MARTIN LUTHER. by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This poem immerses us in Martin Luther's thoughts while he hides at Wartburg Castle after the Catholic Church labels him a heretic.
The poem
Our God, a Tower of Strength is He, A goodly wall and weapon; From all our need He helps us free, That now to us doth happen. The old evil foe Doth in earnest grow, In grim armor dight, Much guile and great might; On earth there is none like him. Oh yes; a tower of strength indeed, A present help in all our need, A sword and buckler is our God. Innocent men have walked unshod O'er burning ploughshares, and have trod Unharmed on serpents in their path, And laughed to scorn the Devil's wrath! Safe in this Wartburg tower I stand Where God hath led me by the hand, And look down, with a heart at ease, Over the pleasant neighborhoods, Over the vast Thuringian Woods, With flash of river, and gloom of trees, With castles crowning the dizzy heights, And farms and pastoral delights, And the morning pouring everywhere Its golden glory on the air. Safe, yes, safe am I here at last, Safe from the overwhelming blast Of the mouths of Hell, that followed me fast, And the howling demons of despair That hunted me like a beast to his lair. Of our own might we nothing can; We soon are unprotected: There fighteth for us the right Man, Whom God himself elected. Who is He; ye exclaim? Christus is his name, Lord of Sabaoth, Very God in troth; The field He holds forever. Nothing can vex the Devil more Than the name of him whom we adore. Therefore doth it delight me best To stand in the choir among the rest, With the great organ trumpeting Through its metallic tubes, and sing: Et verbum caro factum est! These words the devil cannot endure, For he knoweth their meaning well! Him they trouble and repel, Us they comfort and allure, And happy it were, if our delight Were as great as his affright! Yea, music is the Prophet's art; Among the gifts that God hath sent, One of the most magnificent! It calms the agitated heart; Temptations, evil thoughts, and all The passions that disturb the soul, Are quelled by its divine control, As the evil spirit fled from Saul, And his distemper was allayed, When David took his harp and played. This world may full of Devils be, All ready to devour us; Yet not so sore afraid are we, They shall not overpower us. This World's Prince, howe'er Fierce he may appear, He can harm us not, He is doomed, God wot! One little word can slay him! Incredible it seems to some And to myself a mystery, That such weak flesh and blood as we, Armed with no other shield or sword, Or other weapon than the Word, Should combat and should overcome A spirit powerful as he! He summons forth the Pope of Rome With all his diabolic crew, His shorn and shaven retinue Of priests and children of the dark; Kill! kill! they cry, the Heresiarch, Who rouseth up all Christendom Against us; and at one fell blow Seeks the whole Church to overthrow! Not yet; my hour is not yet come. Yesterday in an idle mood, Hunting with others in the wood, I did not pass the hours in vain, For in the very heart of all The joyous tumult raised around, Shouting of men, and baying of hound, And the bugle's blithe and cheery call, And echoes answering back again, From crags of the distant mountain chain,-- In the very heart of this, I found A mystery of grief and pain. It was an image of the power Of Satan, hunting the world about, With his nets and traps and well-trained dogs, His bishops and priests and theologues, And all the rest of the rabble rout, Seeking whom he may devour! Enough I have had of hunting hares, Enough of these hours of idle mirth, Enough of nets and traps and gins! The only hunting of any worth Is where I can pierce with javelins The cunning foxes and wolves and bears, The whole iniquitous troop of beasts, The Roman Pope and the Roman priests That sorely infest and afflict the earth! Ye nuns, ye singing birds of the air! The fowler hath caught you in his snare, And keeps you safe in his gilded cage, Singing the song that never tires, To lure down others from their nests; How ye flutter and heat your breasts, Warm and soft with young desires, Against the cruel, pitiless wires, Reclaiming your lost heritage! Behold! a hand unbars the door, Ye shall be captives held no more. The Word they shall perforce let stand, And little thanks they merit! For He is with us in the land, With gifts of his own Spirit! Though they take our life, Goods, honors, child and wife, Lot these pass away, Little gain have they; The Kingdom still remaineth! Yea, it remaineth forevermore, However Satan may rage and roar, Though often be whispers in my ears: What if thy doctrines false should be? And wrings from me a bitter sweat. Then I put him to flight with jeers, Saying: Saint Satan! pray for me; If thou thinkest I am not saved yet! And my mortal foes that lie in wait In every avenue and gate! As to that odious monk John Tetzel, Hawking about his hollow wares Like a huckster at village fairs, And those mischievous fellows, Wetzel, Campanus, Carlstadt, Martin Cellarius, And all the busy, multifarious Heretics, and disciples of Arius, Half-learned, dunce-bold, dry and hard, They are not worthy of my regard, Poor and humble as I am. But ah! Erasmus of Rotterdam, He is the vilest miscreant That ever walked this world below A Momus, making his mock and mow, At Papist and at Protestant, Sneering at St. John and St. Paul, At God and Man, at one and all; And yet as hollow and false and drear, As a cracked pitcher to the ear, And ever growing worse and worse! Whenever I pray, I pray for a curse On Erasmus, the Insincere! Philip Melanethon! thou alone Faithful among the faithless known, Thee I hail, and only thee! Behold the record of us three! Res et verba Philippus, Res sine verbis Lutherus; Erasmus verba sine re! My Philip, prayest thou for me? Lifted above all earthly care, From these high regions of the air, Among the birds that day and night Upon the branches of tall trees Sing their lauds and litanies, Praising God with all their might, My Philip, unto thee I write, My Philip! thou who knowest best All that is passing in this breast; The spiritual agonies, The inward deaths, the inward hell, And the divine new births as well, That surely follow after these, As after winter follows spring; My Philip, in the night-time sing This song of the Lord I send to thee; And I will sing it for thy sake, Until our answering voices make A glorious antiphony, And choral chant of victory!
This poem immerses us in Martin Luther's thoughts while he hides at Wartburg Castle after the Catholic Church labels him a heretic. Longfellow blends Luther's well-known hymn "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God" with a dramatic monologue, revealing Luther's faith, his anger towards his adversaries, and his close bond with Philip Melanchthon. Ultimately, the poem reads like a heartfelt letter from one reformer to another, rich with spiritual turmoil and hard-earned hope.
Line-by-line
Our God, a Tower of Strength is He, / A goodly wall and weapon;
Oh yes; a tower of strength indeed, / A present help in all our need,
Safe in this Wartburg tower I stand / Where God hath led me by the hand,
Of our own might we nothing can; / We soon are unprotected:
Nothing can vex the Devil more / Than the name of him whom we adore.
Yea, music is the Prophet's art; / Among the gifts that God hath sent,
This world may full of Devils be, / All ready to devour us;
Incredible it seems to some / And to myself a mystery,
Yesterday in an idle mood, / Hunting with others in the wood,
Ye nuns, ye singing birds of the air! / The fowler hath caught you in his snare,
The Word they shall perforce let stand, / And little thanks they merit!
Yea, it remaineth forevermore, / However Satan may rage and roar,
And my mortal foes that lie in wait / In every avenue and gate!
But ah! Erasmus of Rotterdam, / He is the vilest miscreant
Philip Melanethon! thou alone / Faithful among the faithless known,
My Philip, prayest thou for me? / Lifted above all earthly care,
My Philip! thou who knowest best / All that is passing in this breast;
Tone & mood
The poem shifts tone dramatically, contributing to its vibrant energy. It begins with the bold confidence of a battle hymn, transitions into a sense of grateful relief, then plunges into passionate fury, dark humor, and ultimately, tender intimacy. Longfellow portrays Luther as a man of striking contradictions: one moment he’s cursing Erasmus, and the next, he's penning a heartfelt letter to Melanchthon. The overall impression is of a large, tumultuous personality held together by faith and friendship.
Symbols & metaphors
- The Tower (Wartburg Castle) — The tower operates on two levels simultaneously. On one hand, it’s the castle where Luther took refuge from his foes. On the other, it resonates with the opening hymn's portrayal of God as a tower of strength. Luther's physical safety and his spiritual refuge are intertwined—he feels secure because God is his fortress.
- The Word — "The Word" refers to both the Bible and Christ (as stated in John 1:1, "In the beginning was the Word"). For Luther, it serves as his sole weapon against the Devil, the Pope, and his personal doubts. The Latin phrase *Et verbum caro factum est* ("the Word was made flesh") captures the Word in its most intense and potent form.
- Music and the Harp — Music embodies the Spirit's ability to soothe what logic and determination cannot. The scene of David playing his harp to ease Saul's madness parallels Luther's own use of music to combat depression and spiritual anguish. This serves as both a historical allusion and a personal admission.
- The Hunt and the Cage — The hunting trip serves two key symbols: Satan as a hunter ensnaring souls (through his agents in the Church) and nuns as trapped birds. These images depict religious coercion as predatory. Luther's choice to shift from hunting hares to pursuing the "cunning foxes and wolves" of Rome marks the beginning of his true calling.
- Spring Following Winter — In the final stanzas, Luther depicts his spiritual journey as a cycle of death and rebirth, with "divine new births" emerging after "inward deaths," much like how spring inevitably follows winter. This metaphor connects to nature, transforming his suffering from a sense of defeat into an essential transition — and it infuses the poem's conclusion with a sense of hope that has been earned through struggle.
Historical context
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote this poem for his collection *Christus: A Mystery* (1872), which is a dramatic trilogy exploring the history of Christianity. The poem portrays Martin Luther during his ten months at Wartburg Castle (1521–1522), where he sought refuge after being condemned at the Diet of Worms. During this time, Luther translated the New Testament into German and wrote extensively. Longfellow references Luther's actual letters and writings, including the Latin epigram about Melanchthon, the hunting-trip allegory, and stanzas from *Ein feste Burg*, all of which are rooted in history. Longfellow was influenced by the American Protestantism’s deep respect for Luther, and the poem embodies both thorough research and heartfelt admiration. He wrote it in his sixties, following his wife's passing, and the themes of spiritual crisis, friendship, and endurance resonate with his personal experiences.
FAQ
This piece is a dramatic monologue that captures Martin Luther's thoughts and feelings during his time in hiding at Wartburg Castle from 1521 to 1522. Longfellow skillfully intertwines Luther's well-known hymn, his theological arguments, his animosity toward certain opponents, and his strong bond with his friend Philip Melanchthon.
The hymn is *Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott* ("A Mighty Fortress Is Our God"), authored by Luther himself. Longfellow employs it as a structural backbone — the hymn stanzas reflect Luther's public, assured faith, while the passages in between reveal his personal doubts, struggles, and emotions. This contrast is central to the work.
It translates to "And the Word was made flesh" from the Gospel of John (1:14). This phrase speaks to the Incarnation—when God became human through Jesus. Luther thought this phrase was so potent that the Devil couldn't bear to hear it sung.
The historical figures Luther and Erasmus engaged in a well-known public debate over free will during the 1520s. Erasmus argued that humans possess some ability to choose good, while Luther maintained that salvation is solely the work of God. Luther viewed Erasmus as a coward who ridiculed others without taking a stand himself. Longfellow effectively conveys that anger — Luther's real letters regarding Erasmus are equally scathing.
Philip Melanchthon was Luther's closest friend and the most significant theologian of the early Reformation, right after Luther himself. The poem concludes with Luther reaching out to him from the Wartburg, as Melanchthon embodies everything the earlier sections miss: loyalty, tenderness, and mutual understanding. After all the anger and conflict, the poem ultimately highlights friendship as its greatest treasure.
The three lines translate to: "Philip: things and words" (indicating that Melanchthon possessed both substance and eloquence), "Luther: things without words" (suggesting that Luther had substance but was often blunt), and "Erasmus: words without things" (implying that Erasmus was all style but lacked real conviction). Interestingly, Luther penned this epigram, showcasing a rare instance of self-deprecating humor in his work.
Yes. Luther wrote a letter from Wartburg detailing a hunting trip, quickly transforming it into an allegory about Satan hunting souls. Longfellow draws directly from that letter. The depiction of nuns as caged birds also originates from Luther's own writings on monasticism.
One of the poem's most surprising moments comes when Luther confesses that the Devil whispers to him: *What if thy doctrines false should be?* This represents a true crisis of faith, rather than just a rhetorical flourish. Luther responds with sarcasm, mocking the Devil as a way to combat doubt with defiance, not with unwavering certainty. The poem portrays doubt as a genuine and ongoing aspect of faith, rather than an issue that can be definitively resolved.