Martin Luther’s Letter to Pope Leo X

Among those monstrous evils of this age with which I have now for three years been waging war, I am sometimes compelled to look to you and to call you to mind, most blessed father Leo. In truth, since you alone are everywhere considered as being the cause of my engaging in war, I cannot at any time fail to remember you; and although I have been compelled by the causeless raging of your impious flatterers against me to appeal from your seat to a future council—fearless of the futile decrees of your predecessors Pius and Julius, who in their foolish tyranny prohibited such an action—yet I have never been so alienated in feeling from your Blessedness as not to have sought with all my might, in diligent prayer and crying to God, all the best gifts for you and for your see. But those who have hitherto endeavoured to terrify me with the majesty of your name and authority, I have begun quite to despise and triumph over. One thing I see remaining which I cannot despise, and this has been the reason of my writing anew to your Blessedness: namely, that I find that blame is cast on me, and that it is imputed to me as a great offence, that in my rashness I am judged to have spared not even your person.

For three years now, I have been fighting the monstrous evils of this age. Amid that struggle, I am sometimes compelled to turn to you and think of you, most blessed father Leo. Indeed, people everywhere regard you alone as the reason I entered this war, so I can never forget you. Your godless flatterers have raged against me without cause, forcing me to appeal from your authority to a future council. I did so without fearing the futile decrees of your predecessors Pius and Julius. In their foolish tyranny, they forbade such an appeal. Yet I have never felt so estranged from your Blessedness that I stopped seeking every good gift for you and your see. I have sought those gifts with all my strength, praying earnestly and crying out to God. But I have begun to utterly despise and triumph over those who tried to frighten me with your great name and authority. One matter remains that I cannot dismiss, and that is why I am writing again to your Blessedness. I find myself blamed for what is held against me as a grave offense: my supposed recklessness in attacking even you personally.

Now, to confess the truth openly, I am conscious that, whenever I have had to mention your person, I have said nothing of you but what was honourable and good. If I had done otherwise, I could by no means have approved my own conduct, but should have supported with all my power the judgment of those men concerning me, nor would anything have pleased me better, than to recant such rashness and impiety. I have called you Daniel in Babylon; and every reader thoroughly knows with what distinguished zeal I defended your conspicuous innocence against Silvester, who tried to stain it. Indeed, the published opinion of so many great men and the repute of your blameless life are too widely famed and too much reverenced throughout the world to be assailable by any man, of however great name, or by any arts. I am not so foolish as to attack one whom everybody praises; nay, it has been and always will be my desire not to attack even those whom public repute disgraces. I am not delighted at the faults of any man, since I am very conscious myself of the great beam in my own eye, nor can I be the first to cast a stone at the adulteress.

To speak the truth openly, I know I have said only honorable and good things whenever I have mentioned you. If I had spoken otherwise, I could never have approved of my own conduct. Instead, I would have supported with all my strength those men’s judgment against me. Nothing would have pleased me more than to take back such reckless and ungodly words. I have called you Daniel in Babylon. And every reader knows how zealously I defended your clear innocence against Silvester, who tried to tarnish it. Indeed, so many great men have publicly praised you, and your blameless life is known and respected throughout the world. Your reputation is too widespread and too respected for anyone to attack, however famous or whatever methods they use. I am not foolish enough to attack someone everyone praises. In fact, I have always wanted, and always will want, to avoid attacking even those with bad reputations. I take no pleasure in anyone’s faults, because I am deeply aware of the great beam in my own eye. Nor can I be the first to throw a stone at the adulteress.

I have indeed inveighed sharply against impious doctrines, and I have not been slack to censure my adversaries on account, not of their bad morals, but of their impiety. And for this I am so far from being sorry that I have brought my mind to despise the judgments of men and to persevere in this vehement zeal, according to the example of Christ, who, in His zeal, calls His adversaries a generation of vipers, blind, hypocrites, and children of the devil. Paul, too, charges the sorcerer with being a child of the devil, full of all subtlety and all malice; and defames certain persons as evil workers, dogs, and deceivers. In the opinion of those delicate-eared persons, nothing could be more bitter or intemperate than Paul's language. What can be more bitter than the words of the prophets? The ears of our generation have been made so delicate by the senseless multitude of flatterers that, as soon as we perceive that anything of ours is not approved of, we cry out that we are being bitterly assailed; and when we can repel the truth by no other pretence, we escape by attributing bitterness, impatience, intemperance, to our adversaries. What would be the use of salt if it were not pungent, or of the edge of the sword if it did not slay? Accursed is the man who does the work of the Lord deceitfully.

I have indeed spoken sharply against ungodly teachings. I have not hesitated to condemn my opponents, not for their bad morals, but for their ungodliness. Far from regretting this, I have resolved to scorn human judgments and continue with this fierce zeal. I follow the example of Christ, who, in his zeal, calls his opponents a brood of vipers. He also calls them blind, hypocrites, and children of the devil. Paul, too, accuses the sorcerer of being a child of the devil, full of all deceit and all malice. He also denounces certain people as evildoers, dogs, and deceivers. To those with such sensitive ears, nothing could be harsher or more excessive than Paul's language. What could be harsher than the words of the prophets? The countless, senseless flatterers have made the ears of our generation so sensitive that we cannot bear disapproval. As soon as we notice any disapproval of anything about us, we cry out that we are being bitterly attacked. And when we have no other excuse for rejecting the truth, we evade it by accusing our opponents of bitterness, impatience, and excess. What use would salt be if it had no bite, or a sword's edge if it did not kill? Cursed is the man who does the Lord's work deceitfully.

Wherefore, most excellent Leo, I beseech you to accept my vindication, made in this letter, and to persuade yourself that I have never thought any evil concerning your person; further, that I am one who desires that eternal blessing may fall to your lot, and that I have no dispute with any man concerning morals, but only concerning the word of truth. In all other things I will yield to any one, but I neither can nor will forsake and deny the word. He who thinks otherwise of me, or has taken in my words in another sense, does not think rightly, and has not taken in the truth.

Therefore, most excellent Leo, I ask you to accept the defense I have made in this letter. Be assured that I have never thought anything evil about you personally. I also wish you eternal blessing. I have no quarrel with anyone over morals, but only over the word of truth. In all other matters, I will yield to anyone, but I cannot and will not abandon or deny the word. Anyone who thinks otherwise of me, or understands my words differently, is mistaken and has not understood the truth.

Your see, however, which is called the Court of Rome, and which neither you nor any man can deny to be more corrupt than any Babylon or Sodom, and quite, as I believe, of a lost, desperate, and hopeless impiety, this I have verily abominated, and have felt indignant that the people of Christ should be cheated under your name and the pretext of the Church of Rome; and so I have resisted, and will resist, as long as the spirit of faith shall live in me. Not that I am striving after impossibilities, or hoping that by my labours alone, against the furious opposition of so many flatterers, any good can be done in that most disordered Babylon; but that I feel myself a debtor to my brethren, and am bound to take thought for them, that fewer of them may be ruined, or that their ruin may be less complete, by the plagues of Rome. For many years now, nothing else has overflowed from Rome into the world—as you are not ignorant—than the laying waste of goods, of bodies, and of souls, and the worst examples of all the worst things. These things are clearer than the light to all men; and the Church of Rome, formerly the most holy of all Churches, has become the most lawless den of thieves, the most shameless of all brothels, the very kingdom of sin, death, and hell; so that not even antichrist, if he were to come, could devise any addition to its wickedness.

But your seat of authority, called the Court of Rome, is more corrupt than any Babylon or Sodom. Neither you nor anyone else can deny this corruption. I believe its godlessness is utterly lost, desperate, and beyond hope. I have truly hated this court. I have been outraged that Christ’s people are being cheated in your name and under the cover of the Church of Rome. So I have resisted, and I will resist as long as the spirit of faith lives in me. I am not pursuing the impossible. Nor do I hope my efforts alone can accomplish any good in that utterly chaotic Babylon, against so many furious flatterers. Rather, I feel I owe a duty to my fellow Christians and must look after them. I want fewer of them to be ruined by Rome’s plagues, or for their ruin to be less complete. For many years now, as you know, nothing else has poured out of Rome into the world but destruction. Rome has laid waste to possessions, bodies, and souls, and supplied the worst examples of all the worst things. All this is clearer than daylight to everyone. The Church of Rome was once the holiest of all Churches. Now it has become the most lawless den of thieves and the most shameless of all brothels. It is the very kingdom of sin, death, and hell. Its wickedness is so great that not even antichrist, if he came, could devise anything to add to it.

Meanwhile you, Leo, are sitting like a lamb in the midst of wolves, like Daniel in the midst of lions, and, with Ezekiel, you dwell among scorpions. What opposition can you alone make to these monstrous evils? Take to yourself three or four of the most learned and best of the cardinals. What are these among so many? You would all perish by poison before you could undertake to decide on a remedy. It is all over with the Court of Rome; the wrath of God has come upon her to the uttermost. She hates councils; she dreads to be reformed; she cannot restrain the madness of her impiety; she fills up the sentence passed on her mother, of whom it is said, "We would have healed Babylon, but she is not healed; let us forsake her." It had been your duty and that of your cardinals to apply a remedy to these evils, but this gout laughs at the physician's hand, and the chariot does not obey the reins. Under the influence of these feelings, I have always grieved that you, most excellent Leo, who were worthy of a better age, have been made pontiff in this. For the Roman Court is not worthy of you and those like you, but of Satan himself, who in truth is more the ruler in that Babylon than you are.

Meanwhile, Leo, you sit like a lamb among wolves, like Daniel among lions. And like Ezekiel, you live among scorpions. How can you alone oppose these monstrous evils? Gather three or four of the most learned and best cardinals around you. What can so few do against so many? You would all be poisoned to death before you could even begin deciding on a remedy. The Court of Rome is finished. God’s wrath has fallen on her to the fullest extent. She hates councils and fears reform. She cannot control her mad wickedness. She fulfills the judgment passed on her mother, of whom it is said, "We wanted to heal Babylon, but she remains unhealed. Let us abandon her." You and your cardinals should have worked to remedy these evils. But this gout laughs at the doctor’s hand, and the chariot will not respond to the reins. Feeling this way, I have always grieved that you, most excellent Leo, became pope in this age. You deserved a better age. For the Roman Court does not deserve you or others like you. It deserves Satan himself, who truly rules that Babylon more than you do.

Oh, would that, having laid aside that glory which your most abandoned enemies declare to be yours, you were living rather in the office of a private priest or on your paternal inheritance! In that glory none are worthy to glory, except the race of Iscariot, the children of perdition. For what happens in your court, Leo, except that, the more wicked and execrable any man is, the more prosperously he can use your name and authority for the ruin of the property and souls of men, for the multiplication of crimes, for the oppression of faith and truth and of the whole Church of God? Oh, Leo! in reality most unfortunate, and sitting on a most perilous throne, I tell you the truth, because I wish you well; for if Bernard felt compassion for his Anastasius at a time when the Roman see, though even then most corrupt, was as yet ruling with better hope than now, why should not we lament, to whom so much further corruption and ruin has been added in three hundred years?

Oh, how I wish you had set aside the glory your most depraved enemies claim is yours! I wish you served instead as an ordinary priest or lived on your inherited estate! No one deserves to boast of that glory except the race of Iscariot, the children of damnation. For what happens in your court, Leo? The more wicked and detestable a man is, the more successfully he can use your name and authority. He uses them to destroy people’s property and souls, multiply crimes, and oppress faith, truth, and God’s whole Church. Oh, Leo! You are truly most unfortunate, sitting on a most dangerous throne. I tell you the truth because I wish you well. For Bernard felt compassion for his Anastasius when the Roman see, though already deeply corrupt, still ruled with greater hope. If Bernard felt compassion then, why should we not mourn now? We have seen so much more corruption and ruin added over three hundred years.

Is it not true that there is nothing under the vast heavens more corrupt, more pestilential, more hateful, than the Court of Rome? She incomparably surpasses the impiety of the Turks, so that in very truth she, who was formerly the gate of heaven, is now a sort of open mouth of hell, and such a mouth as, under the urgent wrath of God, cannot be blocked up; one course alone being left to us wretched men: to call back and save some few, if we can, from that Roman gulf.

Is it not true that nothing under the vast heavens is more corrupt, more poisonous, or more hateful than the Court of Rome? Her godlessness surpasses that of the Turks beyond comparison. So in truth, she was once the gate of heaven but is now a kind of open mouth of hell. And with God's wrath pressing down, that mouth cannot be shut. Only one course remains for us wretched people: to call back and save a few, if we can, from that Roman abyss.

Behold, Leo, my father, with what purpose and on what principle it is that I have stormed against that seat of pestilence. I am so far from having felt any rage against your person that I even hoped to gain favour with you and to aid you in your welfare by striking actively and vigorously at that your prison, nay, your hell. For whatever the efforts of all minds can contrive against the confusion of that impious Court will be advantageous to you and to your welfare, and to many others with you. Those who do harm to her are doing your office; those who in every way abhor her are glorifying Christ; in short, those are Christians who are not Romans.

See, Leo, my father, why I have attacked that seat of disease and what principles have guided me. Far from feeling any rage against you personally, I even hoped to win your favor and help you. I hoped to do so by attacking your prison fiercely and forcefully. Indeed, your prison is your hell. For anything that all minds together can devise against the disorder of that godless Court will benefit you. It will serve your welfare and that of many others with you. Those who harm the Court are carrying out your duties. Those who hate the Court in every way are glorifying Christ. In short, those who are not Romans are Christians.

But, to say yet more, even this never entered my heart: to inveigh against the Court of Rome or to dispute at all about her. For, seeing all remedies for her health to be desperate, I looked on her with contempt, and, giving her a bill of divorcement, said to her, "He that is unjust, let him be unjust still; and he that is filthy, let him be filthy still," giving myself up to the peaceful and quiet study of sacred literature, that by this I might be of use to the brethren living about me.

But to say more, I never even intended to attack the Court of Rome or argue about her at all. Because I saw no hope in any remedy for her recovery, I regarded her with contempt. I gave her a certificate of divorce and said to her, "Let those who are unjust remain unjust. Let those who are filthy remain filthy." I then devoted myself to the peaceful, quiet study of sacred writings. By studying them, I hoped to be useful to the fellow believers living around me.

While I was making some advance in these studies, Satan opened his eyes and goaded on his servant John Eccius, that notorious adversary of Christ, by the unchecked lust for fame, to drag me unexpectedly into the arena, trying to catch me in one little word concerning the primacy of the Church of Rome, which had fallen from me in passing. That boastful Thraso, foaming and gnashing his teeth, proclaimed that he would dare all things for the glory of God and for the honour of the holy apostolic seat; and, being puffed up respecting your power, which he was about to misuse, he looked forward with all certainty to victory; seeking to promote, not so much the primacy of Peter, as his own pre-eminence among the theologians of this age; for he thought it would contribute in no slight degree to this, if he were to lead Luther in triumph. The result having proved unfortunate for the sophist, an incredible rage torments him; for he feels that whatever discredit to Rome has arisen through me has been caused by the fault of himself alone.

While I was making some progress in these studies, Satan opened his eyes and spurred on his servant John Eccius. This notorious enemy of Christ was driven by an unchecked hunger for fame. He unexpectedly dragged me into the arena, trying to trap me over one small remark I had made in passing. My remark concerned the primacy of the Church of Rome. That boastful Thraso, foaming and gnashing his teeth, declared he would dare anything for God’s glory and the holy apostolic seat’s honor. Swollen with pride in your power, which he was about to misuse, he felt certain of victory. He sought less to advance Peter’s primacy than to establish his own supremacy among the theologians of this age. For he thought that leading Luther in triumph would do much to advance his own standing. The outcome went badly for this sophist, and so an incredible rage now torments him. For he feels that any discredit I have brought upon Rome has been entirely his own fault.

Suffer me, I pray you, most excellent Leo, both to plead my own cause, and to accuse your true enemies. I believe it is known to you in what way Cardinal Cajetan, your imprudent and unfortunate, nay unfaithful, legate, acted towards me. When, on account of my reverence for your name, I had placed myself and all that was mine in his hands, he did not so act as to establish peace, which he could easily have established by one little word, since I at that time promised to be silent and to make an end of my case, if he would command my adversaries to do the same. But that man of pride, not content with this agreement, began to justify my adversaries, to give them free licence, and to order me to recant, a thing which was certainly not in his commission. Thus indeed, when the case was in the best position, it came through his vexatious tyranny into a much worse one. Therefore whatever has followed upon this is the fault not of Luther, but entirely of Cajetan, since he did not suffer me to be silent and remain quiet, which at that time I was entreating for with all my might. What more was it my duty to do?

Please allow me, most excellent Leo, both to defend myself and to accuse your true enemies. I believe you know how Cardinal Cajetan, your reckless and unfortunate, indeed unfaithful, legate, treated me. Out of respect for your name, I had placed myself and everything I owned in his hands. Yet he did not act to establish peace, though he could easily have done so with one little word. At the time, I promised to remain silent and end my case if he ordered my opponents to do likewise. But that proud man was not satisfied with this agreement. He began defending my opponents, giving them free rein, and ordering me to recant. Ordering me to recant was certainly outside his authority. So, just when the case was in the best possible position, his oppressive tyranny made it much worse. Therefore, whatever has followed is not Luther's fault, but entirely Cajetan's. He would not let me remain silent and live in peace, though I was begging for this with all my strength. What more was I obliged to do?

Next came Charles Miltitz, also a nuncio from your Blessedness. He, though he went up and down with much and varied exertion, and omitted nothing which could tend to restore the position of the cause thrown into confusion by the rashness and pride of Cajetan, had difficulty, even with the help of that very illustrious prince the Elector Frederick, in at last bringing about more than one familiar conference with me. In these I again yielded to your great name, and was prepared to keep silence, and to accept as my judge either the Archbishop of Treves, or the Bishop of Naumburg; and thus it was done and concluded. While this was being done with good hope of success, lo! that other and greater enemy of yours, Eccius, rushed in with his Leipsic disputation, which he had undertaken against Carlstadt, and, having taken up a new question concerning the primacy of the Pope, turned his arms unexpectedly against me, and completely overthrew the plan for peace. Meanwhile Charles Miltitz was waiting, disputations were held, judges were being chosen, but no decision was arrived at. And no wonder! for by the falsehoods, pretences, and arts of Eccius the whole business was brought into such thorough disorder, confusion, and festering soreness, that, whichever way the sentence might lean, a greater conflagration was sure to arise; for he was seeking, not after truth, but after his own credit. In this case too I omitted nothing which it was right that I should do.

Next came Charles Miltitz, also a nuncio sent by your Blessedness. He traveled widely and worked hard in many ways to repair the damage caused by Cajetan’s rashness and pride. He left nothing undone that might help. Yet even with help from the very illustrious prince, the Elector Frederick, he struggled to arrange several informal meetings with me. At these meetings, I again yielded out of respect for your great name. I was prepared to remain silent and accept either the Archbishop of Treves or the Bishop of Naumburg as judge. And so we settled the matter. While these efforts were proceeding with good hope of success, look! That other and greater enemy of yours, Eccius, rushed in with his Leipsic debate against Carlstadt. Eccius raised a new question about the Pope’s supremacy and unexpectedly turned his weapons against me. He completely wrecked the plan for peace. Meanwhile, Charles Miltitz waited, debates were held, and judges were chosen, but no decision was reached. And no wonder! Through his lies, pretenses, and tricks, Eccius had thrown the whole affair into utter disorder, confusion, and festering resentment. Whatever the verdict, an even greater blaze was sure to follow. For Eccius was seeking not truth, but his own reputation. In this case too, I left nothing undone that I ought to have done.

I confess that on this occasion no small part of the corruptions of Rome came to light; but, if there was any offence in this, it was the fault of Eccius, who, in taking on him a burden beyond his strength, and in furiously aiming at credit for himself, unveiled to the whole world the disgrace of Rome.

I admit that on this occasion, a substantial part of Rome’s corruption came to light. But if exposing that corruption caused any offense, Eccius was to blame. He took on a burden beyond his strength and, in his furious pursuit of personal credit, exposed Rome’s disgrace to the whole world.

Here is that enemy of yours, Leo, or rather of your Court; by his example alone we may learn that an enemy is not more baneful than a flatterer. For what did he bring about by his flattery, except evils which no king could have brought about? At this day the name of the Court of Rome stinks in the nostrils of the world, the papal authority is growing weak, and its notorious ignorance is evil spoken of. We should hear none of these things, if Eccius had not disturbed the plans of Miltitz and myself for peace. He feels this clearly enough himself in the indignation he shows, too late and in vain, against the publication of my books. He ought to have reflected on this at the time when he was all mad for renown, and was seeking in your cause nothing but his own objects, and that with the greatest peril to you. The foolish man hoped that, from fear of your name, I should yield and keep silence; for I do not think he presumed on his talents and learning. Now, when he sees that I am very confident and speak aloud, he repents too late of his rashness, and sees—if indeed he does see it—that there is One in heaven who resists the proud, and humbles the presumptuous.

Here is your enemy, Leo, or rather the enemy of your Court. His example alone teaches us that an enemy is no more harmful than a flatterer. For what did his flattery achieve except evils that no king could have caused? Today, the name of the Court of Rome stinks to the whole world. Papal authority is weakening, and people condemn the Court’s notorious ignorance. We would hear none of these complaints if Eccius had not disrupted the peace plans Miltitz and I had made. He himself recognizes this clearly enough. His outrage over the publication of my books shows it, though his outrage comes too late and achieves nothing. He should have considered these consequences when he was mad with ambition for fame. While claiming to serve your cause, he pursued nothing but his own goals, putting you in the greatest danger. The foolish man hoped that fear of your name would make me give in and remain silent. For I do not think he was counting on his talents and learning. Now he sees that I am very confident and speak out boldly, and he regrets his recklessness too late. He also sees, if indeed he sees it, that there is one in heaven who resists the proud. And he humbles those who presume too much.

Since then we were bringing about by this disputation nothing but the greater confusion of the cause of Rome, Charles Miltitz for the third time addressed the Fathers of the Order, assembled in chapter, and sought their advice for the settlement of the case, as being now in a most troubled and perilous state. Since, by the favour of God, there was no hope of proceeding against me by force, some of the more noted of their number were sent to me, and begged me at least to show respect to your person and to vindicate in a humble letter both your innocence and my own. They said that the affair was not as yet in a position of extreme hopelessness, if Leo X., in his inborn kindliness, would put his hand to it. On this I, who have always offered and wished for peace, in order that I might devote myself to calmer and more useful pursuits, and who for this very purpose have acted with so much spirit and vehemence, in order to put down by the strength and impetuosity of my words, as well as of my feelings, men whom I saw to be very far from equal to myself—I, I say, not only gladly yielded, but even accepted it with joy and gratitude, as the greatest kindness and benefit, if you should think it right to satisfy my hopes.

Our debate was only making Rome’s cause more confused. So Charles Miltitz addressed the Fathers of the Order, gathered in chapter, for the third time. He asked their advice on settling the case, which was now deeply troubled and dangerous. By God’s favor, there was no hope of taking action against me by force. So some of the more prominent Fathers were sent to me. They begged me at least to show respect for you personally. They also asked me to write a humble letter defending both your innocence and mine. They said the affair was not yet beyond hope, if Leo X., with his natural kindness, would intervene. I have always offered and sought peace so that I could devote myself to quieter and more useful work. That very aim has driven me to act with such spirit and force. Through the strength and passion of my words and feelings, I sought to silence men I considered far beneath me. So I not only gladly agreed to their request, but accepted it with joy and gratitude. I would consider it the greatest kindness and benefit if you saw fit to fulfill my hopes.

Thus I come, most blessed Father, and in all abasement beseech you to put to your hand, if it is possible, and impose a curb to those flatterers who are enemies of peace, while they pretend peace. But there is no reason, most blessed Father, why any one should assume that I am to utter a recantation, unless he prefers to involve the case in still greater confusion. Moreover, I cannot bear with laws for the interpretation of the word of God, since the word of God, which teaches liberty in all other things, ought not to be bound. Saving these two things, there is nothing which I am not able, and most heartily willing, to do or to suffer. I hate contention; I will challenge no one; in return I wish not to be challenged; but, being challenged, I will not be dumb in the cause of Christ my Master. For your Blessedness will be able by one short and easy word to call these controversies before you and suppress them, and to impose silence and peace on both sides—a word which I have ever longed to hear.

So I come to you, most blessed Father, and humbly beg you to intervene, if possible. Restrain those flatterers who are enemies of peace while pretending to seek peace. But, most blessed Father, no one should expect me to take back what I have said. Anyone who expects that will only throw the matter into greater confusion. Nor can I accept rules governing how to interpret the word of God. God's word teaches freedom in all other things, so God's word itself must not be bound. Apart from these two things, there is nothing I cannot do or endure, and I am wholeheartedly willing. I hate conflict. I will challenge no one, and in return I ask that no one challenge me. But if challenged, I will not remain silent in the cause of Christ my Master. For with one brief, simple word, Your Holiness can bring these disputes before you and put an end to them. You can require both sides to be silent and keep the peace. I have always longed to hear that word.

Therefore, Leo, my Father, beware of listening to those sirens who make you out to be not simply a man, but partly a god, so that you can command and require whatever you will. It will not happen so, nor will you prevail. You are the servant of servants, and more than any other man, in a most pitiable and perilous position. Let not those men deceive you who pretend that you are lord of the world; who will not allow any one to be a Christian without your authority; who babble of your having power over heaven, hell, and purgatory. These men are your enemies and are seeking your soul to destroy it, as Isaiah says, "My people, they that call thee blessed are themselves deceiving thee." They are in error who raise you above councils and the universal Church; they are in error who attribute to you alone the right of interpreting Scripture. All these men are seeking to set up their own impieties in the Church under your name, and alas! Satan has gained much through them in the time of your predecessors.

Therefore, Leo, my Father, beware of those sirens who flatter you as not merely a man, but partly a god. They claim you can command and demand whatever you wish. That will not happen, nor will you succeed. You are the servant of servants. More than anyone else, you are in a deeply pitiful and dangerous position. Do not let those men deceive you by claiming you are lord of the world. They refuse to let anyone be a Christian without your authority. They babble about your power over heaven, hell, and purgatory. These men are your enemies and seek to destroy your soul. As Isaiah says, "My people, those who call you blessed are themselves deceiving you." Those who place you above councils and the universal Church are wrong. Those who claim that you alone have the right to interpret Scripture are wrong. All these men seek to establish their own ungodly practices in the Church under your name. And sadly, Satan gained much through them during the time of your predecessors.

In brief, trust not in any who exalt you, but in those who humiliate you. For this is the judgment of God: "He hath cast down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble." See how unlike Christ was to His successors, though all will have it that they are His vicars. I fear that in truth very many of them have been in too serious a sense His vicars, for a vicar represents a prince who is absent. Now if a pontiff rules while Christ is absent and does not dwell in his heart, what else is he but a vicar of Christ? And then what is that Church but a multitude without Christ? What indeed is such a vicar but antichrist and an idol? How much more rightly did the Apostles speak, who call themselves servants of a present Christ, not the vicars of an absent one!

In short, do not trust anyone who praises you, but trust those who humble you. For this is God’s judgment: "He has brought down the mighty from their thrones and lifted up the humble." See how different Christ was from his successors, though they all insist they are his vicars, his representatives. I fear that very many of them have truly been his vicars in far too serious a sense. For a vicar represents an absent ruler. Now suppose a pope rules while Christ is absent and does not live in the pope’s heart. What else is that pope but a vicar of Christ? And what is that Church but a crowd of people without Christ? Indeed, what is such a vicar but an antichrist and an idol? How much more rightly the Apostles spoke! They call themselves servants of a Christ who is present, not vicars of an absent one!

Perhaps I am shamelessly bold in seeming to teach so great a head, by whom all men ought to be taught, and from whom, as those plagues of yours boast, the thrones of judges receive their sentence; but I imitate St. Bernard in his book concerning Considerations addressed to Eugenius, a book which ought to be known by heart by every pontiff. I do this, not from any desire to teach, but as a duty, from that simple and faithful solicitude which teaches us to be anxious for all that is safe for our neighbours, and does not allow considerations of worthiness or unworthiness to be entertained, being intent only on the dangers or advantage of others. For since I know that your Blessedness is driven and tossed by the waves at Rome, so that the depths of the sea press on you with infinite perils, and that you are labouring under such a condition of misery that you need even the least help from any the least brother, I do not seem to myself to be acting unsuitably if I forget your majesty till I shall have fulfilled the office of charity. I will not flatter in so serious and perilous a matter; and if in this you do not see that I am your friend and most thoroughly your subject, there is One to see and judge.

Perhaps I am shamelessly bold to seem to teach so great a leader, who ought to teach all people. Those plagues around you boast that even judges on their benches receive their rulings from you. But I am following St. Bernard in his book Considerations, addressed to Eugenius. Every pontiff ought to know that book by heart. I write not out of any desire to teach, but out of duty. I am moved by a simple, faithful concern that teaches us to care about everything that protects our neighbors. Such concern does not let us ask whether someone is worthy or unworthy. It looks only to the dangers or benefits facing others. For I know that your Blessedness is driven and tossed by the waves at Rome. The depths of the sea press upon you with endless dangers. You are suffering so miserably that you need even the smallest help from even the humblest brother. So I do not think I am acting improperly by setting aside your majesty until I have fulfilled love’s duty. I will not flatter you in so serious and dangerous a matter. And if you do not see in my words a friend and a wholly loyal subject, there is One who sees and judges.

In fine, that I may not approach you empty-handed, blessed Father, I bring with me this little treatise, published under your name, as a good omen of the establishment of peace and of good hope. By this you may perceive in what pursuits I should prefer and be able to occupy myself to more profit, if I were allowed, or had been hitherto allowed, by your impious flatterers. It is a small matter, if you look to its exterior, but, unless I mistake, it is a summary of the Christian life put together in small compass, if you apprehend its meaning. I, in my poverty, have no other present to make you, nor do you need anything else than to be enriched by a spiritual gift. I commend myself to your Paternity and Blessedness, whom may the Lord Jesus preserve for ever. Amen.

Finally, blessed Father, I bring this short treatise so that I do not come to you empty-handed. It is published under your name as a hopeful sign of peace and good things to come. From this treatise, you can see the work I would prefer to do and could do more fruitfully. I could do so if your godless flatterers allowed me, or had allowed me until now. Judged by its outward appearance, the treatise is a small thing. But unless I am mistaken, if you grasp its meaning, it sums up the Christian life in few words. In my poverty, I have no other gift to offer you. Nor do you need anything more than to be enriched by a spiritual gift. I entrust myself to you, blessed and holy Father. May the Lord Jesus preserve you forever. Amen.

Wittenberg, 6th September, 1520.

Wittenberg, September 6, 1520.