13
Two Pigtails on the Pillow
Although Luther’s quip about awaking and being startled to glimpse two pigtails on the pillow beside him was intended to be humorous, one hears the truth loud and clear in his seemingly lighthearted admission: marriage was hard, especially for two people accustomed to living unattached to anyone else for so long.
The truth is, Luther and Katharina were virtual strangers on their wedding day. The two might have had cursory contact or exchanged a passing word or two while Katharina was living with the Cranachs, but it’s doubtful Luther and Katharina ever engaged in a meaningful conversation before their nuptials. They certainly didn’t spend much, if any, time alone together, nor did they enjoy the kind of lengthy engagement that most couples do today. Within a week or two of the proposal, Luther and Katharina found themselves husband and wife, two strangers sharing a bed, a home, and a life.
Idealism Meets Reality
For Luther, the reality of marriage as it played out day to day departed significantly from his preconceived notions of it. His early writings convey a surprisingly idealistic, romantic vision of marriage and the relationship between husband and wife.
“God makes distinctions between the different kinds of love, and shows that the love of a man and woman is (or should be) the greatest and purest of all loves,” Luther wrote in 1519, six years before wedding Katharina. “Over and above all these [kinds of love] is married love, that is, a bride’s love, which glows like a fire and desires nothing but the husband. She says, ‘It is you I want, not what is yours: I want neither your silver nor your gold; I want neither. I want only you. I want you in your entirety, or not at all.’ All other kinds of love seek something other than the loved one: this kind wants only to have the beloved’s own self completely.”1 Marriage was intended to be an intimate, emotionally fruitful bond, Luther believed. Nothing was as sweet as what he called “bridal love,” the deepest, most gratifying and selfless kind of love possible between human beings.
“There are many kinds of love,” Luther declared three years later in 1522, “but none is as fiery and hot as the bridal love that a bride has for her groom; again, the love is not looking for pleasure or presents, not wealth nor golden rings, but rather looks at him alone. Even if he were to give her everything there was, she would disregard it all and say, ‘I want to have you alone.’ And if he had absolutely nothing, she still would pay no attention to that but would want him anyway. That is the proper bridal love.”2 Although Luther was comparing the love between a man and a woman to the love Christ has for his church, it’s also clear from these words and others that he had certain expectations of what ideal marital love should look and feel like. He believed the love between a married couple was passionate and selfless, truer and purer than all other kinds of love.
Fast-forward to 1525. As is often the case, the reality of marriage in day-to-day experience didn’t perfectly reflect Luther’s premarriage expectations. For starters, Luther didn’t experience the deeply intimate “bridal love” he had written about years earlier. Luther married Katharina not because he was in love with her, nor because he felt a romantic attraction toward her, nor even because he considered her an ideal mate. Rather, Luther proposed to Katharina out of compassion and a sense of Christian duty. As he later said himself, he had initially considered proposing to Eva Schonfeld, another of the escaped nuns who was younger and had a gentler, more amenable disposition than Katharina, but Schonfeld married a local pharmacist before Luther could make up his mind.3
In contrast, Luther felt obligated to marry Katharina, a sentiment clearly conveyed in his personal correspondence. “I feel neither passionate love nor burning for my spouse, but I cherish her,”4 Luther wrote to Nikolaus von Amsdorf about his new wife on June 21, 1525, just a few days after the private wedding ceremony at the Black Cloister. Biographer Heiko Oberman translates this same line to read, “I do not love my wife, but I appreciate her.”5 Richard Marius’s translation reads, “I neither love nor lust for my wife, but I esteem her.”6 Regardless of the translation, the message is clear: Luther was not in love with Katharina, nor was he especially attracted to her. He respected her, and even more importantly, he believed God led him to marry her. “God has willed it and brought about this step,” he declared to von Amsdorf.7
Katharina’s strong-willed nature didn’t align with Luther’s definition of the ideal woman, nor did it complement Luther’s own obstinate, opinionated personality. “If I were to court a girl again, I would chisel myself an obedient wife from rock,” Luther once quipped to friends and students gathered around his table.8
Although Katharina spoke respectfully to her husband—she always used the more formal “Herr Doktor,” rather than the familiar “Du,”9 when speaking to him—she also didn’t hesitate to challenge him, and it’s clear from some of his comments and hers that she stood her ground and refused to let Luther boss her around. “If I can bear the wrath of the devil, of sin, and of conscience, then I can also stand Kate von Bora’s anger,” Luther once said, implying that he may have borne the brunt of that anger once or twice himself.10
On another occasion, when Luther tried to get Katharina to read the Bible from start to finish in a year (he even promised her 50 Gulden if she succeeded), she argued, “I’ve read enough, I’ve heard enough. I know enough. Would to God I lived it.”11 One wonders, in light of her daily domestic workload, when Katharina would have found time for Bible study, which is perhaps why Luther didn’t insist on a structured reading and study plan, in spite of his belief in sola scriptura. At any rate, Katharina made her point clear: she refused to read the Bible from start to finish under a deadline, and her husband didn’t dare press the issue further.
Katharina also engaged Luther in complex theological discussions. She asked him to explain why God had demanded that Abraham kill his son Isaac;12 she questioned how David could ask to be judged according to his righteousness when he was a sinner;13 she wondered how she could be both a saint and sinner at the same time;14 and she expressed her curiosity about prayer, at one point asking Luther why it seemed like they prayed less frequently and with less fervor since leaving the Roman Catholic Church.15 In spite of her refusal to read the Bible through in a year, Luther also acknowledged that Katharina knew the Psalms “better than ever the papists had done.”16 In other words, Katharina didn’t relegate herself to the domestic realm and leave intellectual, theological talk to the men; she participated in the discussions around the table and engaged Luther privately in conversation about such topics herself. She was both spiritually inquisitive and a critical thinker, two qualities Luther admired and respected in her, and, as time went on, grew to find quite attractive.
As Reformation scholars Susan Karant-Nunn and Merry Wiesner-Hanks note, Luther’s view of women and their role in marriage and in society was compatible with the opinions of many other sixteenth-century theologians.17 That is to say, Luther was very much in line with the times when it came to his views on women—at least on paper. His statements on women and marriage in everything from his lectures and sermons on Genesis to many of his informal statements compiled in Table Talk all clearly point to his belief in separate and distinct roles for a husband and wife within marriage, with the man as the natural leader and the woman his subordinate.
“In the household the wife is a partner in the management and has a common interest in the children and the property, and yet there is a great difference between the sexes,” Luther stated in his Lectures on Genesis. “The male is like the sun in heaven, the female like the moon, the animals like the stars, over which sun and moon have dominion. It was written that this sex [female] may not be excluded from any glory of the human creature, although it is inferior to the male sex.”18 He expounded on the topic of male and female roles when he gathered with his students and friends around the table: “[Women] have been made by God to bear children, to delight men, to be merciful,” and “God created male and female—the female for reproduction, the male for nourishing and defending,” Luther said in Table Talk.19
He made dozens of formal and informal statements on the proper role of women in society, in the home, and in marriage, some of them extreme. “Women are created for no other purpose than to serve men and be their helpers,” he wrote. “If women grow weary or even die while bearing children, that doesn’t harm anything. Let them bear children to death; they are created for that.”20 In his writing, Luther’s views were crystal clear: man was the head of the household and made superior by God; woman, as the inferior sex, was made to serve her husband and bear his children. Women were adjuncts to men, just as Eve had been intended for Adam.
Yet it’s clear from Luther’s personal letters to Katharina and others that his marriage was, in reality, a much more equitable one than he ever condoned in his lectures or treatises and even in the statements he made among his students and peers around the table. As Karant-Nunn and Wiesner-Hanks point out, “In the abstract, Luther envisioned each woman’s and girl’s confinement to the home, where, in pious mood, she labored efficiently and frugally. When we shift our gaze to Luther’s own experience, we see him closely bound to, and dependent upon, his Kate.” Therefore, they conclude, “We ought to assess Luther from the dual perspective of theory and practice.”21 In other words, Luther said and wrote one thing about the roles of man and woman within marriage; how he lived with Katharina in their day-to-day life as husband and wife was another thing entirely.
Around the Table
Imagine, for a moment, the scene around Luther’s dinner table most evenings. At the head of the table sat Luther, surrounded by men, his fan club, if you will—the university students, colleagues, and theological and political leaders who gathered to exchange ideas and hear Luther’s thoughts on everything from town gossip to the Holy Roman Emperor. The talk was loud, boisterous, and brash as the men refilled their beer mugs and passed plate after plate prepared and served by Katharina.
Luther’s faithful students and friends sat transfixed by his every word and dutifully transcribed the conversations that transpired around the table (as well as in the garden and even snippets of conversation overheard between Luther and Katharina around the house). These seven-thousand-plus statements comprise what’s known as Luther’s Table Talk, a compilation of informal thoughts, ideas, and opinions on everything from religion and politics to marriage and child rearing. The language and tone of these conversations was often earthy, sometimes outright crude—the kind of talk you might hear from men enjoying a beer together at the local tavern. Outspoken to begin with and emboldened by drink and the attentions of his audience, Luther’s tongue was often loosened in this casual setting. One has the distinct impression that many of Luther’s statements around the table were uttered with more than a little boasting, bravado, and jest.
“Men have broad chests and narrow hips; therefore they have wisdom. Women have narrow chests and broad hips. Women ought to be domestic; the creation reveals it, for they have broad backsides and hips, so that they should sit still,” he declared.22 “There is no dress that suits a woman or maiden so badly as wanting to be clever,” he stated during another dinner.23 “Female government has never done any good,” he announced on still another occasion. “God made Adam master over all creatures, to rule over all living things, but when Eve persuaded him that he was lord even over God she spoiled everything. We have you women to thank for that! With tricks and cunning women deceive men, as I, too, have experienced.”24 “When God installed Adam as lord over all creatures, everything was still in good order and proper, and everything was governed in the best way,” he claimed. “But when the wife came along and wanted to put her hand too in the simmering broth [Sode] and be clever, everything fell apart and became wildly disordered.”25
Around his table Luther had the rapt attention of his fandom and he made the most of it. Holding court as head of his own personal boys’ club, Luther tended to make exaggerated, emphatic declarations for effect. Not only did he bluster about women generally, he also joked and postured about his own wife, usually in her presence. He accused her of being chatty and disobedient, chided her for interrupting his work with silly questions,26 suggested she pray the Lord’s Prayer instead of talking so much, and called her his “Kette” (German for “chain,” as in “ball and chain”), a play on her nickname, Kethe.27
At the same time, however, Luther did not tolerate the misogynist comments of his peers. In his introduction to Johannes Freder’s 1545 Ein Dialogus dem Ehestand zu ehren geschrieben (A Dialogue Written to Honor the Matrimony of Queen Dorothea of Denmark), Luther devoted most of his attention not to Freder but to another contemporary theologian, Sebastian Franck, who had authored a collection of misogynist aphorisms that Luther found highly offensive.28 When Luther called Franck a “great arse-bumble bee” he was not joking or trying to be funny.29 Instead, he was issuing a scathing reprimand to Franck and all others who passed “such a stink and devil’s filth under our nose” and “daubed such a great dirt-heap in our face.”30
Such seemingly contradictory statements in Luther’s own writing and conversation might lead one to conclude he was a hypocrite, or at the very least, inconsistent in what he said and wrote about women. However, to do so would be to neglect the significance of the context in which Luther’s comments about women were written and uttered. As Susan Karant-Nunn points out, “Luther deliberately cultivated humor in the household setting where he was surrounded by his closest family members and also by guests and boarders.”31 There was a time and place for serious commentary, as well as a time and place for humor, pun, and innuendo.
The truth was, Luther deeply respected women, especially his Katharina. “One has to have women,” he declared in a rare moment of solemnity at the table. “If one did not have this sex, womankind, housekeeping and everything that pertains to it would fall apart; and after it all worldly governance, cities, and order. In sum, the world cannot dispense with women even if men by themselves could bear children.”32 The world and its governance depended on women, Luther asserted—quite a provocative statement from an early modern man.
It’s clear from the statements and conversations recorded in Table Talk, many of which also include Katharina’s responses in her own words (or at least as her words were transcribed by Luther’s guests), that Luther’s quips and jabs were largely a game—and a game in which he was not the only player. Unlike most early modern households, Katharina didn’t disappear into the background once her expected duties as wife and lady of the house were fulfilled. Rather, she was an active participant in the male-dominated world of the Black Cloister. She didn’t hesitate to express her opinions among Luther’s peers and was quick to rebuke her husband, albeit gently, in the presence of their guests for remarks she found crude or rude. At one point, for example, she chided him, “Ah, dear Sir, that’s much too coarse!” when he lashed out against theologian and reformer Caspar Schwenckfeld, with whom he disagreed theologically over the sacrament of the Eucharist.33
Katharina may have prepared the food and served the men gathered around the table, but she didn’t remain on the fringe of these male-dominated social interactions. Katharina had a seat at the table and participated in the conversation, voicing her own opinions, asking questions, and contributing to the discussion. Many of the Table Talk recorders referred to the gathering as “Katy’s table,” and one scribe in particular, Konrad Cordatus, complained about Katharina’s long speeches and the fact that she, as a housewife, didn’t refrain from interrupting her husband. When Luther once joked to a guest, “Indulge a meek host, for he is obedient to the lady,” Cordatus wrote irritably, “This is most certainly true!”34 Not only did Cordatus not appreciate the fact that Katharina was allowed a voice, he clearly considered Luther weak because of it. Luther, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care whether his friends and guests approved of the nontraditional social etiquette around his dinner table.
Luther may have blustered and complained about his “Kette” in the presence of his male students and guests, but behind the scenes, his personal letters both to his closest friends and to Katharina herself paint a much more intimate picture of their marriage. Luther’s most personal correspondence reveals a surprising tenderness and a man who not only had compassion and respect for his wife but deeply loved her and valued her as his partner as well.
This softer and arguably more authentic representation of Luther’s feelings for Katharina began to surface in his letters as early as one year into their marriage. “Katie, my rib, sends her greetings and her appreciation that you honored her with such a kind letter,” Luther wrote in 1526 to his good friend, the Augustinian friar Michael Stifel, announcing the birth of his first child, Hans. “She is well, by God’s grace, compliant, and in every way is obedient and obliging to me, more than I had ever dared to hope (thank God), so that I would not want to exchange my poverty for the riches of Croesus.”35 On one hand, Luther referred to his wife as his “rib”—an allusion to Eve having been created from Adam’s rib, and a traditional, albeit lighthearted, reference to Katharina’s role as her husband’s subordinate. On the other hand, it’s clear from his gushing praise that Luther had already developed a deep respect and admiration for Katharina and had begun to see her not as arrogant and proud, as he had first assumed, but “obedient and obliging.” Not only that, but marriage agreed with him, it seemed, so much so that he wouldn’t trade it even for “the riches of Croesus.” Just one year into marriage, Luther’s feelings for his wife had already transformed from dutiful compassion to genuine admiration and affection.
Luther participated in the popular rhetoric of the time, and while he used this language as a way to fit into his peer group as “one of the boys,” there was obvious affection beneath his bravado. For example, in calling Katharina his “rib,” he reminded her and others of the hierarchy of Adam over Eve and placed the blame for sin on Eve’s (and Katharina’s) shoulders. Yet his pet name for his wife also expressed a tender sentiment. He was reminding her and others that she was a part of him by alluding to the “one flesh” definition of marriage. Similarly, Luther referred to Katharina as his “Kette” in the same way a husband today sometimes jokes about his wife as his “ball and chain.” There was admiration and intimacy in Luther’s words. He may have felt the need to maintain a certain superiority and dominance, but his words also clearly expressed how integral Katharina was to his life as well.
This deepening respect and affection was also reflected in Luther’s letters to Katharina herself. “To my kind, dear Lord, Catherine Luther, a doctor and preacher in Wittenberg, Grace and peace in Christ, Dear Sir Katie!” he wrote from a conference in Marburg in 152936 (see the appendix to read the full letter). After updating Katharina on business and political developments at the conference, asking her to pray for him, and instructing her to give the children kisses from him, Luther signed his letter, “Your obedient servant, Martin Luther.” Helmut Lehmann, general editor of the American Edition of Luther’s Works, notes that addressing Katharina as “Lord” or “Sir” might sound strange to the modern reader, especially since Katharina was neither a doctor nor a preacher and certainly not a “sir.” But, Lehmann notes, these phrases should not be simply interpreted as jokes or as a reference to his wife’s nobility. Luther considered Katharina not only his wife and the mother of his children, but “above all, a spiritual companion.”37
The fact that Luther signed his letter “Your obedient servant” is no joke either, but a “major comment on the relationship between husband and wife as Luther understood it—the same Luther who took literally St. Paul’s statement that wives should be subordinate to their husbands,” says Lehmann.38 In short, what looks like teasing or joking on the surface was actually an admission of Luther’s profound admiration of and respect for Katharina not only as his wife and the mother of his children but also as “lord” of the household and his true partner in every sense of the word.
A Trusted Confidante
In the early months and years of their marriage, Katharina proved herself more than capable, whipping the dilapidated household into shape, managing the finances, reining in Luther’s spending, and planning for the future. Impressed by his wife’s savvy business skills and industriousness, Luther gave Katharina more and more responsibility and authority. Not only did he release full control of the household and the finances into her hands, Luther also trusted Katharina to make business decisions for the Black Cloister and for the livelihood of their family and their future—even when he didn’t entirely agree with those decisions. For example, as noted earlier, she expanded the estate with the purchase of additional property in Zülsdorf and began to charge visitors room and board as a way to help support the household. Luther did not favor either of these decisions; nonetheless he supported Katharina and encouraged her to do what she thought would benefit the household and her future security.
In private, Luther spoke to Katharina as an equal, confiding in her as he did his closest friends about politics and theology, trusting her with his work, and encouraging her to make business and even political decisions on her own. Luther considered Katharina a confidante, advisor, and business partner. It was she, for example, who persuaded Luther to respond to Erasmus’s attacks.39 Luther had intended to stay silent, but at Katharina’s urging, he took up his pen in 1525 to wage an argument against Erasmus’s theology of free will. He also listened to his wife and, more often than not, heeded her counsel. When just five months into their marriage Katharina asked Luther not to attend his good friend George Spalatin’s wedding because she had dreamed about him being murdered en route and worried about him traveling through dangerous territory, Luther complied: “I cannot come viz. the tears of my wife, who believes you would be deeply grieved were my life imperilled. I am full of pity for my dear Kathie, who would be half-dead with anxiety before I returned.”40 Luther was not mocking his wife’s fears; he was respecting them.
He also indicated in several letters that he relied on Katharina to convey critical pieces of information and news to key people, and he trusted her to ensure his writing was printed and distributed properly. In August of 1530, for instance, Luther conveyed his frustration over the delayed printing of a manuscript and instructed Katharina to retrieve the sermon from one printer and give the job to another. “If this has not yet happened,” he wrote, “then see that it is done soon, and that the sermon is completed as quickly as possible.”41 Luther had dozens of students at his beck and call, yet he entrusted Katharina with the important job of getting his writing published as expeditiously as possible. Furthermore, Luther readily confided the details of his political and theological negotiations to Katharina. While staying at Coburg Castle during the Diet of Augsburg in 1530, Luther reiterated his anxiety about the Diet time and time again in his letters to his wife, implying not only that he trusted her with this confidential information but also that she was well informed about the political climate of the time.
Finally, Luther trusted Katharina to oversee a ministerial search committee to fill a pastor position at a church in nearby Greussen (see second letter in the appendix). As Rudolf and Marilynn Markwald note, this request, which would have been extremely rare during the sixteenth century, a time in which women were not typically consulted in such matters, demonstrates Luther’s respect for his wife.42 It also illustrates the complexity of their relationship, which was based on mutual trust and respect. In print Luther was firm on what he believed to be the God-ordained roles for men and women, husbands and wives. In reality, those distinct lines of demarcation were significantly blurred.
The Empress Katie
Luther may have married Katharina out of a sense of Christian duty, but he grew to care about her and love her in every sense of the word. A close look at some of his informal comments around the table as well as his personal letters to Katharina reveal a progressive deepening of his feelings for her, feelings that began pragmatically and progressed over time to genuine love.
“I wouldn’t give up Katy for France or for Venice—first, because God gave her to me and gave me to her; second, because I have often observed that other women have more shortcomings than my Katy (although she, too, has some shortcomings, they are outweighed by many great virtues); and third, because she keeps faith in marriage, that is, fidelity and respect,” Luther said early in their marriage (this comment, by the way, was recorded in Table Talk; Luther was nothing if not contradictory).43 While this statement still speaks to Luther’s belief that he is fulfilling his God-given duty, and it isn’t exactly effusive praise, it does allude to Luther’s deepening feelings for his wife, especially when we compare it to this comment, made by Luther just two years later. “To have grace and peace in marriage is a gift second only to the knowledge of the Gospel,” Luther said in 1533. “Kate, you have a god-fearing man who loves you. You are an empress; realize it and thank God for it.”44 Still later he declared, “If I should lose my Katie I would not take another wife though I were offered a queen.”45 When Katharina became gravely ill in 1540, Luther was beside himself, fretting by her bedside and pleading, “Dear Kate, don’t die and leave me.”46 By 1540 he was also signing his letters, “Martin Luther—who loves you from his heart”47 (see second letter in the appendix).
Luther’s later letters to Katharina also reveal a sweet side rarely seen in the outspoken, boisterous Reformer:
“To my dearly beloved . . .”
“To my most beloved Lady of the House . . .”
“My sweetheart Kate . . .”
“To my dearly beloved Katie . . .”
The couple also enjoyed a good-natured repartee, and their teasing banter reveals how comfortable they were in each other’s company, as well as how much they simply enjoyed one another. “The time will come when a man will take more than one wife,” Luther once quipped to Katharina, who was quick to respond, “Let the devil believe that!” The two volleyed back and forth before Katharina triumphed with a quick-witted response. Rather than put up with polygamy, she retorted, “I’d rather go back to the convent and leave you and all our children.”48 Katharina and Luther’s exchange sounds like the typical repartee of two playful people in love.
Then there’s the story of the study door. Katharina reportedly called a locksmith to open the heavy wooden door to the tower when Luther failed to emerge, despite her pounding and shouting, after three days. She knew he was writing about Psalm 22 and had locked himself on the third floor with only a bit of bread, some salt, and water, but she grew anxious when he didn’t respond to her calls. When she finally burst into the study, Katharina found her husband deep in thought, his Bible open on the desk. Amused by her dramatic action, Luther teased Katharina, asking if she had thought he was up to no good,49 a comment that undoubtedly exasperated the already frazzled wife. Despite Katharina’s frustration in the moment, it’s clear the couple could joke with and tease one another because they had reached a place of security and comfort in their relationship. As Susan Karant-Nunn observes, “Humor provided a mechanism for preventing or diminishing tension among those who lived (and ate) in close proximity to one another, so that they might discuss sober matters and yet endure their closeness.”50
In short, Luther came to be quite taken with his wife, a fact that undoubtedly surprised him. What’s more, he clearly liked her as a person and partner and missed her when he was away. One can hear the disappointment in Luther’s voice, for example, in a 1540 letter when he mentions she has not written in a while: “I have received letters from the children, but from Your Grace I have received nothing. If it please God, then you might now, at least once, answer this, the fourth letter, with your gracious hand”51 (see the appendix for the complete letter). Luther sounds a bit like a petulant child or a disappointed lover as he not-so-subtly points out that he has written Katharina four letters yet received not even one in response from her.
Not only was she the mother of his children, his nurse, his business manager, and the manager of his household, Katharina was Luther’s confidante, a person whose companionship he truly enjoyed. It’s obvious the two respected and trusted one another and delighted in each other’s company. It may not have been head-over-heels love from the start, but it didn’t take long for Luther to become quite smitten indeed.
A “Dear and Precious Man”
As we’ve noted all along, we don’t definitively know how Katharina felt about Luther because we don’t have her perspective on their marriage. We must make do with the bits and pieces we can glean from the observations of others and from the few words we do have from Katharina herself.
For example, the number of letters written by Luther in reply to Katharina hint at how frequently she wrote to her husband when he was traveling. We also know that she fretted about his health and worried about his overall safety. As was noted earlier, after having a premonition that danger would befall him, Katharina begged Luther not to travel to his dear friend Spalatin’s wedding—a request Luther heeded. When Luther became gravely ill with an attack of kidney stones while traveling in Smalcald and it was thought he might die, Katharina left Wittenberg immediately in order to be by his side (he recovered before Katharina arrived and subsequently wrote to her that he was happily on his way home to her).52 Luther also frequently consoled Katharina in his letters and tried to ease her anxieties about him. When he was in Eisleben, for instance, just before his death in 1546, he urged her to read John and the Small Catechism and gently reminded her that rather than worrying herself, she should hand her fears and anxiety over to God53 (see the third letter in the appendix). Just a handful of Katharina’s own words about her husband exist today, and they are all contained in a single letter, written to her sister-in-law, Christina von Bora, two months after Luther’s death. In this brief but moving correspondence we glimpse the depths of Katharina’s grief.
I can easily believe that you have heartfelt sympathy for my poor children and me. For who would not easily be troubled and saddened over such a precious man as my dear husband was? He served not just one city or a single country, but the entire world. For that reason I really am so sad that I can’t tell anyone how full of sorrow my heart is. And I don’t know what I’m thinking and how I’m feeling. I can’t eat or drink, nor even sleep. And if I had had a princedom or empire and lost it, I wouldn’t have been as sad as now when our dear Lord God has taken this dear and precious man from me, and not just from me, but from the whole world. If I think about it, then I can’t speak nor even have someone write because of the pain and crying (God surely knows that).54
One can hear in her words Katharina’s attempt to be strong, to put on a brave face in the midst of such a devastating loss. She begins her letter resolutely, declaring the impact Luther’s death has had on the world, but her resolve quickly dissolves into an expression of personal grief. She can’t eat, she can’t drink, she can’t sleep. Grief has so muddled her thoughts and emotions, she admits that she can’t even think straight. Ernst Kroker notes that Katharina had dictated this letter, but even that task was nearly impossible, given her incessant weeping and unrelenting pain. This is the heartbreaking letter of a grief-stricken wife. As Philip Melanchthon and Reformation leader Paul Eber later reported, Katharina especially lamented that she had been unable to tend to Luther during his last days and hours and that he had died without her at his bedside.55
The Perfect Match
A 1530s portrait of the Luther family (which biographers Rudolph and Marilynn Markwald suggest was likely painted by Lucas Cranach) depicts Katharina sitting in a chair in the garden, their daughter Magdalene sliding from her lap and beginning to toddle away from her. Their oldest child, Hans, stands next to his mother, while Luther sits across from Katharina, seated comfortably in a large chair with an open book on his lap. Standing behind Luther is a man, possibly Philip Melanchthon, and sitting behind Katharina is an elderly woman, presumably her aunt, Magdalena, bent over her needlework.56
As the Markwalds note, at first glance the painting seems to portray a typical family gathering, but a closer look reveals something interesting. Katharina is not depicted in the background, sewing or knitting, but is seated front and center in the foreground. And while her maternal qualities are highlighted, with one child on her lap and another standing nearby, she also appears to be discussing or perhaps even arguing a point with her husband. Katharina is speaking, and Luther is listening.57 The message is clear: Katharina was not a mere bystander; she was an engaged and devoted partner to Luther and an active participant in the Reformation.
Stubborn, opinionated, blunt, and often crass, sickly, prone to melancholy, and a classic workaholic, Luther was not an easy man to live with. As biographer Edith Simon so aptly noted, Luther may have claimed he wanted a more obedient spouse, but “how would he have fared with a meek wife?”58 Luther found the best possible partner in Katharina, a woman who deeply loved and respected him, yet also managed his volatile moods and his difficult personality and offered him intellectual stimulation and companionship. Luther undoubtedly understood how challenging and difficult he was. Feisty and strong, courageous and smart, industrious and utterly devoted, Katharina was, in fact, the perfect match for Martin Luther, and he knew it.