Jacob Probst’s Unhappy Story (1522)

Translator’s Preface

Jacob Probst was born in 1486 in Ypres, Flanders. By the early 1500s he had joined the Reformed Augustinian cloister in Haarlem. In 1505 he enrolled at the University of Wittenberg (where the Vicar General of the Reformed Augustinians, Johann von Staupitz, was Professor of the Bible) and received his Master of Arts degree in 1509. He served as prior of the Reformed Augustinian monastery in Wittenberg (Luther’s eventual home) from 1515–1518, a critical time in Luther’s theological development and his launching of what would become known as the Reformation. (Luther would affectionately refer to him as “the fat little Flem”—a Flem being a native of Flanders.) Probst then succeeded Johann van Mechelen as prior of the Reformed Augustinian monastery in Antwerp in Brabant, which had been founded in 1513 and given official standing within the Augustinian Order in 1514. In Antwerp he even made an impression on Erasmus of Rotterdam, who wrote to Luther from Louvain on May 30, 1519:

There is in Antwerp a prior of its monastery, a genuinely Christian man, who has a strong and singular affection for you. He was once your pupil, according to his preaching. He is almost the only one who preaches Christ out of all the preachers. The others generally preach either the fictions of men or their own gain.¹

After Emperor Charles V, whose titles included Lord of the Netherlands, issued the Edict of Worms against Luther and his sympathizers in May 1521, he established a state-run inquisition, installing Francis van der Hulst as its head. Francis, a jurist, had studied theology and law at the University of Louvain and was a member of the Council of Brabant in Brussels. While Luther was in hiding at the Wartburg, Probst returned to Wittenberg to continue his education and to discuss with friends there how to proceed in the increasingly unsafe atmosphere in the Low Countries. He returned to Antwerp by the beginning of September and took a more moderate approach, no longer mentioning Luther in his sermons. But the papal nuncio Girolamo Aleandro (or Jerome Aleander) and those helping van der Hulst with his inquisition weren’t buying it. Margaret of Austria, governor of the Low Countries and the emperor’s aunt, sent Nicolaas Baechem of Egmond (also known simply as Nicolaas Egmond or Egmondanus) to spy on Probst’s sermons and to report back, which he did in early November. Not long thereafter Francis van der Hulst set out from Brussels for Antwerp to initiate proceedings against Probst.

On July 1, 1523, two monks from the Antwerp monastery where Probst had been prior were burned at the stake in Brussels by Roman Catholic authorities. The 500th anniversary of this event, the first Lutheran martyrdom, is fast approaching. We will better understand the context in which they were burned if we understand Jacob Probst’s two imprisonments, interrogation, and recantation. What follows is the account of Probst’s “unhappy story” that he himself published after escaping from his second imprisonment and returning to Wittenberg. God willing, tomorrow I will post the “exhortatory epistle to his hearers, and especially to the people of Antwerp” that he appended to this account. If his account and epistle made it into the hands of his fellow monks, which is not at all unlikely, then it would be impossible to overstate its impact on the first Lutheran martyrs. It would have prepared, fortified, and equipped them for what they were about to undergo.

May the triune God use his account to prepare, fortify, and equip us to boldly witness to his grace and his saving name in our own day and age.

Jacob Probst’s Unhappy Story

In the name of Jesus.

Brother Jacob Probst, Augustinian, formerly a preacher in Antwerp, wishes the Christian reader grace and peace in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Until now I have been ashamed to occupy pious ears, ears more happily occupied in the Lord, with my unhappy history. But I see that the enemies of the gospel are taking endless pride in rejoicing over my most miserable ruin, and that they are daily becoming more and more insolent against the glory of the gospel (which is once again resurfacing throughout the world), boasting about my sacrilegious recantation, and publishing it in both languages in every corner in the most hateful manner.² I myself am therefore compelled, in defense of the truth I have preached, to make the history of my unhappiness public and to bring their efforts to light. I am telling the truth with God as my witness, who knows my conscience, that I was not overcome by the Scriptures or by any reasoning, but solely by the fear of being burned and of Antwerp being destroyed on my account (as they were threatening).

And permit me to start there. When Luther’s pamphlets were being spread throughout the world and were sowing everywhere that sword and fire which Christ came to send upon the earth [Matt. 10:34; Luke 12:49], and the priests, monks, and our teachers [magistri nostri] in Louvain³ were in an incredible uproar and fury over them, I was teaching in Antwerp for my own part as moderately as I could, refuting their various and manifest lies against the Christian doctor.⁴ Yet the people, eager for the word of God, were flocking together to hear it. This is where that envy came from; this is the fountainhead of this tragedy. For when they could not withstand the truth and were lamenting their diminished glory, after many attempts to silence me (which envy usually makes in vain), they finally incited the emperor’s power against me.

At this time the councilor Francis van der Hulst, a man both eager for and worthy of the proceedings to be carried out, eagerly set out for Antwerp, armed with imperial letters, to break everything up and to subvert the gospel. But he was rebuked for his madness on the way when that dumb animal, the horse, shook his rider and dragged the injured man for a good distance of the journey, endangering his life. In short, the horse told him to return reluctantly to Brussels. But there, having paid no attention to this divine warning, he renews his resolve and decides to execute his plans at another time. And so he arrived in Antwerp, still lame, on the vigil of St. Nicholas [Dec. 5]. As for me, when I was summoned, I went to meet the man, perhaps overly confident in myself and fancying myself prepared to face death and imprisonment for Christ. He handed the letters to me; I took them and read them. While I was deliberating how to respond, he preempted me—the good man who speaks peacefully with his neighbor while harboring evil in his heart [Psalm 28:3]. He deceitfully said, “You have nothing to fear or suspect. No harm is waiting for you. You are being summoned for your own good. Besides, if you want, you will be entertained in my house and treated like a brother.” This voice was truly in a persistent mouth. I gave my consent to the fraudulent man, being naïve and ignorant of what was happening. My friends, who knew the man inside and out, dissuaded and opposed me in vain, since it was the Lord’s will to crush me.

The next day, the Feast of St. Nicholas [Dec. 6], after first giving a sermon, while the people were crying and working hard to get me released, I did not give my assent to the man’s lying words as a prisoner, but was driven away and arrived in Brussels.⁵ There, after holding many meetings, they finally see to it that I am kept in custody, with me protesting in vain that it was dishonorable to hold a man in prison who had come voluntarily. But this was Francis’s deceptive assurance and promise: These were the emperor’s orders, and they didn’t want my fate to be in my own hands but in his. My mind quickly began to sense that something bad was going to happen. And here I acknowledge my misery, timidity, and weakness of faith, and as the psalm says, even my pillar of strength was terror [Psalm 89:40]. For the fear of death fell upon me, and darkness covered me [Psalm 55:5].

My brotherly Francis, instead of his assurance that I would be returned to Antwerp, was now occasionally comforting me by saying, “You will not be burned unless you are stubborn.” This consolation from my faithful friend stuck so firmly in my sick guts (by now I had fallen internally from my rock) that I was even dreaming about fire and could think of nothing else. These indeed were the scriptures, these the arguments, by which I was miserably conquered. These are the only things in which those men are skilled, and this is all they offer for disputing, for they zealously strive to destroy with fire. But I am vainly holding out hope, since they are unable to prove any wrongdoing by reasoning or from Scripture. Added to this was the rumor and fable that people were crying out everywhere, “That heretic who led Antwerp astray with his perverted doctrine has come here to be burned.” This made me even more agitated and overwhelmed, since the delay was lending strength to my fear and timidity.

Then came the royal father confessor, [Jean] Glapion the Minorite,⁶ carrying six articles he said I was being accused of before the emperor, scarcely one of which was mine. But whether they had deceived the emperor this way or dealt with me on their own in the emperor’s name unbeknownst to the emperor, they themselves knew and God will be the judge. What is certain is that so many illustrious men came to testify against me in defense of the Church (that is what they boast) armed with lies.

At the same time another gentleman also came, the Spaniard Louis Coronel. And so we conferred for several hours, mainly about human regulations. I said that the distinction of foods was not suited to such strict regulation, and that it contributed nothing to Christian piety, although I had never taught that this distinction should not be observed. I simply preferred those things that are the chief matters of our Christian religion, namely faith and love. I was lamenting, “On account of these human regulations, these things that are the sum and substance have been neglected and obliterated, and the people of God have been completely led away from divine things to human things, from the yoke of Christ to pontifical decrees.” In opposition to this, both the Confessor and the Spaniard were contending for the regulations of men, judging it a crime and the worst sin to go against pontifical regulations. The argument of Joshua pronouncing anathema was cited [Josh. 6:17], which proves absolutely nothing. For who does not know that Joshua did not dare to command anything under threat of mortal sin if he had not received it from the Lord? Not even Paul dares to speak of anything if it is not being effected through him by Christ.

But when I as a prisoner saw that I was not being dealt with honestly, I tried to overcome them with kindness by refraining from a lot of arguing, mindful of the advice of friends, who wanted me to try everything to get back out of their custody. The least of my fears was that this, my indulgence and downfall, would produce so much talk, influence, or scandal.

But Glapion, returning to Ghent puffed up by my gentleness, was spreading among those who had not heard me that I was ignorant and that he was victorious. How is that for the holy humility of the Minorites? For when he was with me, he was saying that the case was not a difficult one, but was going to have a quick and happy ending, and that humble despiser of glory was telling me to be of good cheer and was falsely getting my hopes up. And so I returned to my confinement amazed at these things, that so many men were getting so very bent out of shape over nothing, but it is no wonder that men make little of divine matters when they make much of human matters. Then, in a joint council, they undertook to wear me out with questions, so as to snatch from my mouth something they could misinterpret and pass along to the emperor. For this purpose two Spanish doctors of theology from the school in Paris were summoned, Juan Quintana and Louis Coronel, instigated by Glapion. To these were added two men from Louvain, [Jacob] Latomus and that Carmelite [Nicolaas Baechem] of Egmond, whose fame, or rather madness, has long since preceded him above the sky.⁷ The monks are priding themselves in their man Glapion; through him they can do as they wish with the emperor. The Louvainians are priding themselves in Francis van der Hulst. For since they were being oppressed by the Scriptures and the arguments of the truth, they needed to boast in and be puffed up by these patrons. They were meeting together in the monastery of the Franciscans, who were diligently insisting and most humbly begging more than the others (though they were all pursuing it) that I not somehow be allowed to escape unharmed, since they were quite zealous for their devotion to the gospel.

Now while these scribes and Pharisees were sitting in this house of Caiaphas and consulting with their man Francis about the false testimonies against me, I was standing outside in the midst of the servants as if already about to be condemned to death. Then I was summoned and entered with my accompanying brother monk, the steward of the monastery in Antwerp. They soon drove him out of the room, so that there would not be any witness taking part in the proceedings, which they wanted to be so secret that they ordered me under threat of anathema not to speak a word of them to anyone, and indeed they did not want my companion to know anything about them either. But whether they did this by fraud, in order that I might more freely pour out what I thought for certain should be kept secret, or out of the fear of having a witness to their ignorance and tyranny, God knows and so do their own hearts. For who can believe that this was done with honest intentions and a desire for the truth, when it is written, “Whoever does what is evil hates the light” [John 3:20]?

Thus they now attack the lonely man, the man depressed in spirit and pleading with them obsequiously, and do so in a domineering and authoritative manner. They began by asking what I thought about the sacraments. I responded more from Augustine than from Luther that three sacraments are found in the Scriptures, and that the rest were ordained by the church. They noted this down, then asked about indulgences. I responded that they should not be trusted in any way, and that the treasury of the church was not in the pope’s control in such a way that he could distribute it for the sake of money (that is, a very cheap thing), and could deny it to those who had none, but that it was faith which, without money, made each of the faithful a partaker of all Christ’s blessings. They noted this down too, and this is how they proceeded to the remaining questions. For they had in their hands those distinguished condemnations (and worthy of men like themselves) of the three universities,⁸ and they proceeded point by point from these articles, decreeing what was heretical and writing down whatever was contrary to them. At the same time they all had good laugh together whenever I said something that their school did not have, omitting nothing that could serve to confuse me and oppress the gospel truth, although I really did not perceive that at the time, for I believed that simplicity was needed in diligently searching for the truth.

But when I refused to answer, or said that I did not know, they would rebuke me with a stern face and menacing eyes quite domineeringly and fraternally, saying, “Don’t you want to be taught? Don’t you want to be informed?” So many plots and schemes for my death those virtuous and pious defenders of the Church were calling “teaching” and “informing.” After a while Egmond, in order to show his expertise, learning, and refinement above the others, after I said “lots [plerumque]” instead of “often [sepe]” several times, wrinkled his nose and creased his eyebrows and pompously inquired, “What is ‘lots [plerumque]’?” To which our teacher [magister noster] Latomus says, “‘Lots’ is ‘frequently’ or ‘often’ [plerumque est frequenter vel sepe].” The former then exclaimed with a twisted mouth, “Why doesn’t he say ‘frequently’ or ‘often’? What are we supposed to do with his ‘lots’?” With comforts like these those magnificent teachers were encouraging me to be ridiculed and despised, secure and puffed up by the emperor’s power and majesty.

In the meantime the Minorite monks were also not lacking in their duty. Indeed, among other things, when a certain merchant of Antwerp had sent a letter for me and a naïve messenger was looking for me among the Franciscans, the doorkeeper named Angelus took the letter, promising that he would bring it to me himself. Instead he happily brought it to his guardian,⁹ who was such an impudent enemy of the truth that he had declaimed on a public platform that if he had killed Luther with his own hands, he would not on that account be deterred from eating the spotless Lamb,¹⁰ but would rather be rendering him obedience.

This holy man therefore sends his man Angelus to Francis van der Hulst with the letter, in the meantime having my guards forbidden under threat of anathema from saying anything to the messenger, for he was afraid that the evil of his fraud might reach me. Angelus calls Francis out of the room and eagerly hands him the letter, as if he had brought the most certain grounds for my death and could say, “He is guilty of death.” Francis, returning to the room and swelling with authority, said, “Brother, since you are a prisoner of the emperor, you are not allowed either to send a letter or to receive this letter that was sent to you without our knowledge. Therefore you yourself will read this letter in our hearing.” I was afraid and unable to get out of it, being at the same time all jumbled up inside. So I was forced to read the letter to that venerable assembly, which they then snatched from my hands as a testimony and pledge by which, after subduing me, they could also harass my friends, which is exactly what they did later in their eager desire for their salvation, that is, their money. There were many things like this that took place, which I will pass over in silence for the sake of brevity and to relieve the tedium, for I think this will be enough to show the intentions those lying men acted with in this affair.

At the end they were asking me if I had any Scripture passages or arguments; the subject was fasting and the distinction of foods. I quoted Paul in Romans 14, where he says that the strong eat whatever they like, but the weak eat vegetables. Here they were saying that it is those who are weak in body who should eat vegetables so that their physical weakness will not be aggravated by food. Secondly, they were saying that this should be understood of Jewish foods. In this way they were mocking and spitting on Christ in the house of Caiaphas, that is, by mocking and disdaining his clear word in these passages: “Let no one judge you in food and drink” [Col. 2:16]. Again, “the kingdom of God is not food and drink” [Rom. 14:17]. Also, “eat whatever is available in the meat market” [1 Cor. 10:25]. They wanted all these Scripture passages and many others to be understood with regard to Jewish foods, which neither satisfied me nor quieted my mind. Then there are the passages besides those I cited: “See that you do all I command you. Do not add to it or take away from it” [Deut. 12:32]. And that passage: “They worship me in vain by teaching the doctrines and commandments of men” [Matt. 15:9; Mark 7:7]. How they would have responded to these I still do not know.

But seeing that I was contending in vain and could not escape by any Scripture passages, but was being exhausted and oppressed by force alone, I said that I was satisfied¹¹—I call upon God as my witness, to whom all things are known—and then I fell down in misery and surrendered, but with no change having taken place in my heart. But they were seriously delighted when I said I was satisfied, and after several days those who had gotten what they wanted were requiring me to sign the articles which they had organized and embellished to their liking without my knowledge. I signed them naïvely and ignorantly, holding out the unrealistic hope that they might have to be retracted, especially since they had previously commanded under threat of anathema that all these things should remain most secret. Soon those eager to report the glorious triumph they had with me send two men to the emperor (that’s what they told me) to show him the articles which they had snatched from me, and to request a judgment.¹² But when I was afraid of what was going to happen and asked to be given an audience with the emperor, they asserted that the emperor could speak neither Latin nor German, nor understand anyone speaking in either language. But they said that because they did not want the emperor to become acquainted with the other party. In the meantime they were strengthening my custody, prohibiting anyone from speaking or writing to me, and prohibiting me from sending letters to any one—all under threat of severe penalties. Since I was suspicious of my case and was subject to the same judges as witnesses, I was requesting different judges to examine my case. I was also expressing the desire to freely debate on my sermons in Louvain before the entire university. But all of this was denied. I added that this was the not the way to do anything except oppress the truth. But Francis, to whom these tactics were most agreeable, said, “On the contrary, there is no other way to discover it.”

They returned after the Feast of the Nativity, having obtained the victory and gotten from the emperor what they wanted, earnestly demanding a recantation. But I wanted to see what I would be recanting. “The articles you signed,” they say. Although many words were exchanged back and forth and I resisted as much as I could, I made no headway, since they were asserting that there could be no disputing with a heretic, that I had led Antwerp astray, and that I had endorsed the man whom the church had condemned.¹³

But they were arranging the form of recantation as they desired, and with such polished language opposed to good education and Luther that I was completely terrified when I heard it, for they did not permit me to read any copy for myself. Instead, using only fraud and force, they were misusing the emperor’s power to bring disgrace upon the truth and to oppress Christian liberty. For my part, I humbled myself before them on bended knees, with tears welling up and with folded hands, and begged them to have mercy on me. I told them that I was in the hands of Almighty God and the emperor, that they could do with me as they pleased, that I could not furnish a recantation like that, that in committing this crime I would be acting against conscience, provoking God, and detracting from the truth of the gospel. Soon there was talk of the dark prison, except that the chancellor,¹⁴ an otherwise mild man, yet too attached to men, pursued a milder course of action and consented to have me kept at his house under the watch of four guards.

On the day before the Feast of the Conversion of St. Paul,¹⁵ prison cells were being prepared for me and my companion the steward, in order that they might use threats and terror to break those whom they could see were already fainthearted. Midday came; I was called to lunch and had tears as my bread [see Ps. 42:3; 80:5]. After giving thanks and dismissing the servants, the chancellor began to discuss the recantation with me alone, affirming that the ultimate danger was about to befall me. But I was citing my feeble conscience, which I could not go against, as well as the absurdity of the things they were ordering me to recant, some of which had never entered my mind, and none of which I had preached the way they had attributed them to me. But he says, “Unless you recant, you will put yourself and the city you have led astray in the utmost danger.” When I heard this, I said with excessive humility that I preferred to be imprisoned eternally, yes, I preferred to face the sword, as though I were already most humbly resigned to death. But I asked in vain, for it was either recant or perish in the fire. This was the consolation they were giving me. But having been ordered to my place of confinement, I went up to it groaning.

Meanwhile, those who call themselves spiritual meet together in order to finally hand over the degraded man to the emperor to be burned. On hearing this, some friends, moved by a cruel compassion, approached this council of the elders, asking to be admitted to converse with me. But those men, with a well-feigned reluctance, were unwilling to admit anyone, unless they agreed to subvert me and persuade me to recant. Upon being admitted, they began arguing with me with tears and groans, adding that I did not need to understand more than was necessary or rely on my own wisdom, that those holy men delegated by the emperor were representing the Church and eagerly desired my salvation, that they were more learned than I, having been raised in the world of theology, and also that they were men of such piety that they would never for the whole world even think about inviting me to recant unless they knew with absolute certainty that I was in error. With these words and many others I was assailed by this faction.

And indeed Satan was not content for me to be variously wearied internally by weakness of faith, and externally by terrors and flatteries, and for the solitary man to be subdued by these tactics. He also stretched out his hand and touched the inner parts of my life and the secrets of my conscience, and was tormenting me with these most dangerous scruples: “What if because of your sermons, either misunderstood or imprudently delivered, some have gone backwards, and have turned Christian liberty into an occasion for the flesh?” So I was afraid where there was nothing to fear, since I was not aware of any perverse doctrine. One thing I do know: I taught less than the truth of the gospel requires. At the same time, that intolerable temptation about my predestination rushed in, and since I did not possess sufficient strength to overcome death, sin, and hell, I was overcome and fell down and lay on the floor in misery. And while there was no one to raise up the fallen man, I yielded to the counsel of others, and I said that I was willing to listen and to be quiet, consoling myself with the false hope that I did not believe that they could not make that great of a triumph from this.

My friends, rejoicing and making excited gestures as if they were looking for an omen, give thanks to God because they believed I had changed. Then the chancellor and many others also came to hear what I had decided to do. I said that I would recant those things by which the people had been offended, or by which Antwerp had been misled (as they were telling me).

But since they saw that my resolution was lacking, they urged me more eagerly to recant everything, though I was pleading in vain that they not force me to recant what I had neither thought nor taught. I told them I had poured out too much in the secret examination out of desperation, and never from the will of my heart. But they wanted everything to be recanted, or else that I should die. Thus, since I saw there was no room for appeals or anywhere I could escape now that I had already begun to fall, I now despaired and fell all the way down. I consented to this most impious recantation, with my mouth alone and not at all with my heart. Everyone is joyful; they rejoice over the sheep that has been found, and over St. Paul, whose conversion is celebrated on that day. My repentance is accepted and reported, but I was silently deploring my wretched state.

And so while some officials are meeting with a certain bishop who was once my friend, but is now strenuously working to suppress the truth,¹⁶ I privately recant and am forced to take an oath before them, after first protesting that I was recanting on the basis of their conscience rather than of my own will. But those men who were swallowing this camel [Matt. 23:24] were not moved at all; I should just recant. Soon the rumor of my recantation is spread to the people of Antwerp, but it did not move them at all (for they knew well of the force that was used). Afterwards they devise another plan and translate the articles into Dutch [in germanicam linguam], adding an atrocious explanation, abusing me as an instrument of their wickedness.

I am accordingly summoned by the chancellor at a late hour on a certain Saturday, completely ignorant of what was to become of me. But when I asked the reason for being summoned, they are all quiet. The chancellor pretends not to know anything else. The aforementioned bishop, who was present, also refused to disclose what was about to happen to me. And behold, when the hour of rest arrives,¹⁷ they notify me that I am to preach and then read the document of recantation the following day by order of the emperor. I would then be restored to liberty. I was eager for this and, unable to see into the future, I consented. The next day, at the very moment when the people assembled in the church¹⁸ were expecting me, they write an explanation, adding to it nothing but the worst words that seemed best for extinguishing the truth.

Now the people had been summoned to that place in huge numbers by means of pecuniary injunctions¹⁹ announced from each of the city’s pulpits. I stood there as a spectacle, surrounded by a very large crowd of Pharisees,²⁰ and I began the sermon this way: “You turned your face away from me, and I became troubled” [Psalm 30:7], hinting that I, who had once said in my prosperity, “I will never be shaken” [30:6], was now recanting the truth as a troubled and afflicted man, since the Lord had left me alone and was not providing the light of his presence that was necessary for a steadfast confession of the truth.²¹

But since they were extremely worried that the people would be moved by my sermon, they interrupted me and put those sacrilegious documents in my hands as if I were a child. I was compelled to read them, preserving the truth in my heart and thinking the opposite there, while lying to myself with my mouth out of the fear of death. But the people were making a commotion and keeping little silence, so that what was expressed in the recantation reached few people.

But the chief enemies of the gospel were present, the mendicant brothers. They had showed up there most eagerly and in procession (as they say). Thus I unhappily delighted all the accomplices of the papal bulls and grieved the spirits of those who support the gospel. May Christ mercifully forgive me for this and grant that I may make amends for it by confessing the contrary. Amen.

After consulting about me for a week, I am sent to Ypres, and behold, the abominable recantation soon follows, printed in both languages. Whenever a sinner accused me, I was speechless and humiliated, and I backed off from what was good. Nevertheless, I once again began to preach the word of God to the people of Christ, who were exceedingly desirous of it and thirsty for it. I made absolutely no mention of human regulations or of the pontiff. I only said that Christ was our true pontiff or high priest, and that he should be approached with confidence, that he could sympathize with our weaknesses, that he himself was tempted in every way, etc. [Heb. 4:15–16].

Here the mendicants once again went mad and were shouting, slandering, and revealing my case to everyone. But when the people, with the gospel shining in their hearts, began to loathe the excrements of men, they were not very affected by their detractions.

Therefore the guardian of Ypres, an extraordinarily uneducated man, went to the provost of that city, who presides over spiritual matters there (as they call them), and asked for an interdict against me. He said that my sermons were suspect, since I once had to recant; I did not preach that people needed to fast under threat of mortal sin; I did not preach the distinction of foods; I did not preach that Christians should be clothed in dark garments [ceruleis vestibus], at least in death; I did not preach that generous alms should be given to the mendicants. (For these are the tokens of the sermons preached by this scum of humanity.) But the provost was unmoved by this and responded, “Unless he has taught contrary to the gospel or Holy Scripture, I will not prohibit him.” A short report is therefore written to that courteous and brotherly man, Francis van der Hulst, deserving of and most greedy for fraternal poison and falsehood, a man who singularly thirsts for my salvation, that is, my death for the sake of the gospel.

I also preached in a certain village near the Dominicasters²² or Preachers (as they boastfully call themselves). They, too, when they heard the rumor that the word of God was being preached, began filling the air with frantic cries, fearing that some of their business or reputation might be ruined. They did not let up until, by the agency of my friend Francis, I was once again arrested on account of the gospel and led away to Bruges to be burned (which was their hope).

Here I went to Glapion, who washed his hands and told me he was ignorant as to why I was arrested this second time. But Francis was not satisfied with having opened a blasphemous mouth and having assaulted Christians in Brabant;²³ he had accepted the commission to do the same in Flanders.²⁴ Having entered the Franciscan monastery, with contempt, threats, and letters he bombastically asserted that I had been accused a second time before the emperor, namely of having relapsed. And when I asked him for witnesses, he told me that it would be shown from letters I had written. But they were unable to produce them as he was hoping; so they had people they could assault and eviscerate with fines, since the people I had written were rich. And so I am guarded among the Franciscans with a kindness consistent with their brotherliness. After the emperor set out for Spain, I am dragged back to Brussels, the butcher’s block for Christians, and am fed for four days in Francis’s house. There I am guarded with an extremely watchful eye; he had ordered each of his servants to guard the doors with the utmost diligence. Here I will be silent about how fraudulently my friend Francis dealt with me, using cunning speech in an effort to obtain anything he could interpret to my disadvantage. He himself knows what I mean and how he conducted himself with me when talking about my accompanying brother monk, the steward.

Our teachers [magistri nostri] from Louvain finally arrive, Latomus and Egmond, the madman. They begin to deal harshly with me after supper is finished. The Carmelite Egmond was saying that I deserved the stake because I had described the force used against me. Such people could only be converted by fire, he was thundering domineeringly and fraternally. But I replied, “So why are you all delaying? You have the power to do away with my body; I am prepared to endure what you inflict.” Francis, as if pitying me, says, “Our teacher [Magister noster], you are attacking too harshly.” But he replies, “This is how it must be done. You cannot deal with wounds of this kind with a gentle hand. If he were fully converted, he would love me, since open correction is better than hidden love. For indeed he is still a heretic and not fully converted. The people of Antwerp are hoping for his return, but that is not going to happen. He supports the heretics and his friend Erasmus of Rotterdam, who is a heretic, an arch-heretic, and a Lutheran. If he were here, I would tell him so, for how can his translation of 1 Corinthians 15 be anything but heresy—‘We will not all sleep in death’?²⁵ Woe, woe to such men! Such great heresy can only be destroyed by fire.” I replied that that was also what Stapulensis²⁶ held, as did all who knew Greek, and they say that is how the Greek text reads. But the ferocious man laid into me, saying, “This is why you fall into various errors, because you have abandoned our teachers and have been seduced by innovations.” I was forced to listen to these and similar lectures.

The next day, the Tuesday before the Ascension of the Lord,²⁷ I am summoned to appear before those three aforementioned men in a council they had formed. They have many papal bulls in front of them. I am then handed over to three attendants or guards, who lead me through the middle of the city like a notorious robber. After taking away even my little food knives, they deliver me to an extremely narrow prison cell, having not even been convicted. The basis for all their actions was their own pleasure and tyranny. I gave thanks to the divine majesty and was waiting for death. I was still troubled by my sins, yet by the grace of God was not concerned about escaping, even though, if I had wanted, I could have escaped and been free on the third night. But afterwards some friends of the truth of the gospel were advising me to escape. They felt that I would not help the gospel’s cause as much by my death in this second imprisonment as I would have if I had steadfastly persevered in the first. Therefore, while the commissaries were harassing the pious in Holland,²⁸ by divine providence and with the help of a certain brother, I left the prison unharmed and thus escaped their hands in the name of the Lord, though the monks were hoping for and expecting a different outcome.

Now, pious reader, you have the history of my unhappiness and ruin, which I have somehow managed to put down accurately and in order.²⁹ You can use this to oppose those boasting Thrasonians,³⁰ who say, do, and twist everything in a childish and womanly manner. And pray for me, that in place of this grievous downfall I may be able to exhibit a happy resurrection, and to confirm the sermons I preached in Antwerp with my blood and death in the strength of Christ, who is blessed forever. Amen.

Source

Probst, Jacob. Fratris Iacobi Praepositi Augustiniani quondam Prioris Antvverpiensis historia utriusque captivitatis propter verbum Dei. Eiusdem etiam Epistola ad Auditores suos Antvverpienses. Wittenberg: Johann Rhau-Grunenberg, 1522.

I also consulted the anonymous German translation published the following year: Ein schone und clegliche history bruder Jacobs probst Augustiner ordens vor zeiten Prior zu Antdorff / an gemeine fromme Christenheit / von beiden gefencknissen / so er von wegen des worts gottes / und umb des heyligen Euangeliumß willen erlitten hatt. Colmar: Amandus Farckall, 1523.

Endnotes

¹ Percy Stafford Allen, ed., Opus Epistolarum Des. Erasmi Roterodami, vol. 3 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1913), 606–7, no. 980. Eramus was later suspected of Lutheranism due partially to this letter.

² Probst’s recantation had been published in Flemish (a dialect of Dutch) in Antwerp and in Latin in Cologne, Leipzig, and Strasbourg.

³ “Our teachers [magistri nostri, abbreviated M. N.]” appears to have originated as a term of respect for the professors of theology at the University of Louvain, who were considered theological experts and rendered judgments on theological debates. But by this point Lutherans were using the familiar term ironically.

⁴ Namely, Martin Luther, who was a doctor of theology.

⁵ The 1523 German translation reads: “On St. Nicholas Day I preached and made the people aware of this affair afterwards. They cried and worked to get me released, but I followed Francis’s lying words rather than the faithful advice of the pious. So I was driven away to Brussels.”

⁶ Minorites (sing., Minorite; Latin: minorita, sing., minoritae, pl.) was a nickname for members of both the conventual and observant branches of the Franciscan Order (Order of Friars Minor).

⁷ This expression is borrowed from Vergil’s Aeneid, 1.379.

⁸ Namely Paris, Louvain, and Cologne

⁹ The guardian (Gardianus) of a Franciscan monastery was that monastery’s superior.

¹⁰ That is, partaking of the Lord’s Supper.

¹¹ Namely, with their answers and explanations.

¹² There seems to be one or more typographical or grammatical errors in this sentence, which begins: Mox ille gloriosum de me relaturi triumphum mittunt ad Caesarem duos. I have read illi for ille and taken the future participle relaturi as expressing readiness or eagerness.

¹³ Namely Luther

¹⁴ Hieronymus van der Noot was chancellor of the Duchy of Brabant from 1514–1531.

¹⁵ The Conversion of St. Paul is observed on January 25, which fell on a Saturday in 1522.

¹⁶ This seems to have been Adrien (or Adriaan) Aernoult of Bruges, auxiliary bishop of Cambrai (Antwerp and Brussels belonged to the diocese of Cambrai), whose name is mentioned in the preamble of Probst’s published recantation, and who would preside at the degradation of the Augustinians Hendrik Voes and Jan van den Esschen the following year.

¹⁷ Latin: instante quietis hora. Hora quietis might be the Latin equivalent of die Schlafglocke, a bell that rang at a certain evening hour (probably the final bell of the day) and marked the close of business, after which it was forbidden to conduct business. The 1523 German translation reads: “But when other people were going to sleep…”

¹⁸ St. Gudula’s Church in Brussels

¹⁹ Latin: mandatis pecuniariis. Some scholars interpret this phrase to mean that the people were bribed, but the 1523 German translation captures it better with the translation: bei einer summ geltz, “under threat of a fine.” (Bei was used like the Latin sub in the sense of “under threat of” or “on pain of.” This usage is still evident in the legal phrase bei Todesstrafe, “on pain of death.”)

²⁰ The 1523 German translation reads: “and a large crowd of monks stood around me.” Probst was certainly being carefully watched by the officials and monks involved in his inquisition, but he seems to be referring here to the crowd as a whole, who was not there to be edified by God’s word, but because they had been threatened and were eager to see the spectacle of Probst’s recantation.

²¹ Probst is probably not so much blaming God here as he is being honest about how he felt at the time.

²² Dominicaster was a pejorative term for a Dominican monk. The Latin suffix -aster denotes something imitating, and usually inferior to, the real thing. (For example, oleaster is a wild olive tree, also called the Russian olive, an imitation version of the olea. Erasmus coined the name Ambrosiaster for the anonymous author of writings falsely attributed to, and sounding like, Ambrose.) In this case, those employing the term do not seem to have had the actual etymology in view; the Dominicans were called such after their founder St. Dominic. They seem rather to have been thinking of the adjective Dominicus, “of or belonging to the Lord” (doubtless the origin of Dominic’s name). The connotation of Dominicaster is therefore something like, “a would-be Lord’s man or would-be follower of the Lord.”

²³ It is unclear whether Probst is here using “blasphemous” with God as the implied object or the Christians in Brabant. The 1523 German translation understood it in the former sense. If the latter was intended, the clause would be better translated: “…with having opened a libelous mouth and assaulting Christians in Brabant.”

²⁴ The Duchy of Brabant included Louvain, Brussels, Antwerp, and ’s-Hertogenbosch. The Countship of Flanders included Ghent, Bruges, and Ypres. Today these territories comprise lands that belong to Belgium and parts of the Netherlands and France.

²⁵ The Vulgate of 1 Corinthians 15:51 read: “We will all rise again, but we will not all be changed.” Erasmus had translated the verse the way we are now familiar with it on the basis of better manuscript evidence.

²⁶ That is, Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples (c. 1455–c. 1536), Latinized as Jacobus Faber Stapulensis, a French theologian and humanist.

²⁷ In 1522, Ascension fell on Thursday, May 29.

²⁸ The Countship of Holland included Rotterdam, Delft, The Hague, Haarlem, Enkhuizen, and Amsterdam. Today the territory belongs to the Netherlands.

²⁹ Latin: vere a meipso utcunque digestam. The utcunque, which I have attempted to capture with “somehow managed,” seems to refer to the difficulties Probst had reliving all these events and exposing his conduct to the public.

³⁰ Thraso was a realistically portrayed, swaggering soldier in Terence’s (II cent. BC) comedy Eunuchus. Thraso’s reputation as a braggart lives on in the English adjective thrasonical.

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