and I would very much like to know its meaning. For I noted it so accurately and so well and it made such a deep impression on me that I don’t think I could forget it even if I lived to be a thousand years old, since it appeared to me three times in a row, though in improved form each time.”

Duke Johann asked, “So was it a good dream or a bad one?”

“We don’t know; only God does,” said the elector.

Duke Johann inquired further: “Your Dearness should not put too much stock in it. Whenever I have a dream, I always ask our Lord God to work it out for the best, or I do my best to forget about it, although I must also confess that many dreams have appeared to me, both good and bad, that I did not understand until later, but usually in bad cases. But Your Dearness should please say what the dream was.”

Elector Frederick said, “I will tell Your Dearness. When I went to bed in the evening, fairly tired and weary, I soon fell asleep as I was saying my prayers, and I slept nice and peacefully for nearly two and a half hours. Then I woke up and was pretty awake. I lay there and was thinking about all sorts of things until after midnight. Among other things, I was thinking about how I was going to honor all the dear saints, and besides myself, how my princely household was going to honor them. I also prayed for the dear souls in purgatory and resolved that I would come to their aid in their pain. I therefore asked God for his grace, that he would please guide me and my councilors and provincial representatives in genuine truth and help us to salvation, and that in his omnipotence he would restrain all wicked scoundrels who embitter the work of governing for us. After midnight I fell back asleep soon after these thoughts.

“Then I dreamed that the almighty God was sending a monk to me with a nice, honest face, who was the natural son of St. Paul, the dear apostle. He was accompanied, at God’s command, by all the dear saints, who were supposed to vouch for the monk before me that there was no deceit in him, but that he was truly an ambassador of God. God told them to instruct me to allow the monk to write something for me on my Castle Church in Wittenberg; I would not regret it. So I sent him word through the chancellor, saying that since God was telling me to do this, and since he was so powerfully vouched for, he could write what had been entrusted to him. Then the monk started to write, and his writing was so large that I could make it out here in Schweinitz. He was also using such a long quill pen that the back part of it reached all the way to Rome, and its shaft stabbed a lion who was lying in Rome in one of his ears, so that the shaft came back out through his other ear. The quill extended further all the way to the Papal Holiness’s tiara, and it knocked against it so hard that it began to wobble and was about to fall from His Holiness’s head. So as it was falling—I think I and Your Dearness were not standing too far away—I reached out my hand and tried to help steady it. Right when I was quickly grabbing hold of it, I woke up, and I was still holding my arm in the air.

Jan Barentszoon Muyckens, The Dream of Frederick the Wise, Elector of Saxony, 1643, oil on panel. Muyckens (1595–1665) was a Dutch artist who lived and worked in Amsterdam. He was the son of a monk who had converted to the Lutheran faith around 1580. He based this painting on the Reformation centennial artworks (see Select Annotated Bibliography).

“I was completely terrified and at the same time angry at the monk for not exercising more restraint with his pen when writing. But when I came to my senses and realized it was a dream, I was still very sleepy and soon closed my eyes again and was once again fast asleep. Before I knew what was happening, this dream appeared to me again,¹² for I was dealing with that monk again, and I watched him as he kept on writing and continued stabbing at the lion in Rome with the shaft of his quill, and through the lion at the pope, which caused the lion to roar so dreadfully that the entire city of Rome and all the estates of the Holy Roman Empire came running to see what was going on. And then the Papal Holiness demanded of the estates that the monk be restrained, and especially that I be informed of this outrage. In the middle of that, I woke up for the second time.

“I was astonished that the dream had reoccurred, but I refused to let any of it trouble me so badly. I prayed that God would guard the Papal Holiness from all evil and thus I fell back asleep for the third time. Then the monk reappeared to me for the third time, and we tried very hard to snap this monk’s quill and to lead the pope away. But the more we tried to get at the quill, the more rigid it became and the more it rattled about, so that my ears hurt. We all finally grew so dismayed and tired from it that we gave up and everyone gradually dispersed, and we were worried that the monk might know how to do more than eat bread; he might cause us some sort of harm. Nevertheless I had someone ask the monk (for at one moment I was in Rome, in Wittenberg the next) how he had come into the possession of such a feather, and how it happened to be so tough and firm? He relayed to me that it was from an old, hundred-year-old Bohemian goose.¹³ One of his old schoolteachers had presented it to him as a gift and has asked him, since it was a very good quill, to keep and use it in his memory. He had also tempered it himself.¹⁴ But the reason it lasted so long and was so firm was that neither its mind nor its soul could be removed, as is done with other quills—something that never ceased to amaze himself either.

“Soon after that, another clamor breaks out. Many countless other quills had grown out of the monk’s long quill here in Wittenberg, and it was entertaining to watch as many scholars were scrambling to get them, with some of them thinking that these fresh, new quills would in time become just as large and long as this monk’s quill, and that something special would certainly happen as a result of this monk and his long quill. When I had now fully made up my mind in my dream to converse with the monk in person, and the sooner, the better, I finally woke up for the third time, and morning had now arrived.

“I puzzled a lot over my dream. I thought back on it, and it really struck me how it had appeared to me time after time, and soon I jotted down the most prominent features for later recollection. I am entirely of the opinion that this dream was not without meaning, since it appeared to me so often, and I am almost of a mind to reveal it to my father confessor. But I have also let Your Dearness know about it. Your Dearness and the chancellor should tell me your opinion on it.”

Duke Johann said, “Mr. Chancellor, what do you think? There is not always a lot to take away from dreams, yet they also should not be completely discarded. If we had a pious, discerning Joseph or Daniel here, he could divine its meaning.”

The chancellor said, “Your Electoral Grace knows how the saying goes: The dreams of virgins, scholars, and great lords usually have a hidden meaning. But one doesn’t become aware of what it is until they make themselves known after some time, when affairs might take place from which one can then take a guess. Then a person says, ‘See, that’s certainly what that dream was pointing to,’ as Your Electoral Grace is certainly acquainted with many such examples. Joseph says, ‘Interpreting dreams belongs to God alone’ [Gen. 40:8; 41:16], and Daniel says, ‘Only God in heaven can reveal hidden things’ [Dan. 2:27–28]. Therefore Your Dearness and Your Electoral Grace should simply commit this dream to our dear God. The monks have often created a lot of trouble for great lords. With this dream about monks, the best part is that he was sent by God, unless the devil was trying to play his own game behind a good appearance. Your Electoral Grace will know best how to reflect on these matters in a Christian manner, along with devout prayer.”

Duke Johann said, “I’m with you, Mr. Chancellor, for it is not respectable for us to fret and torture ourselves over it for a long time. If this dream comes from God, he will know how to work it all out for the best and to communicate its true meaning to us at the proper time, or if it means something bad, he will know how to negate it.”

The elector said, “May our faithful God do that, only I hope I don’t forget the dream in the meantime. I do have my own ideas and interpretation, but I will keep them to myself for the time being, though I will write them down. Time may eventually tell whether I have divined correctly, and one of these days we will talk about this with each other once again.”

Brief Description of the Engraving

On the left, a monk (labeled “D. M. L.” for Doctor Martin Luther) writes something about indulgences (“vom ablas”) on a door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg. Other theologians, including Philipp Melanchthon (“Phil. M.”), gather the quills growing and falling out of the monk’s quill. The monk’s quill reaches all the way to Rome, going through the ears of a lion (representing Pope Leo X; leo is Latin for lion) and threatening to knock the tiara from the pope’s head. Elector Frederick, Duke Johann, and others try to steady the tiara. In the middle foreground, a goose (labeled “Johann Huss”) is being roasted, alluding to Hus’s being burned at the stake in 1415 (1416 erroneously given). One man appears to be pulling a quill feather from the goose, while another tempers one he has already removed. In the upper right, the elector sleeps in his canopied chamber in Schweinitz. Beneath his bed, the saints vouch for the monk to the elector. The monk holds the Bible in front of the elector, opened to Isaiah 8:20. The monk is also sitting to the left of the saints, reading Paul’s letter to the Romans and receiving divine assistance to understand it. Beneath the clouds on the left, Johann Tetzel preaches indulgences to a crowd. To the left of him, a Romanist crowd tries to break a tie holding two groves together, apparently illustrating how the Romanist camp has divided the church by forsaking the truth (Isaiah 49:17 and Psalm 2:3 are cited to describe the scene).

Select Annotated Bibliography

• 1617 engraving by Conrad Grahle. https://www.britishmuseum.org/collection/object/P_1914-0209-20. (Full title: Gottlicher, Schriftmessiger, woldennckwürdiger Traum Welchen der Hochlöbliche, Gottselige Churfürst Friederich Zusachsen etc. Der Weise genand, auss sonder offenbarung Gottes, gleich itzo für 100. Jahren nemlich, die Nacht für allerheilig Abend, 1517. zur Schweinitz, 3 mal nacheinand gehabt, alß folgenden tages D. Martin Luther seine Sprüche wieder Johann Tetzels Ablaßkrämerey, an der Schlosskirch thür zu Wittenberg angeschlag. Allen itzo Jubilirenden Christen nützlich zu wissenn, in diesem Kupferstücke eigendtlich fürgebildet. Translation: Godly, scriptural, truly noteworthy dream which the highly laudable, devout Frederick, Elector of Saxony, etc., surnamed the Wise, had in Schweinitz three times in succession exactly one hundred years ago, namely the night before All Saints’ Eve, 1517, by special revelation from God, when Dr. Martin Luther posted his statements against Johann Tetzel’s indulgence peddling on the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg the following day. Accurately portrayed in this copperplate engraving for the edification of all Christians who are celebrating the current centennial.)
• 1617 woodcut by S. S. S., apparently based on Grahle’s engraving. https://www.britishmuseum.org/collection/object/P_1880-0710-299. The “Curator’s Comments” there are mistaken, however, in the claim that the chronogram gives a date of 1568. It’s just that the printer inadvertently neglected to capitalize the L in “EVangelIsChen.” When it is capitalized, it produces a date of 1618. But since the chronogram says, “Right on the first real Evangelical Lutheran Jubilee,” that may indicate that the I was supposed to be omitted from “EVangelIsChen,” so that it should have read, “EVangeLsChen” (note how “LVthersCchen” [sic] also omits the I). If both “evangel’schen” and “luther’schen” had been thus abbreviated, the chronogram would have yielded the date 1617.
• Gräße, Johann Georg Theodor. Der Sagenschatz des Königreichs Sachsen. Dresden: G. Schönfeld’s Buchhandlung, 1855. Pages 29–32. Transcribed, in updated language, from Lehmann’s work.
• Hoenegg, Matthias Hoë von. Christliches Geburt und Lobgedächtnis Des Hocherleuchten / Thewren / Werthen Mannes Gottes / Herren D. Martini Lutheri seeliger / der Christenheit getrewen Apostels und Evangelisten. Leipzig: Frantz Schnelboltzen’s Heirs, 1604. According to Marshall, this was the first published work that mentioned Elector Frederick’s dream.
• Köstlin, Julius. Martin Luther: Sein Leben und seine Schriften. Volume 1. Elberfeld: R. L. Friderichs, 1875. Pages 784–85, n. 177. Köstlin is doubtful of the dream’s legitimacy, but the earliest manuscript that he and a Weimar librarian he consulted were aware of was an eighteenth century copy of Krautvogel’s copy of Musa’s manuscript.
• Lehmann, Christian. Historischer Schauplatz derer natürlichen Merckwürdigkeiten in dem Meißnischen Ober-Ertzgebirge. Leipzig: Friedrich Lanckisch’s Heirs, 1699. Pages 809–814. This was the source for my translation.
• Marshall, Peter. 1517: Martin Luther and the Invention of the Reformation. Oxford University Press, 2017. Pages 82–86. Although this book presents some useful information, especially on this topic, Marschall’s writing is noticeably biased, as evidenced already from the title.
• Olearius, Johann. Die Wunderliche Güte Des Allerhöchsten. Leipzig: Johann Wittigau, 1662. Pages 173–82. This edition of the dream was apparently copied from Rothe’s work.
• Rothe, Caspar. Gloria Lutheri, Das ist: Ruhm und Ehrenpreiß des thewren werthen Mannes Lutheri &c. Leipzig: Christoph Ellinger, 1619. Pages 1–6. This edition begins: “‘Lord brother,’ said the elector, ‘I must tell what I dreamed last night.’” Also, in introducing the dream, Rothe adds confusion by dating the dream to the night of October 31. This seems to stem from his understanding that Luther posted his theses on November 1.
• Schmidt, Ludwig, ed. Katalog der Handschriften der Königl. Öffentlichen Bibliothek zu Dresden. Vol. 3. Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1906. Pages 313 (Bl. 38–43) & 443 (Bl. 428–434).
• Walther, Johann. Tempe Historica Das ist Historischer Lust- und Schau-platz. Jena: Gottfried Mintzel, 1669. Pages 424–31. Copied from an earlier source with no introduction.

Endnotes

¹ Georg Stöckhardt, Gnade um Gnade (Milwaukee: Northwestern, 1914), 560.

² Martin Brecht, Martin Luther: His Road to Reformation (1483–1521) (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1993), 455–56.

³ For instance, I have not read Hans Volz’s article, “Der Traum Kurfurst Friedrichs des Weisen vom 30./31. Oktober 1517: Eine bibliographisch-ikonographische Untersuchung,” in Gutenberg Jahrbuch 45 (1970) 174–211.

⁴ Schmidt, ed., Katalog, 313; cf. p. 443.

⁵ Robert Naumann, ed., Serapeum: Zeitschrift für Bibliothekwissenschaft, Handschriftenkunde und ältere Literatur 29, no. 14 (July 31, 1868) 223–24. See also the “M. P. K.” in the dedication box in the lower right of the engraving at the head of this post.

⁶ A populous mining town in the Kingdom of Bohemia (modern-day Jáchymov, Czech Republic), this Joachimsthal is not to be confused with the Joachimsthal in the German state of Brandenburg, which was not officially founded until 1604.

⁷ Marschall, 1517, 84.

⁸ Georg Spalatin, Annales Reformationis, edited by Ernst Salomon Cyprian (Leipzig, 1718), 1.

⁹ See n. 5 above.

¹⁰ Schweinitz Castle was less than twenty miles east of Wittenberg.

¹¹ Euer Liebe was a common way for important personages to address each other politely.

¹² Alternative translation: “…and was once again fast asleep before I realized it. Then this dream appeared to me again…”

¹³ An allusion to the reformer Jan Hus (c. 1372–1415), who had died about a hundred years earlier. Hus means goose in Czech.

¹⁴ It is unclear whether the “he” here refers to the schoolteacher or the monk. “Tempering” is the process by which one prepares a quill for cutting by making the calamus flexible and cleaning the membrane off of it.

Luther Visualized 4 – The 95 Theses

Luther Posts the Ninety-Five Theses on Indulgences

Anonymous, Elector Frederick the Wise of Saxony’s Dream in Schweinitz on October 31, 1517, 1717, woodcut.

This scene, itself a recasting of an earlier one from 1617, depicts a later tradition (dating to 1591), supposedly related thirdhand, that, on the night before Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Elector Frederick the Wise had a dream which he related to his brother John the following morning. In the dream, a monk wrote something on the door of his Castle Church with a pen whose quill stretched all the way to Rome and threatened to knock the tiara from the pope’s head. (UPDATE: See this post for more on Elector Frederick’s dream.)

Source
Johann Georg Theodor Gräße, Der Sagenschatz des Königreichs Sachsen (Dresden: Verlag von G. Schönfeld’s Buchhandlung, 1855), pp. 29-32

Lucas Cranach the Elder, Church of the Foundation of All Saints (Castle Church), woodcut, 1509 (coloring subsequent)

On the evening of October 31, 1517, Martin Luther nailed his Theses on the Power and Efficacy of Indulgences on the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg. Or did he? Philipp Melanchthon was the first to report on the posting of the theses as we commonly depict it, but he was not in Wittenberg in 1517 and he didn’t report on the posting of the theses until after Luther’s death. The closest report we get that may have been recorded during Luther’s lifetime is a handwritten note by Georg Rörer in a 1540 copy of the New Testament that was also used by Luther for making translation revisions, but that note says that Luther posted his theses on October 31 on the doors of both churches in Wittenberg. Plus, Rörer later wrote another note that matched Melanchthon’s information, apparently after he had read Melanchthon’s account. We do know that Luther included a copy of the theses with a letter to Archbishop Albrecht of Mainz on October 31, and that he himself reckoned the “treading underfoot” of indulgences from that day, but his own correspondence from 1518 seems to imply that he did not immediately make the theses public. Historian Martin Brecht suggests that Luther did not post the theses until perhaps the middle of November 1517. (UPDATE [4/25/20]: Andrew Pettegree makes a good case that Luther did in fact post the theses on October 31 based on publishing evidence [Brand Luther, 12–13, 70–72, 76].) This woodcut of the Castle Church appeared in Das Wittenberger Heiltumsbuch of 1509, which depicted Elector Frederick the Wise’s extensive relic collection and was illustrated with numerous woodcuts by Lucas Cranach. In 1760 the Castle Church, including the wooden doors on which Luther had allegedly posted the theses, was destroyed by fire. In 1858 commemorative bronze doors inscribed with the original Latin theses were mounted where the old wooden doors stood.

Sources
Philipp Melanchthon’s preface to Tomus Secundus Omnium Operum Reverendi Domini Martini Lutheri, Doctoris Theologiae, etc. (Wittenberg: Hans Lufft, 1546), par. 24 (third par. on the linked page)

Volker Leppin and Timothy J. Wengert, “Sources for and against the Posting of the Ninety-Five Theses,” Lutheran Quarterly, vol. 29 (Winter 2015), pp. 373-398

Martin Brecht, Martin Luther: His Road to Reformation (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1985), pp. 190-202