When Luther advises Weller to drink somewhat more liberally, that does not mean that Luther advises Weller to get drunk.  This, however, is exactly what Luther is made to say by his Catholic critics.  They make no effort to understand the situation as it confronted Luther, but pounce upon a remark that can easily be understood to convey an offensive meaning.  Neither does what Luther says about his own drinking mean that he ever got drunk.  We have spoken of this matter in a previous chapter, and do not wish to repeat.  Luther’s remarks about jesting, merry plays, and jolly pranks in which he would have Weller engage are likewise vitiated by the Catholic insinuation that he advises indecent frivolities, yea, immoralities.  Why, all the merriment which he urges upon Weller is to take place in Luther’s home and family circle, in the presence of Luther’s wife and children, in the presence of Weller’s little pupil Hans, who at that time was about four years old.  The friends of the family members of the Faculty at the University, ministers, students who either stayed at Luther’s home, like Weller, or frequently visited there, are also included in this circle whose company Weller is urged to seek.  Imagine a young man coming into this circle drunk, or half drunk, and disporting himself hilariously before the company!  We believe that not even all Catholics can be made to believe the insinuations of their writers against Luther when all the facts in the case are presented to them.

Let us, moreover, remind ourselves once more that, to measure the social proprieties of the sixteenth century by modern standards, is unfair.  A degree of culture in regard to manners and speech can be reached by very refined people that grows away from naturalness.  The old Latin saying:  Naturalia non sunt turpia (We need not feel ashamed of our natural acts), will never lose its force.  There are expressions in Luther’s writings—­and in the Bible—­that nowadays are considered unchaste, but are in themselves chaste and pure.  Even the extremest naturalness that speaks with brutal frankness about certain matters is a better criterion of moral purity than the supersensitive prudishness that squirms and blushes, or pretends to blush, at the remotest reference to such matters.  It all depends on the thoughts which the heart connects with the words which the mouth utters.  This applies also to the manner in which former centuries have spoken about drinking.  We sometimes begin to move uneasily, as if something Pecksniffian had come into our presence, when we behold the twentieth century sitting in judgment on the manners and morals of the sixteenth century.