He also says that the Landgrave’s appeal to his sermon on Genesis

would be of no avail, because he (Luther) had taught, both previous to

and after it, that the law of Moses was not to be introduced, though

some of it “might be used secretly in cases of necessity, or even

publicly by order of the authorities.” But advice extorted from him

in Confession by the distress of a suffering conscience could “not be

held to constitute a true precedent in law.” He here touches upon a

thought to which he was to return in entirely different circumstances:

Neither the preachers, nor the Gospel, lay down outward laws, not

even concerning religion; the secular authorities are the only

legislators; ecclesiastical guidance comprises only advice, direction

and the expounding of Scripture, and has to do only with the interior

life, being without any jurisdiction, even spiritual; as public

men, the pastors were appointed to preach, pray and give advice; to

the individual they rendered service amidst the “secret needs of

conscience.”[103]

He thereby absolves himself from the consequence apparently involved

in the step he had taken, viz. the introduction of polygamy as a

“general right”; it does not follow that: “What you do from necessity,

I have a right to do”; “necessity knows no law or precedent,”

hence a man who is driven by hunger to steal bread, or who kills

in self-defence is not punished, yet what thus holds in cases of

necessity cannot be taken as a law or rule. On the other hand, Luther

will not listen to the proposal then being made in Hesse, viz. that,

in order to counteract the bad example, a special edict should be

issued declaring polygamy unlawful as a general rule, but allowable

in an exceptional case, on the strength “of secret advice given

in Confession”; on the contrary, it would be far better simply to

denounce polygamy as unlawful.

Hence if the Landgrave, so Luther concludes, “will not forsake the

sweetheart” on whom “he has so set his heart that she has become a need

to him,” and if, moreover, he will “keep her out of the way,” then “we

theologians and confessors shall vindicate it before God, as a case

of necessity to be excused by the examples of Genesis. But defend it

before the world and ‘_iure nunc regente_,’ that we cannot and shall

not do. Short of this the Landgrave may count upon our best service.”

The Landgrave was, however, not satisfied with either of these letters,

both of which came into his hands. He wanted from Luther a clear and

public admission of his share in the business, which, to the Prince’s

peril, had now become as good as public, and threatened to constitute a

precedent. By this invitation the Prince naturally released Luther from

all obligation of secrecy. Even the making public of the immorality,

which had served as a pretext for the new marriage, he did not mind

in the least, for his laxity in morals was already a matter of common

knowledge; he discussed his lapses with the theologians as openly as

though all of them had been his confessors and spiritual directors;

he was also quite ready to repeat his admissions, “as in Confession,”

before secular witnesses. Such was the depth of depravity into which

his passions had brought him.

Yielding to pressure brought to bear on him by Saxony, Luther had

meanwhile conceived the idea of publishing a work against polygamy.

The new expedient had indeed been foreshadowed in his last letter. On

June 17, 1540, Jonas wrote to George of Anhalt that Luther might be

expected to write a work “_Contra polygamiam_.”[104] Martin Beyer of

Schaffhausen, on his return from Wittenberg, also brought the news, so

Bullinger was informed, that “Luther was being compelled by the Hessian

business to write a work against the plurality of wives.”[105]

The project was, however, never realised, probably on account of the

insuperable difficulties it involved.

But though this work never saw the light, history has preserved for us

a number of Luther’s familiar conversations, dating from this period

and taken down directly from his lips, utterances which have every

claim to consideration and faithfully mirror his thoughts.

_Luther’s Private Utterances Regarding the Bigamy._

The Table-Talk, dating from the height of the hubbub caused by the

bigamy, affords us a vivid psychological picture of Luther.

Of this Table-Talk we have the detailed and authentic notes from the

pen of Johann Mathesius, who was present. These notes, in their best

form, became known only in 1903, thanks to Kroker’s edition, but,

for the better understanding of Luther’s personality, his intimate

descriptions of what was passing in his mind are of inestimable value.

Conjointly with the principal passage, which probably dates from June

18, 1540, other sayings dropped regarding the same matter may be

considered.[106]

The scene in the main was as follows: The usual guests, among them

the disciples with their note-books, were assembled after the evening

meal in Luther’s house, grouped around the master, who seemed sunk

in thought; Melanchthon, however, was missing, for he lay seriously

ill at Weimar, overwhelmed by anxiety now that his consent to the

bigamy was leaking out. Whilst yet at table two letters were handed

to Luther, the first from Brück, the Electoral Chancellor, the second

from the Elector himself. Both referred to Melanchthon. The Elector

requested Luther to betake himself as soon as possible to Weimar to

his friend, who seemed in danger of death, and informed him at the

same time of the measures threatened by the Landgrave in the matter of

the second marriage.

Luther, after glancing at Brück’s missive concerning Melanchthon, said

to the guests: “Philip is pining away for vexation, and has fallen

into a fever (‘_tertiana_’). But why does the good fellow crucify

himself so about this business? All his anxiety will do no good. I do

wish I were with him! I know how sensitive he is. The scandal pains

him beyond measure. I, on the other hand, have a thick skin, I am a

peasant, a hard Saxon when such × are concerned.[107] I expect I shall

be summoned to Philip.”

Someone thereupon interjected the remark: “Doctor, perhaps the

Colloquium [which was to be held at Hagenau] will not now take place”;

Luther replied: “They will certainly have to wait for us....”

A second messenger now came in with the Elector’s letter, conveying

the expected summons to proceed to Weimar. On the reader the news

it contained concerning the Landgrave fell like the blows of a

sledge-hammer. After attentively perusing the letter “with an earnest

mien,” he said: “Philip the Landgrave is cracked; he is now asking the

Emperor to let him keep both wives.”

The allusion to the Landgrave’s mental state is explained by a former

statement of Luther’s made in connection with some words uttered by

the Landgrave’s father: “The old Landgrave [William II] used to say

to his son Philip: ‘If you take after your mother, then you won’t come

to much; if you take after me, you will have nothing about you that

I can praise; if you take after both of us, then you will be a real

demon.’” Luther had added: “I fear he is also mad, for it runs in the

family.”[108] “And Philip [Melanchthon] said: ‘This [the bigamy] is

the beginning of his insanity.’”[109]

When Luther re-entered, so the narrator continues, “he was as cheerful

as could be, and he said to us: ‘It is grand having something to do,

for then we get ideas; otherwise we do nothing but feed and swill. How

our Papists will scream! But let them howl to their own destruction.

Our cause is a good one and no fault is to be found with our way of

life, or rather [he corrects himself] with the life of those who

take it seriously. If the Hessian Landgrave has sinned, then that

is sin and a scandal. That we have frequently discounselled by good

and holy advice; they have seen our innocence and yet refuse to see

it. Hence they [the Papists] are now forced to look the Hessian _in

anum_[110] (i.e. are witnesses of his shame). But they will be brought

to destruction by [our] scandals because they refuse to listen to the

pure doctrine; for God will not on this account forsake us or His

Word, or spare them, even though we have our share of sin, for He has

resolved to overthrow the Papacy. That has been decreed by God, as we

read in Daniel, where it is foretold of him [Antichrist] who is even

now at the door: “And none shall help him” (Dan. xi. 45). In former

times no power was able to root out the Pope; in our own day no one

will be able to help him, because Antichrist is revealed.’”

Thus amidst the trouble looming he finds his chief consolation in his

fanatical self-persuasion that the Papacy must fall and that he is the

chosen instrument to bring this about, i.e. in his supposed mission to

thwart Antichrist, a Divine mission which could not be contravened.

Hence his pseudo-mysticism was once again made to serve his purpose.

“If scandals occur amongst us,” he continues, “let us not forget that

they existed in Christ’s own circle. The Pharisees were doubtless in

glee over our Lord Christ on account of the wickedness of Judas. In

the same way the Landgrave has become a Judas to us. ‘Ah, the new

prophet has such followers [as Judas, cried the foes of Christ!] What

good can come of Christ?’--But because they refused to open their

eyes to the miracles, they were forced to see ‘_Christum Crucifixum_’

and ... later to see and suffer under Titus. But our sins may obtain

pardon and be easily remedied; it is only necessary that the Emperor

should forbid [the bigamy], or that our Princes should intercede [for

the Hessian], which they are at liberty to do, or that he should

repudiate the step he took.”

“David also fell, and surely there were greater scandals under Moses

in the wilderness. Moses caused his own masters to be slain.... But

God had determined to drive out the heathen, hence the scandals

amongst the Jews availed not to prevent it. Thus, too, our sins are

pardonable, but not those of the Papists; for they are contemners

of God, crucify Christ and, though they know better, defend their

blasphemies.”

“What advantage do they expect of it,” he goes on to ask in an

ironical vein; “they put men to death, but we work for life and take

many wives.” This he said, according to the notes, “with a joyful

countenance and amidst loud laughter.”[111] “God has resolved to vex

the people, and, when my turn comes, I will give them hard words and

tell them to look Marcolfus ‘_in anum_’ since they refuse to look

him in the face.” He then went on: “I don’t see why I should trouble

myself about the matter. I shall commend it to our God. Should the

Macedonian [the Landgrave] desert us, Christ will stand by us, the

blessed Schevlimini [םיבילי כש: Sit at my right hand (Ps. cix. 1)]. He

has surely brought us out of even tighter places. The restitution of

Würtemberg puts this scandal into the shade, and the Sacramentarians

and the revolt [of the Peasants]; and yet God delivered us out of

all that.” What he means to say is: Even greater scandal was given

by Philip of Hesse when he imposed on Würtemberg the Protestant Duke

Ulrich, heedless of the rights of King Ferdinand and of the opposition

of the Emperor and the Church;[112] in the same way the ever-recurring

dissensions on the Sacrament were an even greater scandal, and so was

the late Peasant War which threatened worse things to the Evangelical

cause than the Hessian affair.

“Should the Landgrave fall away from us.”--This fear lest Philip

should desert their party Luther had expressed in some rather earlier

utterances in 1540, when he had described more particularly the

Landgrave’s character and attitude. “A strange man!” he says of him.

“He was born under a star. He is bent upon having his own way, and so

fancies he will obtain the approval of Emperor and Pope. It may be that

he will fall away from us on account of this affair.... He is a real

Hessian; he cannot be still nor does he know how to yield. When once

this business is over he will be hatching something else. But perhaps

death will carry him, or her (Margaret), off before.” A Hessian

Councillor who was present quite bore out what Luther had said: Nothing

was of any avail with the Landgrave, “what he once undertakes he cannot

be induced to give up.” In proof of this those present instanced the

violence and utter injustice of the raid made on Würtemberg. “Because

he is such a strange character,” Luther remarked, “I must let it pass.

The Emperor, moreover, will certainly not let him have his way.”[113]

“No sensible man would have undertaken that campaign, but he, carried

away by fury, managed it quite well. Only wait a little! It [the new

scandal] will pass!” Luther was also ready to acknowledge that the

Landgrave, in spite of the promises and offers of the Emperor and Duke

of Saxony, had remained so far “very faithful” to the Evangel.[114]

In the conversation on June 18, Luther adopts a forcedly light view

of the matter: “It is only a three-months’ affair, then the whole

thing will fizzle out. Would to God Philip would look at it in this

light instead of grieving so over it! The Papists are now Demeas

and I Mitio”; with these words commences a string of word-for-word

quotations from Terence’s play “_Adelphi_,” all concerning the harsh

and violent Demeas, whom Luther takes as a figure of the Catholic

Church, and the mild and peaceable Mitio, in whom Luther sees himself.

In the Notes the sentences are given almost unaltered: “The prostitute

and the matron living in one house.” “A son is born.” “Margaret has

no dowry.” “I, Mitio, say: ‘May the gods direct all for the best!’”

“Man’s life is like a throw of the dice.”[115]

“I overlook much worse things than this,” he continues. “If anyone

says to me: Are you pleased with what has taken place? I reply: No;

oh, would that I could alter it. Since I cannot, I am resolved to bear

it with equanimity. I commit it all to our dear God. Let Him preserve

His Church as it now stands in order that it may remain in the unity

of faith and doctrine and the pure confession of the Word; all I hope

for is that it may never grow worse!”

“On rising from the table he said cheerfully: I will not give the

devil and the Papists the satisfaction of thinking that I am troubled

about the matter. God will see to it. To Him we commend the whole.”

In thus shifting the responsibility from his own shoulders and putting

it on God--Whose chosen instrument, even at the most critical

juncture, he would still persuade himself he was--he finds the most

convenient escape from anxiety and difficulty. It has all been laid

upon us by God: “We must put up with the devil and his filth as long

as we live.” Therefore, forward against the Papists, who seek to

conceal their “sodomitic vices” behind this bigamy! “We may not and

shall not yield. Let them do their dirty work and let us lay odds

on.”[116] With these words he is again quite himself. He is again the

inspired prophet, oblivious of all save his mission to champion God’s

cause; all his difficulties have vanished and even his worst moral

faults have disappeared. But in this frame of mind Luther was not

always able to persevere.

“All I hope for is that it may never grow worse.” The depressing

thought implied in these words lingered in the depths of his soul in

spite of all his forced merriment and bravado. “Alas, my God, what

have we not to put up with from fanatics and scandals! One follows on

the heels of the other; when this [the bigamy] has been adjusted, then

it is certain that something else will spring up, and many new sects

will also arise.... But God will preserve His Christendom.”[117]

Meanwhile the remarkably speedy recovery of his friend Melanchthon

consoled him. Soon after the arrival of the letters mentioned above

Luther set out for Weimar. His attentions to the sick man, and

particularly his words of encouragement, succeeded, so to say, in

recalling him to life. Luther speaks of it in his letters at that time

as a “manifest miracle of God,” which puts our unbelief to shame.[118]

The fanciful embellishment which he gave to the incident when narrating

it, making it into a sort of miracle, has left its traces in his friend

Ratzeberger’s account.[119]

Confident as Luther’s language here seems, when it is a question of

infusing new courage into himself, still he admits plainly enough one

point, concerning which he has not a word to say in his correspondence

with strangers or in his public utterances: A sin, over and above all

his previous crimes, now weighed upon the Hessian and his party owing

to what had taken place. He repeatedly uses the words “sin,” “scandal,”

“offence” when speaking of the bigamy; he feels the need of seeking

consolation in the “unpardonable” sins of the Catholics for the moral

failings of his own party, which, after all, would be remitted by

God. Nor does the Landgrave’s sin consist in his carelessness about

keeping the matter secret. Luther compares his sin to David’s, whose

adultery had been forgiven by God, and reckons Philip’s new sin amongst

the sins of his co-religionists, who, for all their failings, were

destined, with God’s help, to overthrow the Papal Antichrist. “Would

that I could alter it!” Such an admission he would not at any price

make before the princely Courts concerned, or before the world. Still

less would he have admitted publicly, that they were obliged “to put up

with the devil’s filth.” It is therefore quite correct when Köstlin,

in his Biography of Luther, points out, speaking of the Table-Talk:

“That there had been sin and scandal, his words by no means deny.”[120]

Concerning the whole affair Köstlin moreover remarks: “Philip’s bigamy

is the greatest blot on the history of the Reformation, and remains a

blot in Luther’s life in spite of everything that can be alleged in

explanation or excuse.”[121]

F. W. Hassencamp, another Protestant, says in his “Hessische

Kirchengeschichte”: “His statements at that time concerning his share

in the Landgrave’s bigamy prove that, mentally, he was on the verge of

despair. Low pleasantry and vulgarity are mixed up with threats and

words of prayer.” “Nowhere does the great Reformer appear so small

as here.”[122]--In the “Historisch-politische Blätter,” in 1846, K.

E. Jarcke wrote of the Table-Talk concerning the bigamy: “Rarely has

any man, however coarse-minded, however blinded by hate and hardened

by years of combat against his own conscience, expressed himself more

hideously or with greater vulgarity.”[123]

“After so repeatedly describing himself as the prophet of the Germans,”

says A. Hausrath, “he ought not to have had the weakness to seek a

compromise between morality and policy, but, like the preacher robed

in camels’ hair, he should have boldly told the Hessian Princelet: It

is not lawful for you to have her.” Hausrath, in 1904, is voicing the

opinion of many earlier Protestant historians when he regrets “that,

owing to weariness and pressure from without,” Luther “sanctioned an

exception to God’s unconditional command.” “The band of Protestant

leaders, once so valiant and upright,” so he says, “had for once been

caught sleeping. Evening was approaching and the day was drawing in,

and the Lord their God had left them.”[124]

_Luther at the Conference of Eisenach. The Landgrave’s Indignation._

An official conference of theologians and Councillors from Hesse and

the Electorate of Saxony met at Eisenach at the instance of Philip on

July 15, 1540, in order to deliberate on the best means of escaping

the legal difficulty and of satisfying Philip’s demand, that the

theologians should give him their open support. Luther, too, put in an

appearance and lost no time in entering into the debate with his wonted

bluster.

According to one account, on their first arrival, he bitterly

reproached (“_acerbissimis verbis_”)[125] the Hessian theologians.

The report of the Landgrave’s sister says, that his long talk with

Philip’s Chancellor so affected the latter that the “tears streamed

down his cheeks,” particularly when Luther rounded on the Hessian

Court officials for their too great inclination towards polygamy.[126]

Though these reports of the effect of his strictures and exhortations

may be exaggerated, no less than the remark of Jonas, who says, that

the “Hessians went home from Eisenach with long faces,”[127] still it

is quite likely that Luther made a great impression on many by his

behaviour, particularly by the energy with which he now stood up for

the cause of monogamy and appealed to the New Testament on its behalf.

Without denying the possibility of an exception in certain rare cases,

he now insisted very strongly on the general prohibition.

The instructions given to the Hessians showed him plainly that the

Landgrave was determined not to conceal his bigamy any longer, or to

have it branded as mere concubinage; the theologians, so the document

declares, would surely never have advised him to have recourse to

sinful concubinage. That he was not married to his second wife

was a lie, which he would not consent to tell were he to be asked

point-blank; his bigamy was really a dispensation “permitted by

God, admitted by the learned, and consented to by his wife.” If

“hard pressed” he must disclose it. To introduce polygamy generally

was of course quite a different matter, and was not to be thought

of.[128]--Needless to say, Luther was ready enough to back up this last

stipulation, for his own sake as much as for the Landgrave’s.

During the first session of the conference, held in the Rathaus

at Eisenach, Luther formally and publicly committed himself to

the expedient at which he had faintly hinted even previously. He

unreservedly proposed the telling of a lie. Should a situation arise

where it was necessary to reply “yes” or “no,” then they must resign

themselves to a downright “No.” “What harm would it do,” he said on

July 15, according to quite trustworthy notes,[129] “if a man told a

good, lusty lie in a worthy cause and for the sake of the Christian

Churches?” Similarly he said on July 17: “To lie in case of necessity,

or for convenience, or in excuse, such lying would not be against God;

He was ready to take such lies on Himself.”[130]

The Protestant historian of the Hessian Bigamy says in excuse of

this: “Luther was faced by the problem whether a lie told in case

of necessity could be regarded as a sin at all”; he did not have

recourse to the “expedient of a mental reservation [as he had done when

recommending an ambiguous reply]”; he merely absolved “the ‘_mendacium

officiosum_’ [the useful lie] of sinfulness. This done, Luther could

with a good conscience advise the telling of such a lie.”[131]

Nevertheless Luther felt called upon again to return to the alleged

Confession made. He is even anxious to make out that his memorandum

had been an Absolution coming under the Seal of Confession, and that

the Absolution might not be “revealed”: “If the Confession was to be

regarded as secret, then the Absolution also must be secret.”[132]

“He considered the reply given in Confession as an Absolution,” says

Rockwell.[133] Moreover he gave it to be understood, that, should

the Landgrave say he had committed bigamy as a right to which he

was entitled, and not as a favour, then he, Luther, was quit of all

responsibility; it was not the confessor’s business to give public

testimony concerning what had taken place in Confession.[134]

Practically, however, according to the notes of the conference, his

advice still was that the Landgrave should conceal the bigamy behind

the ambiguous declaration that: “Margaret is a concubine.” Under the

influence of the hostility to the bigamy shown by the Saxon Courts

he urged so strongly the Bible arguments against polygamy, that the

Hessians began to fear his withdrawal from his older standpoint.

The Old-Testament examples, he declared emphatically, could neither

“exclude nor bind,” i.e. could not settle the matter either way;

Paul’s words could not be overthrown; in the New Testament nothing

could be found (in favour of bigamy), “on the contrary the New

Testament confirmed the original institution [monogamy]”; therefore

“since both the Divine and the secular law were at one, nothing could

be done against it; he would not take it upon his conscience.” It

is true, that, on the other side, must be put the statement, that

he saw no reason why the Prince should not take the matter upon

his own conscience, declare himself convinced, and thus “set their

[the theologians’] consciences free.” That he still virtually stood

by what had happened, is also seen from his plain statement: “Many

things are right before God in the tribunal of conscience, which,

to the world, must appear wrong.” “In support of this he brought

forward the example,” so the report of the Conference proceeds, “of

the seduction of a virgin and of an illegitimate birth.” He also lays

stress on the principle that they, the theologians, had merely “to

dispense according to God’s command in the tribunal of conscience,”

but were unable to bear witness to it publicly; hence their advice

to the Landgrave had in reality never been given at all, for it was

no business of the “_forum externum_”; the Landgrave had acted in

accordance with his own ideas, just as he had undertaken many things

“against their advice,” for instance, “the raid on Wirtenbergk.”

He was doing the same in “this instance too, and acting on his own

advice.”

Again, for his own safety, he makes a request: “Beg him [the Prince]

most diligently to draw in [to keep it secret],” otherwise, so he

threatens, he will declare that “Luther acted like a fool, and will

take the shame on himself”; he would “say: I made a mistake and I

retract it; he would retract it even at the expense of his own honour;

as for his honour he would pray God to restore it.”[135]

In a written memorandum which he presented during the Conference

he makes a similar threat, which, however, as already shown in the

case of Thann (above, p. 40 f.), it is wrong to take as meaning that

he really declared he had acted wrongly in the advice given to the

Landgrave.

He begs the Landgrave, “again to conceal the matter and keep it

secret; for to defend it publicly as right was impossible”; should

the Landgrave, however, be determined, by revealing it, to “cause

annoyance and disgrace to our Confession, Churches and Estates,”

then it was his duty beforehand to consult all these as to whether

they were willing to take the responsibility, since without them

the matter could not take place and Luther and Melanchthon alone

“could do nothing without their authority. And rather than assist

in publicly defending it, I would repudiate my advice and Master

Philip’s [Melanchthon’s], were it made public, for it was not a public

advice, and is annulled by publication. Or, if this is no use, and

they insist on calling it a counsel and not a Confession,[136] which

it really was, then I should rather admit that I made a mistake and

acted foolishly and now crave for pardon; for the scandal is great and

intolerable. And my gracious Lord the Landgrave ought not to forget

that his Serene Highness was lucky enough in being able to take the

girl secretly with a good conscience, by virtue of our advice in

Confession; seeing that H.S.H. has no need or cause for making the

matter public, and can easily keep it secret, which would obviate all

this great trouble and misfortune. Beyond this I shall not go.”[137]

These attempts at explanation and subterfuge to which the sadly

embarrassed authors of the “testimony” had recourse were keenly

criticised by Feige, the Hessian Chancellor, in the sober, legal

replies given by him at the Conference.[138] He pointed out, that: The

Landgrave, his master, could not now “regard or admit his marriage

to be a mere ‘_liaison_’”; he would indeed keep it secret so far as

in him lay, but deny it he could not without prejudice to his own

honour; “since it has become so widely known”; those to whom he had

appealed, “as the chiefs of our Christian Churches, for a testimony,”

viz. Luther and his theologians, must not now leave him in the lurch,

“but bar witness, should necessity arise, that he had not acted

unchristianly in this matter, or against God.” Philip, moreover, from

the very first, had no intention of restricting the matter to the

private tribunal of conscience; the request brought by Bucer plainly

showed, that he “was publicly petitioning the tribunal of the Church.”

The fact is that the instructions given to Bucer clearly conveyed the

Prince’s intention of making public the bigamy and the advice by which

it was justified.

Hence, proceeded Feige: Out with it plainly, out with the theological

grounds which “moved the theologians to grant such a dispensation!”

If these grounds were not against God, then the Landgrave could take

his stand on them before the secular law, the Emperor, the Fiscal and

the Courts of Justice. Should the theologians, however, really wish to

“repudiate” their advice, nothing would be gained; the scandal would

be just as great as if they had “admitted” it; and further, it would

cause a split in their own confession, for the Prince would be obliged

to “disclose the advice.” Luther wanted to get out of the hole by

saying he had acted foolishly! Did he not see how “detrimental this

would be to his reputation and teaching”? He should “consider what he

had written in his Exposition of Genesis twelve years previously, and

that this had never been called into question by any of his disciples

or followers.” He should remember all that had been done against the

Papacy through his work, for which the Bible gave far less sanction

than for the dispensation, and which “nevertheless had been accepted

and maintained, in opposition to the worldly powers, by an appeal to a

Christian Council.”

Hence the Landgrave must urgently request, concludes Feige, that the

theologians would, at least “until the Council,” take his part and

“admit that what he had done had been agreeable to God.”

The Saxon representatives present at the Conference were, however,

ready to follow the course indicated by Luther in case of necessity,

viz. to tell a downright lie; rather than that the Prince should be

forced to vindicate openly his position it was better to deny it

flatly. They declared, without, however, convincing the Conference,

“that a flat denial was less culpable before God and in conscience--as

could be proved by many examples from Scripture--than to cause a great

scandal and lamentable falling away of many good people by a plain and

open admission and vindication.”[139]

* * * * *

Philip of Hesse was not particularly edified by the result of the

Eisenach Conference. Of all the reports which gradually reached him,

those which most aroused his resentment were, first, that Luther should

expect him to tell a lie and deny the second marriage, and, secondly,

his threat to withdraw the testimony, as issued in error.

Luther had, so far, avoided all direct correspondence with the

Landgrave concerning the disastrous affair. Now, however, he was forced

to make some statement in reply to a not very friendly letter addressed

to him by the Prince.[140]

In this Philip, alluding to the invitation to tell a lie, says: “I will

not lie, for lying has an evil sound and no Apostle or even Christian

has ever taught it, nay, Christ has forbidden it and said we should

keep to yea and nay. That I should declare the lady to be a whore, that

I refuse to do, for your advice does not permit of it. I should surely

have had no need of your advice to take a whore, neither does it do you

credit.” Yet he declares himself ready to give an “obscure reply,” i.e.

an ambiguous one; without need he would not disclose the marriage.

Nor does Luther’s threat of retracting the advice and of saying that

he had “acted foolishly” affright him. The threat he unceremoniously

calls a bit of foolery. “As to what you told my Councillors, viz. that,

rather than reveal my reasons, you would say you had acted foolishly,

please don’t commit such folly on my account, for then I will confess

the reasons, and, in case of necessity, prove them now or later,

unless the witnesses die in the meantime.” “Nothing more dreadful has

ever come to my ears than that it should have occurred to a brave

man to retract what he had granted by a written dispensation to a

troubled conscience. If you can answer for it to God, why do you fear

and shrink from the world? If the matter is right ‘_in conscientia_’

before the Almighty, the Eternal and Immortal God, what does the

accursed, sodomitic, usurious and besotted world matter?” Here he is

using the very words in which Luther was wont to speak of the world

and of the contempt with which it should be met. He proceeds with a

touch of sarcasm: “Would to God that you and your like would inveigh

against and punish those in whom you see such things daily, i.e.

adultery, usury and drunkenness--and who yet are supposed to be members

of the Church--not merely in writings and sermons but with serious

considerations and the ban which the Apostles employed, in order

that the whole world may not be scandalised. You see these things,

yet what do you and the others do?” In thus finding fault with the

Wittenberg habits, he would appear to include the Elector of Saxony,

who had a reputation for intemperance. He knew that Luther’s present

attitude was in part determined by consideration for his sovereign. In

his irritation he also has a sly hit at the Wittenberg theologians:

At Eisenach his love for the “lady” (Margaret) had been looked upon

askance; “I confess that I love her, but in all honour.... But that I

should have taken her because she pleased me, that is only natural, for

I see that you holy people also take those that please you. Therefore

you may well bear with me, a poor sinner.”

* * * * *

Luther replied on July 24,[141] that he had not deserved that the

Landgrave should write to him in so angry a tone. The latter was

wrong in supposing, that he wanted to get his neck out of the noose

and was not doing all that he could to “serve the Prince humbly and

faithfully.” It was not no his own account that he wished to keep his

advice secret; “for though all the devils wished the advice to be made

public, I would give them by God’s Grace such an answer that they would

not find any fault in it.”

It was, so Luther says in this letter, a secret counsel as “all the

devils” knew, the keeping secret of which he had requested, “with all

diligence,” and which, even at the worst, he would be the last to

bring to light. That he, or the Prince himself, was bound to silence

by the Seal of Confession, he does not say, though this would have

been the place to emphasise it. He merely states that he knew what,

in the case of a troubled conscience, “might be remitted out of mercy

before God,” and what was not right apart from this necessity. “I

should be sorry to see your Serene Highness starting a literary feud

with me.” It was true he could not allow the Prince, who was “of the

same faith” as himself, “to incur danger and disgrace”; but, should he

disclose the counsel, the theologians would not be in a position to

“get him out of the bother,” because, in the eyes of the world, “even

a hundred Luthers, Philips and others” could not change the law; the

secret marriage could never be publicly held as valid, though valid

in the tribunal of conscience. He wished to press the matter before

the worldly authorities; but here the Prince’s marriage would never

be acknowledged; he would only be exposing himself to penalties, and

withdrawing himself from the “protection and assistance of the Divine

Judgment” under which he stood so long as he regarded it as a marriage

merely in conscience.

In this letter Luther opposes the “making public of the advice,” which

he dreaded, by the most powerful motive at his command: The result

of the disclosure would be, that “at last your Serene Highness would

be obliged to put away your sweetheart as a mere whore.” He would

do better to allow her to be now regarded as a “whore, although to

us three, i.e. in God’s sight, she is really a wedded concubine”;

in all this the Prince would still have a good conscience, “for the

whole affair was due to his distress of conscience, as we believe,

and, hence, to your Serene Highness’s conscience, she is no mere

prostitute.”

There were, however, three more bitter pills for the Landgrave to

swallow. He had pleaded his distress of conscience. Luther hints,

that, “one of our best friends” had said: “The Landgrave would not

be able to persuade anyone” that the bigamy was due to distress of

conscience; which was as much as to say, that “Dr. Martin believed

what it was impossible to believe, had deceived himself and been

willingly led astray.” He, Luther, however, still thought that the

Prince had been serious in what he had said “secretly in Confession”;

nevertheless the mere suspicion might suffice to “render the advice

worthless,” and then Philip would stand alone.... The Landgrave,

moreover, had unkindly hinted in his letter, that, “we theologians

take those who please us.” “Why do not you [Princes] do differently?”

he replies. “I, at least, trust that this will be your Serene

Highness’s experience with your beloved sweetheart.” “Pretty women are

to be wedded either for the sake of the children which spring from

this merry union, or to prevent fornication. Apart from this I do

not see of what use beauty is.” Marry in haste and repent at leisure

was the result of following our passions, according to the proverb.

Lastly, Luther does not hide from the Landgrave that his carelessness

in keeping the secret had brought not only the Prince but “the whole

confession” into disrepute, though “the good people” belonging to the

faith were really in no way involved in what Philip had done. “If each

were to do what pleased him and throw the responsibility on the pious”

this would be neither just nor reasonable.

Such are the reasons by which he seeks to dissuade the warrior-Prince

from his idea of publishing the fatal Wittenberg “advice,” to impel

him to allow the marriage to “remain an ‘_ambiguum_,’” and “not openly

to boast that he had lawfully wedded his sweetheart.”

He also gives Philip to understand that he will get a taste of the

real Luther should he not obey him, or should he expose him by

publishing the “advice,” or otherwise in writing. He says: “If it

comes to writing I shall know how to extricate myself and leave

your Serene Highness sticking in the mud, but this I shall not do

unless I can’t help it.” The Prince’s allusion to the Emperor’s anger

which must be avoided, did not affright Luther in the least. In his

concluding words his conviction of his mission and the thought of

the anti-Evangelical attitude of the Emperor carry him away. “Were

this menace to become earnest, I should tweak the Emperor’s forelock,

confront him with his practices and read him a good lecture on the

texts: ‘Every man is a liar’ and ‘Put not your trust in Princes.’ Was

he not indeed a liar and a false man, he who ‘rages against God’s own

truth,’” i.e. opposes Luther’s Evangel?

Faced by such unbounded defiance Philip and his luckless bigamy, in

spite of the assurance he saw fit to assume, seemed indeed in a bad

way. One can feel how Luther despised the man. In spite of his painful

embarrassment, he is aware of his advantage. He indeed stood in need of

the Landgrave’s assistance in the matter of the new Church system, but

the latter was entirely dependent on Luther’s help in his disastrous

affair.

Hence Philip, in his reply, is more amiable, though he really

demolishes Luther’s objections. This reply he sent the day after

receiving Luther’s letter.[142]

Certain words which had been let fall at Eisenach had “enraged and

maddened” him (Philip). He had, however, good “scriptural warrant for

his action,” and Luther should not forget that, “what we did, we did

with a good conscience.” There was thus no need for the Prince to

bow before the Wittenbergers. “We are well aware that you and Philip

[Melanchthon] cannot defend us against the secular powers, nor have we

ever asked this of you.” “That Margaret should not be looked upon as a

prostitute, this we demand and insist upon, and the presence of pious

men [Melanchthon, etc.] at the wedding, your advice, and the marriage

contract, will prove what she is.” “In fine, we will allow it to remain

a secret marriage and dispensation, and will give a reply which shall

conceal the matter, and be neither yea nor nay, as long as we can and

may.” He insists, however, that, “if we cannot prevent it,” then we

shall bring the Wittenberg advice “into the light of day.”

As to telling a downright lie, that was impossible, because the

marriage contract was in the hands of his second wife’s friends, who

would at once take him to task.

“It was not our intention to enter upon a wordy conflict, or to set

your pen to work.” Luther had said, that he would know how to get out

of a tight corner, but what business was that of Philip’s: “We care

not whether you get out or in.” As to Luther’s malicious allusion to

his love for the beautiful Margaret, he says: “Since she took a fancy

to us, we were fonder of her than of another, but, had she not liked

us, then we should have taken another.” Hence he would have committed

bigamy in any case. He waxes sarcastic about Luther’s remark, that the

world would never acknowledge her as his wife, hinting that Luther’s

own wife, and the consorts of the other preachers who had formerly been

monks or priests, were likewise not regarded by the imperial lawyers as

lawful wedded wives. He looked upon Margaret as his “wife according to

God’s Word and your advice; such is God’s will; the world may regard

our wife, yours and the other preachers’ as it pleases.”

Philip, however, was diplomatic enough to temper all this with friendly

assurances. “We esteem you,” he says, “as a very eminent theologian,

nor shall we doubt you, so long as God continues to give you His

Spirit, which Spirit we still recognise in you.... We find no fault

with you personally and consider you a man who looks to God. As to our

other thoughts, they are just thoughts, and come and go duty free.”

These “duty-free” thoughts, as we readily gather from the letter,

concerned the Courts of Saxony, whose influence on Luther was a thorn

in the Landgrave’s flesh. There was the “haughty old Vashti” at Dresden

(Duchess Catherine), without whom the “matter would not have gone

so far”; then, again, there was Luther’s “Lord, the Elector.” The

“cunning of the children of the world,” which the Landgrave feared

would infect Luther, had its head-quarters at these Courts. But if it

came to the point, such things would be “disclosed and manifested” by

him, the Landgrave, to the Elector and “many other princes and nobles,”

that “you would have to excuse us, because what we did was not done

merely from love, but for conscience’s sake and in order to escape

eternal damnation; and your Lord, the Elector, will have to admit it

too and be our witness.” And in still stronger language, he “cites” the

Elector, or, rather, both the Elector and himself, to appear before

Luther: “If this be not sufficient, then demand of us, and of your

master, that we tell you in confession such things as will satisfy you

concerning us. They would, however, sound ill, so help me God, and we

hope to God that He will by all means preserve us from such in future.

You wish to learn it, then learn it, and do not look for anything good

but for the worst, and if we do not speak the truth, may God strike

us”; “to prove it” we are quite ready. Other things (see below, xxiv.,

2) make it probable, that the Elector is here accused as being Philip’s

partner in some very serious sin. It looks as though Philip’s intention

was to frighten him and prevent his proceeding further against him.

Since Luther in all probability brought the letter to the cognisance of

the Elector, the step was, politically, well thought out.

_Melanchthon’s Complaints._

Melanchthon, as was usual with him, adopted a different tone from

Luther’s in the matter. He was very sad, and wrote lengthy letters of

advice.

As early as June 15, to ease his mind, he sent one to the Elector

Johann Frederick, containing numerous arguments against polygamy,

but leaving open the possibility of secret bigamy.[143] Friends

informed the Landgrave that anxiety about the bigamy was the cause of

Melanchthon’s serious illness. Philip, on the other hand, wrote, that

it was the Saxon Courts which were worrying him.[144] Owing to his

weakness he was unable to take part in the negotiations at Eisenach.

On his return to Wittenberg he declared aloud that he and Luther had

been outwitted by the malice of Philip of Hesse. The latter’s want of

secrecy seemed to show the treasonable character of the intrigue. To

Camerarius he wrote on Aug. 24: “We are disgraced by a horrid business

concerning which I must say nothing. I will give you the details in

due time.”[145] On Sep. 1, he admits in a letter to Veit Dietrich: “We

have been deceived, under a semblance of piety, by another Jason, who

protested conscientious motives in seeking our assistance, and who

even swore that this expedient was essential for him.”[146] He thus

gives his friend a peep into the Wittenberg advice, of which he was the

draughtsman, and in which he, unlike Luther, could see nothing that

came under the Seal of Confession. The name of the deceitful polygamist

Jason he borrows from Terence, on whom he was then lecturing. Since

Luther, about the same time, also quotes from Terence when speaking at

table about Philip’s bigamy, we may infer that he and Melanchthon had

exchanged ideas on the work in question (the “_Adelphi_”). Melanchthon

was also fond of dubbing the Hessian “Alcibiades” on account of his

dissembling and cunning.[147]

Most remarkable, however, is the assertion he makes in his annoyance,

viz. that the Landgrave was on the point of losing his reason: “This

is the beginning of his insanity.”[148] Luther, too, had said he

feared he was going crazy, as it ran in the family.[149] Philip’s

father, Landgrave William II, had succumbed to melancholia as the

result of syphilis. The latter’s brother, William I, had also been

insane. Philip’s son, William IV, sought to explain the family

trouble by a spell cast over one of his ancestors by the “courtisans”

at Venice.[150] In 1538, previous to the bigamy scandal, Henry of

Brunswick had written, that the Landgrave, owing to the French disease,

was able to sleep but little, and would soon go mad.[151]

Melanchthon became very sensitive to any mention of the Hessian bigamy.

At table, on one occasion in Aug., 1540, Luther spoke of love; no one

was quite devoid of love because all at least desired enjoyment; one

loved his wife, another his children, others, like Carlstadt, loved

honour. When Bugenhagen, with an allusion to the Landgrave, quoted the

passage from Virgil’s “_Bucolica_”: “_Omnia vincit amor et nos cedamus

amori_,” Melanchthon jumped up and cried: “Pastor, leave out that

passage.”[152]

Brooding over the permission given, the scholar sought earnestly for

grounds of excuse for the bigamy. “I looked well into it beforehand,”

he writes in 1543, “I also told the Doctor [Luther] to weigh well

whether he could be mixed up in the affair. There are, however,

circumstances of which the women [their Ducal opponents at Meissen]

are not aware, and understand not. The man [the Landgrave] has many

strange ideas on the Deity. He also confided to me things which I have

told no one but Dr. Martin; on account of all this we have had no small

trouble.”[153] We must not press the contradiction this presents to

Melanchthon’s other statement concerning the Prince’s hypocrisy.

Melanchthon’s earlier letter dated Sep. 1, 1540, Camerarius ventured to

publish in the collection of his friend’s letters only with omissions

and additions which altered the meaning.

Until 1904 this letter, like Melanchthon’s other letter on Luther’s

marriage (vol. ii., p. 176), was only known in the amended form. W.

Rockwell has now published the following suppressed passages from

the original in the Chigiana at Rome, according to the manuscript

prepared by Nicholas Müller for the new edition of Melanchthon’s

correspondence. Here Melanchthon speaks out plainly without being

conscious of any “Secret of Confession,” and sees little objection

to the complete publication by the Wittenbergers of their advice. “I

blame no one in this matter except the man who deceived us with a

simulated piety (‘_simulatione pietatis fefellit_’). Nor did he adhere

to our trusty counsel [to keep the matter secret]. He swore that the

remedy was necessary. Therefore, that the universal biblical precept

[concerning the unity of marriage]: ‘They shall be two in one flesh’

might be preserved, we counselled him, secretly, and without giving

scandal to others, to make use of the remedy in case of necessity.

I will not be judge of his conscience, for he still sticks to his

assertion; but the scandal he might well have avoided had he chosen.

Either [what follows is in Greek] love got the upper hand, or here

is the beginning and foretaste of that insanity which runs in the

family. Luther blamed him severely and he thereupon promised to keep

silence. But ... [Melanchthon has crossed out the next sentence: As

time goes on he changes his views] whatever he may do in the matter,

we are free to publish our decision (‘_edere sententiam nostram_’);

for in it too we vindicated the law. He himself told me, that formerly

he had thought otherwise, but certain people had convinced him that

the thing was quite indifferent. He has unlearned men about him who

have written him long dissertations, and who are not a little angry

with me because I blamed them to their teeth. But in the beginning we

were ignorant of their prejudices.” He goes on to speak of Philip as

“depraved by an Alcibiadean nature (‘_Alcibiadea natura perditus_’),”

an expression which also fell under the red pencil of the first

editor, Camerarius.[154]

_Literary Feud with Duke Henry of Brunswick._

Prominent amongst those who censured the bigamy was the Landgrave’s

violent opponent Duke Henry of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel. The Duke, a

leader of the Catholic Alliance formed to resist the Schmalkalden

Leaguers in North Germany, published in the early ‘forties several

controversial works against Philip of Hesse. This brisk and active

opponent, whose own character was, however, by no means unblemished,

seems to have had a hand in the attacks of other penmen upon the

Landgrave. Little by little he secured fairly accurate accounts of the

proceedings in Hesse and at Wittenberg, and, as early as July 22, 1540,

made a general and public reference to what had taken place.[155]

In a tract published on Nov. 3, he said quite openly that the Landgrave

had “two wives at the same time, and had thus rendered himself liable

to the penalties against double marriage.” The Elector of Saxony

had, however, permitted “his biblical experts at the University of

Wittenberg to assist in dealing with these nice affairs,” nay, had

himself concurred in the bigamy.[156]

In consequence of these and other charges contained in the Duke’s

screed, Luther wrote the violent libel entitled “Wider Hans Worst,”

of which the still existing manuscript shows in what haste and frame

of mind the work was dashed off. All his exasperation at the events

connected with the bigamy now become public boils up in his attack on

the “Bloodhound, and incendiary Harry” of Brunswick, and the “clerical

devil’s whores in the Popish robbers’ cave.”[157] Of Henry’s charge

he speaks in a way which is almost more than a mere concealing of the

bigamy.[158] He adds: “The very name of Harry stinks like devil’s

ordure freshly dropped in Germany. Did he perchance desire that not he

alone should stink so horribly in the nostrils of others, but that he

should make other honourable princes to stink also?” He was a renegade

and a coward, who did everything like an assassin. “He ought to be

set up like a eunuch, dressed in cap and bells, with a feather-brush

in his hand to guard the women and that part on account of which

they are called women, as the rude Germans say.” “Assassin-adultery,

assassin-arson indeed became this ‘wild cat,’” etc.

Even before this work was finished, in February, 1541, a pseudonymous

attack upon the Landgrave appeared which “horrified Cruciger,”[159] who

was with Luther at Wittenberg. The Landgrave is here upbraided with

the bigamy, the reproaches culminating in the following: “I cannot but

believe that the devil resides in your Serene Highness, and that the

Münster habit has infected your S.H., so that your S.H. thinks that you

may take as many wives as you please, even as the King of Münster did.”

An anonymous reply to this screed penned by the pastor of Melsungen,

Johann Lening, is the first attempt at a public justification of

Philip’s bigamy. The author only disclaims the charge that the

Landgrave had intended to “introduce a new ‘_ius_.’”[160]

Henry of Brunswick replied to “Hans Worst” and to this vindication

of the bigamy in his “_Quadruplicæ_” of May 31, 1541. He said there

of Luther’s “Hans Worst”: “That we should have roused Luther,

the arch-knave, arch-heretic, desperate scoundrel and godless

arch-miscreant, to put forth his impious, false, unchristian, lousy and

rascally work is due to the scamp [on the throne] of Saxony.” “We have

told the truth so plainly to his Münsterite brother, the Landgrave,

concerning his bigamy, that he has been unable to deny it, but admits

it, only that he considers that he did not act dishonourably, but

rightly and in a Christian fashion, which, however, is a lie and

utterly untrue.” In some of his allegations then and later, such as

that the Landgrave was thinking of taking a third wife “in addition to

his numerous concubines,” and that he had submitted to re-baptism, the

princely knight-errant was going too far. A reply and defence of the

Landgrave, published in 1544, asserts with unconscious humour that the

Landgrave knew how to take seriously “to heart what God had commanded

concerning marriage ... and also the demands of conjugal fidelity and

love.”

Johann Lening, pastor of Melsungen, formerly a Carthusian in the

monastery of Eppenberg, had been the most zealous promoter of the

bigamy. He was also very active in rendering literary service in its

defence. The string of Bible proofs alleged by Philip in his letter

to Luther of July 18 (above, p. 55 f.) can undoubtedly be traced to

his inspiration. In October, 1541, he was at Augsburg with Gereon

Sailer,[161] the physician so skilled in the treatment of syphilis;

a little later Veit Dietrich informed Melanchthon of his venereal

trouble.[162] He was much disliked by the Saxons and the Wittenbergers

on account of his defence of his master. Chancellor Brück speaks

of him as a “violent, bitter man”; Luther calls him the “_Melsingen

nebulo_” and the “_monstrum Carthusianum_”;[163] Frederick Myconius

speaks of the “_lenones Leningi_” and fears he will catch the

“_Dionysiorum vesania_.”

Such was the author of the “_Dialogue of Huldericus Neobulus_,” which

has become famous in the history of the Hessian Bigamy; it appeared in

1541, towards the end of summer, being printed at Marburg at Philip’s

expense.

The book was to answer in the affirmative the question contained in the

sub-title: “Whether it be in accordance with or contrary to the Divine,

natural, Imperial and ecclesiastical law, to have simultaneously

more than one wife.” The author, however, clothed his affirmation in

so pedantic and involved a form as to make it unintelligible to the

uninitiate so that Philip could say that, “it would be a temptation to

nobody to follow his example,” and that it tended rather to dissuade

from bigamy than to induce people to commit it.[164]

This work was very distasteful to the Courts of Saxony, and Luther soon

made up his mind to write against it.

He wrote on Jan. 10, 1542, to Justus Menius, who had sent him a reply

of his own, intended for the press: “Your book will go to the printers,

but mine is already waiting publication; your turn will come next....

How this man disgusts me with the insipid, foolish and worthless

arguments he excretes.” To this Pandora all the Hessian gods must

have contributed. “Bucer smells bad enough already on account of the

Ratisbon dealings.... May Christ keep us well disposed towards Him

and steadfast in His Holy Word. Amen.”[165] From what Luther says he

was not incensed at the Dialogue of Neobulus so much on account of

its favouring polygamy itself, but because, not content with allowing

bigamy conditionally, and before the tribunal of conscience, it sought

also to erect it into a public law. When, however, both Elector and

Landgrave[166] begged him to refrain from publishing his reply, he

agreed and stopped the printers, though only after a part of it had

already left the press.[167]

His opinion concerning the permissibility of bigamy in certain cases he

never changed in spite of the opposition it met with. But, in Luther’s

life, hardly an instance can be cited of his having shrunk back when

attacked. Rarely if ever did his defiance--which some admire--prove

more momentous than on this occasion. An upright man is not unwilling

to allow that he may have been mistaken in a given instance, and, when

better informed, to retract. Luther, too, might well have appealed to

the shortness of the time allowed him for the consideration of the

counsel he had given at Wittenberg. Without a doubt his hand had been

forced. Further, it might have been alleged in excuse for his act, that

misapprehension of the Bible story of the patriarchs had dragged him to

consequences which he had not foreseen. It would have been necessary

for him to revise completely his Old-Testament exegesis on this point,

and to free it from the influence of his disregard of ecclesiastical

tradition and the existing limitations on matrimony. In place of this,

consideration for the exalted rank of his petitioners induced him to

yield to the plausible reasons brought forward by a smooth-tongued

agent and to remain silent.

The tract of Menius, on the same political grounds, was likewise either

not published at all or withdrawn later. The truth was, that it was

desirable that the Hessian affair should come under discussion as

little as possible, so that no grounds should be given “to increase

the gossip,” as Luther put it in 1542; “I would rather it were left to

settle as it began, than that the filth should be stirred up under the

noses of the whole world.”[168]

The work of Neobulus caused much heart-burning among the Swiss

reformers; of this we hear from Bullinger, who also, in his Commentary

on Matthew, in 1542, expressed himself strongly against the tract.[169]

His successor, Rudolf Gualther, Zwingli’s son-in-law, wrote that it

was shocking that a Christian Prince should have been guilty of such a

thing and that theologians should have been found to father, advocate

and defend it.[170]

In time, however, less was heard of the matter and the rumours

died down. A peace was even patched up between the Landgrave and

the Emperor, chiefly because the Elector of Saxony was against the

Schmalkalden League being involved in the Hessian affair. Without

admitting the reality of the bigamy, and without even mentioning

it, Philip concluded with Charles V a treaty which secured for him

safety. Therein he made to the Emperor political concessions of such

importance[171] as to arouse great discontent and grave suspicions in

the ranks of the Evangelicals. At a time when the German Protestants

were on the point of appealing to France for assistance against Charles

V, he promised to do his best to hinder the French and to support the

Imperial interests. In the matter of the Emperor’s feud with Jülich,

he pledged himself to neutrality, thus ensuring the Emperor’s success.

After receiving the Imperial pardon on Jan. 24, 1541, his complete

reconciliation was guaranteed by the secret compact of Ratisbon on June

13 of the same year. He had every reason to be content, and as the

editor of Philip’s correspondence with Bucer writes,[172] what better

could even the Emperor desire? The great danger which threatened was a

league of the German Protestants with France. And now the Prince, who

alone was able to bring this about, withdrew from the opposition party,

laid his cards on the table, left the road open to Guelders, offered

his powerful support both within and outside of the Empire, and, in

return, asked for nothing but the Emperor’s favour. The Landgrave’s

princely allies in the faith were pained to see him forsake “the

opposition [to the Emperor]. For their success the political situation

was far more promising than in the preceding winter. An alliance with

France offered [the Protestants] a much greater prospect of success

than one with England, for François I was far more opposed to the

Emperor than was Henry VIII.... Of the German Princes, William of

Jülich had already pledged himself absolutely to the French King.”[173]

Philip was even secretly set on obtaining the Pope’s sanction to the

bigamy. Through Georg von Carlowitz and Julius Pflug he sought to enter

into negotiations with Rome; they were not to grudge an outlay of from

3000 to 4000 gulden as an “offering.”[174] As early as the end of 1541

Chancellor Feige received definite instructions in the matter.

The Hessian Court had, however, in the meantime been informed, that

Cardinal Contarini had given it to be understood that “no advice or

assistance need be looked for from the Pope.”[175]

Landgravine Christina died in 1549, and, after her death, the

unfortunate marriage was gradually buried in oblivion.--But did

Landgrave Philip, after the conclusion of the second marriage, cease

from immoral intercourse with women as he had so solemnly promised

Luther he would?

In the Protestant periodical, “Die christliche Welt,”[176] attention

was drawn to a Repertory of the archives of Philip of Hesse, published

in 1904,[177] in which a document is mentioned which would seem to

show that Philip was unfaithful even subsequent to his marriage with

Margaret. The all too brief description of the document is as follows:

“Suit of Johann Meckbach against Landgrave Philip on behalf of Lady

Margaret; the Landgrave’s infidelity; Margaret’s demand that her

marriage be made public.” “This sounds suspicious,” remarks W. Köhler,

“we have always taken it for granted that the bigamy was moral only

in so far as the Landgrave Philip refrained from conjugal infidelity

after its conclusion, and now we are confronted with this charge. Is

it founded?” Concerning this new document N. Paulus remarks: “In order

to be able properly to appreciate its importance, we should have to

know more of the suit. At any rate Margaret would not have caused

representations to be made to her ‘husband’ concerning his infidelity

without very weighty reasons.”[178]

In the Landgrave’s family great dissatisfaction continued to be felt

with Luther. When, in 1575, Philip’s son and successor, Landgrave

William IV, was entertaining Palsgravine Elisabeth, a zealous friend

of Lutheranism, he spoke to her about Luther, as she relates in a

letter.[179] “He called Dr. Luther a rascal, because he had persuaded

his father to take two wives, and generally made out Dr. Luther to

be very wicked. Whereat I said that it could not be true that Luther

had done such a thing.”--So completely had the fact become shrouded

in obscurity. William, however, fetched her the original of the

Wittenberg testimony. Although she was unwilling to look at it lest

her reverence for Luther should suffer, yet she was forced to hear it.

In her own words: “He locked me in the room and there I had to remain;

he gave it me to read, and my husband [the Palsgrave Johann Casimir]

who was also with me, and likewise a Zwinglian Doctor both abused Dr.

Luther loudly and said we simply looked upon him as an idol and that

he was our god. The Landgrave brought out the document and made the

Doctor read it aloud so that I might hear it; but I refused to listen

to it and thought of something else; seeing I refused to listen the

Landgrave gave me a frightful scolding, but afterwards he was sorry

and craved pardon.”

There is no doubt that William’s dislike for Luther, here displayed,

played a part in his refusal to accept the formula of Concord in

1580.[180]

So meagre were the proofs made public of Luther’s share in the step

which Philip of Hesse had taken, that, even in Hesse, the Giessen

professor Michael Siricius was able to declare in a writing of 1679,

entitled “_Uxor una_” that Luther’s supposed memorandum was an

invention.[181]

Of the Wittenberg “advice” only one, fairly long, but quite apocryphal

version, was put in circulation during Melanchthon’s lifetime; it

appeared in the work of Erasmus Sarcerius, “On the holy married state,”

of which the Preface is dated in 1553. It is so worded as to leave the

reader under the impression that its authors had refused outright to

give their consent. Out of caution, moreover, neither the authors nor

the addressee are named.[182] In this version, supposed to be Luther’s

actual text, it was embodied, in 1661, in the Altenburg edition of

his works, then in the Leipzig reprint of the same (1729 ff.) and

again in Walch’s edition (Halle, 1740 ff.).[183] Yet Lorenz Beger, in

his work “_Daphnæus Arcuarius_” (1679), had supplied the real text,

together with Bucer’s instructions and the marriage contract, from

“a prominent Imperial Chancery.” The importance of these documents

was first perceived in France. Bossuet used them in his “Histoire des

variations des églises protestantes” (1688).[184] He was also aware

that Landgrave Ernest, of Hesse-Rheinfels-Rotenburg, who returned to

the Catholic Church in 1652, had supplied copies of the three documents

(to Elector Carl Ludwig of the Palatine). In more recent times Max

Lenz’s publication of the Hessian archives has verified these documents

and supplied a wealth of other material which we have duly utilised in

the above.

_Opinions Old and New Regarding the Bigamy._

As more light began to be thrown on the history of the bigamy,

Protestant historians, even apart from those already mentioned, were

not slow in expressing their strong condemnation, as indeed was only to

be expected.

Julius Boehmer, in outspoken language, points to “the unfortunate

fact” that “Luther, in his old age, became weak, nay, flabby in his

moral judgments and allowed himself to be guided by political and

diplomatic considerations, and not by truth alone and an uncorruptible

conscience.”[185]

Walter Köhler, in the “Historische Zeitschrift,” has thrown a strong

light on the person and the motives of the Landgrave.[186] Whilst

admitting that Philip may have suffered from remorse of conscience

and depression, he shows how these were “in great part due to his

physical deterioration, his unrestrained excesses having brought

on him syphilis in its worst form; sores broke out on his hands

and he suffered from trouble with the throat.” His resolution to

commit bigamy also sprang from the same source, “not from a sudden

realisation of the wickedness of his life, but simply from the sense

of his physical bankruptcy.” Besides, as Köhler points out, the

Landgrave’s intention was not at first to marry Margaret, but rather

to maintain her as a kept woman and so render excesses unnecessary.

Philip, however, was unable to get her as a concubine, owing to the

opposition of her mother, who demanded for her daughter the rank of

princess and wife. Hence the idea of a bigamy.

The following indignant reference of Onno Klopp’s must be included

amongst the Protestant statements, since it was written some

time before the eminent historian joined the Catholic Church:

“The revolting story has left a blot on the memory of Luther and

Melanchthon which oceans of sophisms will not avail to wash away.

This, more than any other deed, brought to light both the waywardness

of the new Church and its entire dependence on the favour of

Princes.”[187]

As for the concealment, and the secrecy in which the sanction of the

bigamy was shrouded, G. Ellinger considers, that the decision of

Luther and his friends “became absolutely immoral only through the

concealment enjoined by the reformers.” In consequence of the matter

being made a secret of conscience, “the second wife would seem to the

world a concubine”; hence not only the first wife, but also the second

would suffer degradation. The second wife’s relatives had given their

consent “only on the hypothesis of a real marriage”; this too was what

Philip intended; yet Luther wished him to tell the Emperor that she

was a mere concubine; the Landgrave, however, refused to break the

word he had given, and “repudiated Luther’s suggestion that he should

tell a lie.”[188]

Another Protestant, the historian Paul Tschackert, has recently

characterised the Hessian affair as “a dirty story.” “It is, and must

remain,” he says, “a shameful blot on the German Reformation and the

life of our reformers. We do not wish to gloss it over, still less to

excuse it.”[189]

Yet, notably in modern theological literature, some Protestants have

seemed anxious to palliate the affair. An attempt is made to place the

Wittenberg advice and Luther’s subsequent conduct in a more favourable

light by emphasising more than heretofore the secrecy of the advice

given, which Luther did not consider himself justified in revealing

under any circumstances, and the publication of which the Landgrave was

unjustly demanding. It is also urged, that the ecclesiastical influence

of the Middle Ages played its part in Luther’s sanction of the bigamy.

One author even writes: “the determining factor may have been,” that

“at the critical moment the reformer made way for the priest and

confessor”; elsewhere the same author says: “Thus the Reformation

begins with a mediæval scene.” Another Protestant theologian thinks

that “the tendency, taken over from the Catholic Church,” to treat

the marriage prohibitions as aspects of the natural law was really

responsible; in Luther’s evangelical morality “there was a good lump of

Romish morality, worthless quartz mingled with good metal”; “Catholic

scruples” had dimmed Luther’s judgment in the matter of polygamy; to us

the idea of bigamy appears “simply monstrous,” “but this is a result of

age-long habits”; in the 16th century people thought “very differently.”

In the face of the detailed quotations from actual sources already

given in the present chapter, all such opinions--not merely Luther’s

own appeal to a “secret of confession,” invented by himself--are

seen to be utterly unhistorical. Particularly so is the reference

to the Catholic Middle Ages. It was just the Middle Ages, and the

ecclesiastical tradition of earlier times, which excited among Luther’s

contemporaries, even those of his own party, such opposition to the

bigamy wherever news of the same penetrated in any shape or form.[190]

In the following we shall quote a few opinions of 16th-century

Protestants not yet mentioned. With the historian their unanimous

verdict must weigh more heavily in the scale than modern theories,

which, other considerations apart, labour under the disadvantage of

having been brought forward long after the event and the expressions

of opinion which accompanied it, to bolster up views commonly held

to-day.[191]

The bigamy was so strongly opposed to public opinion and thus

presumably to the tradition handed down from the Middle Ages, that

Nicholas von Amsdorf, Luther’s friend, declared the step taken by

Philip constituted “a mockery and insult to the Holy Gospel and

a scandal to the whole of Christendom.”[192] He thought as did

Justus Jonas, who exclaimed: “Oh, what a great scandal!” and, “Who

is not aghast at so great and calamitous a scandal?”[193] Erasmus

Alber, preacher at Marburg, speaks of the “awful scandal” (“_immane

scandalum_”) which must result.[194] In a letter to the Landgrave in

which the Hessian preacher, Anton Corvinus, fears a “great falling

away” on account of the affair, he also says, that the world will not

“in any way” hear of such a marriage being lawful; his only advice

was: “Your Serene Highness must take the matter to heart and, on

occasion, have recourse to lying.”[195] To tell a deliberate untruth,

as already explained (pp. 29, 53), appeared to other preachers

likewise the only possible expedient with which to meet the universal

reprobation of contemporaries who judged of the matter from their

“mediæval” standpoint.

Justus Menius, the Thuringian preacher, in his work against polygamy

mentioned above, appealed to the universal, Divine “prohibition which

forbids and restrains us,” a prohibition which applied equally to the

“great ones” and allowed of no dispensation. He also pointed out the

demoralising effect of a removal of the prohibition in individual

cases and the cunning of the devil who wished thereby “to brand the

beloved Evangel with infamy.”[196]

Philip had defiled the Church with filth (“_fœdissime_”), so wrote

Johann Brenz, the leader of the innovations in Würtemberg. After such

an example he scarcely dared to raise his eyes in the presence of

honourable women, seeing what an insult this was to them.[197]

Not to show how reprehensible was the deed, but merely to demonstrate

anew how little ground there was for throwing the responsibility on

the earlier ages of the Church, we may recall that the Elector, Johann

Frederick of Saxony, on first learning of the project through Bucer,

expressed his “horror,” and two days later informed the Landgrave

through Brück, that such a thing had been unheard of for ages and

the law of the land and the tradition of the whole of Christendom

were likewise against it. It is true that he allowed himself to be

pacified and sent his representative to the wedding, but afterwards

he again declared with disapproval, that the whole world, and all

Christians without distinction, would declare the Emperor right should

he interfere; he also instructed his minister at the Court of Dresden

to deny that the Elector or the Wittenberg theologians had had any

hand in the matter.[198] Other Princes and politicians belonging to

the new faith left on record strong expressions of their disapproval;

for instance: Elector Joachim II of Brandenburg, Duke Ulrich of

Würtemberg, King Christian III of Denmark, the Strasburg statesman

Jacob Sturm and the Augsburg ambassador David Dettigkofer.[199] To the

latter the news “was frightful tidings from which would result great

scandal, a hindrance to and a falling away from the Holy Evangel.”[200]

All there now remains to do is to illustrate, by statements made by

Protestants in earlier and more recent times, two important points

connected with the Hessian episode; viz. the unhappy part which

politics played in Luther’s attitude, and what he said on lying. Here,

again, during the last ten years there has been a movement in Luther’s

favour amongst many Protestant theologians.

Concerning the part of politics W. Rockwell, the historian of the

bigamy, openly admits, that: “By his threat of seeking protection

from the Emperor for his bigamy, Philip overcame the unwillingness of

the Wittenbergers to grant the requested dispensation.”[201] “It is

clear,” he also says, “that political pressure was brought to bear on

the Wittenbergers by the Landgrave, and that to this pressure they

yielded.”[202]

That consideration for the effect his decision was likely to have on

the attitude of the Landgrave weighed heavily in the balance with

Luther in the matter of his “testimony,” it is scarcely possible

to deny, after what we have seen. “The Hessian may fall away from

us” (above, p. 46), such was one of the fears which undoubtedly had

something to do with his compliance. To inspire such fear was plainly

the object of Philip’s threat, that, should the Wittenbergers not prove

amenable, he would make advances to the Emperor and the Pope, and the

repeated allusions made by Luther and his friends to their dread of

such a step, and of his falling away, show how his threat continued to

ring in their ears.[203]

Bucer declared he had himself agreed to the bigamy from fear lest

Philip should otherwise be lost to the Evangelical cause,[204] and his

feelings were doubtless shared at Wittenberg. Melanchthon speaks not

merely of a possible attempt on Philip’s part to obtain the Emperor’s

sanction to his marriage, but of an actual threat to leave the party

in the lurch.[205] Johann Brenz, as soon as news reached him in

Würtemberg of the Landgrave’s hint of an appeal to the Emperor, saw in

it a threat to turn his back on the protesting party.[206] All three

probably believed that at heart the Landgrave would remain true to the

new faith, but what Luther had chiefly in view was Philip’s position

as head of the Schmalkalden League.

The result was all the more tragic. The compliance wrung from the

Wittenbergers failed to protect the party from the evil they were so

desirous of warding off. Philip’s reconciliation with the Emperor, as

already pointed out, was very detrimental to the Schmalkalden League,

however insincere his motives may have been.

On this point G. Kawerau says:[207] “In the Landgrave’s resolution

to address himself to the Emperor and the Pope, of which they were

informed, they [Luther and Melanchthon] saw a ‘public scandal,’ a

‘_publica offensio_,’ which they sought to obviate by demanding

absolute secrecy.”[208] “But the disastrous political consequences

did, in the event, make their appearance.... The zealously promoted

alliance with François I, to which even the Saxon Elector was not

averse, came to nothing and Denmark and Sweden’s overtures had to

be repelled. The prime-mover in the Schmalkalden League was himself

obliged to cripple the League. ‘The dreaded champion of the Evangel

became the tool of the Imperial policy’ (v. Bezold). From that time

forward his position lacked precision and his strong initiative was

gone.”

G. Ellinger, in his study on Melanchthon, writes: “It can scarcely be

gainsaid that Luther and Melanchthon allowed themselves in a moment of

weakness to be influenced by the weight of these considerations.” The

petition, he explains, had been warmly urged upon the Wittenbergers

from a political point of view by Bucer, the intermediary. “If Bucer

showed himself favourable to the Landgrave’s views this was due to

his wish to preserve thereby the Evangelical cause from the loss of

its most doughty champion; for Philip had told him in confidence,

that, in the event of the Wittenbergers and the Saxon Electorate

refusing their consent, he intended to address himself directly to the

Emperor and the Pope in order to obtain sanction for his bigamy.” The

Landgrave already, in the summer of 1534, had entertained the idea of

approaching the Emperor, and in the spring of 1535 had made proposals

to this end. “It can hardly be doubted that in Bucer’s case political

reasons turned the scale.” Ellinger refers both to the admission made

by Melanchthon and to the significant warning against the Emperor with

which the letter of Dispensation closes.[209]

The strongest reprobation of the evil influence exerted over Luther by

politics comes, however, from Adolf Hausrath.[210] He makes it clear,

that, at Wittenberg, they were aware that Protestantism “would assume

quite another aspect were the mighty Protestant leader to go over to

the Pope or the Emperor”; never has “the demoralising character of

all politics” been more shamefully revealed; “eternal principles were

sacrificed to the needs of the moment”; “Philip had to be retained at

any cost.” Hence came the “great moral defeat” and Luther’s “fall.”

This indignant language on the part of the Heidelberg historian of

the Church has recently been described by a learned theologian on the

Protestant side as both “offensive” and uncalled for. Considering

Luther’s bold character it is surely very improbable, that an attempt

to intimidate him would have had any effect except “to arouse his

spirit of defiance”; not under the influence of mere “opportunism”

did he act, but, rather, after having, as a confessor, heard “the

cry of deep distress” he sought to come to “the aid of a suffering

conscience.”--In answer to this we must refer the reader to what

has gone before, where this view, which seems a favourite with some

moderns, has already sufficiently been dealt with. It need only be

added, that the learned author says of the bigamy, that “a fatal

blunder” was made by Luther ... but only because the mediæval confessor

intervened. “The reformer was not able in every season and situation to

assert the new religious principle which we owe to him; hence we have

merely one of many instances of failure, though one that may well be

termed grotesque and is scarcely to be matched.” “Nothing did more to

hinder the triumphal progress of the Reformation than the Landgrave’s

‘Turkish marriage.’” As to the argument drawn from Luther’s boldness

and defiance, a Protestant has pointed out, that we are not compelled

to regard any compliance from motives of policy as “absolutely

precluded”; to say that “political expediency played no part whatever

in Luther’s case” is “going a little too far.” “Did then Luther never

allow any room to political considerations? Even, for instance, in the

question of armed resistance to the Emperor?”[211]

* * * * *

Referring to Luther’s notorious utterance on lying, G. Ellinger, the

Protestant biographer of Melanchthon, says: Luther’s readiness to

deny what had taken place is “one of the most unpleasing episodes in

his life and bears sad testimony to the frailty of human nature.” His

statements at the Eisenach Conference “show how even a great man was

driven from the path of rectitude by the blending of politics with

religion. He advised a ‘good, downright lie’ that the world might be

saved from a scandal.... It is sad to see a great man thus led astray,

though at the same time we must remember, that, from the very start,

the whole transaction had been falsified by the proposal to conceal

it.”[212]

Th. Kolde says in a similar strain, in a work which is otherwise

decidedly favourable to Luther, “Greater offence than that given by the

‘advice’ itself is given by the attitude which the reformers took up

towards it at a later date.”[213]

“The most immoral part of the whole business,” so Frederick von Bezold

says in his “Geschichte der deutschen Reformation,” “lay in the advice

given by the theologians that the world should be imposed upon.... A

man [Luther] who once had been determined to sacrifice himself and

the whole world rather than the truth, is now satisfied with a petty

justification for his falling away from his own principles.”[214] And,

to conclude with the most recent biographer of Luther, Adolf Hausrath

thus criticises the invitation to tell a “downright lie”: “It is

indeed sad to see the position into which the ecclesiastical leaders

had brought themselves, and how, with devilish logic, one false step

induced them to take another which was yet worse.”[215]

This notwithstanding, the following opinion of a defender of Luther

(1909) has not failed to find supporters in the Protestant world: “The

number of those who in the reformation-period had already outgrown

the lax mediæval view regarding the requirements of the love of truth

was probably not very great. One man, however, towers in this respect

above all his contemporaries, viz. Luther. He it was who first taught

us what truthfulness really is. The Catholic Church, which repudiated

his teaching, knows it not even to this day.” “A truthfulness which

disregards all else,” nay, a “positive horror for all duplicity” is,

according to this writer, the distinguishing mark of Luther’s life.