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.”
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.
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, 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.
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.
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.
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.
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. 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. 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.
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 neve
r 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.”
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.”
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. 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.”
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’), 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.
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.”
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. 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.”
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.
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.” 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.” 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.”
On the abyss which really separated the followers of the new faith from the Church, Luther’s coarse and violent writing, “Vermanũg 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.” 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.
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.” 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 manœuvres; 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 caus
e of the Evangel so much harm as Philip”; it was high time for Luther “to interfere with Philip and warn pious Princes against him.”
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.
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.” It may be that Melanchthon, amidst his manifold worries, failed to perceive this.
Collected Works of Martin Luther Page 700