Luther, vol. 3 of 6

by Hartmann Grisar

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]