MELANCTHON.

(On his Scepticism.)

I will make some reflexions upon the inclination to Pyrrhonism for which Melancthon is blamed. “He seemed to have been brought up in the school of Pyrrho, for a thousand doubts beset his soul, for fear, said he, of erring. His writings were a continual jumble of uncertainties.” Florimond de Remond, who says this, cites some authorities, and tells us no more than what an infinite number of writers have observed. See in the last place the bishop of Meaux in his “Histoire des Variations.” I believe they exaggerate the matter, but at the same time I think Melancthon was not free from doubts, and

that there were many points about which he could not positively say, it is so, and it cannot be otherwise. He was of a mild and peaceable disposition, he had a great deal of wit, much reading, and a vast knowledge. Such a mixture of natural and acquired qualities is commonly a source of irresolution. A great genius, supported with great knowledge, will scarce find error to be altogether on one side. He discovers a strong and a weak side in each party; he understands what is most specious in the objections of his adversaries, and what is not solid in his own proofs; he does, I say, all this, provided he be not of a choleric temper; for if he be, he is so prepossessed in favour of his own party, that his knowledge is of no service to him. He not only persuades himself that he is in the right, but he has such a fondness for his own sentiments, as moves him to hate bitterly the doctrine that opposes them. From a hatred of opinions he quickly proceeds to a hatred of persons; he aspires to triumph, and being heated with dispute, he is fretted till he obtains the victory: he is angry with those who represent to him, that it is for the interest of heavenly truth, that we should not have recourse to expedients of human policy. He is no less troubled if he hear any body say, that his doctrines are not certain and evident, and that the contrary party can allege good reasons. Being of such a temper, he examines things only for this end, that he may be more and more convinced, that the doctrines he has embraced are true, and he does not fail to find much solidity in his own arguments; for there is no mirror so flattering as prepossession: it is a paint that embellishes the ugliest faces; it does the same offices to a. doctrine that the Venus of the Roman poet did to her son.

Restitit Æneas, claraque in luce refulsit;
Os humerosque deo similis: namque ipsa decoram

Cæsariem nato genitrix, lumenque juventæ
Purpureum, & lætos oculis afflarat honores.
Virgil Æn. lib, i, ver. 588.

Confess’d Æneas stood, and shone in light
Serene, in shape, and features like a God:
For Venns with the rosy bloom of youth
Had flush’d her son, with graceful looks adorn’d,
And breath’d a sparkling lustre on his eyes.—Trapp.

Melancthon not having this temper, could not be so steady in his opinions. He was so cool, that he examined matters freely pro and con; and because he loved peace, and deplored the confusions which the schism gave birth to, he was more disposed to judge favourably of several doctrines, which warm men made the foundation of a rupture, and which he would have had tolerated to facilitate a re-union. His modesty and experience rendered him a little distrustful. He was persuaded that his knowledge might increase every day, for he remembered that he had corrected many things in his own writings, which he believed to be good when he first published them; but time taught him to withdraw his approbation, and to apply to himself a fine passage of Terence:

Nunquam ita quisquam bene subdue ta ratione ad vitam fuît.
Quin res, ætas, usus, semper aliquid apportet novi,
Aliquid moneat: ut ilia, quæ te scire credas nescias
Et quæ tibi putâris prima, in experiundo ut repudies.
Quod mihi evenit nunc.
Terent. Adelph. act v, sc. iv. init.

No man ever formed a plan of life so exactly, but that experience, age and practice always taught him something new, and convinced him, that he was ignorant of what he thought he knew, and that he ought to reject what be had imagined was chiefly to be approved. This happens to be my case.

Could he warrant that time would not teach him still better? This is what hindered him from being peremptory in his opinions. He lived among a sort of people who appeared to him passionate, and too

forward to mix human methods, and the authority of the secular power with the affairs of the church. His tender conscience made him fear there was a mark of reprobation in it. Wherefore then did he continue in that party, will you say, if he had no positive assurance that it was the cause of God? It may be answered, whither would you have him go? Would not he have found in the Romish communion more things to be condemned, and more heat and oppression of conscience? Do not you think he had well weighed all inconveniences, when he cast his eyes upon Palestine, to retire thither in case his enemies should drive him away? “Non frangor animo, propter crudelissimam vocem meorum hostium, qui dixerunt, se mihi non relicturos esse vestigium pedis in Germania. Commendo autem me filio dei. Si solus expellar: Decrevi Palæstinam adire, & in illis Hieronymi latebris, in invocatione filii dei, & testimonia perspicua de doctrina scribere, & in morte deo animam commendare. I am not dejected at the cruel clamour of my enemies, who have threatened they will not leave me a footstep in Germany. But I commit myself to the son of God. If I shall be driven away alone, I am determined to go to Palestine, and in those lurking places of Jerom, by calling upon the son of God to write clear testimonies of the divine doctrine, and in death to recommend my soul to God.” Compare with this the design that Abelard had to retire among the infidels.

Let us here admire a peculiar character of the fate of man: his virtues are liable to consequences that are somewhat vicious, and have their inconveniences; his bad qualities, on the contrary, produce good effects on several occasions. Modesty, moderation, love of peace, form in the minds of the most knowing men, a certain principle of equity, which makes them in some measure luke-warm and unresolved. Pride and passion make a great doctor so dogmatical and

self-conceited, that he does not entertain the least doubt, and will undertake and endure any thing for the advancement and propagation of his own opinions. If by good luck he light upon the truth, what services will he not do it? They will doubtless be greater, than they would be if he were of a more moderate temper. The ties of prejudice, or, if you please, the weight of the passions, more strongly fasten the soul to the truth, than the charms of light; and observe, that I say nothing of the good effects of grace, both upon constitutions that are too phlegmatic, and too choleric. I consider the matter only philosophically, and under this notion we may truly say, that as to what concerns the interest of a sect, a man who is obstinate and violent, is preferable to a wise man; and if any founder of a sect desire that his disciples should labour with success in spreading and propagating his doctrine, he should wish that they were of such a temper, as never to depart from any thing, and to espouse for all their lives the first party they embrace. If they pitch upon it before they are capable of weighing well the reasons on both sides, so much the better; they will be the farther from doubting for the future, and the less they doubt, the more obstinate and fiery they will be: whereas those who propose to inform themselves more and more every day, do not think themselves obliged to show a very great zeal; for they imagine, that what appears true to them to day, will appear to them at another time less probable than what they do not at all believe. Cicero, expresses very well these different characters, speaking of the Sceptics and Dogmatists. “Neque nostræ disputationes,” says he, Cicero, de Academ. Quæst. lib. ii, cap. iii. ⁸⁸ “quicquam aliud agunt, nisi ut in utramque partem dicendo, & audiendo eliciant & tanquam exprimant aliquid, quod aut verum sit, aut id quàm proxime accedat. Neque inter nos & eos qui scire se arbitrantur quicquam interest, nisi quod illi non dubitant quin ea vera sint quæ defendant: Nos probabilia multa habemus, quæ sequi facile, affirmare vix possumus. Hoc antem liberiores & solutiores sumus, quod integra nobis est judicandi potestas, neque ut omnia quæ præscripta & quasi imperata sint, defendamus, necessitate ulla cogimur. Nam cæteri primum ante tenentur astricti, quam quid esset optimum, judicare potuerunt. Deinde infirmissimo tempore ætatis aut obsecuti amico cuidam, aut una alicujus quem primum audierunt, ratione capti, de rebus incognitis judicant, & ad quamcunque sunt disciplinant quasi tempestate delati, ad earn tanquam ad saxum adhærescunt. Nam quod dicunt, omnino se credere ei, quem judicent fuisse sapientem, probarem, si id ipsum rudes & indocti judicare potuissent. Statuere enim quid sit sapiens, vel maxime videtur esse sapientis. Sed ut potuerunt omnibus rebus auditis, cognitis etiam reliquorum sententiis judicaverunt, aut re semel audita ad unius se authoritatem contulerunt. Sed nescio quomodo plerique errare malunt, eamque sententiam quam adamaverunt, pugnacissime defendere, quàm sine pertinacia quid constantissime dicant exquirere. The design of our disputations is nothing else, but by arguing and hearing both sides of the question, to draw forth, and as it were to force out, the truth, or what comes very near it. Nor is there any difference between us and them, who think themselves knowing, but that they entertain no doubt about the truth of what they defend, while we think many things probable, which we can readily follow, but can hardly aver for certain. In this however we are more free and independent, that we have entire liberty to judge, and are by no means compelled to defend all that is prescribed, and in a manner commanded, while the others are preengaged before they could judge what was best. And moreover, being swayed in the weakest time of life by some friend, or led away by the first that instructed them, they judge of things without examination, and whatever, opinion they are cast upon, as it were by a tempest, they cleave to it as to a rock. As to what they say, that they entirely believe him, whom they judge to have been a wise man, I should approve it, if ignorant and illiterate persons could judge of wisdom; for to determine what a wise man is, seems chiefly to be the province of a wise man. But I know not how it is, most people chuse rather to err, and stiffly to defend the opinion they love, than, without partiality, to search out what they may stedfastly maintain.”—Art. Melancthon.