His friends related that at Gotha he made his confession, and received “absolution” from Bugenhagen. After his state of health had greatly improved he was able to continue his journey to Wittenberg, where he arrived safely. Thence, a week later, he was able to announce to Spalatin the progress of his “convalescence, by God’s grace,” commending himself likewise to his prayers.
His anger against the Pope, to which hitherto he had not been able to give free rein, he now utilised to stimulate and refresh his exhausted bodily and mental powers. He once said, that, to write, pray or preach well, he had first to be angry. In Mathesius we find Luther’s own description of the effects of his anger: “Then my blood is refreshed, my mind becomes keen and all my temptations vanish.”
Here we must revert once more to his maledictory prayer against the Pope and the Papists, and to certain other of his sayings.
“If I am so cold at heart that I cannot pray,” so he said on one occasion to Cordatus, “I call to mind the impiety and ingratitude of my foes, the Pope and King Ferdinand, in order to inflame my heart with righteous hate, so that I can say: Hallowed be Thy Name, etc., and then my prayer glows with fervour.” As given in the German edition of the Table-Talk, his words are briefer, but none the less striking: “I conjure up the godlessness of the Pope with all his ulcers and parasites, and soon I grow warm and burn with anger and hate.” As already related, in his maledictory Paternoster, he accompanies the petitions of the Lord’s Prayer with a commentary of curses. He would fain see others too, “cursing the Papacy with the Our Father, that it may catch St. Vitus’s Dance.” Concerning his Paternoster he assures us, “I say this prayer daily with my lips, and in my heart without intermission.” And yet he does not shrink from adding: “Nevertheless I preserve a friendly, peaceable and Christian spirit towards everyone; this even my greatest enemies know.”
In 1538, the year after his serious illness, an amended edition of his “Unterricht der Visitatorn an die Pharhern” was issued by him. Although he exhorts the pastors to “refrain from abusive language” in the pulpit, yet he expressly tells them to “damn the Papacy and its followers with all earnestness as already damned by God, like the devil and his kingdom.”
Luther’s character presents many psychological problems which seem to involve the observer in inextricable difficulty; certain phenomena of his inner life can scarcely be judged by common standards. The idea of the devil incarnate in Popery distorts his judgment, commits him to statements of the maddest kind, and infects even his moral conduct. It is not easy to say how far he remained a free agent in this matter, or whether the quondam Catholic, priest and monk never felt the prick of conscience, yet such questions obtrude themselves at every step. For the present we shall merely say that his freedom, and consequently his actual responsibility, were greater at the time he first gave such ideas a footing in his mind, than when he had fallen completely under their spell.
4. Luther’s Spirit in Melanchthon
During the spring of 1537, when Luther was at Schmalkalden writhing under bodily anguish and the influence of his paroxysm of hate, a notable change took place in Melanchthon’s attitude towards the older Church. The earlier spiritual crisis, if we may speak of such a thing, ended in his case in an almost inexplicable embitterment against the Church of his birth.
A proof of this is more particularly to be found in the document then drawn up by Melanchthon, “On the power and primacy of the Pope.”
But a short time before he had looked upon the declaration against the Pope, drafted by Luther for the Schmalkalden Conference, as too strong. Yet, after having, as related above, all unknown to Luther, contrived to prevent any discussion of the latter’s so-called “Artickel,” and having, at the request of the Princes and Estates, set to work on a statement concerning the Primacy and the Episcopate, he himself came gradually, perhaps without noticing it, under the influence of the passion of anti-popery which found expression at this Assembly.
In Melanchthon’s Schmalkalden writing “On the Power and Primacy,” we read, that “the Popes defend godless rites and idolatry”; they had introduced horrible darkness into the Church. “The marks of Antichrist agree with the empire of the Pope,” as is plain from Paul. “The Pope arrogates to himself the right to alter the doctrine of Christ.... He even claims rights over the souls of the departed.” “He makes himself God,” for he recognises no authority above him. “These errors he vindicates with the utmost cruelty ... slaying all who differ from him.” All the faithful must therefore “curse” him and regard his teaching as “devils’ doctrine.”
After this profession of pure doctrine comes the chapter on abuses. “The profanation of Masses,” amongst the Papists, “is idolatry”; the “most revolting money-making” is carried on by this means. “They teach that sin is forgiven on account of the value of our works and then require each one to be ever in doubt as to whether his sins have really been forgiven. Nowhere do they clearly say that it is on account of the merits of Christ that sins are forgiven gratuitously. On the other hand, they do away with true worship, viz. the exercise of that faith which wrestles with despair.” “Vows they have stamped as righteousness before God, declaring that they merit the forgiveness of sins.” It is the duty of the Christian Princes to intervene; they must see that “errors are removed and consciences healed.” They “must not assist in strengthening idolatry and other infamies, or in slaughtering the Saints.” They, beyond all others, “must place a check on the licentiousness of the Popes,” the more so “since the Pope has bound the bishops under terrible curses to support his tyranny and his godless behaviour.”
A shorter memorandum of Melanchthon’s, appended to the above, referred to the “Power and jurisdiction of the Bishops.” This in the clearest and most decided fashion marks the breakdown of all the author’s earlier seeming concessions concerning the retention of the episcopate. “Since the bishops,” he says towards the close, “in their dependence on the Pope defend his godless doctrine and godless worship ... second the Pope’s cruelty and tyrannically abuse the jurisdiction they have wrenched from the clergy ... the churches must not acknowledge them as bishops.”
At the end there is a hint at the wealth of the bishops, doubtless not unwelcome to the Princes: “The bishops can no longer hold their lands and revenues with a good conscience” because they do not make use of them for the good of souls; their possessions ought rather to be employed “for the Church,” “to provide for the preachers [ministers], to support students and the poor, and in particular to assist the law-courts, especially the matrimonial courts.” Here we have his sanction to the Church’s spoliation.
We may be certain that Melanchthon never came to use such language, so similar to Luther’s, concerning the Papal Antichrist, idolatry and murder, solely as the result of pressure on the part of the Princes, who had been enraged by the invitation to attend the Council, and were determined to crush once and for all every hope of conciliation. We may take it that his new frame of mind was partly due to Luther’s serious illness. Luther believed that his end was nigh, he adjured the Princes and his friends manfully to tackle Antichrist, and he cursed the dissensions that had broken out amongst his theologians, and promised soon to ruin his life’s work. This made a great impression on Melanchthon. As a matter of fact the relations between him and Luther, subsequent to the latter’s recovery, became closer than they had been for years.
The change in Melanchthon at Schmalkalden was immortalised by his frightful document on the Pope and the Bishops being subscribed to by thirty-two of the theologians and preachers there present. When, at a later date, the formulæ of Concord were drawn up, it was included amongst the “symbolical books” of Lutheranism. As such, along with the others, it appears down to the present day, even in the latest edition (1907), at the head of which is printed the traditional motto of the whole series: “One Lord, one faith, one Baptism” (Eph. iv. 5).
At the Schmalkalden Conference, Melanchthon, in spite of what h
e had written concerning the Pope, declared himself, like Luther, in favour of accepting with due reserves the invitation to the Council, as otherwise they would be rendering their position more difficult and would make the whole world think that they had rudely refused the olive-branch. The rejection of his proposal annoyed him, as also did the discourteous treatment — described by Melanchthon as “very vulgar” — which the Papal Legate endured at the hands of the Elector Johann Frederick. His fit of indignation does not, however, seem to have lasted long, as he did not refuse the invitation to draw up a statement, addressed in the name of the Assembly to all Christian Princes, in which the Council was repudiated in the strongest terms. The refusal to take any part in it, so it declares, was rendered imperative by the clear intention of the Pope to suppress heresy.
His hostility and his irritation against, the Papacy repeatedly found expression in after years.
It was quite in Luther’s style, when, in a little work which appeared at Wittenberg in 1539, he called the Pope, with his bishops and defenders, “the tyrants and persecutors of Christ,” who “are not the Church; neither are those who support them or approve such acts of violence.”
Before the War of Schmalkalden he republished several times Luther’s inflammatory pamphlet, “Warnunge an seine lieben Deudschen,” of 1531 (see vol. ii., ), in order to move public opinion against the Empire. To these new editions of the booklet against the Popish “bloodhounds” — one of the most violent the author ever wrote — Melanchthon added a preface in which he shows himself “animated and carried away by Luther’s words.” In reading it we feel the warmth of the fiery spirit which glows in Luther’s writings, for instance, when he classes his opponents with the “cut-throats of the streets,” whom “to resist was a work well-pleasing to God.” The Pope, according to him, is anxious “to re-establish his idolatry and his errors by dint of bloodshed, murder, everlasting devastation of the German nation and the destruction of the Electoral and Princely houses.” Thus “Spaniards and Italians, and perhaps even possibly the Turks,” will break into the German cities. “The devils rage and cause all manner of desolation.” Our enemies are “knowingly persecutors of the truth and murderers of the Saints.” Whoever is about to die let him consider, that the death of the righteous is more pleasing to God than “the life of Cain and the luxury and power of all the bishops and cardinals.”
Hence it was but natural that violent measures of defence should appear to Melanchthon both called-for and meritorious.
As a just measure of defence and resistance he regarded his own suggestion made to the Elector of Saxony through his Chancellor on the occasion of the Protestantising of the town of Halle, the residence of Albert of Brandenburg, viz. that Albert’s whole diocese of Halle and Magdeburg should be taken possession of by the Elector. Owing to Luther’s dissuasion this act of violence, which would have had momentous consequences, was, however, prevented. Melanchthon’s advice was, that they “should, as opportunity arose, seize the bishoprics, in order that the priests might be emboldened to abstain from knavish practices, to co-operate in bringing about a lasting peace, and to leave the Word of God unmolested for the future.”
In this way Melanchthon more than once gave the lie to those who extol his kindliness. Luther once said, that, whereas he stabbed with a hog-spear, Philip preferred to use goads and needles, though his little punctures turned out more painful and difficult to heal; the “little man” (Melanchthon was of small stature) was pious, and, even when he did wrong, meant no ill; he sinned because he was too lenient and allowed himself to be taken in; but this sort of thing was of little use; he, on the other hand, thought it best to speak out to the knaves; for clods a pick-axe was very useful; Philip allowed himself to be devoured, but he, on the contrary, devoured everything and spared no one.
In his controversial writings and memoranda, written in well-turned and polished language, Melanchthon went on as before to accuse the Catholic theologians and the Popes of holding doctrines and opinions, of which, as Döllinger rightly said, “no theologian had ever thought, but the opposite of which all had taught.”
He refused to recognise what was good and just in the long-looked-for proposals for the amelioration of the Church which the Papal commission submitted to Paul III. in 1537. They were made known at Wittenberg through their publication by Johann Sturm of Strasburg.
Luther at once took the field against them with his favourite weapons, the “pick-axe” and the “hog-spear.” Melanchthon mentions them, but has “not a word to say in favour of the important reforms they proposed.... The fact, however, that one of Erasmus’s writings was therein characterised as harmful, incensed him against Sadolet [one of the Cardinals whose signatures were appended].” “With good reason, and, from the schoolmaster’s point of view, quite justly,” they say of the “Colloquia familiaria” of Erasmus, that “this book should be forbidden in the schools,” as it might do harm to young minds. This greatly displeased Melanchthon, himself a writer on pedagogy; and yet the “Colloquia” in question are so permeated with indecent elements that they have been rightly instanced to prove how lax were the views then prevalent in Humanistic circles. Luther himself strongly disapproved of the “Colloquia” of Erasmus, declaring it a godless book, and forbidding his children to read it; therein the author put his own antichristian ideas in the mouths of others. “Erasmus, the scoundrel,” he says, gives vent to his contempt for religion “more particularly in his ‘Colloquia.’” “He is an incarnate scamp, as is shown by his books, notably by the ‘Colloquia.’”
In the Antinomian controversy at home, between Johann Agricola and Luther, it was Melanchthon who sought by means of adroit formulæ and memoranda to achieve the impossible, viz. to square Agricola’s views with Luther’s teaching at that time. In reality Melanchthon was merely working for the success of his own milder version of Luther’s view of the law, to which moreover the latter had already given his assent. To Agricola, Melanchthon wrote feelingly: “In all that Luther does there is a certain Achillean violence, of which you are not the only victim.”
On the outbreak of the Osiander controversy on Confession, the ever-ready Melanchthon again set to work, endeavouring to pour oil on the troubled waters. He assured Osiander that “were I able to bind down with chains of adamant the tempers of all the clergy, I should assuredly make this the goal of my most earnest endeavour.”
Melanchthon’s 1540 edition of the Augsburg Confession, the so-called “Confessio variata,” was a good sample of his elasticity and power of adaptation in the domain of dogma. The “Variata” caused, however, quite a commotion amongst the representatives of the innovations.
In the “Confessio Variata” Melanchthon, in order to curry favour with the Swiss and the adherents of the Tetrapolitana, with whom his party was politically leagued, set aside the “semblance of Transubstantiation” contained in the Article concerning the Supper (Art. x.) and struck out the words “quod corpus et sanguis Christi vere adsint,” as well as the rejection of the contrary belief. For these was substituted: “Together with the bread and wine in the Supper the communicants are shown [‘exhibeantur’ instead of the former ‘adsint et distribuantur’] the Body and Blood of Christ.” This was practically to abandon the Real Presence. “Neither the doctrine of Bucer [who was a Zwinglian] on the Supper, nor that of Calvin, is excluded.”
At a later date, in 1575, Nicholas Selnecker, a Leipzig professor, whilst actual witnesses were yet living, declared that he had been informed by officials of high standing that the alterations concerning the Supper in the “Variata” were due to Philip of Hesse’s epistolary representations to Melanchthon. The former had held out the hope that he, and also the Swiss, would accept the Confession should his suggestion be accepted. We may call to mind that about that same time, i.e. about December, 1539, the Landgrave was desirous of yet another concession in his favour, viz. of sanction for his bigamy, and that Bucer, who had been sent by him to Wittenberg, threw out the hint that, were permissio
n refused, the Prince would forsake the Evangelical cause.
Melanchthon also obliterated in the “Variata” several other “traces of a too diplomatic attempt to conciliate the Romanists.... Melanchthon’s clearer perception of the doctrine of Justification also made some alteration necessary.” The Article “De iustificatione” (Art. iv.) was accordingly revised, and likewise the Article “De bonis operibus” (Art. xx.), that both might correspond with the doctrine already embodied in the 1535 edition of the “Loci.” In Article iv. the brief “hanc fidem imputat Deus pro iustitia” was removed and replaced by: “homines iustos pronuntiari, id est reconciliari,” by the imputation of righteousness, this being explained at considerable length. A new interpretation was also given to the doctrine of good works, i.e. by the thesis, that obedience to the law is necessary on the part of the justified. In conversion, the necessity of contrition, and that not merely passive, previous to Justification by faith is asserted, the Divine Will that all men be saved is openly advocated, that God is the author of sin is more strongly denied than before.
In spite of all these alterations, which, more particularly that concerning the Supper, might have wounded Luther’s susceptibilities, “Melanchthon was never reproved on account of the ‘Variata’ either by Luther or by others [of the sect]; what we hear to the contrary is nothing but an invention of the anti-Philippians. The truth is that the ‘Variata’ was generally accepted without question and made use of officially, for instance, at the religious conferences.” In January, 1541, the Augsburg Confession was to be made the basis of the first religious conference at Worms. When Melanchthon appealed to the “Variata,” Eck drew particular attention to the difference between the new and the old version. Melanchthon, however, insisted on the identity of their contents and would only admit that, in the “Variata,” he had toned down and chosen his expressions more carefully. As Eck, in order to come to the point, desisted from any further objections, the diversity was passed over. The conference, owing to other causes, was a failure, and so was the next, held at Ratisbon in April of the same year, which was fruitless owing to Melanchthon’s own conduct. Calvin, who was present, wrote on May 12 of the practices of the Protestant leaders: “Melanchthon and Bucer drew up equivocating and ambiguous formulæ on Transubstantiation, seeking to hoodwink their adversaries. They were not afraid to deal in equivocal phrases though there is nothing more mischievous.”
Collected Works of Martin Luther Page 712
