Hence there is no doubt that, at that time, utterly sick of his work at Luther’s side, he was perfectly ready to change his lodgings. “It was a joyless life that Melanchthon led at Wittenberg. His admiration for Luther was indeed not dead, but mutual trust was wanting.”[1239]
In 1536 the repressed discontent of the ultra-Lutherans broke out into open persecution of Melanchthon. At the head of his assailants was Conrad Cordatus, who had sniffed heresy in the stress Melanchthon laid on the will and on man’s co-operation in the work of Justification; his first step was to begin a controversy with Cruciger, Melanchthon’s friend.[1240] At about that time, Luther, in his annoyance with Melanchthon, declared: “I am willing enough to admit Master Philip’s proficiency in the sciences and in philosophy, nothing more; but, with God’s help, I shall have to chop off the head of philosophy, for so it must be.”[1241] Nevertheless, to retain the indispensable support of so great a scholar and to preserve peace at the University, Luther preferred to seek a compromise, on the occasion of a solemn Disputation held on June 1, 1537. At the same time, it is true, he characterised the thesis on the “necessity of good works for salvation” as reprehensible and misleading.[1242]
Further difficulties were raised in 1537 by Pastor Jacob Schenk, who would have it that Melanchthon had made treasonable concessions in the interests of the Catholics in the matter of the giving of the chalice. This strained still further his relations with Luther, who had already long been dimly suspicious of Melanchthon’s Zwinglian leanings concerning the Supper. The Elector, who was also vexed, consulted Luther privately concerning Melanchthon; Luther, however, again expressed his regard for him, and deprecated his “being driven from the University,” adding, nevertheless, that, should he seek to assert his opinion on the Supper, then “God’s truth would have to be put first.”[1243]
The intervention of the Elector in this case, and, generally, the interference of the great Lords in ecclesiastical affairs—which frequently marred his plans for conciliation—embittered him more and more as years passed.
He was perfectly aware that the influential patrons of the innovations were animated by mere egoism, avarice and lust for power. “The rulers have martyred me so long,” he once declared, “that I have no wish to go on living amid such suffering.”[1244]
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]