married and went to reside at Wittenberg. Thenceforth the two families lived on terms of almost daily intercourse.

Melanchthon put up with the weaknesses and faults of his friends in a spirit of extraordinary patience and considerateness. When reviled, he reviled not again. His early colleague, John Agricola, treated him for a long time, with great asperity. Yet after all, Melanchthon could write to him thus: "I affirm in truth that I have ever loved you, and that I wish that our mutual good will may continue uninterrupted; at least in eternity it will be pleasanter, if our friendship, begun here, should exist unbroken." Minor differences in religious opinions were of little account with him, provided the essential articles of faith were believed. In 1546, writing to Musculus, he says, "I think that all connected in this university, and of one mind on the main doctrines, ought to be mutual friends, though in the explanation of less important points, one may express himself more, another less correctly." In his correspondence which was most extensive, reaching to every part of Europe, Melanchthon made it a special object to show a disinterested spirit, and to use conciliatory language, so that all Protestants might be heartily united, and present an unbroken front against the assaults of their wily adversary.

Modesty and Gentleness of Melanchthon.

With all his learning and high reputation, Melanchthon was distinguished for humility and the most unassuming manners. In 1527, he wrote: "My desire is to be useful to youth who are pious and zealous in study; when I was yet young, I had no other aim. At least while employed in sacred studies, I never had it for an object to awaken admiration on acccount of my abilities; this only appeared important to me, that I should perform what becomes a reasonable man, namely, to gain a more exact acquaintance with divine truth." When looking back on his life, near its close, he could affirm, "I have labored in my office, so far as God has given me ability, to promote the philosophical education of youth, and I have not sought in this instruction, a splendid name." In one of his lectures, he remarks: "A doctor is one who is indirectly called of God, whose vocation it is to teach, not to administer the sacraments, who has not the power Her last words " God will not forsake ine," MeOn his own dying bed he spoke often and

1 This lady died in 1558. lanchthon could never forget. dreamed of her.

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am."

Mildness and Timidity of Melanchthon.

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of governing as a pastor has, but who is under the pastor, as I When excessive compliments or honors were tendered him, as was sometimes the case, he could hardly restrain feelings of indignation. "I have no pleasure," he writes to one," in that extravagant praise which you shower upon me with both hands. I must be very arrogant to take it to myself."

Nearly allied to the quality to which we have alluded, was gentleness, or mildness. Sudden bursts of anger were not indeed altogether foreign to him, but the feeling quickly disappeared like some light cloud, that for a moment obscures the face of the sky. Love of peace was innate; envy, hatred and contention were his abhorrence. "Patient silence" was his motto; simple exhibition of the truth, without passion, was his practice. "T will make no answer to reproaches," he writes, "but I will follow the words of the Psalmist, they cursed, but I entreated." Many grievous disorders, says Celsus, are cured by abstinence and quiet. Beautiful is the observation of Cyprian: 'He is not unhappy who hears insulting language, but he who utters it.' No music is sweeter than patiently to bear reproaches. Nobly says Euripides, that when two men are contending and one becomes angry, wisdom dwells with him who remains silent."" Still, Melanchthon on some occasions, made use of delicate raillery, and of language which implied the strongest disapprobation of the views of his opponents.

It would not be strange, if the habitual mildness of the great Reformer sometimes degenerated into weakness, which might tempt him to compromise the truth, or shrink from declaring it when it was unpopular. Much has been written by the zealous Lutherans in condemnation of his timidity, and of his disposition to falter in his path, if not to return to communion with Rome.1 There was doubtless some ground for these charges. The impression of his weakness, in this particular, which is so prevalent, must have had some foundation in truth, yet there were not wanting great occasions when the lamb became a lion, and exhibited a courage worthy of Luther. It was in the conferences at Augsburg, says Mosheim, that the character of Melanchthon appeared in its true colors. Here the votaries of Rome exhausted their efforts to gain over to their party this pillar of the Refor. mation, whose abilities and virtues added such a lustre to the Protestant cause. Under the influence of mild and generous

1 Mayer published a dissertation in 1695, entitled De nimia lenitate Melanchthonis, and Schumacher one in 1700, De Timore Phil. Melanch.

treatment, he was apt to sink into a kind of yielding softness, but when he was addressed in imperious language and menacing terms, he was firm as a rock. A spirit of intrepidity animated all his words and actions, and he looked down with contempt upon the threats of power and the fear of death. The truth is that in this great man, a soft and yielding temper was joined with the most inviolable fidelity and to the most invincible attachment to the truth. After the Protestant Confession had been presented to the Council, the cardinal Campegius inquired of Melanchthon, if he still persisted in his opinion. He replied that neither he nor his associates could abandon the known truth, and he besought him not to denounce their sentiments, but to allow them to avow what they could never deny with a good conscience. Campegius answered, I cannot allow it, for the successor of Peter is infallible." "Well then," rejoined Melanchthon, "we commend ourselves and our concerns to God. If He be for us, who can be against us? We shall await with patience whatever may happen to us. In our provinces, there are above forty thousand persons, including poor ministers, their families and parishioners, whose spiritual interest we cannot abandon, but will do whatever we are able for them, praying for the help of Jesus Christ whose cause we embrace; and in our calling we are prepared to labor with patience and endure all difficulties. If it be necessary, we would, if such be the will of God, rather fight and die than betray so many souls." In the Conference at Worms, in 1540, he exhibited the most determined courage. "While the Spanish and French soldiers stood before the door," he said, "I would not assent to the ambiguous articles." "With clear and noble words," says Dr. Goldstein, "Melanchthon expounded many dark passages, and with that earnest and uncommonly sweet voice of his, made, I know not how, a deep impression on the feelings." In the following year, at Regensburg, the emperor found fault with his great pertinacity and vehemence. The following proof of his personal courage is mentioned. In the evening of June 3, 1555, a band of students appeared with tumultuous noises before his house. He armed himself with a huntsman's spear, and in company with his servant, went down to them in the street, and in a determined manner, ordered silence. All obeyed, except a Polish Knight, who rushed upon him with a drawn sword. Melanchthon, nothing daunted, vigorously and successfully defended himself.

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His Religious Character.

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Melanchthon's Piety.

Piety was at the basis of Melanchthon's character. The fear of God was the animating motive, without which his great intellectual endowments would have lost their worth. "We live," he writes, "because God blows upon us wonderfully with his breath, not through any power of nature. This I myself experience." "The same feelings with which we enter the house of God, ought to accompany us to the school, so that we may here learn and be able to communicate divine things. Over the entrance to many old churches, stands the inscription, hewn in stone, My house is a house of prayer.' This should also be inscribed upon the school-house, since schools are a part of public religious service, and therein we teach and learn the truth; and prayer should be connected therewith." Melanchthon had the greatest delight in the public worship of God, especially in the singing of hymns. In his own house, his piety shone forth in a very attractive manner. Indeed he found little there to try his feelings. His wife, children, grandchildren and his aged servant, John, were among those who feared the Lord and rejoiced to do his will.' As soon as he awoke in the morning, he offered a short prayer, after a prescribed form. He then read that passage in the Scriptures which was designated in the formularies of the church. He was much, though not superstitiously attached to the Lord's Prayer, and other prescribed portions of the church symbols. Among his favorite texts of Scripture, were John, 10: 27-29, "My sheep hear my voice," etc.; John 14: 23, "If a man love me," etc.; John 17: 20, 21, "Neither pray I for these alone," etc.; and, as might be anticipated, 1 John 4: 16, "God is love, and whosoever dwelleth in love, dwelleth in God and God in him." But it is unnecessary to refer to other facts and incidents which illustrate Melanchthon's religious character. The spirit with which he was actuated and the whole tenor of his life, attest the depth of his religious convictions. The dispositions which he exhibited in controversy and in the presence of princes and emperors, were a surer indication of true piety, than any fervor of zeal or boldness

1 Melanchthon, writing to Dietrich, says: "Your sermons respecting the sufferings of the Son of God, I have not yet read, but I will read them dili. gently. My servant, who is eager to peruse such writings, greatly approves

them."

of confession. Foes as well as friends, bear witness to his attractive and almost faultless example.

Religious Belief of Melanchthon.

There were some events in the history, and several traits in the character of this Reformer, which would lead us to predict with some assurance the characteristics of his theological belief. One of these facts was the elegant classical training which he had received. He, whose mind was imbued with the spirit of Homer and Cicero, would view almost every topic of revelation in a different light from that of many of his contemporaries. The intimate friend of Reuchlin and Erasmus could not be confined in scholastic trammels. The liberalizing influences of an acquaintance with Greek literature especially, must have diffused themselves over his theological speculations. Again, fairness was a characteristic of Melanchthon's mind. Though familiar with the dialectics of the schools, he had no inclination to entangle an opponent with sophisms, or to gain a cause by any other method than that of open and honest argument. In this respect he excelled all the Reformers. Truth, not victory, was so manifestly his object, that he conciliated the esteem and love of not a few who would have been otherwise hostile to the Reformation. His countenance and entire aspect were an index of candor and freedom from prejudice. His uncommon amiableness of disposition would naturally keep him aloof from those who would be esteemed the most rigidly orthodox. He was not formed by nature to tread precisely in the steps of the bishop of Hippo, nor give an unconditional adhesion to the lawgivers at Wittenberg or Geneva. His ardent love of truth would preserve him from being a time-server; his loving heart would not coalesce with any bigoted religionist.

From these considerations we should expect that Melanchthon would believe both declarations of Holy Writ, "thy word is a lamp to my feet," and "the heavens declare the glory of God." Not only the fanatical sect of Anabaptists, but many high Lutherans, rejected every evidence for the divine attributes from those sciences which do not stand in immediate connection with theology. They contended that the reason of man is altogether blinded by the fall, and that man before his conversion, which is effected by mere mercy, can know nothing of God. But antiquity,