Another favorite defense of modern Catholic writers is, that the money paid for an indulgence was not meant to purchase anything, but was to be viewed as a thank-offering which the grateful hearts of the pardoned prompted them to make to the Church who had brought them the pardon free, gratis, and for nothing.  This is Cardinal Gibbons’s argument.  He points triumphantly to the fact that the letters of indulgence were never handed the applicants at the same desk at which the “thank-offerings” were received.  He does not say which desk the applicant approached first.  But, supposing he obtained the letter first and then, with a heart bounding with joy and gratitude, hurried to the other desk, we have an interesting psychological problem confronting us.  The two acts, the delivery of the letter of indulgence and the surrendering of the thank-offering, we are told, are independent the one of the other.  Both are free acts, the one the free forgiveness of the Church, the other the free giving of the pardoned.  The Church’s grant of pardon has nothing to do with the payment of indulgence-money, and the indulgence-money is not related to the letter of indulgence.  Now, then, the purchaser of an indulgence performs this remarkable feat:  when he stands at the desk where the letter is handed to him, he does not think of any cost that he incurs.  He views the letter as a pure gift.  Then, obeying a sudden impulse of gratitude, he turns to the other desk and hands the official some money.  He manages to think that he is not paying for anything, that would be utterly improper.  How could a person pay for a donation, especially such a donation of spiritual and heavenly treasures?  One disturbing element, however, remains:  the amount of the thank-offering was fixed beforehand for particular sins, probably to regulate the recipient’s gratitude and make it adequate.  The writer has resolved to test the psychology of this process on himself the next time the Boston Symphony Company comes to town.  He will try and think of the great singers as true benefactors of mankind, who go about the country bestowing favors on the public, and when he comes to the ticket-window he will merely make a thank-offering for the pleasure he is receiving.  The scheme ought to work as well in this instance as in the other.

14.  The Case of Luther’s Friend Myconius.

There is a remarkable instance recorded in the annals of the Reformation which strikingly illustrates the operations of the indulgence-venders.  This record deserves not to be forgotten.  Gustav Freitag, the famous writer of German history, has embodied it in his sketch “Doktor Luther.”