Chapter XVII (1)

WILL THE ATTEMPT TO ESTABLISH UNITY AND TRUTH SUCCEED?
(AUGUST TO NOVEMBER 1535.)

[Sidenote: Individuality And Community.]

Was the union desired by so many eminent men to be for good or for evil? On this question different opinions may be, and have been, entertained. Certain minds like to isolate themselves, and look with mistrust and disdain upon human associations. It is true that man exists first as an individual, and that before all things he must be himself; but he does not exist alone: he is a member of a body, and this forms the second part of his existence. Human life is both a monologue and a dialogue. Before the era of Christianity, these two essential modes of being had but an imperfect existence: on the one hand, social institutions absorbed the individual, and on the other, each nation was encamped apart. Christianity aggrandized individuality by calling men to unite with God, and at the same time it proclaimed the great unity of the human race, and undertook to make into one family all the families of the earth, by giving the same heavenly Father to all. It imparts a fresh intensity to individuality by teaching man that a single soul is in God’s eyes of more value than the whole universe; but this, far from doing society an injury, becomes the source of great prosperity to it. The more an individual is developed in a Christian sense, the more useful a member he becomes of the nation and of the human race. Individuality and community are the two poles of life; and it is necessary to maintain both, in order that humanity may fulfil its mission in revolving ages. The mischief lies in giving an unjust pre-eminence to either of the two elements. Romish unity, which encroaches upon individuality, is an obstacle to real Christian civilization; while an extreme individuality, which isolates man, is full of peril both to society and to the individual himself. It would therefore be unreasonable to condemn or to approve absolutely the eminent men who in 1535 endeavored to restore unity to the Church. The question is to know whether, by reconstructing catholicity, they intended or not to sacrifice individual liberty. If they desired a real Christian union, their work was good; if, on the contrary, they aimed at restoring unity with a hierarchical object, with a despotic spirit, their work was bad.

There was another question on which men were not more agreed. Would the great undertaking succeed? France continued to ask for Melancthon; would Germany reply to her advances? We must briefly glance at the events which had taken place in the empire since the agreement between the catholics and protestants concluded, as we have seen, in July, 1532.[715] These events may help us to solve the question.

It had been stipulated in the religious peace that all Germans should show to one another a sincere and Christian friendship. In the treaty of Cadan (29th June, 1534), Ferdinand, who had been recognized as King of the Romans, had undertaken, both for himself and for Charles V., to protect the protestants against the proceedings of the imperial court. Somewhat later, the city of Münster, in Westphalia, had become the theatre of the extravagances of fanaticism. John Bockhold, a tailor of Leyden, setting himself up for a prophet, had made himself master of the city, and been proclaimed king of Zion. He had also established a community of goods, and attempted, like other sectarians, to restore polygamy. He used to parade the city, wearing a golden crown; to sit in judgment in the market-place, and would often cut off the head of a condemned person. A pulpit was erected at the side of the throne, and after the sermon the whole congregation would sometimes begin to dance. The Landgrave, Philip of Hesse, one of the leaders of the protestant cause, marched against these madmen, took Münster on the 24th June, 1535, and put an end to the pretended kingdom of Zion.[716] These extravagances did not injure the protestant cause, which was not confounded with a brutal communism, reeking with cruelty and debauchery; besides, it was the protestants, and not the catholics, who had put them down. But from that hour, the evangelicals felt more strongly than ever the necessity of resisting the sectarian spirit: this they had done at Wittemberg as early as 1522. At last it appeared clearer every day that the free and Christian general council, which they had so often demanded, would be granted them. All the events, which we have indicated, seemed to have prepared protestant Germany to accept the proposals of France.

[Sidenote: An Important Mission.]

Voré de la Fosse, bearing letters from Francis I., William du Bellay, and other friends of the union, was going to Germany to try and bring it to a successful issue. De la Fosse was not such a distinguished ambassador as those who figured at London and at Rome, and the power to which he was accredited was a professor in a petty town of Saxony. But Germany called this professor her ‘master,’ and De la Fosse considered his mission a more important one than any that had been confided to dukes and cardinals. Christendom was weakened by being severed into two parts; he was going to re-establish unity, and revive and purify the old member by the life of the new one. The Christian Church thus strengthened would be made capable of the greatest conquests. On the success of the steps that were about to be taken depended, in the opinion of De la Fosse and his friends, the destiny of the world.

The envoy of Francis I. arrived at Wittemberg on the 4th of August, 1535, and immediately paid Melancthon a visit, at which he delivered the letters intrusted to him, and warmly explained the motives which ought to induce the reformer to proceed to France. De la Fosse’s candor, his love for the Gospel, and his zeal gained the heart of Luther’s friend. By degrees a sincere friendship grew up between them; and when Melancthon afterwards wanted to justify himself in the eyes of the French, he appealed to the testimony of the ‘very good and very excellent Voré.’[717] But if the messenger pleased him, the message filled his heart with trouble: the perusal of the letters from the king, Du Bellay, and Sturm brought the doubts of this man of peace to a climax. He saw powerful reasons for going to France and equally powerful reasons for staying in Germany. To use the expression of a reformer, there were two batteries firing upon him by turns from opposite quarters, now driving him to the right, now to the left. What would Charles V. say, if a German should go to the court of his great adversary? Besides, what was to be expected from the Sorbonne, the clergy, and the court? Contempt.... He would not go. On the other hand, Melancthon had before him a letter from the king, pressing him to come to Paris. An influential nation might be gained to the Gospel, and carry all the West along with it. When the Lord calls, must we allow ourselves to be stopped by fear?... He hesitated no longer: he would depart. Voré de la Fosse was delighted. But erelong other thoughts sprang up to torment the doctor’s imagination. What was there not to be feared from a prince who had sworn, standing before the stake at which he was burning his subjects, that to stop heresy he would, if necessary, cut off his own arm and cast it into the fire?... In that terrible day of the strappadoes, a deep gulf had opened in the midst of the church. Was it his business to throw himself, Curtius-like, into the abyss, in order that the gulf should close over him?... Melancthon would willingly leave to the young Roman the glory of devoting himself to the infernal gods.

De la Fosse visited the illustrious professor daily, and employed every means to induce him to cross the Rhine.[718] ‘We will do whatever you desire,’ he said. ‘Do you wish for royal letters to secure to you full liberty of going to France and returning? You shall have them. Do you ask for hostages as guarantees for your return? You shall have them also. Do you want an armed guard of honor to escort you and bring you back? It shall be given you.[719] We will spare nothing. On your interview with the king depends not only the fate of France, but (so to speak) of the whole world.[720] Hearken to the friends of the Gospel who dwell in Paris. Threatening waves surround us, they say by my mouth; furious tempests assail us; but the moment you come, we shall find ourselves, as it were, miraculously transported into the safest of havens.[721] If, on the contrary, you despise the king’s invitation, all hope is lost for us. The fires now slumbering will instantly shoot forth their flames, and there will be a cruel return of the most frightful tortures.[722] It is not only Sturm, Du Bellay, and other friends like them who invite you, but all the pious Christians of France. They are silent, no doubt—those whom the cruellest of punishments have laid among the dead, and even those who, immured in dungeons, are separated from us by doors of iron; but, if their voices cannot reach you, listen at least to one mighty voice, the voice of God himself, the voice of Jesus Christ.’[723]

[Sidenote: Melancthon A Man Of God.]

When Melancthon heard this appeal, he was agitated and overpowered.[724] What an immense task! These Frenchmen are placing the world on his shoulders! Can such a poor Atlas as he is bear it? How must he decide? What must he do? In a short time his perplexity was again increased. The French gentleman had hardly left the room when his wife, Catherine daughter of the Burgomaster of Wittemberg, her relations, her young children, and some of his best friends surrounded him and entreated him not to leave them. They were convinced that, if Melancthon once set foot in that city ‘which killeth the prophets,’ they would never see him again. They described the traps laid for him; they reminded him that no safe-conduct had been given him; they shed tears, they clung to him, and yet he did not give way.

Melancthon was a man of God, and prayed his heavenly Father to show him the road he ought to take; he thoroughly weighed the arguments for and against his going. ‘The thought of myself and of mine,’ he said, ‘the remoteness of the place to which I am invited, and fear of the dangers that await me ought not to stop me.[725] Nothing should be more sacred to me than the glory of the Son of God, the deliverance of so many pious men, and the peace of the Church troubled by such great tempests. Upon that all my thoughts ought to be concentred; but this is what disturbs me: I fear to act imprudently in a matter of such great importance, and to make the disease still more incurable through my precipitancy. Will not the French, while giving way on some trivial points which they must necessarily renounce, retain the most important articles in which falsehood and impiety are especially found?[726] Alas! such patchwork would produce more harm than good.’

There was much truth in these fears; but De la Fosse, returning to his friend, sought to banish his apprehensions, and assured him that the disposition of Francis I. was excellent at bottom. ‘Yes,’ replied Luther’s friend, ‘but is he in a position to act upon it?’[727] He expected nothing from a conference with fanatical doctors. Besides, the Sorbonne refused all discussion. ‘The king,’ he said, ‘is not the Church. A council alone has power to reform it; and therefore the prince ought to set his heart upon hastening its convocation. All other means of succoring afflicted Christendom are useless and dangerous.’

De la Fosse turned Melancthon’s objection against him. ‘At least we must prepare the way for the council,’ he said; ‘and it is just on that account that the King of France wishes to converse with you.’ Then, desiring to strike home, the envoy of Francis I. continued: ‘The king never had anything more at heart than to heal the wounds of the Church: he has never shown so much care, anxiety, and zeal.[728] If you comply with his wishes, you will be received with more joy in France than any stranger before you. Will you withhold from the afflicted Church the hand that can save her? Let nothing in the world, I conjure you, turn you aside from so pure and sacred an enterprise.’[729] De la Fosse was agitated. The idea of returning to Paris without Melancthon—that is to say, without the salvation he expected—was insupportable. ‘Depart,’ he exclaimed, ‘if you do not come to France!... I shall never return there.’[730]

[Sidenote: Melancthon’s Character.]

Melancthon was touched by these supplications. He thought he heard (as they had told him) the voice of God himself. ‘Well, then,’ he said, ‘I will go. My friends in France have entertained great expectations and apply to me to fulfil them: I will not disappoint their hopes.’ Melancthon was resolved to maintain the essential truths of Christianity, and hoped to see them accepted by the catholic world. Francis I. and his friends had not rejected Luther’s fundamental article,—justification solely by faith in the merits of Christ, by a living faith, which produces holiness and works. According to the most eminent and most Christian orator of the Roman Church, Melancthon combined learning, gentleness, and elegance of style, with singular moderation, so that he was regarded as the only man fitted to succeed in literature to the reputation of Erasmus.[731] But he was more than that: his convictions were not to be shaken; _he knew where he was_, and, far from seeking all his life for his religion—as Bossuet asserts—he had found it and admirably explained it in his _Theological Commonplaces_.[732] Still he constantly said to his friends: ‘We must contend only for what is great and necessary.’[733]

Melancthon, who was full of meekness, was always ready to do what might be agreeable to others. Sincere, open, and exceedingly fond of children, he liked to play with them and tell them little tales. But with all this amiability he had a horror of ambiguous language, especially in matters of faith; and although a man of extreme gentleness, he felt strongly, his anguish could be very bitter, and when his soul was stirred, he would break out with sudden impetuosity, which, however, he would soon repress. His error, in the present case, was in believing that the pope could be received without receiving his doctrines: every true Roman-catholic could have told him that this was impossible. At all events De la Fosse had decided him. For the triumph of unity and truth, this simple-hearted bashful man was resolved to brave the dangers of France and the bitter reproaches of Germany. ‘I will go,’ he said to the envoy of Francis I. It was the language of a Christian ready to sacrifice himself. In history we sometimes meet with characters who enlarge our ideas of moral greatness: Melancthon was one of them.

But would his prince allow him to go? The prejudices of Germany against France, besides numerous political and religious considerations, might influence the elector. These were difficulties that might cause the enterprise to fail. Still the noble-minded professor resolved to do all in his power to overcome them. The university had just removed from Wittemberg to Jena on account of the plague. Melancthon, quitting Thuringia, directed his course hastily towards the banks of the Elbe, and arriving at Torgau, where the court was staying, at the old castle outside the city, was admitted on Sunday, the 15th of August, after divine service to present his respects to the elector.

John Frederick was attended by many of his councillors and courtiers, and notwithstanding the esteem he felt for Melancthon, an air of dissatisfaction and reserve was visible in his face. The elector was offended because the King of France, instead of applying to him, had written direct to one of his subjects; but graver motives caused him to regard the Wittemberg doctor’s project with displeasure.

[Sidenote: Letter To The Elector.]

It was no slight thing for Melancthon, who was naturally timid and bashful, to ask his sovereign for anything likely to displease him. Without alluding to the letter he had received from Francis I., which he thought it wiser not to mention, he said: ‘Your Electoral Grace is aware that eighteen Christians have been burnt in Paris, and many others thrown into prison or compelled to fly. The brother of the Bishop of Paris has endeavored to soften the king, and has written to me that that prince has put an end to the executions, and desires to come to an understanding with us in regard to religious matters. Du Bellay invites me to mount my horse and go to France.[734] If I refuse, I appear to despise the invitation or to be afraid. For this reason I am ready in God’s name to go to Paris, as a private individual, if your Highness permits. It is right that we should teach great potentates and foreign nations the importance and beauty of our evangelical cause. It is right that they should learn what our doctrine is and not confound us with fanatics, as our enemies endeavor to do. I do not deceive myself as to my personal unimportance and incapacity; but I also know, that if I do not go to Paris, I shall appear to be ashamed of our cause, and to distrust the words of the King of France, and the good men who are endeavoring to put an end to the persecution will be exposed to the displeasure of the master. I know the weight of the task imposed upon me ... it overwhelms me ... but I will do my duty all the same, and with that intent I conjure your Grace to grant me two or three months’ leave of absence.’

Melancthon, according to custom, handed in a written petition.[735] John Frederick was content to answer coldly that he would make his pleasure known through the members of his council.

The ice was broken. France and Germany were face to face in that castle on the banks of the Elbe. The opposition immediately showed itself. The audience given to Melancthon set all the court in motion. The Germanic spirit prevailed there more than the evangelical spirit, and the knowledge that Germans could be found who were willing to hold out their hands to Francis I. irritated the courtiers. They met in secret conference, looked coldly upon Melancthon, and addressed him rudely. Gifted with the tenderest feelings, the noble-hearted man was deeply wounded. ‘Alas!’ he wrote to Jonas, ‘the court is full of mysteries, or rather of hatreds!... I will tell you all about it when I see you.’[736]

He awaited with anxiety the official communication from the elector. The next day, 16th of August, he was informed that John Frederick’s councillors had a communication to make to him on the part of their master. If the interview with the Elector had been cold, this was icy. Chancellor Bruck—better known as Pontanus, according to the fashion of latinizing names—had been intrusted with this mission. Bruck, who at the famous diet of Augsburg had presented the Evangelical Confession to Charles V. in the presence of all the princes of Germany, was an excellent man, more decided than Melancthon, and in some respects more enlightened; he saw that it was dangerous to accept the pope, if they desired to reject his doctrines. He received the doctor with a severe look, and said to him in a harsh tone: ‘His Highness informs you that the business you have submitted to him is of such importance, that you ought not to have engaged yourself in it without his consent. As your intentions were good, he will overlook it; but as to permitting you to make a hasty and perilous journey to France, all sorts of reasons are against it. Not only his Highness cannot expose your safety; but as he is on the point of discussing with the emperor several questions which concern religion, he fears that if he sent a deputy to Paris, his Imperial Majesty, and the other princes of Germany, would imagine that he was charged with negotiations opposed to the declarations we have made to them. That journey might be the cause of divisions, quarrels, and irreparable evils.[737] You are consequently desired to excuse yourself to the King of France in the best way you can, and the elector promises you he will write to him on the subject.’

[Sidenote: Melancthon’s Sorrow.]

Melancthon withdrew in sorrow. What a position was his! His conscience bade him go to Paris, and his prince forbade him. Do what he would, he must fail in one of his most important duties. If he departs in defiance of the elector’s prohibition, he will not only offend his prince, but set Germany against himself, and sacrifice the circle of activity which God has given him. If he remains, all hope is lost of bringing France to the light of the Gospel. Hesitating and heart-broken, he went first to Wittemberg, desiring to confer with Luther, and did not conceal from his friend the deep indignation with which he was filled.[738] He was called to raise the standard of the Gospel in an illustrious kingdom, and the elector opposed it on account of certain diplomatic negotiations. He declared to Luther that he would not renounce the important mission, and he was fortified in this opinion by the sentiments which that reformer entertained. The two friends could speak of nothing but France, the king, and Du Bellay. ‘As you have consulted me,’ said Luther, ‘I declare that I should see you depart with pleasure.’[739] He also made a communication to Melancthon which gave the latter some hope.

Having been informed of the audience of the 15th, the reformer had just written to the elector. The cries of his brethren in France, delivered to the flames, moved Luther at Wittemberg, as they moved Calvin at Basle. The French reformer addressed an admirable letter to Francis I., and the German reformer endeavored to send Melancthon to him. The two men were thus unsuspectingly ‘conjoint together in opinion and desires.’ ‘I entreat your Grace,’ wrote Luther to John Frederick, in the most pressing manner, ‘to authorize Master Philip to go to France. I am moved by the tearful prayers made to him by pious men, hardly rescued from the stake, entreating him to go and confer with the king, and thus put an end to the murders and burnings. If this consolation be refused them, their enemies, thirsting for blood,[740] will begin to slay and burn with redoubled fury.... Francis I. had written Melancthon an exceedingly kind letter, and envoys have come to solicit him on his behalf.... For the love of God, grant him three months’ leave. Who can tell what God means to do? His thoughts are always higher and better than ours. I should be greatly distressed if so many pious souls, who invite Melancthon with cries of pain, and reckon upon him, should be disappointed and conceive untoward prejudices against us. May God lead your Grace by his Holy Spirit!’

Such was Luther’s affection for his brethren in France. He did more than write. The reformer was not in good health just then; he complained of losing his strength, and of being so _decrepit_ that he was compelled to remain idle half the day.[741] Notwithstanding this, he made the journey from Wittemberg to Torgau, where he had an interview with the prince.[742] Perhaps this journey was anterior to Melancthon’s.

[Sidenote: German Prejudices.]

The simultaneous efforts of these two great reformers ought to have produced a favorable effect upon a prince like the elector. John Frederick, who had succeeded his father John in August, 1532, was true and high-minded, a good husband and a good prince. A disciple of Spalatin and the friend of Luther, he venerated the Word of God, and was full of zeal for the cause of the Reformation. Less phlegmatic than his father, he united judgment and prudence with an enterprising spirit. Such qualities must have led him to favor Melancthon’s journey to France. But he was susceptible and rather obstinate; so that if a project, not originating with him, but with another, displeased him in any way, the probability of its success was not great. And hence Luther’s letter did not make a great impression upon him: it merely increased the excitement. The prejudices of Germany rendered Melancthon’s journey less popular every day; at the court of Torgau, in Saxony, and in the other protestant countries, it was regarded as madness. ‘We at Augsburg,’ wrote Sailer, the deputy of that city, ‘know the King of France well: he cares very little, as everybody knows, about religion, and even morality. He is playing the hypocrite with the pope, and cajoling the Germans, thinking only how he can disappoint the expectations he raises in them. His sole thought is to crush the emperor.’[743] Some even of the best disposed were full of horrible apprehensions, and fancied that they saw an immense pile constructing on which to burn the _master of Germany_. Passions were roused; a violent tempest stirred men’s minds; the most gloomy opinions arrived at Torgau every day from all quarters. Others did not look upon the matter so tragically, but employed the weapons of ridicule. German susceptibility was wounded because Francis I. had not selected some great personage for this mission. They looked down upon Barnabas Voré called De la Fosse: ‘A fine ambassador!’ they said; ‘all the pawnbrokers in France would not advance twenty crowns upon his head.’—‘Even the Jews,’ said another, ‘would not have such a Barnabas, if they could buy him for a penny.’[744]

Before long the people grew tired of jests and suppositions, and circulated extraordinary stories. Many prophesied that Melancthon would be assassinated, even before he had crossed the Rhine. It was reported that the papists had killed the real ambassador on the road, that they had substituted De la Fosse for him, and given him forged letters with a view to influence Melancthon, for whom they had prepared an ambuscade. ‘If he departs, he is a dead man.’[745] Albert of Mayence, the ecclesiastical elector, in particular gave umbrage to the protestants. When these rumors reached Luther, he said: ‘In this I clearly recognize that bishop and his colleagues; of all the devil’s instruments, they are the worst; my fears for Philip increase. Alas! the world belongs to Satan, and Satan to the world.’ Then, remembering an anecdote, he continued: ‘The Archbishop of Mayence, after reading Melancthon’s commentary on the Epistle to the Romans, exclaimed: “The man is possessed!” and throwing the volume on the ground, trampled upon it.’ If the prince, through whose states Melancthon would probably have to pass, treated the book thus, what would he do to the author? Luther was shaken. In 1527, George Winckler, the pious pastor of Halle, having been summoned before this very Archbishop Albert, had been murdered by some horsemen as he was returning by the road Melancthon must take. The great reformer began to change his mind.

The elector, perceiving this, put more solid arguments before him: ‘I fear,’ he said, ‘that if Melancthon goes to France, he will concede to the papists far more than what you, doctor, and the other theologians would grant, and hence there would arise a disunion between you and him that would scandalize Christians and injure the Gospel. Those who invite him are more the disciples of Erasmus than of the Bible. Melancthon will infallibly incur the greatest danger at Paris—danger both to body and soul. I would rather see God take him to himself than permit him to go to France. That is my firm resolve.’[746]

These communications seriously affected Luther: the elector attacked him on his weakest side. The reformer venerated Melancthon, but he knew to what sacrifices his desire for union had more than once been on the point of leading him. If Melancthon was the champion of unity, Luther was the champion of truth: to guard the whole truth with a holy jealousy was his principle. The Reformation, he thought, must triumph by fidelity to the Word of God, and not by the negotiations of kings. Recovering from his first impressions, he said to Melancthon: ‘I begin to suspect these ambassadors.’[747] From that moment he never uttered a word in favor of the journey. Still the dangers of the protestants of France were never out of his thoughts. ‘Must we abandon our brethren?’ he asked himself perpetually. A luminous idea occurred to him: Suppose the evangelicals were to leave France, and come to Germany in search of liberty.[748] He engaged to receive them well. Luther anticipated _the Refuge_ by a century and a half.

[Sidenote: Harsh Letter To Melancthon.]

By degrees the elector gained ground, and the extraordinary adventure proposed to Melancthon became more doubtful every day. From the first the prince had had the politicians and courtiers with him; then the men of letters and citizens, alarmed by the sinister reports, had gone over to his side; and now Luther himself was convinced. Melancthon remained almost alone. His sympathetic heart longed to remove the sword hanging over the heads of the French evangelicals, and it seemed as if nothing could stop him. John Frederick endeavored to convince him. Beyond a doubt, the French reformation, driven at this moment by contrary winds, must reach the haven; but the task must be left to its own crew. Every ship must have its own pilot. John Frederick, therefore, wrote a severe letter to Melancthon, and the tender-hearted divine had to drink the cup to the dregs. ‘You declared that you were ready to undertake a journey to France,’ said the elector, ‘without consulting us. You should, however, have thought of your duty to us, whom God has established as your superior. We were greatly displeased to see that you had gone so far in the matter. You know the relations existing between the King of France and the emperor, and you are not ignorant that we are obliged to respect them. We desire that foreign nations should be brought to the Gospel; but must we go to them to effect their conversion?[749] The undertaking is of great extent, and the success very doubtful. The letters we receive from France are well calculated to make us despair of seeing the evangelical seed bear fruit there. _Do you desire to disturb the public peace of the German nation, and while we have a right to expect that you will second us, do you presume on the contrary to vex us and thwart our plans?_’

This was too much. Melancthon stopped; the arrow, aimed by the elector, had pierced his heart. His decision was soon made: ‘Because of these words,’ he said ‘I will not go.’ He afterwards underlined the passage, and wrote in the margin the words we have just quoted.[750] The elector had been still more severe, when he dictated the despatch. ‘Go,’ were his words, ‘go and do as you please; engage in this adventure. But we leave all the responsibility with you. Consider it well.’ He suppressed this paragraph at the chancellor’s desire.[751]

Melancthon’s simple and tender heart was crushed by his sovereign’s dissatisfaction. Surmounting his natural shyness, he had determined to brave danger, in the hope of seeing the Reformation triumph, and now disgrace was his only reward. The courtiers maintained that he and the other theologians were obstinate and almost imbecile, and would do much better to be content with their schools and leave the government of the Church to others. Melancthon lightened his grief by sharing it with his friends; he wrote to Camerarius, to Sturm, and even to William du Bellay. The great hellenist, who had lived much among the ancient republics of Greece, imagined that Europe was already overrun by the evils under which those states had perished. ‘I have never known a more cruel prince,’ he said to them: ‘with what harshness he treats me![752] He not only does not permit me to depart, but he insults me besides. My fault is in being less obstinate than others. I confess that peace is so precious in my eyes that it ought not to be broken except for matters really great and necessary. Oh! if the elector did but know those who take advantage of this proposed journey to sow discord! It is not the learned who do it, but the ignorant and the fools. They call me deserter and runaway.... O my friend, we live under the _régime_ of the democracy, that is to say, under the tyranny of the unlearned,[753] of people who quarrel about old wives’ stories, and think of nothing but gratifying their passions. How great is the hatred with which they are inflamed against me!... They slander me and say that I am betraying my prince.’ Theramenes was condemned to drink hemlock because he had substituted an aristocracy or government of the worthiest for a democracy, and governed the state with wisdom. ‘I do not deceive myself,’ he exclaimed; ‘the fate of Theramenes awaits me.’[754]

Melancthon was not the only sufferer; his faithful friend, Luther, did not fail him. Although he was now opposed to the French journey, John Frederick’s letter disturbed him seriously; it appeared to him that great changes were necessary, and a stormy future loomed before him. ‘My heart is sad,’ he wrote to Jonas, ‘for I know that such a severe letter will cause Philip the keenest anguish.... All this awakens thoughts which I would rather not have.[755] Another time I will tell you more ... at present I am overwhelmed with sorrow.’ Then, feeling uneasy about Melancthon, he wrote to him: ‘Have you _swallowed_ our prince’s letter?[756] I was exceedingly agitated by it from love to you. Tell me how you are.’ ...

What were the thoughts that occurred to Luther involuntarily? There is some difficulty in deciding. Perhaps the reformer thought that this business might occasion a difference between Church and State. ‘Admire the wisdom of the court,’ he said; ‘see how it boasts of being an actor in this adventure! As for us, we much prefer being merely spectators, and I begin to congratulate myself that the court despises and excludes us.[757] It all happens through the goodness of God, so that we should not be mixed up with these disturbances, which we might perchance have to lament hereafter very sorely. Now we are safe, for whatever is done is done without us. What Demosthenes desired too late, we obtain early—namely, not to be concerned in the government.[758] May God strengthen us therein! Amen.’ Luther appeared to foresee a time when the evangelical Church would have no other support but God, and rejoiced at the prospect.

[Sidenote: Melancthon’s Letter To The King.]

As John Frederick had not yet despatched his letter to Francis I., his councillors delicately advised him to suppress it. ‘Since the king has not written to the elector about the proposed journey,’ said Luther, ‘it would be better for the elector also not to write. A letter from him would perhaps give the king an opportunity of answering, and that should be avoided.’[759] John Frederick still hesitated, for although his letter was written on the 18th of August, it was not despatched until the 28th. ‘Most serene and illustrious king,’ he said, ‘we should have been willing to do your majesty a pleasure, by permitting Melancthon to go to France, especially as it was for an extraordinary propagation of the Gospel, so as to make it yield the most abundant and the richest fruit.[760] But we had to take into consideration the difficulties of the present times.’ Then, as a final reason, the elector added: ‘Lastly, we do not remember for certain ... that your Majesty has written to us about Melancthon. If in any future contingency you should write to us for him,’ continued John Frederick, ‘and should assure us that he will be restored safe and sound, we will permit him to proceed to you. Be assured that we shall always readily do whatever we can to propagate the Gospel of Christ in every place, to favor the temporal and spiritual interests of your Majesty, your kingdom, and its church, and to hasten the deliverance of the Christian commonwealth.’

Melancthon, to whom the elector communicated this letter,[761] feared that instead of quieting the King of France, it would only irritate him still more. He could not bear the idea of answering ungratefully a powerful monarch who had shown such kindness towards him. This thought engrossed him from morning to night. On the very day when the Elector Frederick’s letter was despatched, Melancthon sent off three, the first of which was for the king. He feared, above all things, that Francis I. would relinquish the great enterprise that was to restore unity and truth to the Church. He therefore wrote to him, suppressing the indignation he felt at the elector’s refusal. ‘Most Christian and most mighty king,’ he said, ‘France infinitely excels all the kingdoms of the world, in that it has continually been a vigilant sentinel for the defence of the Christian religion.[762] Wherefore, I humbly congratulate your Majesty for having undertaken to reform the doctrine of the Church, not by violent remedies but by reasonable means;[763] and I beseech your Majesty not to cease bestowing all your thoughts and all your care upon this matter. Sire, do not allow yourself to be stopped by the harsh judgments and rude writings of certain men. Do not suffer their imprudence to nullify a project so useful to the Church. After receiving your letter, I made every effort to hasten to your Majesty; for there is nothing I desire more than to aid the Church according to my poverty. I had conceived the best hopes, but great obstacles keep me back.... Voré de la Fosse will inform you of them.’

If the doctor of Germany was reserved when writing to the king, he allowed the emotions of his heart to be seen in the letters he wrote the same day to Du Bellay and Sturm: ‘Could anything be more distressing,’ he said to Du Bellay, ‘than to be exposed at one and the same time to the anger of the most Christian king, the harsh treatment of the elector, and the calumnies of the people?... But the injustice of men shall not rob me of moderation of spirit or zeal for religion. Touching the journey, I have promised Voré de la Fosse to go to Frankfort shortly, whence, if it be desired, I will hasten to you.’ He had not, therefore, entirely given up France. ‘I hope,’ he said in conclusion, ‘that the king’s mind will be so guided by your advice and by that of your brother the cardinal, that he will henceforward employ all his powers in setting forth the glory of Christ.’[764]

The work of union to which Francis I. invited Melancthon, had struck deep root in the doctor’s mind. Sadolet, Bishop of Carpentras (who was raised to the cardinalate the year after), having published a treatise on the matter under discussion, the reformer wrote to Sturm that Sadolet advocated the very points he was resolved to defend, but he regretted to see him indulge in such bitter attacks upon the protestants.[765] A little later, when the illustrious Budæus, on whom he had counted, praised Francis for his zeal in expiating and punishing the assaults of the heretics,[766] Melancthon was hurt, but not disconcerted. ‘I have read his treatise,’ he said to Sturm, ‘but what does it matter? All these things inflame rather than cool me; they fan my desire to go to you, to make my ideas known to all those learned men, those friends of what is good, and to learn theirs. Let us unite all our forces to save the Church: no injustice of man shall check my zeal.’[767]

[Sidenote: Motives Of Francis.]

In this respect Melancthon did not stand alone: Francis I. showed no less energy, and was careful not to be offended at the elector’s refusal. The alliance of the protestants became more necessary to him every day. The prince who did so much in France for the arts, and who, as the patron of scholars, received the title of _Father of Letters_, desired a reform after Erasmus’s pattern. There was a very marked distinction, which it is impossible to overlook, between Francis I. and his son Henry II.; but the love of knowledge was not the king’s chief motive: he entertained certain political designs which greatly increased his eagerness for an alliance with the protestants. The Duke of Milan was just dead, and the ambitious Francis desired to conquer the duchy for his second son. Moreover, the evangelical party was not without influence at court: Margaret, Queen of Navarre, Admiral Chabot, and many noblemen favored the Gospel; and they were supported by the Du Bellays and others of the moderate party. The men of the Romish faction rallied round Diana of Poitiers and Catherine of Medicis.

The king had discovered that John Frederick had felt hurt at seeing a foreign monarch address one of his subjects on a matter touching the cause of which the elector was regarded as the head. Francis probably thought the prince’s susceptibility to be very natural, and therefore, instead of breaking with him, determined to profit by the lesson he had received. He would resume his plans, but he would write no more to Melancthon: he would address the elector in person, or rather all the protestant princes united, according to the usual forms; and to avoid reminding them of his first fault, the name of Melancthon should not be mentioned. The zeal of the learned professor and of the powerful monarch came, we may be sure, from different sources; one proceeded from on high, the other from below; but the same desire animated both of them.

The Romish party were greatly agitated when they heard of the king’s intentions, and again attempted to thwart a project they regarded as highly pernicious. The Sorbonne represented to Francis I. that no concession ought to be made, and proceeded to demonstrate, after an extraordinary fashion, the articles rejected by the Lutherans. ‘They deny the power of the saints to heal the sick,’ said the theologians; ‘but is not this miraculous power proved by the virtue the kings of France possess of healing the _evil_ by a touch?’ Francis I. was an extraordinary saint, and such an argument probably amused him more than it convinced him. The Cardinal De Tournon proceeded more wisely, by reiterating to the monarch that he could not have Milan without the help of the pope. But even this argument did not shake Francis I.: he highly appreciated the pope’s friendship, but he valued still more highly the spears of the lansquenets.

[Sidenote: Mission Of Du Bellay.]

The protestants were about to assemble at Smalcalde; two powerful princes, the Dukes of Wurtemberg and Pomerania, had joined the evangelical alliance, and steps had been taken by the confederates to have a large army constantly on foot. When he heard of this, the King of France felt new hopes, and began a second campaign, which he planned better than the first. Instead of employing an obscure gentleman like Voré de la Fosse, he selected the most illustrious of his diplomatists, and ordered William du Bellay to start for Germany. The latter was still more zealous than his master, and fearing he should arrive too late, wrote from Lorraine (where he happened to be staying) to the Elector of Saxony, praying him to prolong the meeting for a few days, ‘as the King of France had intrusted him with certain propositions touching the peace of Christendom.’[768] The news of such a mission delighted the friends of the Reformation, and filled the Roman party with indignation. ‘Never,’ said Sturm, ‘never before now has the cause of the Gospel been in such a favorable position in France.’[769] The elector, Melancthon, and Du Bellay arrived at Smalcalde in the middle of December.

The ambassador of Francis I. immediately demanded a private audience of the elector, and on the 16th December handed him the letters in which the king, with many professions of zeal for the pacification of the Christian Church, besought the elector to co-operate earnestly ‘in so pious and holy a work.’[770] John Frederick was not convinced; he always set religion before policy, but he knew that Francis I. adopted the contrary order. Fearing, accordingly, that behind this _pious work_, the king concealed war with the emperor, he immediately pointed to the insurmountable barrier which separated them: ‘Our alliance,’ he said, ‘has been formed solely to maintain the pure Word of God, and propagate the holy doctrine of faith.’ The diplomatist was not to be baffled: there were two pockets in his portfolio—one containing religious, the other political matters. Opening the former, he said: ‘We ask you to send us doctors to deliberate on the union of the Churches.’ Germany spoke of the _Word_ and _doctrine_: France of _union_ and of the _Church_: this was characteristic. John Frederick replied that he would consult his allies. The audience came to an end, and the 19th December was appointed by the princes and deputies of the cities to receive the ambassador of France.

[Sidenote: Intercession.]

To gain this assembly was the essential thing, and this the king had felt. Accordingly, in the letter he addressed to that body, he made use of every plea, and spoke ‘of the ancient, sacred, and unbroken friendship which united France and Germany, and of the unalterable affection and good-will he entertained towards the princes.’[771] Francis I. hoped that these worthy Germans would allow themselves to be caught by his words; but they were more clear-sighted than he imagined. Du Bellay had observed this; he had ascertained the unfavorable prepossessions of Germany, and when he rose to speak, he described the pious and peaceable evangelicals put to death by Francis as seditious persons who desired to stir up the people. ‘Most illustrious and most excellent princes,’ he continued, ‘certain persons, moved by hatred, pretend that the states of the empire ought to be on their guard when foreign kings send them embassies, seeing that those monarchs speak in one way and act in another.[772] The French have not been named, I must confess; but they are clearly pointed at. Who has been more strictly faithful to his friendships than the King of France? Who has been more prompt to brave danger for the good of Germany? What nations have ever been more united than the Germans and the French? The king is convinced that you think very soundly on many things; but he could have desired a little more moderation in some of them. Like yourselves, he feels that the negligence and superstition of men have introduced many useless ceremonies into the Church; but he does not approve of their suppression without a public decree.[773] He fears lest a diversity of rites should engender dissension of minds, and be the cause of civil strife throughout Christendom. Reconciliation is the dearest of his wishes. If you are willing to receive him into your association, you will find him a sure friend. Diversity of opinion has separated you from him hitherto, but similitude of doctrine will henceforward unite him.’[774] In conclusion, Du Bellay renewed his demand for a congress of French and German doctors, to confer on the matters in dispute.

This clever oration did not convince the protestants; they had remained cold, while Du Bellay was pleading his cause so warmly. The point on which Francis I. and his ambassador wished to touch lightly was that which the Germans had most at heart. They could not forget what they had heard about Du Bourg and the cripple and other martyrs, prisoners, and fugitives. They were shocked at the idea of entering into alliance with the man who had shed the blood of their brethren. They determined to ‘open their mouths for the dumb, and to support the cause of all such as were appointed to destruction.’ ‘We will not suffer in our states,’ they answered, ‘any stirrers-up of sedition, and we cannot, therefore, condemn the King of France for putting them down in his kingdom. But we beseech him not to punish all without distinction. We ask him to spare those who, having been convinced of the errors with which religion is infected, have embraced the pure doctrine of the Gospel, which we ourselves possess. Merciless men, who wish to save their interests and their power, have cruelly defended their impious opinions, and, in order to exasperate the king’s mind, have supposed false crimes, which they impute to innocent and pious Christians. It is the duty of princes to seek God’s glory, to cleanse the Church from error, and to stop iniquitous cruelties; and we earnestly beseech the mighty King of France to give his most serious attention to this great duty only.’[775]

This noble answer was not encouraging. The ambassador was not disconcerted, but, dexterously eluding the subject, merely assured the assembly once more of his master’s firm resolution to labor at the reformation of the Church. The great point was to know what would be the nature of this reformation. Why assemble a congress of learned men to discuss it, if it was certain beforehand that they could not come to an understanding? The protestants present did not all think alike. The religious men, who were very incredulous on the subject of the king’s evangelical piety, thought that nothing ought to be done; on the other hand, the men of expediency said it was worth looking into; and, the proposition having been made to hold a preliminary consultation (at Smalcalde), it was resolved that next day (20th of December) there should be a meeting between Du Bellay, Bruck the electoral chancellor, Melancthon, John Sturm, deputy from Strasburg,[776] the delegates of the Landgrave of Hesse,—in whose states the conference was held,—and Spalatin, the elector’s chaplain, who was appointed secretary. The opposing parties were now to try if they could come to some arrangement. It was no slight task assumed by the minister of Francis I., who came forward, according to his master’s instructions, as the representative of the catholic party; but no one knew better than Du Bellay how far, in the king’s opinion, France could then be reformed, if the protestants consented to enter into alliance with her. This explanation is important: it is worth our while to learn the plan conceived by the French government.

[Sidenote: Du Bellay’s Propositions.]

At daybreak[777] on the 20th of December the members of the conference assembled. They had chosen that early hour, probably, because important business still demanded their attention. An ambassador from the pope, the famous legate Vergerio, who afterwards came over to the side of the reformers, was then in the town. He had been sent to propose a council, and was to receive the answer of the protestants on the following morning. The delegates having taken their seats, the French ambassador explained what was the nature of the reform to which the kingdom of France would lend a helping hand. ‘Firstly,’ he said, ‘with regard to the primacy of the Roman pontiff, the King of France thinks, as you do, that he possesses it by human, and not by divine, right. We are not inclined to loose the rein too much in this respect. Hitherto the popes have employed the power they claim in making and unmaking kings, which is certainly going too far. True, some of our theologians maintain that the papacy is of divine right; but, when the king asked for proofs, they could not give him any.’ Melancthon was satisfied; the chancellor less so; Bruck shared the opinion of the King of England, who, says Du Bellay, ‘would not concede any authority to the pope, whether coming from God or from man.’

‘As for the sacrament of the Eucharist,’ continued the ambassador, ‘your opinions on the matter please the king, but not his theologians, who support transubstantiation with all their might. His Majesty seeks for arguments to justify your way of thinking, and is ready to profess it, if you will give him sound ones. Now you know that the king is the only person who commands in his realm.’[778]

‘As for the mass,’ continued Du Bellay, a little uneasy, like a man walking over a quicksand, ‘there are great disputes about it. The king is of opinion that many prayers and silly, impious legends have been foisted into that portion of divine worship, and that those absurd and ridiculous passages must be expurgated, and the primitive order restored.’[779] As Francis I. was particularly averse to masses celebrated in honor of the saints to obtain their intercession with God, Du Bellay repeated one or two of the king’s expressions on that point. ‘One day the king said: “I have a prayer-book, written many years ago, in which there is no mention of the intercession of saints. I am assured that Bessarion[780] himself said: ‘As for me, I am more concerned about live saints than dead ones.’”’