Hartmann Grisar

LUTHER AND MELANCHTHON

1. Melanchthon in the Service of Lutheranism, 1518-30

When Melanchthon was called upon to represent Lutheranism officially at the Diet of Augsburg, while the real head of the innovation remained in the seclusion of the Coburg (vol. ii., p. 384), he had already been in the closest spiritual relation with Luther for twelve years.

The talented young man who had given promise of the highest achievements in the domain of humanism, and who had taken up his residence at Wittenberg with the intention of devoting his academic career more particularly to the Greek classics, soon fell under Luther’s influence. Luther not only loved and admired him, but was, all along, determined to exploit, in the interests of his new theology, the rare gifts of a friend and colleague thirteen years his junior. Melanchthon not only taught the classics, but, after a while, announced a series of lectures on the Epistle to Titus. It was due to Luther that he thus gave himself up more to divinity and eventually cultivated it side by side with humanism. “With all his might” Luther “drove him to study theology.”[1054] Melanchthon’s “Loci communes” or elements of theology, a scholastically conceived work on the main doctrines of Lutheranism, was one of the results of Luther’s efforts to profit by the excellent gifts of the colleague—who he was convinced had been sent him by Providence—in formulating his theology and in demolishing the olden doctrine of the Church. The “Loci” proved to be a work of fundamental importance for Luther’s cause.[1055]

The character of the “Loci,” at once methodic and positive, indicated the lines on which Melanchthon as a theologian was afterwards to proceed. He invented nothing, his aim being rather to clothe Luther’s ideas in clear, comprehensive and scholastic language—so far as this could be done. His carefully chosen wording, together with his natural dislike for exaggeration or unnecessary harshness of expression, helped him in many instances so to tone down what was offensive in Luther’s doctrines and opinions as to render them, in their humanistic dress, quite acceptable to many scholars. As a matter of fact, however, all his polish and graceful rhetoric often merely served to conceal the lack of ideas, or the contradictions. The great name he had won for himself in the field of humanism by his numerous publications, which vied with those of Reuchlin and Erasmus—his friends called him “praeceptor Germaniae”—went to enhance the importance of his theological works amongst those who either sided with Luther or were wavering.

Earlier Relations of Luther with Melanchthon.

As professor, Melanchthon had at the outset an audience of from five to six hundred, and, later, his hearers numbered as many as 1500. He was perfectly aware that this was due to the renown which the University of Wittenberg had acquired through Luther, and the success of their common enterprise bound him still more closely to the ecclesiastical innovation. To the very end of his life he laboured in the interests of Lutheranism in the lecture-hall, at religious disputations, by his printed works, his memoranda, and his letters, by gaining new friends and by acting as intermediary when dissension threatened.—In his translation of the Bible Luther found a most willing and helpful adviser in this expert linguist. It is worthy of note that he never took the degree of Doctor of Divinity or showed the slightest desire to be made equal to his colleagues in this respect. Unlike the rest of his Wittenberg associates, he had not been an ecclesiastic previous to leaving Catholicism, nor would he ever consent to undertake the task of preacher in the Lutheran Church, or to receive Lutheran Orders, though for some years he, on Sundays, was wont to expound in Latin the Gospels to the students; these homilies resulted in his Postils. When Luther at last, in 1520, persuaded him to marry the daughter of the Burgomaster of Wittenberg, he thereby succeeded in chaining to the scene of his own labours this valuable and industrious little man with all his vast treasures of learning. At the end of the year Melanchthon, under the pseudonym of Didymus Faventinus, composed his first defence of Luther, in which he, the Humanist, entirely vindicated against Aristotle and the Universities his attacks upon the rights of natural reason.[1056]

As early as December 14, 1518, Luther, under the charm of his friend’s talents, had spoken of him in a letter to Johann Reuchlin as a “wonderful man in whom almost everything is supernatural.”[1057] On September 17, 1523, he said to his friend Theobald Billicanus of NÖrdlingen: “I value Philip as I do myself, not to speak of the fact that he shames, nay, excels me by his learning and the integrity of his life (‘eruditione et integritate vitae’).”[1058] Five years later Luther penned the following testimony in his favour in the Preface at the commencement of Melanchthon’s Exposition of the Epistle to the Colossians (1528-29): “He proceeds [in his writings] quietly and politely, digs and plants, sows and waters, according to the gifts which God has given him in rich measure”; he himself, on the other hand, was “very stormy and pugnacious” in his works, but he was “the rough hewer, who has to cut out the track and prepare the way.”[1059] In the Preface to the edition of his own Latin works in 1545 he praises Melanchthon’s “Loci” and classes them amongst the “methodic books” of which every theologian and bishop would do well to make use; “how much the Lord has effected by means of this instrument which He has sent me, not merely in worldly learning but also in theology, is demonstrated by his works.”[1060]

The extravagant praise accorded by Luther to his fellow-worker was returned by the other in equal measure. When deprived of Luther’s company during the latter’s involuntary stay at the Wartburg, he wrote as follows to a friend: “The torch of Israel was lighted by him, and should it be extinguished what hope would remain to us?... Ah, could I but purchase by my death the life of him who is at this time the most divine being upon earth!”[1061] A little later he says in the same style: “Our Elias has left us; we wait and hope in him. My longing for him torments me daily.”[1062] Luther was not unwilling to figure as Elias and wrote to his friend that he (Melanchthon) excelled him in the Evangel, and should he himself perish, would succeed him as an Eliseus with twice the spirit of Elias.

We cannot explain these strange mutual encomiums merely by the love of exaggeration usual with the Humanists. Luther as a rule did not pander to the taste of the Humanists, and as for Melanchthon, he really entertained the utmost respect and devotion for the “venerable father” and “most estimable doctor” until, at last, difference of opinion and character brought about a certain unmistakable coolness between the two men.

Melanchthon, albeit with great moderation and reserve, never quitted the reformer’s standpoint as regards either theory or practice. Many Catholic contemporaries were even of opinion that he did more harm to the Church by his prudence and apparent moderation than Luther by all his storming. His soft-spoken manner and advocacy of peace did not, however, hinder him from voicing with the utmost bitterness his hatred of everything Catholic, and his white-hot prejudice in favour of the innovations. He wrote, for instance, at the end of 1525 in an official memorandum (“de iure reformandi”) intended for the evangelical Princes and Estates that, even should “war and scandal” ensue, still they must not desist from the introduction and maintenance of the new religious system, for our cause “touches the honour of Christ,” and the doctrine of Justification by Faith alone in particular, so he says, “will not suffer the contrary.” Why heed the complaints of the Catholics and the Empire? Christ witnessed “the destruction of the Kingdom of the Jews” and yet proceeded with His work. According to this memorandum there was no need of waiting for the Pope’s permission to “reform” things; the people are everywhere “bound to accept the doctrine [of Luther]” while evangelical Princes and authorities are “not bound to obey the edicts [of the Empire]; hence, in fairness, they cannot be scolded as schismatics.”[1063] For such a ruthless invitation to overturn the old-established order Melanchthon sought to reassure himself and others by alleging the “horrible abuses” of Popery which it had become necessary to remove; the war was to be only against superstition and idolatry, the tyranny of the ecclesiastical system challenging resistance.[1064]

Then and ever afterwards the Pope appeared to him in the light of Antichrist, with whom no reconciliation was possible unless indeed he yielded to Luther.

In the same year in which he wrote the above his correspondence begins to betray the anxiety and apprehension which afterwards never ceased to torture him, due partly to what he witnessed of the results of the innovations, partly to his own natural timidity. The Peasant War of 1525 plunged him into dismay. There he saw to what lengths the abuse of evangelical freedom could lead, once the passions of the people were let loose. At the express wish of the Elector Ludwig of the Palatinate he wrote in vigorous and implacable language a refutation of the Peasant Articles; the pen of the scholar was, however, powerless to stay the movement which was carrying away the people.

A work of much greater importance fell to him when he was invited to take part in the Visitation of the churches in the Saxon Electorate, then in a state of utter chaos; it was then that he wrote, in 1527, the Visitation-booklet for the use of the ecclesiastical inspectors.

In the directions he therein gave for the examination of pastors and preachers he modified to such an extent the asperities of the Lutheran principles that he was accused of reacting in the direction of Catholicism, particularly by the stress he laid on the motive of fear of God’s punishments, on greater earnestness in penance and on the keeping of the “law.” Luther’s preaching of the glad Evangel had dazzled people and made them forgetful of the “law” and Commandments. According to Melanchthon this was in great part the fault of the Lutheran preachers.

“In their addresses to the people,” he complains in 1526, “they barely mention the fear of God. Yet this, and not faith alone, is what they ought to teach.... On the other hand, they are all the more zealous in belabouring the Pope.” Besides this they are given to fighting with each other in the pulpit; the authorities ought to see that only the “more reasonable are allowed to preach and that the others hold their tongues, according to Paul’s injunction.”[1065] “They blame our opponents,” he writes of these same preachers in 1528, “for merely serving their bellies by their preaching, but they themselves appear only to work for their own glory, so greatly do they allow themselves to be carried away by anger.”[1066]

“The depravity of the country population” he declares in a letter of the same year to be intolerable; it must necessarily call down the heavy hand of God’s chastisement. “The deepest hatred of the Gospel” was, however, to be found “in those who play the part of our patrons and protectors.” Here he is referring to certain powerful ones; he also laments “the great indifference of the Court.” All this shows the end to be approaching: “Believe me, the Day of Judgment is not far distant.” “When I contemplate the conditions of our age, I am troubled beyond belief.”[1067]

Regarding his recommendation of penance and confession during the Visitations, a conversation which he relates to Camerarius as having taken place at the table of a highly placed patron of the innovations, is very characteristic. A distinguished guest having complained of this recommendation, the patron chimed in with the remark, that the people must “hold tight to the freedom they had secured, otherwise they would again be reduced to servitude by the theologians”; the latter were little by little re-introducing the old traditions. Thus you see, Melanchthon adds, “how, not only our enemies, but even those who are supposed to be favourably bent, judge of us.”[1068] Yet Melanchthon had merely required a general sort of confession as a voluntary preparation for Holy Communion.

Melanchthon was also openly in favour of the penalty of excommunication; in order to keep a watch on the preachers he introduced the system of Superintendents.

In the matter of marriage contracts his experience led him to the following conclusion: “It is clearly expedient that the marriage bond should be tightened rather than loosened”; in this the older Church had been in the right. “You know,” he writes, “what blame (‘quantum sceleris’) our party has incurred by its wrong treatment of marriage matters. All the preachers everywhere ought to exert themselves to put an end to these scandals. But many do nothing but publicly calumniate the monks and the authorities in their discourses.” And yet in the same letter he sanctions the re-marriage of a party divorced for some unknown reason, a sanction he had hitherto been unwilling to grant for fear of the example being followed by others; he only stipulates that his sanction is not to be announced publicly; the sermons must, on the contrary, censure the license which is becoming the fashion.[1069]

Any open and vigorous opposition to Luther’s views, so detrimental to the inviolability of the marriage tie, was not in accordance with Melanchthon’s nature. He, like Luther, condemned the religious vows on the strange ground that those who took them were desirous of gaining merit in the sight of God. Hence he too came to invite nuns to marry.[1070] And yet, at the same time, he, like Luther, again declared virginity to be a “higher gift,” one which even ranked above marriage (“virginitas donum est praestantius coniugio”).[1071]

He was gradually drawn more and more into questions concerning the public position of the Lutherans and had to undertake various journeys on this account, because Luther, being under the Ban, was unable to leave the Electorate, and because his violent temper did not suit him for delicate negotiations. Melanchthon erred rather on the side of timidity.

When, in 1528, in consequence of the Pack business, there seemed a danger of war breaking out on account of religion, he became the prey of great anxiety. He feared for the good name and for the evangelical cause should bloody dissensions arise in the Empire through the fault of the Princes who favoured Luther. On May 18 he wrote to the Elector Johann on no account to commence war on behalf of the Evangel, especially as the Emperor had made proposals of peace. “I must take into consideration, for instance, what a disgrace it would be to the Holy Gospel were your Electoral Highness to commence war without first having tried every means for securing peace.”[1072] There can be no doubt that the terrible experience of the Peasant War made him cautious, but we must not forget, that such considerations did not hinder him from declaring frequently later, particularly previous to the Schmalkalden War, that armed resistance was allowable, nay, called for, nor even from going so far as to address the people in language every whit as warlike as that of Luther.[1073] In the case of the hubbub arising out of the famous forged documents connected with the name of Pack, Luther, however, seemed to him to be going much too far. “Duke George could prove with a clear conscience that it was a question of a mere forgery and of a barefaced deception,”[1074] got up to the detriment of the Catholic party. On Luther’s persisting in his affirmation that a league existed for the destruction of the Evangelicals, and that the “enemies of the Evangel” really cherished “this evil intention and will,”[1075] Duke George did, as a matter of fact, take him severely to task in a work to which Luther at once replied in another teeming with unseemly abuse.[1076]

Melanchthon, like the rest of Luther’s friends who shared his opinion, saw their hopes of peace destroyed. They read with lively disapproval Luther’s charges against the Duke, who was described as a thief, as one “eaten up by Moabitish pride and arrogance,” who played the fool in thus raging against Christ; as one possessed of the devil, who in spite of all his denials meditated the worst against the Lutherans, who allowed himself to be served in his Chancery by a gang of donkeys and who, like all his friends, was devil-ridden. Concerning the impression created, Melanchthon wrote to Myconius that Luther had indeed tried to exercise greater restraint than usual, but that “he ought to have defended himself more becomingly. All of us who have read his pages stand aghast; unfortunately such writings are popular, they pass from hand to hand and are studied, being much thought of by fools (‘praedicantur a stultis’).”[1077]

It was only with difficulty that he and his Wittenberg friends dissuaded Luther from again rushing into the fray.

In 1529 Melanchthon, at Luther’s desire, accompanied the Elector of Saxony to the Diet of Spires. The protest there made by the Lutheran Princes and Estates again caused him great concern as he foresaw the unhappy consequences to Germany of the rupture it betokened, and the danger in which it involved the Protestant cause. The interference of the Zwinglians in German affairs also filled him with apprehension, for of their doctrines, so far as they were opposed to those of Wittenberg, he cherished a deep dislike imbibed from Luther. The political alliance which, at Spires, the Landgrave of Hesse sought to promote between the two parties, appeared to him highly dangerous from the religious point of view. He now regretted that he had formerly allowed himself to be more favourably disposed to Zwinglianism by the Landgrave. In his letters he was quite open in the expression of his annoyance at the results of the Diet of Spires, though he himself had there done his best to increase the falling away from Catholicism, and, with words of peace on his lips, to render the estrangement irremediable. In his first allusion to the now famous protest he speaks of it as a “horrid thing.”[1078] His misgivings increased after his return home, and he looked forward to the future with anxiety. He was pressing in his monitions against any alliance with the Zwinglians. On May 17, 1529, he wrote to Hieronymus BaumgÄrtner, a member of the Nuremberg Council: “Some of us do not scorn an alliance with the [Zwinglian] Strasburgers, but do you do your utmost to prevent so shameful a thing.”[1079] “The pains of hell have encompassed me,” so he describes to a friend his anxieties. We have delayed too long, “I would rather die than see ours defiled by an alliance with the Zwinglians.”[1080] “I know that the Zwinglian doctrine of the Sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ is untrue and not to be answered for before God.”[1081]

After he had assisted Luther in the religious discussion held at Marburg between him and Zwingli in the autumn of 1529, and had witnessed the fruitless termination of the conference, he again voiced his intense grief at the discord rampant among the innovators, and the hopelessness of any effort to reunite Christians. “I am quite unable to mitigate the pains I suffer on account of the position of ecclesiastical affairs,” so he complains to Camerarius. “Not a day passes that I do not long for death. But enough of this, for I do not dare to describe in this letter the actual state of things.”[1082]

Luther was much less down-hearted at that time, having just succeeded in overcoming a persistent attack of anxiety and remorse of conscience. His character, so vastly different from that of his friend, now, after the victory he had won over his “temptations,” was more than ever inclined to violence and defiance. Luther, such at least is his own account, refused to entertain any fear concerning the success of his cause, which was God’s, in spite of the storm threatening at Augsburg.

Melanchthon at the Diet of Augsburg, 1530.

At Augsburg the most difficult task imaginable was assigned to Melanchthon, as the principal theological representative of Lutheranism. His attitude at the Diet was far from frank and logical.

He made his own position quite puzzling by his vain endeavour to unite things incapable of being united, and to win, by actual or apparent concessions, temporary toleration for the new religious party within the Christian Church to which the Empire belonged. Owing to his lack of theological perspicuity he does not appear to have seen as clearly as Luther how hopeless was the rupture between old and new. He still had hopes that the Catholics would gradually come over to the Wittenberg standpoint when once an agreement had been reached regarding certain outward and subordinate matters, as he thought them. “Real unification,” as Johannes Janssen says very truly, “was altogether out of the question.” For the point at issue in this tremendous ecclesiastical contest was not this or that religious dogma, this or that addition or alteration in Church discipline; it was not even a question merely of episcopal jurisdiction and the sense in which this was understood and allowed by Protestant theologians; what was fundamentally at stake was no less than the acceptance or rejection of the doctrine of the infallibility of the Church, and the recognition or non-recognition of the Church as a Divine and human institution of grace, resting upon the perpetual sacrifice and priesthood. The Protestants rejected the dogma of the infallibility of the Church and set up for themselves a novel ecclesiastical system, they also rejected the perpetual sacrifice in that they denied the doctrine of the perpetual priesthood.... Hence the attempts at reconciliation made at Augsburg, as indeed all later attempts, were bound to come to nothing.[1083]

In the “Confession of Augsburg,” where the author shows himself a past-master in the art of presentation, Melanchthon presents the Lutheran doctrine under the form most acceptable to the opposite party, calculated, too, to prove its connection with the teaching of the Roman Church as vouched for by the Fathers. He passes over in silence certain capital elements of Lutheran dogma, for instance, man’s unfreedom in the performance of moral acts pleasing to God, likewise predestination to hell,[1084] and even the rejection on principle of the Papal Primacy, the denial of Indulgences and of Purgatory. A Catholic stamp was impressed on the doctrine of the Eucharist so as to impart to it the semblance of the doctrine of Transubstantiation; even in the doctrine of justification, any clear distinction between the new teaching of the justifying power of faith alone and the Catholic doctrine of faith working by love (“fides formata charitate”) is wanting. Where, in the second part, he deals with certain traditions and abuses which he holds to have been the real cause of the schism, he persists in minimising the hindrances to mutual agreement, or at least to toleration of the new religious party. According to this statement, all that Protestants actually demanded was permission to receive communion under both kinds, the marriage of priests, the abolition of private masses, obligatory confession, fasts, religious vows, etc. The bishops, who were also secular princes, were to retain their jurisdiction as is expressely stated at the end, though they were to see that the true Gospel was preached in their dioceses, and not to interfere with the removal of abuses.[1085]

In the specious and seductive explanation of the “Confession,” errors which had never been advocated by the Church were refuted, while propositions were propounded at great length which had never been questioned by her, in both cases the aim being to win over the reader to the author’s side and to divert his attention from the actual subject of the controversy.

Luther, to whom the work was submitted when almost complete, allowed it to pass practically without amendment. He saw in it Melanchthon’s “soft-spoken manner,” but nevertheless gave it his assent.[1086]

He was quite willing to leave the matter in the hands of such trusty and willing friends as Melanchthon and his theological assistants at Augsburg, and to rely on the prudence and strength of the Princes and Estates of the new profession there assembled. Secure in the “Gospel-proviso” the Coburg hermit was confident of not being a loser even in the event of the negotiations not issuing favourably. Christ was not to be deposed from His throne; to “Belial” He at least could not succumb.[1087]

The “Confession of Augsburg” was not at all intended in the first instance as a symbolic book, but rather as a deed presented to the Empire on the part of the protesting Princes and Estates to demonstrate their innocence and vindicate their right to claim toleration. During the years that followed it was likewise regarded as a mere Profession on the part of the Princes, i.e. as a theological declaration standing on the same level as the Schmalkalden agreement, and forming the bond of the protesting Princes in the presence of the Empire; each one was still free to amplify, explain, or modify the faith within his own territories. Finally, however, after the religious settlement at Augsburg in 1555, Melanchthon’s work began to be regarded as a binding creed, and this character was to all practical purposes stamped on it by the “Concord” in 1580.[1088]

On August 3, 1530, a “Confutation of the Confession of Augsburg,” composed by Catholic theologians, was read before the Estates at the Diet of Augsburg. The Emperor called upon the Protestants to return to the Church, threatening, in case of refusal, that he, as the “Guardian and Protector” of Christendom, would institute proceedings. Yet in spite of this he preferred to follow a milder course of action and to seek a settlement by means of lengthy “transactions.”

The “Reply” to the Confession (later known as “Confutatio Confessionis AugustanÆ”), which was the result of the deliberations of a Catholic commission, set forth excellent grounds for rejecting the errors contained in Melanchthon’s work, and also threw a clear light on his reservations and intentional ambiguities.[1089] Melanchthon’s answer was embodied in his “Apologia Confessionis AugustanÆ,” which well displays its author’s ability and also his slipperiness, and later took its place, side by side with the Confession, as the second official exposition of Lutheranism. It energetically vindicates Luther’s distinctive doctrines, and above all declares, again quite falsely, that the doctrine of justificatory faith was the old, traditional Catholic doctrine. Nor does it refrain from strong and insulting language, particularly in the official German version. The opposite party it describes as shameless liars, rascals, blasphemers, hypocrites, rude asses, hopeless, senseless sophists, traitors, etc.[1090] This, together with the “Confessio Augustana,” was formally subscribed at the Schmalkalden meeting in 1537 by all the theologians present at the instance of the Evangelical Estates. Thus it came to rank with the Confession of the Princes and, like the former, was incorporated later, in both the Latin and the oldest German version, in the symbolic books.[1091]

Melanchthon, in the “Apologia,” re-stated anew the charges already raised in the “Confessio” against Catholic dogma, nor did the proofs and assurances to the contrary of the authors of the “Confutatio” deter him from again foisting on the Catholic Church doctrines she had never taught. Thus he speaks of her as teaching, that the forgiveness of sins could be merited simply by man’s own works (without the grace and the merits of Christ); he also will have it that the effect of grace had formerly been altogether lost sight of until it was at last brought again to light—though as a matter of fact “it had been taught throughout the whole world.”[1092]

We must come back in detail to the allegations made in the Confession, and more particularly in the Apology, that Augustine was in favour of the Lutheran doctrine of Justification; this is all the more necessary since the Reformers, at the outset, were fond of claiming the authority of Augustine on their behalf. At the same time the admissions contained in Melanchthon’s letters will show us more clearly the morality of his behaviour in a matter of such capital importance.

At the time when the Confession was printed it had already long been clear to him that the principal exponent of the doctrine of grace in the ancient Church, viz. St. Augustine, was against the Protestant conception of justification.

On this subject he expressed himself openly at the end of May, 1531, in a confidential letter to Brenz. Here he speaks of the doctrine of Augustine as “a fancy from which we must turn aside our mind (‘animus revocandus ab Augustini imaginatione’)”; his ideas disagreed with St. Paul’s doctrine; whoever followed Augustine must teach like him, “that we are regarded as just by God, through fulfilling the commandments under the action of the Holy Ghost, and not through faith alone.”[1093]

In spite of this, Melanchthon, in the “Confessio Augustana,” had the courage to appeal publicly to Augustine as the most prominent and clearest witness to the Lutheran view of faith and justification, and this he did almost at the very time when penning the above letter, viz. in April or May, 1531, when the first draft of the “Confessio” was sent to the press.[1094] According to the authentic version, Melanchthon’s words were: “That, concerning the doctrine of faith, no new interpretation had been introduced, could be proved from Augustine, who treats diligently of this matter and teaches that we obtain grace and are justified before God by faith in Christ and not by works, as his whole book ‘De Spiritu et littera’ proves.”[1095]

The writer of these words felt it necessary to explain to Brenz why he had ventured to claim this Father as being in “entire agreement.” He had done so because this was “the general opinion concerning him (‘propter publicam de eo persuasionem’),[1096] though, as a matter of fact, he did not sufficiently expound the justificatory potency of faith.” The “general opinion” was, however, merely a groundless view invented by Luther and his theologians and accepted by a certain number of those who blindly followed him. In the Apology of the Confession, he continues, “I expounded more fully the doctrine [of faith alone], but was not able to speak there as I do now to you, although, on the whole, I say the same thing; it was not to be thought of on account of the calumnies of our opponents.” Thus in the Apology also, even when it was a question of the cardinal point of the new teaching, Melanchthon was of set purpose having recourse to dissimulation. If he had only to fear the calumnies of opponents, surely his best plan would have been to silence them by telling them in all frankness what the Lutheran position really was; otherwise he had no right to stigmatise their attack on weak points of Luther’s doctrine as mere calumnies. Yet, even in the “Apologia,” he appeals repeatedly to Augustine in order to shelter the main Lutheran contentions concerning faith, grace, and good works under the Ægis of his name.[1097]

Melanchthon’s endeavour to secure for Protestantism a place within the older Church and to check the threatened repressive measures, led him to write letters to the Bishop of Augsburg, to Campeggio, the Papal Legate, and to his secretary, in which he declares stoutly, that the restoration of ecclesiastical harmony simply depended on two points, viz. the sanction of communion under both kinds and the marriage of the clergy, as though forsooth the two sides agreed in belief and as though his whole party acknowledged the Pope and the Roman Church.

In the letter to Cardinal Campeggio he even assures him: “We reverence the authority of the Pope of Rome and the whole hierarchy, and only beg he may not cast us off.... For no other reason are we hated as we are in Germany than because we defend and uphold the dogmas of the Roman Church with so much persistence. And this loyalty to Christ and to the Roman Church we shall preserve to our last breath, even should the Church refuse to receive us back into favour.” The words “Roman Church” were not here taken in the ordinary sense, however much the connection might seem to warrant this; Melanchthon really means his pet phantom of the ancient Roman Church, though he saw fit to speak of fidelity to this phantom in the very words in which people were wont to protest their fidelity to the existing Roman Church. He further asked of the Cardinal toleration for the Protestant peculiarities, on the ground that they were “insignificant matters which might be allowed or passed over in silence”; at any rate “some pretext might easily be found for tolerating them, at least until a Council should be summoned.”[1098]

Campeggio and his advisers refused to be led astray by such assurances.

On the other hand, some representatives of the Curia, theologians or dignitaries of the German Church, allowed themselves to be cajoled by Melanchthon’s promises to the extent of entering into negotiations with him in the hope of bringing him back to the Church.[1099] Such was, for instance, in 1537, the position of Cardinal Sadolet.

To Sadolet, Johann Fabri sent the following warning: “Only the man who is clever enough to cure an incurable malady, will succeed in leading Philip—a real Vertumnus and Proteus—back to the right path.”[1100]

Melanchthon was nevertheless pleased to be able to announce that Cardinal Campeggio had stated he could grant a dispensation for Communion under both kinds and priestly marriage.[1101]

With this Luther was not much impressed: “I reply,” he wrote to his friends in the words of Amsdorf, “that I s—— on the dispensation of the Legate and his master; we can find dispensations enough.”[1102] His own contention always was and remained the following: “As I have always declared, I am ready to concede everything, but they must let us have the Evangel.”[1103] To Spalatin, he says later: “Are we to crave of Legate and Pope what they may be willing to grant us? Do, I beg you, speak to them in the fashion of Amsdorf.”[1104]

On the abyss which really separated the followers of the new faith from the Church, Luther’s coarse and violent writing, “Vermanug an die Geistlichen zu Augsburg,” throws a lurid light. Luther also frequently wrote to cheer Melanchthon and to remind him of the firmness which was needed.

Melanchthon was a prey to unspeakable inward terrors, and had admitted to Luther that he was “worn out with wretched cares.”[1105] Luther felt called upon to encourage him by instancing his own case. He was even more subject to such fits of anxiety than Melanchthon, but, however weak inwardly, he never winced before outward troubles or ever manifested his friend’s timidity. Melanchthon ought to display the same strength in public dealings as he did in his inward trials.[1106]

The Landgrave Philip, a zealous supporter of Luther and Zwingli, was not a little incensed at Melanchthon’s attempts at conciliation, the more so as the latter persisted in refusing to have anything to do with Zwinglianism. In one of his dispatches to his emissaries at Augsburg, Philip says: “For mercy’s sake stop the little game of Philip, that shy and worldly-wise reasoner—to call him nothing else.”[1107] The Nuremberg delegates also remonstrated with him. BaumgÄrtner of Nuremberg, who was present at the Diet of Augsburg, relates that Philip flew into a temper over the negotiations and startled everybody by his cursing and swearing; he was determined to have the whole say himself and would not listen to the Hessian envoys and those of the cities. He “did nothing” but run about and indulge in unchristian manoeuvres; he put forward “unchristian proposals” which it was “quite impossible” to accept; “then he would say, ‘Oh, would that we were away!’” The result would be, that, owing to this duplicity, the “tyrants would only be all the more severe”; “no one at the Reichstag had hitherto done the cause of the Evangel so much harm as Philip”; it was high time for Luther “to interfere with Philip and warn pious Princes against him.”[1108]

Amongst the Protestant so-called “Concessions” which came under discussion in connection with the “Confutatio” was that of episcopal jurisdiction, a point on which Melanchthon and Brenz laid great stress. It was, however, of such a nature as not to offend in the least the protesting Princes and towns. In the event of their sanctioning the innovations, the bishops were simply “to retain their secular authority”: Melanchthon and Brenz, here again, wished to maintain the semblance of continuity with the older Church, and, by means of the episcopate, hoped to strengthen their own position. Such temporising, and the delay it involved, at least served the purpose of gaining time, a matter of the utmost importance to the Protestant representatives.[1109]

Another point allowed by Melanchthon, viz. the omission of the word “alone” in the statement “man is justified by faith,” was also of slight importance, for all depended on the sense attached to it, and the party certainly continued to exclude works and charity. Melanchthon, however, also agreed that it should be taught that penance has three essential elements, viz. contrition, confession of sin and satisfaction, i.e. active works of penance, “a concession,” DÖllinger says, “which, if meant seriously, would have thrown the whole new doctrine of justification into confusion.”[1110] It may be that Melanchthon, amidst his manifold worries, failed to perceive this.

At any rate, all his efforts after a settlement were ruled by the “Proviso of the Gospel”[1111] as propounded by Luther to his friends in his letters from the Coburg. According to this tacit reservation no concession which in any way militated against the truth or the interests of the Evangel could be regarded as valid. “Once we have evaded coercion and obtained peace,” so runs Luther’s famous admonition to Melanchthon, “then it will be an easy matter to amend our wiles and slips because God’s mercy watches over us.”[1112] “All our concessions,” Melanchthon wrote, “are so much hampered with exceptions that I apprehend the bishops will suspect we are offering them chaff instead of grain.”[1113]

A letter, intended to be reassuring, written from Augsburg on September 11 by Brenz, who was somewhat more communicative than Melanchthon, and addressed to his friend Isenmann, who was anxious concerning the concessions being offered, may serve further to elucidate the policy of Melanchthon and Brenz. Brenz writes: “If you consider the matter carefully you will see that our proposals are such as to make us appear to have yielded to a certain extent; whereas, in substance, we have made no concessions whatsoever. This they plainly understand. What, may I ask, are the Popish fasts so long as we hold the doctrine of freedom?” The real object of the last concession, he had already pointed out, was to avoid giving the Emperor and his Court the impression that they were “preachers of sensuality.” The jurisdiction conceded to the bishops will not harm us so long as they “agree to our Via media and conditions”; they themselves will then become new men, thanks to the Evangel; “for always and everywhere we insist upon the proviso of freedom and purity of doctrine. Having this, what reason would you have to grumble at the jurisdiction of the bishops?”[1114] It will, on the contrary, be of use to us, and will serve as a buffer against the wilfulness of secular dignitaries, who oppress our churches with heavy burdens. “Besides, it is not to be feared that our opponents will agree to the terms.” The main point is, so Melanchthon’s confidential fellow-labourer concludes, that only thus can we hope to secure “toleration for our doctrine.”[1115]

When Melanchthon penned this confession only a few days had elapsed since Luther, in response to anxious letters received from Augsburg, had intervened with a firm hand and spoken out plainly against the concessions, and any further attempts at a diplomatic settlement.[1116]

In obedience to these directions Melanchthon began to withdraw more and more from the position he had taken up.

The most favourable proposals of his opponents were no longer entertained by him, and he even refused to fall in with the Emperor’s suggestion that Catholics living in Protestant territories should be left free to practise their religion. The Elector of Saxony’s divines, together with Melanchthon, in a memorandum to their sovereign, declared, on this occasion, that it was not sufficient for preachers to preach against the Mass, but that the Princes also must refuse to sanction it, and must forbid it. “Were we to say that Princes might abstain from forbidding it, and that preachers only were to declaim against it, one could well foresee what [small] effect the doctrine and denunciations of the preachers would have.”[1117] “The theologians,” remarks Janssen, “thus gave it distinctly to be understood that the new doctrine could not endure without the aid of the secular authority.”[1118] Hence, at that decisive moment, the Protestant Princes proclaimed intolerance of Catholics as much a matter of conscience as the confiscation of Church property. To the demand of the Emperor for restitution of the temporalities, the Princes, supported by the theologians, answered, that “they did not consider themselves bound to obey, since this matter concerned their conscience, against which there ran no prescription” (on the part of those who had been despoiled).[1119]

Thus, with Melanchthon’s knowledge and approval, the two principal factors in the whole Reformation, viz. intolerance and robbery of Church property, played their part even here at the turning-point of German history.

The Reichstagsabschied which finally, on November 19, 1530, brought Parliament to an end, witnessed to the hopelessness of any lasting peace; it required, however, that the bishoprics, monasteries, and churches which had been destroyed should be re-erected, and that the parishes still faithful to Catholicism should enjoy immunity under pain of the ban of the Empire.[1123]

Looking back at Melanchthon’s attitude at the Diet, we can understand the severe strictures of recent historians.

Luther, so far as we are aware, never blamed his friend, either publicly or in his private letters, for his behaviour during this crisis, nor did he ever accuse him of “treason to the Evangelical cause.”[1131] He only expresses now and then his dissatisfaction at the useless protraction of the proceedings and scolds him jokingly “for his fears, timidity, cares and lamentations.”[1132] No real blame is contained in the words he addressed to Melanchthon: “So long as the Papacy subsists among us, our doctrine cannot subsist.... Thank God that you are having nothing from it.” “I know that in treating of episcopal authority you have always insisted on the Gospel proviso, but I fear that later our opponents will say we were perfidious and fickle (‘perfidos et inconstantes’) if we do not keep to what they want.... In short, all these transactions on doctrine displease me, because nothing comes of them so long as the Pope does not do away with his Papacy.”[1133] A fortnight later Luther cordially blessed his friend, who was then overwhelmed with trouble: “I pray you, my Philip, not to crucify yourself in anxiety over the charges which are raised against you, either verbally or in writing [by some of ours who argue], that you are going too far.... They do not understand what is meant by the episcopal authority which was to be re-established, and do not rightly estimate the conditions which we attach to it. Would that the bishops had accepted it on these conditions! But they have too fine a nose where their own interests are concerned and refuse to walk into the trap.”[1134]

Melanchthon, the “Erasmian” Intermediary.

A closer examination of the bent of Melanchthon’s mind reveals a trait, common to many of Luther’s learned followers at that time, which helps to explain his attitude at Augsburg.

The real foundations of theology were never quite clear to them because their education had been one-sidedly Humanistic, and they had never studied theology proper. They were fond of speaking and writing of the Church, of Grace and Faith, but their ideas thereon were strangely subjective, so much so that they did not even agree amongst themselves. Hence, in their dealings with Catholic theologians the latter often failed to understand them. The fruitlessness of the conferences was frequently due solely to this; though greatly prejudiced in Luther’s favour, they still considered it possible for the chasm between the old and the new to be bridged over, and longed earnestly for such a consummation to be secured by some yielding on the Catholic side; they were unwilling to break away from the Church Universal, and, besides, they looked askance at the moral consequences of the innovations and feared still greater confusion and civil war.

That this was the spirit which animated Melanchthon is evident from some of the facts already recorded.

He had nothing more at heart than to secure the atmosphere essential for his studies and for the furtherance of intellectual, particularly Humanistic, culture, and to smooth the way for its general introduction into Germany. His knowledge of theology had been acquired, as it were, incidentally through his intercourse with Luther and his study of Scripture; the latter, however, had been influenced by his Humanism and, speaking generally, he contented himself in selecting in the Bible certain general moral truths which might serve as a rule of life. He indeed studied the Fathers more diligently than Luther, the Greek Fathers proving particularly attractive to him; it was, however, chiefly a study of form, of culture, and of history, and as regards theology little more than mere dilettantism. His insight into the practical life of the Church left much to be desired, otherwise the Anabaptist movement at Zwickau would not have puzzled him as it did and left him in doubt as to whether it came from God or the devil. His ignorance of the gigantic intellectual labours of the Middle Ages in the domain of theology made itself felt sensibly. He knew even less of Scholasticism than did Luther, yet, after having acquired a nodding acquaintance with it in its most debased form, he, as a good pupil of Erasmus, proceeded to condemn it root and branch. Every page of his writings proves that his method of thought and expression, with its indecision, its groping, its dependence on echoes from the classics, was far removed from the masterpieces of learning and culture of the best days of the Middle Ages. Yet he fancies himself entitled to censure Scholasticism and to write in Luther’s style with a conceit only matched by his ignorance: “You see what thick darkness envelops the commentaries of the ancients and the whole doctrine of our opponents, how utterly ignorant they are of what sin really is, of the purpose of the law, of the blessings of the Gospel, of prayer, and of man’s refuge when assailed by mental terrors.”[1135] The “mental terrors,” referred to here and elsewhere, belonged to Luther’s world of thought. This touch of mysticism, the only one to be found occasionally in Melanchthon’s works, scarcely availed to render his theology any the more profound.[1136]

Hence, in fairness, his attempts at mediation when at the Diet of Augsburg may be regarded as largely due to ignorance and to his prejudice against Catholic theology.

We must, however, also take into consideration the Humanist phantom of union and peace for the benefit of the commonweal and particularly of scholarship; likewise his frequently expressed aversion for public disorder, and his fears of a decline of morals and of worse things to come. Then only shall we be in a position to understand the attitude of the man upon whose shoulders the burden of the matter so largely rested. The trait chiefly to be held accountable for his behaviour, viz. his peculiar, one-sided Humanistic education, was well described by Luther later on when Melanchthon was attacked by Cordatus and Schenk for his tendency to water down dogma. Luther then spoke of the “Erasmian intermediaries” at whose rough handling he was not in the least surprised.

2. Disagreements and Accord between Luther and Melanchthon

Luther had good reason for valuing highly the theological services which Melanchthon rendered him by placing his ideas before the world in a form at once clearer and more dignified. Points of theology and practice which he supplied to his friend as raw material, Melanchthon returned duly worked-up and polished. Luther’s views assumed practical shape in passing through Melanchthon’s hands.[1137]

At the outset the latter readily accepted all the doctrines of his “prÆceptor observandissimus.” In the first edition of the “Loci” (December, 1521) he made his own even Luther’s harshest views, those, namely, concerning man’s unfreedom and God’s being the author of evil.[1138] The faithful picture of his doctrine which Luther there found so delighted him, that he ventured to put the “Loci” on a level with the canon of Holy Scripture (vol. ii., p. 239).

Disagreements.

As years passed by, Melanchthon allowed himself to deviate more and more from Luther’s teaching. The latter’s way of carrying every theological thesis to its furthest limit, affrighted him. He yearned for greater freedom of action, was desirous of granting a reasonable amount of room to doubt, and was not averse to learning a thing or two even from opponents. It was his Humanistic training which taught him to put on the brake and even to introduce several far-reaching amendments into Luther’s theories. It was his Humanism which made him value the human powers and the perfectibility of the soul, and thus to doubt whether Luther was really in the right in his denial of freedom. Such a doubt we find faintly expressed by him soon after he had perused the “Diatribe” published by Erasmus in 1524.[1139] Luther’s reply (“De servo arbitrio”), to which Melanchthon officially accorded his praise, failed to convince him of man’s lack of freedom in the natural order. In 1526, in his lectures on Colossians (printed in 1528), he openly rejected the view that God was the author of sin, stood up for freedom in all matters of civil justice, and declared that in such things it was quite possible to avoid gross sin.[1140] In his new edition of the “Loci” in 1527 he abandoned determinism and the denial of free-will, and likewise the severer form of the doctrine of predestination,[1141] such as he had still championed in the 1525 edition, but which, he had now come to see, was at variance with the proper estimate of man and human action.

Neither could Melanchthon ever bring himself to speak of human reason, as compared to faith, in quite the same language of disrespect as Luther.

That, on the occasion of the Visitation, he began to lay stress on works as well as faith, has already been pointed out.[1142] In this connection it is curious to note how, with his usual caution and prudence where Luther and his more ardent followers were concerned, he recommends that works should be represented as praiseworthy only when penance was being preached, but not, for instance, when Justification was the subject, as, here, Lutherans, being accustomed to hear so much of the “sola fides,” might well take offence.[1143]

In the matter of Justification, he, like Luther, made everything to rest on that entirely outward covering over of man by Christ’s merits received through faith, or rather through confidence of salvation.[1144] Indeed, Luther’s greatest service, according to him, lay in his having made this discovery. It was necessary, so he taught, that Christian perfection should be made to consist solely in one’s readiness, whenever oppressed by the sense of guilt, to find consolation by wrapping oneself up in the righteousness of Christ. Then the heart is “fearless, though our conscience and the law continue to cry within us that we are unworthy.” In other words, we must “take it as certain that we have a God Who is gracious to us for Christ’s sake, be our works what they may.”[1145]

It was his advocacy of this doctrine, as the very foundation of sanctification, which earned for him the striking commendation we find in a letter written by Luther to Jonas in 1529. Melanchthon had been of greater service to the Church and the cause of holiness than “a thousand fellows of the ilk of Jerome, Hilarion or Macarius, those Saints of ceremonies and celibacy who were not worthy to loose the laces of his boots nor—to boast a little—of yours [Jonas’s], of Pomeranus [Bugenhagen], or even of mine. For what have these self-constituted Saints and all the wifeless bishops done which can compare with one year’s work of Philip’s, or with his ‘Loci’?”[1146]

Yet this very work was to bear additional testimony to Melanchthon’s abandonment of several of Luther’s fundamental doctrines.[1147]

In 1530 and 1531 Melanchthon passed through a crisis, and from that time forward a greater divergency in matters of doctrine became apparent between the two friends. Even in his work for the Diet in 1530 Melanchthon had assumed a position of greater independence, and this grew more marked when he began to plan a revised edition of his “Loci.” He himself was later to acknowledge that his views had undergone a change, though, in order to avoid unpleasantness, he preferred to make out that the alteration was less far-reaching than it really was. “You know,” he wrote to an ardent admirer of Luther’s, “that I put certain things concerning predestination, determination of the will, necessity of obedience to the law, and grievous sin, less harshly than does Luther. In all these things, as I well know, Luther’s teaching is the same as mine, but there are some unlearned persons, who, without at all understanding them, pin their faith on certain rude expressions of his.”[1148] But was Luther’s teaching really “the same”? The truth is, that, on the points instanced, “Luther had not only in earlier days taught a doctrine different from that of Melanchthon, but continued to cherish the same to the very end of his life.”[1149] It fitted, however, the cowardly character of Melanchthon to conceal as much as possible these divergencies.

It is worth our while to examine a little more closely the nature of the doctrinal differences between Luther and Melanchthon, seeing that the latter—to quote the Protestant theologian Gustav KrÜger—was the real “creator of evangelical theology” and the “founder of the evangelical Church system.”[1150]

Of special importance was Melanchthon’s opposition to Luther on one of the most practical points of the Church’s life, viz. the doctrine of the Supper. At the Table which was intended to be the most sublime expression of the charity and union prevailing among the faithful, these two minds differed hopelessly.

It was useless for Luther to assure Melanchthon that the Real Presence of Christ in the Sacrament was so essential an article of faith that if a man did not believe in it he believed in no article whatever. From the commencement of the ‘thirties Melanchthon struck out his own course and became ever more convinced, that the doctrine of the Real Presence was not vouched for by the Bible. Once he had gone so far as to tell the Zwinglians that they had “to fear the punishment of Heaven” on account of their erroneous doctrine.[1168] After becoming acquainted with the “Dialogus” of [Œcolampadius, published in 1530, he, however, veered round to a denial of the Sacrament. Yet, with his superficial rationalism and his misinterpretation of certain patristic statements, [Œcolampadius had really adduced no peremptory objection against the general, traditional, literal interpretation of the words of consecration to which Melanchthon, as well as Luther, had till then adhered. In view of Melanchthon’s defective theological education little was needed to bring about an alteration in his views, particularly when the alteration was in the direction of a Humanistic softening of hard words, or seemed likely to provide a basis for conciliation. There was some foundation for his comparison of himself, in matters of theology, to the donkey in the Palm-Sunday mystery-play.[1169]

On the question of the Sacrament, the theory of the “Sacramentarians” came more and more to seem to him the true one.

Owing, however, to his timidity and the fear in which he stood of Luther, he did not dare to speak out. The “Loci” of 1535 is remarkably obscure in its teaching concerning the Sacrament, whilst, in a letter to Camerarius of the same year, he speaks of Luther’s view as “alien” to his own, which, however, he refuses to explain.[1170] Later the Cologne scheme of 1543 in which Bucer, to Luther’s great annoyance, evaded the question of the Real Presence, obtained Melanchthon’s approval. When, in 1540, Melanchthon made public a new edition of the Confession of Augsburg (“Confessio variata”), containing alterations of greater import than those of the previous editions, the new wording of the 10th Article was “Melanchthonian” in the sense that it failed to exclude “the doctrine either of Melanchthon, or of Bucer, or of Calvin on the Supper.”[1171] It was “Melanchthonian” also in that elasticity and ambiguity which has since become the model for so many Protestant formularies. In order to secure a certain outward unity it became usual to avoid any explicitness which might affright such as happened to have scruples. A Melanchthonian character was thus imparted to the theology which, with Melanchthon himself as leader, was to guard the heritage of Luther.

Points of Accord between Melanchthon and Luther.

Melanchthon’s religious character naturally exhibits many points of contact with that of Luther.

Only to a limited extent, however, does this hold good of the “inward terrors.” Attempts have been made to prove that, like Luther, his more youthful friend believed he had experienced within him the salutary working of the new doctrine of Justification.[1172] But, though, in his “Apologia” to the Augsburg Confession and in other writings, he extols, as we have seen, this doctrine as alone capable of imparting strength and consolation in times of severe anxiety of conscience and spiritual desolation, and though he speaks of the “certamina conscientiÆ,” and of the assurance of salvation in exactly the same way that Luther does, still this is no proof of his having experienced anything of the sort himself. The statements, which might be adduced in plenty from his private letters, lag very far behind Luther’s characteristic assurances of his own experience.

Of the enlightenment from on high by which he believed Luther’s divine mission as well as his own work as a teacher to be the result, of prayer for their common cause and of the joy in heaven over the work, labours and persecution they had endured, he can speak in language as exalted as his master’s, though not with quite the same wealth of imagination and eloquence. That the Pope is Antichrist he proves from the Prophet Daniel and other biblical passages, with the same bitter prejudice and the same painstaking exegesis as Luther. On hearing of the misshapen monster, alleged to have been found dead in the Tiber near Rome in 1496, his superstition led him to write a work overflowing with hatred against the older Church in which in all seriousness he expounded the meaning of the “Pope-Ass,” and described every part of its body in detail. This work was published, together with Luther’s on the Freiberg “Monk-Calf.”[1173] Melanchthon there says: “The feminine belly and breasts of the monster denote the Pope’s body, viz. the Cardinals, Bishops, Priests, Monks, Students, and such-like lascivious folk and gluttonous swine, for their life is nothing but feeding and swilling, unchastity and luxury.... The fish scales on the arms, legs, and neck stand for the secular princes and lords” who “cling to the Pope and his rule,” etc.[1174] This curious pamphlet ran through a number of editions, nor did Melanchthon ever become aware of its absurdity. As for Luther, in 1535 he wrote an Appendix, entitled “Luther’s Amen to the Interpretation of the Pope-Ass,” confirming his friend’s reading of the portent. “Because the Divine Majesty,” so we there read, “has Himself created and manifested it [the monstrosity], the whole world ought rightly to tremble and be horror-struck.”[1175]

In his fondness for the superstitions of astrology Melanchthon went further than Luther, who refused to believe in the influence of the planets on man’s destiny, and in the horoscopes on which his companion set so much store. Both, however, were at one in their acceptance of other superstitions, notably of diabolical apparitions even of the strangest kinds.[1176]

On this subject we learn much hitherto unknown from the “Analecta,” published by G. Loesche in 1892.[1177] Melanchthon, for instance, relates that a doctor at TÜbingen “kept the devil in a bottle, as magicians are wont to do.”[1178] Amsdorf had once heard the devil grunting. Melanchthon himself had heard a tremendous noise on the roof of the cathedral at Magdeburg, which was a presage of coming warlike disturbances; the same portent had been observed at Wittenberg previous to the besieging of the town.[1179] To what extent people might become tools of the devil was evident, so he told his students, from the example of two witches at Berlin, who had murdered a child in order to raise a snow-storm by means of impious rites, and who were now awaiting punishment at the hands of the authorities.[1180] It was not, however, so easy to deal with witches. At Wittenberg one, while undergoing torture on the rack, had changed herself into a cat and mewed.[1181] Twelve years previously a ghost had killed a fisherman on the Elster.[1182] Hence it was necessary to look out for good remedies and counter-spells against witchcraft. “Where tortoises were to be met with it was held that neither poison nor magic could work any harm.”[1183]

According to Melanchthon the signs in the heavens must never be disregarded when studying the times. Two fiery serpents, which had recently been seen at Eisenberg engaged in a struggle in the sky, were an infallible presage of “coming war in the Church,” especially as a fiery cross had shown itself above the serpents.[1184] By careful calculations he had ascertained that the end of the world, the approach of which was in any case foretold by the wickedness of men, would take place before the year 1582.[1185]

His friend Camerarius remarked with annoyance that “many persons had made notes of Melanchthon’s private conversations and thus affixed a stigma to his name.”[1186] This complaint reminds us of a drollery, none too delicate, contained in the “Analecta” among the “Dicta Melanchthonis” concerning the flatulence of a monk.[1187] Even the editor admits that one cannot think very highly of these sayings of Melanchthon, especially when we remember that the “Dicta” were uttered at lectures which the speaker seemed in the habit of enlivening with all kinds of examples and vulgarities. He adds, “Our discovery reveals the very low standard of the lectures then delivered at the University.”

Loesche also remarks that “these Dicta have contributed to destroy the legend of Melanchthon’s gentleness and kindliness.”[1188]

In connection with the legend of his kindliness, Loesche refers to a remark made by Melanchthon, according to the “Dicta,” about the year 1553: “Whoever murders a tyrant, as did those who murdered N. in Lithuania, offers a holocaust to God.”[1189] Such views regarding the lawfulness of murdering tyrants he seems to have derived from his study of the classics. He had, moreover, already given expression to them long before this, referring to Henry VIII. of England, who had ceased to favour the Reformation as conducted in Germany. In a letter to his friend Veit Dietrich he wishes, that God would send a brave assassin to rid the world of the tyrant.[1190]

Melanchthon was in reality far from tolerant, and in his demands for the punishment of heretics he went to great lengths. It is generally known how he gave it as his opinion, in 1557, that the execution of the Spanish doctor, Michael Servetus, which took place at Geneva in 1553 at the instance of Calvin, was a “pious and memorable example for posterity.”[1191] He wrote to Calvin, on October 14, 1554, concerning the proceedings against Servetus, who had denied the Trinity as well as the divinity of Christ, as follows: “I agree entirely with your sentence; I also declare that your authorities have acted wisely and justly in putting this blasphemous man to death.”[1192] When the severity of the step was blamed by some, he expressed his surprise at the objectors in a letter of August 20, 1555, to Bullinger at ZÜrich, and sent him a little treatise defending and recommending similar sentences.[1193] He there proves that false doctrines should be treated as notorious blasphemies, and that the secular authorities were accordingly bound by the Divine law to punish them with the utmost severity; Divine chastisements were to be apprehended should the authorities, out of a false sense of pity, show themselves remiss in extirpating erroneous doctrines. Such was indeed the teaching at Wittenberg, as evinced, for instance, by a disputation at the University, where Melanchthon’s friend and colleague, George Major, branded the contrary opinion as “impudent and abominable.”[1194]

Characteristic of Melanchthon, though hitherto little noticed, were the severity and obstinacy with which he sought to carry his intolerance into practice. He relentlessly called in the assistance of the secular authorities against the canons of Cologne who had remained faithful to the religion of their fathers.[1195] As to his opponents within his own fold he demanded that the rulers should punish them, particularly the Anabaptists, not merely as sedition-mongers and rebels, but on account of their doctrinal peculiarities. Their rejection of infant baptism he regarded as one of those blasphemies which ought to be punished by death; the denial of original sin and the theory that the Sacraments were merely signs he looked upon as similar blasphemies. At least those Anabaptists, “who are the heads and leaders,” and who refuse to abjure their errors, “should be put to death by the sword as seditious men and blasphemers.” “Others, who have been led astray, and who, though not so defiant, refuse to recant, should be treated as madmen and sent to jail.”[1196]

Of these principles concerning the coercion of both Catholics and sectarians we have an enduring memorial in Melanchthon’s work dated 1539, and entitled “On the office of Princes.”[1197] Nor did he fail to incite the Lutheran authorities to adopt, in the interests of public worship, coercive measures against negligent Protestants: “I should be pleased were the authorities to make a stringent rule of driving the people to church, particularly on holidays.”[1198]

His fondness for the use of coercion in furthering his own religious views is apparent throughout his career, and how congenial it was to him is clear from the fact that he manifested this leaning at the very outset of the reforms at Wittenberg, even before Luther had seen his way to do the same.

As early as October 20, 1521, subsequent to the changes in public worship which had been effected by the apostate Augustinians supported by some Wittenberg professors such as Carlstadt, Amsdorf, and Jonas, Melanchthon in a written admonition told the Elector, that, as a Christian Prince, he should “make haste to abrogate the abuse of the Mass” in his country and principality, unmindful of the calumnies to which this might give rise, “in order that your Electoral Highness may not, like Capharnaum, be reproached by Christ on the Last Day on account of the great grace and mercy which, without any work of ours, has been shown in your Electoral Highness’s lands, the Holy Evangel being revealed, manifested, and brought to light, and yet all to no purpose”; God would require at his hands an account for the great grace of Luther’s mission.[1199]

In this admonition, brimful of the most bitter prejudice, we find for the first time the principle laid down, that the “salvation of his soul required of a Christian Prince” the prohibition of the olden Catholic worship.

In point of fact Melanchthon was frequently ahead of Luther in carrying the latter’s theories to their logical conclusion, utterly regardless of rights infringed. Thus, for instance, he was before Luther in reaching the conclusion that religious vows were invalid.

The conviction and enthusiasm with which, from the very outset, he took Luther’s side was due, as he repeatedly avers, to motives of a moral and religious order; he backed up Luther, so he assures us, because he hoped thereby to promote a reform of morals. “I am conscious of having taken up the study of theology for no other reason than to amend our lives.”[1200] What he here states as a young man of twenty-eight, he made use of to console and encourage himself with later. What he had in mind was, of course, the ostensibly hopeless decline of morals under Popery. This he painted in vivid colours borrowed from Luther, for he himself had never come into any such close contact with the abuses as would have enabled him to reach a reliable and independent opinion of his own. Having thoroughly aroused his hatred of the Papacy and convinced himself of the urgent necessity of combating the vicious decadence and intellectual darkness brought into the world by Antichrist, he is wont to depict the ideal of his own thoughts and efforts; this was the “disciplina et obedientia populi Dei” to be achieved by means of an education at once religious and Humanistic.

3. Melanchthon at the Zenith of His Career.
His Mental Sufferings

Various traits of Melanchthon already alluded to may serve favourably to impress the unbiassed reader, even though his views be different. We now proceed to sum these up, supplementing them by a few other details of a similar nature.

Favourable Traits.

The many touching and heartfelt complaints concerning the moral disorders prevalent in the Protestant Churches are peculiar to Melanchthon. Luther, it is true, also regretted them, but his regret is harshly expressed and he is disposed to lay the blame on the wrong shoulders. Melanchthon, with his praiseworthy concern for discipline and ordered doctrine, was naturally filled with deep misgivings when the preaching of the Evangel resulted in moral disorder and waywardness in views and doctrine. This explains why he was so ready to turn to the authorities to implore their assistance in establishing that stable, Christian government which was his ideal. (Below, p. 372 f.)

Above all, he was desirous of seeing the foundations of the Empire and the rights of the Emperor safeguarded, so long as the new Evangel was not endangered. None of those who thought as he did at Wittenberg were more anxious lest the religious movement should jeopardise the peace; in none of them is the sense of responsibility so marked as in Melanchthon. Being by nature as well as by education less strong-hearted than Luther, he was not so successful as the latter in repressing his misery at the consequences of his position. To this his correspondence, which is full of interest and characteristic of his moods, is a striking witness.

Yet, amidst all the complaints we find in these letters, we hardly come across any statement concerning personal troubles of conscience. As a layman, he had not to reproach himself with any apostasy from the sacred office of the priesthood. Unlike Luther and his other friends, from his youth upward his studies and his profession had not been ecclesiastical. The others had once been religious or priests and had, by their marriage, violated a strict law of the Church, which was not the case with him.

His fine mental powers he devoted to the service of Humanism, seeking to promote the cause of education, particularly at the University of Wittenberg, but also elsewhere, by his many-sided writings in the domain of worldly learning and culture. We need only recall his works on rhetoric and grammar, on the ancient philosophy, more particularly the Aristotelian, on dialectics, ethics, and psychology. Such works from his ready but careful pen created for him a great and permanent field of activity, and at the same time helped to distract him amidst the sad realities of life and his own bitter experiences. He openly declared his preference for Humanistic studies, stating that he had been drawn into the theological controversies quite against his will.

It was to his philosophic mode of thought that he owed the self-control which he possessed in so remarkable a degree. Often we are put in mind of the stoic when we hear him, the scholar, giving the soft answer to the insults heaped on him in his own circle and then quietly proceeding on his own way. And yet his character was irritable and prone to passionate anger, as on one occasion some lazy students at the University learnt to their cost. Hence his moderation in his dealings with his Wittenberg colleagues is all the more remarkable.

In his family life Melanchthon has been described as a model of industry, love of order and domesticity. He rose before daybreak in order to deal with his large correspondence; his letters, full of sympathy for friends and those who stood in need of help, were carefully written, and usually couched in Latin. German he did not write so fluently as Luther. In his Latin letters to Humanist friends he often drops into Greek, particularly when anxious to conceal anything, for instance, when he has to complain of Luther. His intimate and friendly intercourse with kindred spirits, such as Camerarius, is a pleasing trait in his character; not less so is the benevolence and unselfishness his letters attest, which indeed he often carried so far as to deprive himself of the needful. His home life was a happy one and his children were well brought up, though his son-in-law, Sabinus, a man of great talent, caused him much grief by his want of conjugal fidelity, which was a source of scandal to the family and also damaged the reputation of Wittenberg.

Melanchthon’s Relations with Luther.

In Melanchthon’s mental history, no less than in the external circumstances of his life, stands out prominently, his connection with Luther, of which we have already recounted the beginnings.

The remarkable relations existing between Melanchthon and Luther abound in psychological traits characteristic of both. So intimate were they that others of the party were disposed to see in their friendship the excellent working of the evangelical spirit, the harmony and union of mind of the two most eminent leaders of the new movement.

In Melanchthon’s case, however, these promises were not realised in the event; on the contrary, inward disappointment and mental suffering were increasingly to become his portion.

The various stages of his unhappy life, the outward influences under which he came and many other accompanying circumstances, are now known from various sources.

As early as 1523 and 1524 Melanchthon began to free himself to some extent from the spell cast over him by his domineering friend. He was in the first instance repelled by the coarseness of Luther’s literary style, and also by much which seemed to him exaggerated in his ways, more particularly by his denial of free-will. (Above, p. 346 f.) The sensitive nature of Melanchthon also took offence at certain things in Luther’s private life, and his own observations were confirmed by the sharp eyes of his bosom friend Camerarius (Joachim Kammermeister), who had migrated to Wittenberg in 1522. Their exchange of secret confidences concerning Wittenberg affairs is unmistakable. Melanchthon felt very lonely after the departure of Camerarius and missed the stimulating intellectual intercourse at Wittenberg, which had become a necessity to him. Frequently he complains, even as early as 1524, that he met with no sympathy, and sometimes he does not exclude even Luther. At Wittenberg he felt like a lame cobbler.[1208] “There is no one amongst my comrades and friends whose conversation appeals to me. All the others [Luther is here excepted] have no time for me, or else they belong to the common herd (‘vulgus sunt’).”[1209] Any real friendship was out of the question at the University, since there were no kindred spirits; his intimacies were mere “wolves’ friendships,”[1210] to use an expression of Plato’s. He envies, so he says, those who were surrounded by studious pupils and could devote all their energies to study, far from the turmoil of religious controversy.

The letter of censure which he wrote on Luther’s marriage is a strange mixture of annoyance that this step should be taken at so critical a juncture, of displeasure at Luther’s thoughtless buffoonery and frivolous behaviour, and, on the other hand, of forbearance, nay, admiration, for the man who, in other respects, still appeared to him so great. “That his friends [Melanchthon and Camerarius] had privately criticised Luther’s behaviour is proved beyond a doubt from a remark in the letter on Luther’s marriage.”[1211]

The contrast between their wives was also unfavourable to the amity existing between Luther and Melanchthon. The daughter of the Burgomaster of Wittenberg, Catherine Krapp, whom Melanchthon had married, seems to have been a rather haughty patrician, who was disposed to look down on Catherine von Bora, whose family, though aristocratic, had fallen on evil days. In a letter of a friend of Luther the “tyranny of women” is once referred to as a disturbing factor, and the context shows that the complaint was drawn forth by Melanchthon’s wife and not by Bora.[1212]

Melanchthon’s troubles were, however, mostly caused by the differences, literary and theological, which sprang up between Luther and himself, and by his experiences and disappointments in Church matters and questions of conscience.

Luther’s violent and incautious manner of proceeding led him to surmise, to his great regret, that many had attached themselves to the cause of the innovations merely from a desire for the freedom of the flesh, and that the rising against the older Church had let loose a whole current of base elements.[1213] The virulence with which Luther attacked everything could, in Melanchthon’s opinion, only tend to alienate the better sort, i.e. the very people whose help was essential to the carrying out of any real reform.

The hope that Melanchthon would get the better of his depression after the momentous Diet was over was only partially realised.

The conviction that there was no chance of reunion with the existing Church, which he had reached at Augsburg, pierced him to the depths of his soul. “In his quality of theologian,” says Kawerau, “the thought of the Church’s oneness caused him to endure the bitterest agonies, particularly between 1530 and 1532”; if certain of the Catholic leaders sought to draw him over to their side, there was “some justification for their attempts,” to be accounted for by the impression he had given at Augsburg, viz. of not being quite at home among the Evangelicals.[1223] What seemed to confirm this impression, adds Kawerau, was “that Melanchthon in his printed, and still more in his epistolary communications, repeatedly gave occasion to people to think that it might be worth while approaching him with fresh proposals of conciliation.”[1224]

Of the psychological struggle hinted at by Kawerau, through which he, who, after Luther, was the chief promoter of the innovations, had to pass, it is possible to gain many a glimpse from contemporary documents.

The wrong idea which he came more and more to cherish amounted to this: The true doctrine of the Catholic Church of Christ, as against the Roman Catholic Church of the day, is that to be found “in the Epistles of the Apostles and in the recognised ecclesiastical writers.”[1225] Without succeeding in finding any position of real safety, he insists on the necessity of sharing the “consensus of the Catholic Church of Christ” and of belonging to the true, ancient and “sublime ‘coetus ecclesiÆ’ over which rules the Son of God.”[1226] Hence comes what we find in the Wittenberg certificates of Ordination which he drew up, in which the “doctrina catholicÆ ecclesiÆ,” taken, of course, in the above uncertain and wholly subjective sense, is declared to have been accepted by the “ordinandi” and to be the best testimony to their office. In this conception of the Church “we find the explanation of the great struggle which it cost him, when, after 1530, he had to face the fact that the schism was real and definitive.... In his conception, the true faith was thus no longer the new Lutheran understanding of the Gospel, but rather the ancient creeds.”[1227]

Yet Melanchthon’s own inclination was more and more in the direction of leaving ecclesiastical affairs to the secular authorities. In his practice he abandoned the idea of an invisible Church even more completely than did Luther. The rigid doctrinal system for which he came to stand in the interests of the pure preaching of the faith, the duty which he assigned to the State of seeing that the proclamation of the Gospel conformed to the standard of the Augsburg Confession, and finally the countenance he gave to the persecution of sectarians by the State, and to State regulation of the Church, all this showed that he was anxious to make of the Church a mere department of the State.[1245] The Princes, as principal members of the Church, must, according to him, see “that errors are removed and consciences comforted”; above all they were of course to assist in “checking the encroachments of the Popes.”[1246] “To us at the present day it appears strange—though at the time of the Reformation this was not felt at all—that Melanchthon, in the Article of the Augsburg Confession concerning priestly marriage, should have [in the ‘Variata’] made the appeal to the Emperor so comprehensive that the ecclesiastical privileges of the Princes practically became an article of faith.”[1247]

It also displeased him greatly that Luther in his writings should so frequently employ vile and abusive epithets when speaking of great persons. He was loath to see the Catholic Princes thus vilified, particularly when, as in the case of Albert, Elector of Mayence, he had hopes of their assistance. On June 16, 1538, Luther read aloud from the pulpit, and afterwards published in print, a statement of “frightful violence” against this Prince, moved thereto, as it would appear, by the respectful manner in which the Archbishop had been treated by Melanchthon.[1248] The latter made no secret of his entire disapproval, and it is to be hoped that others at Wittenberg shared his opinion of this document in which Luther speaks of the German Prince as a false and perjured man, town-clerk and merd-bishop of Halle.[1249]

The fact is, however, that it was in many instances Melanchthon’s own pusillanimity and too great deference to the Protestant Princes which caused him to sanction things which afterwards he regretted. For instance, we hear him complaining, when alluding to the cruelty of Henry VIII. of England, of the “terrible wounds” inflicted on him by a “tyrant.” The “tyrant” to whom he here refers was the bigamist, Philip of Hesse. Melanchthon had been too compliant in the case of both these sovereigns. When Henry VIII., who had fallen out with his spouse, made overtures to the Wittenbergers, it was Melanchthon, who, in view of the king’s desire to contract a fresh marriage, suggested he might take a second wife. Concerning Philip of Hesse’s bigamy he had at the outset had scruples, but he set them aside from the following motive which he himself alleged not long after: “For Philip threatened to apostatise unless we should assist him.”[1250] His conscience had reason enough to complain of the “terrible wounds” inflicted upon it by this tyrant, but for this Melanchthon himself was answerable. He even assisted personally at the marriage of the second wife, though, possibly, his presence was secured by means of a stratagem. When later, he, even more than his friends, was troubled with remorse concerning his part in the business—especially when the Landgrave, wilfully and “tyrannically,” threatened the theologians with the publication of their permission—he fell a prey to a deadly sickness, due primarily to the depth of his grief and shame. Luther hastened to Weimar where he lay and, in spite of his own depression, by the brave face he put on, and also by his loving care, was able to console the stricken man so that he ultimately recovered. “Martin,” so Melanchthon gratefully declared, “saved me from the jaws of death.”[1251]

By Philip of Hesse, Melanchthon had once before been taken to task over a falsehood of his. It had fallen to Melanchthon to draw up a memorandum, dispatched on September 1, 1538, by the Elector Johann Frederick and the Landgrave Philip, conjointly, to King Henry VIII. of England. In the draft, which was submitted to both Princes, he asserted, contrary to the real state of the case, that, in Germany, there were no Anabaptists “in those districts where the pure doctrine of the Gospel is preached,” though they were to be found “where this doctrine is not preached”; this he wrote though he himself had assisted Luther previously in drawing up memoranda for localities in the immediate vicinity of Wittenberg, directed against the Anabaptists established there in the very bosom of the new Church. The Landgrave refused to agree to such a misrepresentation, even for the sake of predisposing King Henry for Lutheranism. He candidly informed the Elector that he did not agree with this passage, “for there are Anabaptists in those parts of Germany where the pure Gospel is preached just as much as in those where it is not rightly preached.” In consequence the passage in question was left out, merely a general reference to the existence of Anabaptists in Germany being allowed to remain.[1252]

The following example likewise shows how Melanchthon’s want of uprightness and firmness contributed to raise difficulties and unpleasantness with those in power. Johann Frederick of Saxony seized upon the bishopric of Naumburg-Zeitz, and, in spite of the Emperor’s warning, caused Amsdorf to be “consecrated” its bishop. The Wittenbergers, including Melanchthon, had given their sanction to this step. Afterwards, however, the latter was overwhelmed with scruples. “Tyranny has increased more and more at the Courts,” exclaimed Melanchthon.—“There is no doubt that his sense of responsibility in a proceeding, which he had been driven to sanction against his better judgment, depressed him.” He trembled at the thought that “the matter might well lead to warlike entanglements, and that the Emperor would resent as an insult and never forget this violent seizure of the highest spiritual principalities.”[1253]

Here we shall only hint at Melanchthon’s attitude—again characterised by weakness and indecision—at the time of the Interim controversy. He himself, from motives of policy and out of consideration for the interests of the Court, had lent a hand in the bringing about of the Leipzig Interim. The “real” Lutherans (“Gnesio-Lutherans”) saw in this an alliance with the Popish abomination. The “temporising policy of the Interim” in which he “became entangled,” remarks Carl Sell, “called forth the righteous anger of all honest German Protestants.” “Melanchthon saved his life’s work only at the cost of the agony of the last thirteen years of his life ... a real martyr—albeit a tragically guilty one—to a cause.”[1254] “The whole struggle of ‘Gnesio-Lutheranism’ with ‘Philippism’ consisted in employing against Melanchthon the very weapon of which Melanchthon himself had made use,” viz. the “confusion of theological opinions with the Divine data which these opinions purported to represent.”[1255]

A redeeming feature in the life of this unhappy man, upon which one is glad to dwell after what has gone before, was his strong sense of right and wrong. In spite of all his weakness, his conscience was highly sensitive. Thus he himself supplies in many cases the moral appreciation of his actions in his outspoken statements and frank confessions to some trusted friend, for whom his words were also intended to serve as a guide.

To his friends he was in the habit of giving advice on their behaviour, couching such advice in the language of the scholar. Nor was he jesting when he declared that such good counsel was intended in the first instance for himself; in practice, however, the deed fell short of the will. So excellent was his theory that many of his aphorisms, in their short, classical form, became permanent principles of morality. Their influence was on a par with that of his pedagogical writings, which long held sway in the history of education.

His friends could count not only on the ethical guidance of the philosopher and Humanist, but even on his ready assistance in matters of all sorts. It was not in his nature to refuse his sympathy to anyone, and, to the students, who gladly sought his assistance, he was unable to say no.

Another valuable quality was that talent for making peace, of which he repeatedly made use in the interests of his co-religionists. His conversation and bearing were exceedingly courteous. Erasmus, for instance, speaks of his “irresistible charm” (“gratia quÆdam fatalis”). In a letter of 1531 Erasmus says: “In addition to his excellent education and rare eloquence, he possesses an irresistible charm, due more to ‘genius’ than to ‘ingenium.’ For this reason he stands in high esteem with noble minds, and, even amongst his enemies, there is not one who cordially hates him.”[1256] At the time of the Interim controversy the agents of the Duke of Saxony were desirous that the Catholic party should find men of real moderation and culture to negotiate with Melanchthon and the other leaders of the new faith. They were particularly anxious that Claudius Jaius, the Jesuit, should repair to Saxony for this purpose. Peter Canisius, apprised of this, wrote, on April 30, 1551, to Ignatius his superior, that these people were sure from experience that Jaius, with the modesty he owed to his culture, would do more good than the most violent controversies.[1257]

Before the world Melanchthon was careful to hide the growing dissension between himself and Luther.

Thus, writing on June 22, 1537, to Veit Dietrich, he says, alluding to the quarrel commenced by Cordatus, that he was working for peace at Wittenberg University. “Nor does Luther appear to be badly disposed towards us”; “no hatred exists, and should there be any it will presently break out”; for his own part he intends to be patient, “even should it come to blows [’plaga’].”[1258]

Even Luther’s outbursts of anger were explained away by his more supple comrade, who exhorts his friends to possess their souls in patience and to conceal such faults from the eyes of the world. The “dreadful man,” he writes to Bucer—applying to Luther the Homeric title [Greek: deinos]—“often gets these boisterous fits. More is gained by ignoring them than by open contradiction. Let us therefore make use of the philosophy in which we both have been initiated, cover our wounds, and exhort others too to do the same.” Luther, owing to his combativeness, was not to be depended on, and the sad part of it is that “our little Churches are tossed about with neither sail nor sober pilot”; for his part he feared victory as much as war; he was opposed to war in the cause of the Evangel because in the confusion the Court officials and the great ones of the Protestant party, the “Centaurs,” would assuredly stretch out greedy hands to grasp the rights and possessions of the Church.[1259]

Melanchthon was at that time in a certain sense the “one who, thanks to his moderation, kept everything together at Wittenberg. This is expressly stated by Cruciger.”[1260] For this his endless patience, what he himself terms his “servile spirit,”[1261] was to some extent accountable. Yet his Humanism, and the equanimity, calmness and moderation he owed to it, doubtless served the peacemaker in good stead. To all, whether of his own party or of the opposite, he was wont to declare his abhorrence of the “democratia aut tyrannis indoctorum.”[1262] Owing to such personal qualities of Melanchthon’s, CochlÆus himself, in a letter to his friend Dantiscus, in which he attacks Melanchthon, admits that he was “nevertheless at heart very fond of him.”[1263]