The missing of children and spouses,The Luther commemorative houses,The breakfast time bloats,The rabbits and goats,The Luther commemorative houses!

Wi! Mackerras

Reformation historiography is fraught. The historiographical narratives of European Reformation sites—their tellings of history—reveal the ways in which European reformations have been co-opted for a whole range of purposes, from the religious to the political. The most telling thing about a museum display is not which objects have been included but the nature of the overarching narrative that links the objects. These museum narratives, mainly in written form, will be our focus, although we will also consider the narratives of artworks and monuments throughout. Will Mackerras’s tour poetry reflects on the interminable ‘Luther commemorative houses’, Luther sites with a seemingly unremitting emphasis on Luther. In Geneva and elsewhere, however, Reformation sites understand the European reformations quite differently.

Reformation in context today:a historiography of Reformation sites in 2010Arthur Davis

‘Fraughtness’ and LutherThe depictions of Reformation figureheads in art and museums, especially of Martin Luther, veer between the man as event and the man as person. The earliest artistic presentations of Luther depict him as one of a body of reformers. The works of Lucas Cranach the Elder in the Wittenberg Stadtkirche, for example, are highly localised, featuring townspeople and landmarks rather than an abstracted Luther. The Luther of these paintings is not Luther alone but one among a number of characters. Even when Luther is singled out (Image 1, in which Jesus Christ is present amongst the congregation as Luther preaches, an expression of the priesthood of all believers), this panel is part of a tetraptych in which many others, like Melanchthon and Cranach’s wife, appear. In a later piece, Jan Houwens’ Das Licht ist auf den Kandelaber geste!t (1620-1656, Image 2, from the Wittenberg Lutherhaus), Luther is one of many reformers, near the centre although clearly inseparable from the rest of the cohort. This presentation of Luther as one among many has continued in various forms; the Wittenberg Schlosskirche appears emphatic on this point even though many of its interior features, such as its nine freestanding statues, date from its Wilhelmine restorations in the nineteenth century (Image 3). These monuments set Luther in a wider political and academic context, alongside his benefactor Friedrich the Wise, for example. Even when the focus zooms in on Luther, it is as Luther the duo, inseparable from his companion Melanchthon, as in the painting above the bronze memorial door. It was Melanchthon, a premier

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biblical languages scholar, on whom Luther largely depended for his translations.

At what points, then, have these Reformation circles been dissected? The narrative of the upper-storey exhibit in the Wittenberg Lutherhaus attempts to answer this, tracking the presentation of Luther down through the ages and noting the diverging ways in which Luther has been presented. Luther has been abstracted and re-appropriated in line with a menagerie of socio-political currents:

• ‘Enlightenment Luther’ is a liberator, advocating freedom of individual conscience and reason against medieval superstition, his theology ignored;

• ‘Pietist Luther’, in reaction to the Enlightenment, is a young man with mystical inclinations;

• ‘Nineteenth-centur y Luther ’ is a national ( ist ) figurehead. Hermann Freihold Plüddemann’s Luther vor dem Reichstag zu Worms (1864, Image 4) depicts Luther bathed in clarity and conviction;

• ‘Postmodern Luther ’ i s a foi l for ideological ambivalence.

This Lutherhaus exhibit focuses on artworks and the history of Luther celebrations. For example, the three major anniversaries of the Peace of Augsburg during the eighteenth century saw Luther celebrations in Germany becoming more jolly, with decorations becoming more ostentatious, influenced by Baroque culture and the increasing security of Protestant society. Meanwhile, in the lead up to the Second Wor ld War, Luther ann iver sa r ie s were o f f i c i a l l y overshadowed by Nazi commemorations, although the

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regional festivals continued, including those at Wittenberg. This exhibit thus provides a lens into some of the ‘fraughtness’ of Reformation historiography. We will continue to explore this fraughtness through a series of Reformation sites.

Lutherhaus, WittenbergIt is ironic that this upper-storey Lutherhaus (Image 5) exhibit appears in the very museum that is so preoccupied with a Big Man history of Luther—the Reformation as Luther-event. From the outset, the downstairs Lutherhaus narrative takes what Bernd Moeller calls a powder-keg view: the historical stage is set for an explosion and Luther is the spark. Firstly, Luther’s life and times, even his own person, form contributions to his irresistible electrical charge. In the first panel (Image 6), humanism is something that Luther becomes ‘acquainted with’ and absorbs, rather than a historical trend with its own particular contribution. Secondly, the narrative begins to read everything prior to 1517 forward to that point, and everything subsequent in light of that moment: ‘Here we can already see surface the question that did bother Luther: How can I receive a gracious God?’ In the second panel, Wittenberg is established as the decisive location for the lightning strike of reformation: its economy is in boom, and a quotation panel heralds, ‘Come to Wittenberg, whose citizens are well educated and men are devoted to the sciences’. The fourth panel locates the beginning of the lightning strike in 1513-1518, during which Luther lectures and develops his views, and the point of no

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return is noted as the summer of 1516, by which point Luther’s views have hardened. As the narrative continues, it implies that the impending lightning strike is apparent to Luther himself: ‘Where Christ is, there he always goes against the flow’. (The fifth panel betrays a chink in this narrative; Luther’s initial concern with indulgences is that people have stopped attending confession. Is this really the view of a reformer?) The narrative continues to the explosive moment, the Wittenberg Door (1517). There are perhaps multiple epicentres; the seventh panel deals with the Diet of Worms (1521), presenting every turn of events as inexorably carrying Luther to his decisive stand. Intriguingly, at this point the narrative refers to Luther’s prevarication, his thin voice, and addition of ‘Hier stehe ich’ only after the event, yet this somehow only heightens the momentousness of the Diet. ‘The young emperor Charles V ... clearly recognizes that through Luther’s action the schism of the Western church is imminent’. A new world has been ushered in. Giving shape to this new world, subsequent panels are preoccupied with Luther’s innovations. His Wartburg Castle confinement provides the occasion for the first aftershocks: anti-Roman writings, sermons, and the new German translation of the New Testament. So too Luther’s marriage and family, which in an instant ‘overthrows a thousand-year old Christian tradition that regarded celibacy and sexual abstinence as holier than marriage’ (Image 7 shows the accompanying quote panel). The concluding panel of the narrative, on reaching Luther ’s death, notes, ‘His contemporaries are acutely aware of the fact that an era has come to an end’. The discharge is complete; the world is

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irrevocably changed. The panel finally turns to another of Luther ’s innovations: his single-handed creation of Protestant songwriting. Luther is the one-man Reformation band.

This narrative presents a single, uniform Reformation with Luther at the centre. When the focus is singularly on Luther, the Reformation has no precedent or precursor, nor even any successor. Luther did not influence others but rather created an entirely new world in which everything had changed and in which it was no longer possible to continue as before. There is thus l i tt le sense of either continuity or discontinuity; the Reformation is a sheer historical disjunction. This narrative sees no diversity of reforming movements in Europe, with little real difference between Anabaptists and the magisterial reformers; between the Swiss reformers and German reformers; between the somewhat ad hoc progression of Luther’s works and the more systematic progression of Calvin’s. This is not Reformation so much as Revolution; the protestatio at the second Diet of Speyer (1529) becomes the final radical rejection.

Geburtshaus, EislebenThe narrative of the Eisleben Geburtshaus (the oldest Luther museum, 1693), focuses initially on Luther’s social context, such as the history of the town’s mining industry and his family background, including the role of his father, Hans Luder. This focus on the town of Eisleben is less about Luther’s person than it is about his world and time. There is

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nothing to be found in the Eisleben mines or the tussles between nobles and leaseholders that made Reformation inevitable. Nonetheless, the overarching impression of the Geburtshaus narrative is that Eisleben was a place preparing for Luther. The Eisleben setting created Luther the man. Thus the narrative moves on to the development of Luther’s thought-world, such as his theology of music as a tool against Satan. It is therefore Luther who grants significance to the Geburtshaus and to Eisleben—especially given that his family moved to nearby Mansfeld only a year after Luther’s birth, in 1484. We have returned to the Luther-event. It is perhaps unsurprising, then, to find the Lutherdenkmal in the Eisleben square doing the same (Rudolf Siemerig, 1883, Image 10). Luther, foot planted forward, protectively holds a Bible against his chest and in his right hand scrunches Leo X’s papal bull (Exsurge Domine). This provides an interesting historiographical contrast to Wittenberg. If there was a Reformation lightning strike, what was it? The Lutherhaus emphasises the Wittenberg Door; the Diet of Worms is emphasised elsewhere; here it is Luther’s withstanding the Pope. Even when Luther himself is seen as the Reformation event, there remain attempts to reduce the Luther-event to a single decisive flashpoint.

Erfurt monasteryThe Erfurt monastery museum provides a distinct contrast to the Lutherhaus and Geburtshaus. It features a Luther narrative focusing broadly on Luther’s life and times, painting his world as a complex series of interactions. The

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first panel, ‘Student of the seven free arts (1501-1505)’ (Image 11), establishes the tone: the Reformation was an organic, multifaceted development. If there was a Reformation spark, it was found in neither Luther alone nor humanism alone but the interactions between them. Notably, by beginning with Luther’s mundane birth and childhood, this narrative does not reduce Luther to a set of innate existential concerns as the Lutherhaus narrative appears to. The Erfurt monastery narrative continues to introduce further complexities. The third panel, ‘Studying the Bible and lecturing (1508-1511)’, portrays Luther, beginning to question the church’s teachings, not as a juggernaut but as a lecturer embroiled in monastery politics. The vicar general, Johannes von Staupitz, seeks to encourage Luther’s preoccupation with the Bible, while Luther’s mentor, Bartholomaeus Arnoldi von Usingen, is against it. It is Staupitz who has Luther transferred to Wittenberg for lecturing and further study. Luther continues his work, developing his focus on interacting with the Bible and early church fathers rather than the scholastic tradition, yet Luther is not simply proceeding at his own say-so. This Luther is not a free agent on a personal path to discovery but a man set in a world teeming with other human intentions. The fourth panel, ‘The journey to Rome (1510-1511)’, recounts Luther’s journey to Rome to protest the union of their monastic order. Again, this is not a Luther fated to be a reformer but a deeply pious Roman Catholic intent on making a general confession and visiting cathedrals. At this point particularly, the narrative constructs its own explicit meta-account of Luther’s life instead of viewing his life through the lens of his own later self-commentary, which the

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Lutherhaus makes much of; the fourth panel states that ‘only later his judgement about the papal church is … hard and negative’. The final panel of the narrative, ‘Reformer for Erfurt (1517-1546)’, presents not an irreversibly changed world but a melting pot of ongoing interactions and conflicts. Luther’s own monastery continues to refuse his ideas, yet the humanists swiftly reform the University of Erfurt, but when Luther passes through Erfurt on his way to Worms in 1521, the town remains divided. The narrative of the Erfurt monaster y avoids the f raughtness of Reformation historiography by presenting a history of loose ends—the fraughtness of history itself.

Hus Museum, ConstanceThe Hus Museum in Constance (Hus-Museum Konstanz) takes up a different approach to its narrative, with its rooms designed as an intricate series of motifs comprised of stylised reproductions, symbolic objects, and tactile elements. Jan Hus’s declarations at the Council of Constance (held 1414-1418) are engraved in stone panels to represent the firmness of his conviction. A display from the second room (Image 12) depicts the emergence of criticism amongst Hus and his university colleagues in Prague, featuring illustrations from the Jena Codex, a Hussite satire against the papal court. This narrative is, as the accompanying brochure points out, about ‘evoking atmospheres’. The overall impression of this symbolic approach is one of Reformation as another world—a world of real people, real discovery and real sadness, but a world that is not our own, a world that belongs to another

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realm. The Hus Museum narrative thus takes seriously Bernd Moeller’s comment that the subject matter of the Reformation ‘connects past and future under absolutely specific, unique, and irretrievable circumstances’.

Reformation Wall, GenevaThere is a stark contrast between the Lutherhaus and the Reformation Wall of Geneva (Mur de la Réformation or Monument international de la Réformation, built 1909-1917, Image 13), where Luther appears only in name. The wall stands in the grounds of the University of Geneva, which John Calvin founded, and was built for the 400-year anniversary of Calvin’s birth and the 350-year anniversary of the University’s foundation. Here, Luther and Zwingli literally form bookends to the monument, thus being presented as pre-reformers, while William Farel, Calvin, Theodore Beza, and John Knox take centre stage as the launch pad for worldwide reformation, which is depicted in the four panels and three statues to each side. The order of the four reformers is deliberate (Image 14): Farel introduced reformation ideas, Calvin establ ished them, Beza consolidated them as Calvin’s successor, and Knox carried the reformation further afield on his return to Scotland. The monument identifies Calvin as the figurehead, further forward and taller than the others, although he was probably a full head shorter in person. An irony of the monument is in the reformers’ own disavowal of memorialising human achievements. Yet this is a political monument as much as a religious one. The four men were magisterial reformers,

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seeking to align godly church with godly state. The monument is set into a hundred-metre stretch of the old city walls, presenting the Reformation as integral to the city’s identity. The international scope of the monument, from Knox to the eight panels, emphasises Geneva’s distinct identity as the premier international city. The statues include Oliver Cromwel l , who helped consolidate Reformation in England, while the panels include the Mayflower Compact, the bringing of Reformation to North America. If not a Luther-event, the Reformation Wall presents Reformation as a Geneva-event, an international moment centred in one dynamic meeting place.

Geneva CathedralOther micro-narratives take up a ‘history of loose ends’ in a similar manner to the narrative of the Erfurt monastery museum. In a corner of the Geneva cathedral, a single poster summarises the European reformations. It charts the development of what would become touchstone issues in the emergence of Protestantism:

• Purgatory (C2nd, esp. C13th onwards, following Aquinas)

• The cults of martyrs and saints (late C2nd, esp. C6th onwards, following the merging of the two)

• The cult of images (early C3rd, esp. 787 onwards, following affirmation at the Second Council of Nicea),

• Monasticism (C3rd onwards),• Celibacy (esp. following the Synod of Elvira, 295-314),• The papacy (esp. following Leon I of Rome, 440-461),

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• Indulgences (1095 onwards, following the First Crusade),

• Sacramentalism (esp. 1274 onwards, following the fixing of seven sacraments by Pope Clement IV).

However, these ancient features are not snowballing towards an inevitable Reformation flashpoint: the poster also traces reformation trends back through no less than eight men prior to Luther, including Hus, all the way to Bernard of Clair vaux (1090-1153) . Despite its highly distil led presentation, this narrative does not reduce Reformation to an event.

Calvin Auditorium, GenevaThe historiography of the Calvin Auditorium (Auditoire de Calvin, Image 15) continues the theme of the Reformation Wall: the Reformation as a uniquely international event based in Geneva. Luther, the German ‘pre-reformer’, does not even rate a mention, and the trail of Reformation sites from Germany to Switzerland seems to have come full circle. In the Auditorium’s collage displays, Geneva is depicted as a hive of reforming activity. One entry point of the narrative highlights the use of the Auditorium to British and Italian religious refugees (November 1555 onwards). Geneva’s population of 12000 swelled by half as refugees flocked in. The displays go into detail about the makeup of these communities in Geneva. The English-speaking exiles returned to Britain in the years following the death of Mary (November 1558) but the relationship with Geneva remained strong. The narrative communicates the breadth of

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reformation initiatives and the vitality of these first Genevan Reformed communities through events including the production of the Geneva Bible and the beginnings of early Protestant musical tradition. The groundbreaking Geneva Bible was first published in 1560. Along with fresh English translation work it featured extensive annotations—it has been called the world’s first study Bible—and, for the first time in English, verse numbers. Meanwhile, Petrus Dathenus’ rhyming hymnbook of the Psalms (1572, Image 16) was based on the Hebrew text and Beza’s French translation, with melodies by Marot. Although it was not easy to sing from, it was the standard songbook for 200 years, only being superseded in 1773. Although a version created by Marnix in 1617 was more musically fluent, it never gained popularity because Dathenus’ version had the ‘stamp of sturdy orthodoxy’—an intriguing hint at the calcification of Protestant tradition. The narrative also describes Geneva’s international forums including La Congrégation, a public lecture in which townspeople, visitors, and refugees absorbed reformation thought to take with them to other regions. The international focus continues in the section on Knox. In a collection of captions and snippets, the narrative emphasises Knox’s contributions to Geneva and his carrying of reformation further afield, despite the brevity of his stay (1556-1559). The narrative sketches out various dimensions of Knox’s life, including his published writings, and describes Knox the man, including his family life amidst his work on the Geneva Bible, and Calvin’s condolences at the death of Knox’s wife (1561).

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Reformation Museum, GenevaThe tenth room of the International Museum of the Reformation (Musée international de la Réforme), ‘The Reformation in the Nineteenth Century’, contains a final fascinating artwork, a lithograph representing the modern world in light of the Reformation (Image 17). In the foreground are explorers (left) and literary figures (right; Shakespeare is prominent with his arms folded), behind them in the alcoves of the middle ground are scientists (left; Copernicus points to the solar system) and artists (right). Between the alcoves and the centre are political figures (Elizabeth I stands before the left column). In the centre, Luther holds aloft the Bible. Beside and below him are other Reformation figures; Zwingli, Calvin and Melanchthon are easily recognisable. Although Luther holds the Bible, the focus is on the illuminating presence of the open Bible. This is an Enlightenment vision of divine revelation unleashing human initiative; the creative activity appears to be animated by the opening of the Bible. The Reformation is the hinge point for modern thought. This the other side of the Lutherhaus narrative: the Reformation is not only an epochal lightning strike but the one in which our own world was created. The Reformation has again been co-opted for contemporary purposes.

ConclusionsA fitting motif for the Luther-event is found at the site of Luther’s stand at the Diet of Worms (1521), where a bronze

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artwork presents the moment as a lightning bolt dividing church and state (Image 18). ‘1521’ is etched in the lightning bolt itself.

Big Man histories provide a means of escaping the fraughtness of history. The Lutherhaus, in spite of its upper-storey exhibit, is another ‘expropriation’ of Luther, excising him from his time and place. The Luther-event forms an eminently simple approach to the Reformation because it does not need to explain continuities and discontinuities, of which the Worms artwork is so expressive. In the Lutherhaus narrative, Luther himself is that lightning strike. His life and times before and after ‘the Reformation moment’—be it the Wittenberg Door or something else—are merely accessory. If Reformation history is a matter of ‘irretrievable circumstances’, as Moeller warns, then the Luther-event is a way of dodging the question by reducing those circumstances to inevitability.

As we have seen, however, the Reformation sites of Europe are a trail of competing narratives. Genevan Reformation sites know nothing of the Luther-event, although they construct their own Geneva-event. Other sites challenge this very enterprise: the Hus Museum is a meditation on Moeller’s warning, while the Erfurt monastery explicitly exposes some of the complexities of German Reformation history.

The final panel of the Lutherhaus’s upper-storey exhibit concludes with Gerhard Ebeling’s reflection on Luther: our

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perspective on Luther is dominated by his ‘strangeness’, which confounds our attempts to make sense of him. The Lutherhaus narrative of the floors below seems to have a lust to pin down, if not explain, Luther’s strangeness. In doing so, this exhibit forms a kind of museum-within-a-museum, another edifice of Luther reinterpretation, a fitting if unwitting prelude to the upper storey.

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