Chapter XII: Part 12

I must now inform you what we suppose will come to pass, if, indeed, we can anyhow forecast what is likely to happen, for I can scarcely perceive sufficient data on which to found even probable conjecture. The temper of the whole of our friends has been very much exasperated against Henry, [of Brunswick,] for he has attacked them with the utmost ferocity in the most virulent and libellous terms,[251] and, therefore, they have requested of the Emperor that he may be branded as a calumniator, if it shall have been established that he had aspersed their reputation by the most barefaced falsehoods. Neither do I perceive how this affair can be settled, unless it may be referred to the States of the empire to decide upon it; for the Landgrave has refused the Emperor to agree that the controversy may be ended by transaction or arbitration, adding that he would not even accept the Emperor himself as umpire. This obstacle, although it seems to have but little connection with the main business about which they were assembled, formed an element of disturbance at their very entrance upon it, and, it is to be feared, will operate very much as a hindrance to their proceedings. At present the great concern of religion stands thus: The Emperor, because he perceives his own affairs to be very much entangled, is not at all inclined to heap up new troubles for himself; he fears an attack on the side of Turkey; on the part of the King of France, either an uncertain peace or the risk of open war; although, as regards the Turk, various rumours are spread about. Since that Hungarian monk,[252] having, on the decease of King John, taken upon himself the guardianship of the young King,[253] could not withstand the power of Ferdinand, he has sought assistance from the Turk. The latter has sent only a very small body of troops to help him, who have laid siege to Pesth, a city belonging to Ferdinand. The city is situated on the bank of the Danube, opposite to Buda; for the raising of that siege, troops are to be collected. Already other accounts relate that the Turk himself was on his way with a great army and camp equipage, while others assert that his expedition had been interrupted by some disturbance in his own country, I cannot tell what. We shall see, however, in a short time, of what kind it is, for there can be no doubt that he is very much hindered by reasons near home, if he does not lay hold upon Wallachia. Upon their revolt from the rule of their own tyrants, they delivered themselves over, you are aware, in subjection to his authority. He set over them a Palatine of their own race, but dependent upon himself. I know not how it has happened that, having experienced his cruelty, they have been driven to extreme measures rather than remain under his dominion. This winter, therefore, having assassinated the Palatine, they at the same time rid themselves of all the Turks who were among them. They chose a new leader for themselves, whom they bound by oath to promise eternal enmity against Turkey: they have also taken possession of a very strong fortress which the Turks had built with wonderful despatch upon the Polish frontier. If he does not punish this affront, we shall then know that he is otherwise engaged; and would that it may turn out to be so, that, while he is healing his own wounds, we may have some time allowed us for taking measures to oppose him, and for collecting our resources. The King of Poland[254] could render very effectual assistance to his Wallachian neighbours, if the Tartars were not so troublesome to his kingdom. During the past winter, they carried off great booty during a sudden incursion, and seemed not without a will to proceed farther in the same direction. Howsoever that may be, the Emperor is desirous to have Germany in a state of quiet until he shall have extricated himself from these difficulties; nor will he stir up any commotions at this time, unless, by the incessant importunity of our enemies, he is unwillingly dragged into it by some necessity. Our friends wish to procure an audience for themselves; thereupon, as they do not expect there will be any secure or lasting peace, unless there is a settled agreement in religion, and the churches restored to order and right discipline, they will strongly urge that the states of the Empire may seriously set about this undertaking. In other respects, there is nothing they more desire than to pacify all these dissensions without riotous disorder, and they entertain a just horror of war, as the certain destruction of their country. Therefore, as far as they are able, they will make it appear, by their conduct, how much they are opposed to violent and factious counsels. Of the opposite party there are three classes: there are those, especially, who sound the trumpet, and openly rave like madmen because we are not attacked as soon as possible. The chiefs of this class are, the Archbishop of Mentz, the Dukes of Bavaria, Henry of Brunswick, and his brother, the Bishop of Bremen. The others, who wish to consult the welfare of their country, (whose ruin, or very severe calamity and devastation, they foresee would be the consequence of a war,) contribute all their endeavours to this point, that without troubling their heads about the establishment of an agreement in religion, a peace of any kind may be agreed upon. The third class would willingly admit some considerable correction of doctrine and ecclesiastical discipline, but either because they are not yet advanced to that degree of growth as to understand thoroughly the matters in dispute to be entirely settled, or because they are of a more lowly and gentle disposition than to dare to profess themselves the active promoters of that opinion, they so conduct themselves as that they may appear to seek nothing but the public tranquillity. To that class belong the Archbishop of Cologne, the Bishop of Augsburg, among the clergy; the two brothers Palatine among the princes, Otho their nephew, and perchance the Duke of Cleves. Those who plot disturbance, as they are fewer in number, and have all good men opposed to them, are not very likely to see the fulfilment of their devices. Finally, the mind of the Emperor, as I have mentioned, is altogether turned to peace, if he can obtain it, so that, putting off the consideration of religion to another time, he may direct all his energies to this object; but our friends do not readily acquiesce in this, and they will have their aiders and abettors in stirring up to the reformation of the Church. Thus you see, although scant, there is, however, the hope of doing somewhat. The Papal legates, according to their usual method, are strongly opposed to our proceeding to take any practical measures; for they consider that it is all over with their kingdom, if any discussion in matter of religion, if any consultation about the Reformation of the Church, should be entertained or set on foot without the authority of their idol. Openly, they pretend that they promote the conference which we desire; but underhand, they oppose us not only by great promises, but also by threats. They are ready to assist the Emperor with a large sum of money, if he wishes at once to have recourse to arms; or what Contarini rather wishes, if he can put us down without bloodshed. Should the Emperor make any concession distasteful to the tyranny of the See of Rome, they threaten to fulminate those excommunications with which they are wont to set the whole world a trembling with terror. The Emperor at present is not acting freely, on account of the state of affairs in Italy. Therefore, should he find it at all practicable, he will retire thither, that either by a temporary peace, or truce of a few years, he may afterwards settle the disputes of Germany, leaving that whole field of discussion untouched for the present: which he will obtain with difficulty. You see now, as I said at first, the conjectures are so obscure, that there is scarcely any room for divination. What, therefore, are we to do? Let us call upon the name of the Lord, and beseech him that he will rule by his direction this greatest and most weighty of all causes, in which both his own glory and the safety of the Church are bound up together, and also that, in so critical a conjuncture of affairs, in his own set time he would shew, that nothing is more precious to him than that heavenly wisdom which he has revealed to us in the Gospel, and those souls which he has redeemed with the sacred blood of his own Son. On that account, therefore, we must both seek and knock with frequent importunity, and with our whole heart and mind, to ascertain his will, the more uncertain everything on all hands appears to us. When we weigh and consider carefully the whole course and progress of this work of Reformation, we shall find that himself had overruled, by wonderful methods, all the events in providence, without the advice or help of man, even contrary to all expectation. Upon this strength, therefore, which he has so often put forth in our behalf, let us, in the midst of so much perplexity, place our whole and entire dependence. There is one thing which alarms me, that I see so great security prevails in the midst of us. And that, indeed, not only alarms me, but it is altogether overwhelming, when we see new causes of offence daily arising, such as that sad affair of the double marriage:[255] nevertheless, I am not cast down on that account.

[251] Henry of Brunswick maintained a very lively paper war against
the Protestant princes of Germany before attacking them more
openly. Luther replied to those attacks by one of his most virulent
pamphlets, _Hans Wurst_, a name which the Germans use to designate
their harlequin.--See Seckendorf, lib. iii. par. 93.

[252] George Martinuzzi, tutor of the young King of Hungary, John
Sigismund.

[253] After the death of King Louis II. the crown of Hungary was
long disputed between Ferdinand, the brother of Charles V., and John
Zapoli. The treaty of Great Waradin (24th February 1538) guarantied
the throne to the latter, but without reversion to his descendants.
He died in 1541, leaving an infant in the cradle as his heir. His
widow, yielding to the advice of George Martinuzzi, refused to cede
the crown to Ferdinand, and called the Turks into Hungary.

[254] Sigismund I., King of Poland, (1506-1548.) This prince was
continually engaged in strife with the Tartars of the Crimea, the
Moldavians, and the Russians.

[255] An allusion to the state of bigamy in which the Landgrave
of Hesse was then living, with the _authorization_ of Luther, of
Melanchthon, and of Bucer. The explanations given by Seckendorf
(lib. iii. par. 79, addit. 3) are altogether ineffectual to clear up
this affair--one of the scandals of the Reformation in Germany.

I have lately received a letter from Viret, to which I replied briefly, because there is no room now for our deliberating about that matter. I would with my whole heart go thither, my dear Farel, on the earliest fitting opportunity; but what would you have me do? I am here held bound, and very much fear that I may consume away with the irksomeness of my situation. Adieu, my excellent and most kindly brother. Greet most lovingly, in my own expressions, all the brethren; Thomas, Michael, to whom these lines will impart much sadness; Cordier, my preceptor, and the rest.

[_Calvin's Lat. Corresp._ Opera, tom. ix. p. 15.]

LXIV.--TO MONSIEUR DE RICHEBOURG.[256]

[256] There is little known concerning M. de Richebourg. It appears
from the letter of the Reformer that he had been for some years
separated from his sons Charles and Louis, who had repaired to
Strasbourg, probably to finish their education. The plague, which
raged in Alsace, carried off Louis, the younger of the two brothers,
and his preceptor, both tenderly beloved by Calvin, who, from
Ratisbon, where the sad intelligence had reached him, wrote this
letter of Christian consolation to M. de Richebourg.

Consolatory letter on the death of his son.

RATISBON, [_Month of April 1541_.]

When I first received the intelligence of the death of Claude and of your son Louis, I was so utterly overpowered that for many days I was fit for nothing but to grieve; and albeit I was somehow upheld before the Lord by those aids wherewith he sustains our souls in affliction, among men, however, I was almost a nonentity; so far at least as regards my discharge of duty, I appeared to myself quite as unfit for it as if I had been half dead. On the one hand, I was sadly grieved that a most excellent and faithful friend had been snatched away from me, a friend with whom I was so familiar, that none could be more closely united than we were;[257] on the other hand, there arose another cause of grief, when I saw the young man, your son, taken away in the very flower of his age, a youth of most excellent promise, whom I loved as a son, because, on his part, he shewed such respectful affection toward me as he would to another father. To this grievous sorrow was still added the heavy and distressing anxiety we experienced about those whom the Lord had spared to us. I heard that the whole household were scattered here and there. The danger of Malherbe caused me very great misery, as well as the cause of it, and warned me also as to the rest. I considered that it could not be otherwise but that my wife[258] must be very much dismayed. Your Charles, I assure you, was continually recurring to my thoughts; for in proportion as he was endowed with that goodness of disposition which had always appeared in him toward his brother as well as his preceptor, it never occurred to me to doubt but that he would be steeped in sorrow and soaked in tears. One single consideration somewhat relieved me, that he had my brother along with him, who, I hoped, would prove no small comfort in this calamity; even that, however, I could not reckon upon, when, at the same time, I recollected that both were in jeopardy, and neither of them was yet beyond the reach of danger. Thus, until the letter arrived which informed me that Malherbe was out of danger, and that Charles, my brother, wife, and the others were safe, I would have been all but utterly cast down, unless, as I have already mentioned, my heart was refreshed in prayer and private meditations, which are suggested by His word. These circumstances I mention on this account lest those exhortations may seem to you of less value, by which I now desire that you may take comfort, because you will consider it to be an easy matter to shew one's-self valiant in contending against another person's grief. I do not, however, boast here of firmness or fortitude in dealing with another's sorrow, but since it has been granted me, by the special goodness of God, that I should be in some degree either delivered or relieved by him, who, in the communication of his benefits, is alike common to me as to you: in so far as that is possible in a short letter, I desire to communicate to you the remedies I took advantage of, and those which were of greatest benefit. In this endeavour, however, the consideration of your sadness is so to be kept in view by me, that, at the same time, I shall remember that I have to do with a person of a very serious mind and of very constant and determined character; nor do I conceal from myself those refuges of defence by which you are regulated, and kept on all occasions within the limits of patience and moderation. Neither shall I take advantage of those common topics of consolation which are customary among men, such as that you should not weep for your dead whom you had begotten subject to mortality, that you should shew forth in this sorrowful occurrence that firmness of mind which your excellent nature and disposition, expanded by the most elegant accomplishments, which your mature age, your varied experience, and which, to sum up all, your reputation and esteem among men require, that, after the fashion of the world, you may take consolation in the remembrance of your past life. In your case I set aside all exhortations of this kind, and others of the same description, and leave them to your own consideration. There is, most assuredly, one sure and certain, a never-failing source of consolation, in which you, and men like you, ought to acquiesce, because it flows from that inward feeling of piety which I know to abound in you; therefore, take special care to call to mind those thoughts which are taught us by the most excellent Master of all, and suggested to our understanding in the school of piety. It is not necessary at present that I should state these truths, which are all as familiar to you as to myself. Yet, notwithstanding, because of your singular piety, and that good-will which you express toward me, you will not, perhaps, be unwilling to recognize in my letter thoughts which have spontaneously occurred to your own mind at some other time. The son whom the Lord had lent you for a season he has taken away. There is no ground, therefore, for those silly and wicked complaints of foolish men; O blind death! O horrid fate! O implacable daughters of destiny! O cruel fortune! The Lord who had lodged him here for a season, at this stage of his career has called him away. What the Lord has done, we must, at the same time, consider has not been done rashly, nor by chance, neither from having been impelled from without; but by that determinate counsel, whereby he not only foresees, decrees, and executes nothing but what is just and upright in itself; but also nothing but what is good and wholesome for us. Where justice and good judgment reign paramount, there it is impious to remonstrate. When, however, our own advantage is bound up with that goodness, how great would be the degree of ingratitude not to acquiesce, with a calm and well-ordered temper of mind, in whatever is the wish of our Father! Nevertheless, the faithful have a sufficient alleviation of their sorrows in the special providence of God, and the all-sufficiency of his provision, whatsoever may happen. For there is nothing which is more dispiriting to us than while we vex and annoy ourselves with this sort of questions--Why is it not otherwise with us? Why has it so happened that we came to this place? These questions would be well and suitably put, if there was somewhat in ourselves that needed reproof. But where there is no fault on our part, there is no room for this sort of complaints. It is God, therefore, who has sought back from you your son, whom he had committed to you to be educated, on the condition, that he might always be his own. And, therefore, he took him away, because it was both of advantage to him to leave this world, and by this bereavement to humble you, or to make trial of your patience. If you do not understand the advantage of this, without delay, first of all, setting aside every other object of consideration, ask of God that he may show you. Should it be his will to exercise you still farther, by concealing it from you, submit to that will, that you may become wiser than the weakness of your own understanding can ever attain to. In what regards your son, if you bethink yourself how difficult it is, in this most deplorable age, to maintain an upright course through life, you will judge him to be blessed, who, before encountering so many coming dangers which already were hovering over him, and to be encountered in his day and generation, was so early delivered from them all. He is like one who has set sail upon a stormy and tempestuous sea, and before he has been carried out into the deeps, gets in safety to the secure haven. Nor, indeed, is long life to be reckoned so great a benefit of God, that we can lose anything, when, separated only for the space of a few years, we are introduced to a life which is far better. Now, certainly, because the Lord himself, who is the Father of us all, had willed that Louis should be put among the children as a son of his adoption, he bestowed this benefit upon you, out of the multitude of his mercies, that you might reap the excellent fruit of your careful education before his death; whence also you might know your interest in the blessing that belonged to you, "I will be thy God, and the God of thy seed." From his earliest boyhood, so far as his years allowed, he was grounded in the best studies, and had already made such a competent proficiency and progress, that we entertained great hope of him for the future. His manners and behaviour had met with the approval of all good men. If at any time he fell into error, he not only patiently suffered the word of admonition, but also that of reproof, and proved himself teachable and obedient, and willing to hearken to advice. At times, indeed, he was rather unruly, but never so far as to be obstinate or sulky. Those sallies, therefore, wherein he exceeded due bounds, were repressed with little trouble. That, however, which we rate most highly in him was, that he had drunk so largely into the principles of piety, that he had not merely a correct and true understanding of religion, but had also been faithfully imbued with the unfeigned fear and reverence of God. This so exceeding kindness of God toward your offspring, ought with good reason to prevail more effectually with you in soothing the bitterness of death, than death itself has power to inflict grief upon you. With reference to my own feelings, if your sons had never come hither at all, I should never have been grieved on account of the death of Claude and Louis. Never, however, shall this most crushing sorrow, which I suffer on account of both, so overcome me, as to reflect with grief upon that day on which they were driven hither by the hand of God to us, rather than led by any settled purpose of their own, when that friendship commenced which has not only continued undiminished to the last, but which, from day to day, was rather increased and confirmed. Whatever, therefore, may have been the kind or model of education they were in search of, I rejoice that they lived under the same roof with me. And since it was appointed them to die, I rejoice also that they died under my roof, where they rendered back their souls to God more composedly, and in greater circumstances of quiet, than if they had happened to die in those places where they would have experienced greater annoyance from the importunity of those by whom they ought to have been assisted, than from death itself. On the contrary, it was in the midst of pious exhortations, and while calling upon the name of the Lord, that these sainted spirits fled from the communion of their brethren here to the bosom of Christ. Nor would I desire now to be free from all sorrow at the cost of never having known them. Their memory will ever be sacred to me to the end of my days, and I am persuaded that it will also be sweet and comforting. But what advantage, you will say, is it to me to have had a son of so much promise, since he has been torn away from me in the first flower of his youth? As if, forsooth, Christ had not merited, by his death, the supreme dominion over the living and the dead! And if we belong to him, (as we ought,) why may he not exercise over us the power of life and of death? However brief, therefore, either in your opinion or in mine, the life of your son may have been, it ought to satisfy us that he has finished the course which the Lord had marked out for him. Moreover, we may not reckon him to have perished in the flower of his age, who had grown ripe in the sight of the Lord. For I consider all to have arrived at maturity who are summoned away by death; unless, perhaps, one would contend with him, as if he can snatch away any one before his time. This, indeed, holds true of every one; but in regard to Louis, it is yet more certain on another and more peculiar ground. For he had arrived at that age when, by true evidences, he could prove himself a member of the body of Christ: having put forth this fruit, he was taken from us and transplanted. Yes, instead of this transient and vanishing shadow of life, he has regained the real immortality of being. Nor can you consider yourself to have lost him, whom you will recover in the blessed resurrection in the kingdom of God. For they had both so lived and so died, that I cannot doubt but they are now with the Lord; let us, therefore, press forward toward this goal which they have reached. There can be no doubt but that Christ will bind together both them and us in the same inseparable society, in that incomparable participation of his own glory. Beware, therefore, that you do not lament your son as lost, whom you acknowledge to be preserved by the Lord, that he may remain yours for ever, who, at the pleasure of his own will, lent him to you only for a season. Nor will you derive small consolation from this consideration, if you only weigh carefully what is left to you. Charles survives to you, of whom we all entertain this sentiment, that there is not one of us who does not desire that he might have such a son. Do not suppose that these expressions are only intended for your hearing, or that there is exaggeration here, in order to bespeak your favour. This is no more my habit than it is my disposition. I therefore express what are my real sentiments, and what I would say among strangers, that the young man excels, in the first place, in singular piety and in the true fear of God, which is the beginning and the end of all wisdom; then in the kindliness of his disposition, in gentleness of manner, and in rare modesty and continence. Nor do I assign these virtues to him upon mere rumour or hearsay; for I have always been anxious upon this head, and kept close observation of his particular disposition. During the lifetime of both the brothers, I have remarked this distinction between them: Louis excelled in quickness of apprehension, but Charles, in solid judgment and intelligence, was much in advance of his brother. The deceased brother was more ready in bringing into play what he had read or heard; the other is slower, but also surer. The one was more ready and quick in mastering the various arts as well as in the active business of life; the other more considerate and more steady: his constitution of body, also, indicated as much. Louis, however, as he was of a more sanguine temperament, was also more lively and cheerful. Charles, who has somewhat of melancholy in his disposition, is not so easily drawn out of himself. He was always the more modest and courteous of the two, which distinguished him to such a degree, that he could subdue his brother's impetuosity by the forbearance which he exercised. In moderation, in gravity like that of manhood, and in a certain equability of demeanour, in these points he was far the superior. You will, therefore, yourself be judge how far the possessing such a son ought to avail for taking off the pain of the bereavement wherewith the Lord has now afflicted you, and you will then conclude, that even on this account you must not be ungrateful to God. It is difficult, notwithstanding, you will say, so to shake off or suppress the love of a father, as not to experience grief on occasion of the loss of a son. Neither do I insist upon your laying aside all grief. Nor, in the school of Christ, do we learn any such philosophy as requires us to put off that common humanity with which God has endowed us, that, being men, we should be turned into stones. These considerations reach only so far as this, that you do set bounds, and, as it were, temper even your most reasonable sadness; that, having shed those tears which were due to nature and to fatherly affection, you by no means give way to senseless wailing. Nor do I by any means interfere because I am distrustful of your prudence, firmness, or high-mindedness; but only lest I might here be wanting and come short in my duty to you. Although, however, this letter shall be superfluous, (which I can suppose,) you will nevertheless take in good part, because of your distinguished and kindly courtesy, this my perhaps over-anxious importunity,--pardonable, however, notwithstanding, because it proceeds from my unbounded affection towards you. Moreover, I have requested Melanchthon and Bucer that they would also add their letters to mine, because I entertained the hope that it would not be unacceptable that they too should afford some evidence of their good will toward you. Adieu, most distinguished sir, and my much respected in the Lord. May Christ the Lord keep you and your family, and direct you all with his own Spirit, until you may arrive where Louis and Claude have gone before.

[_Calvin's Lat. Corresp._ Opera, tom. ix. p. 175.]

[257] Claude Ferey, so much regretted by Calvin, was tutor to the
sons of M. de Richebourg, and a very distinguished professor of
Strasbourg.

[258] Idelette de Bure, the wife of Calvin, Antony, his brother, and
Marie, his sister, had quitted Strasbourg, to avoid the infection of
the plague.

LX.--TO FAREL.

Affliction of Calvin--news of the Diet of Ratisbon--appointment
of the theologians charged with the representation of the two
parties--their reception by the Emperor--portrait of Julius
Pflug, of Gropper, and of Eck.

RATISBON, _24th April 1541_.

My last letter will have given you to understand clearly enough the state of affliction in which I then was. If on that account it has appeared somewhat fretful, you will impute it to my grief, which had made me more peevish than usual. Even yet, although I am recovering my composure by degrees, I still feel nothing more than a slight abatement of the pressure. Nay even, what one ought to feel shame in confessing, there is some such sort of consolation in grief, as that it may be somewhat pleasing in itself not to be entirely delivered from sorrow. Meanwhile, I have received a letter from Du Tailly, dated on the 30th, in which he informed me that there was a messenger on the way from you, who would give more particular information as to your present state. He has delayed so long, however, in making his appearance, that I have given over expecting his arrival. If you have anything which you can communicate in writing, and sure I am that there are many things, they might be forwarded to me within the compass of a letter, if Mirabeau[259] will send it to the King's ambassador, addressed under cover to Ulrich;[260] for his messengers go pretty frequently to and fro. I earnestly desire that you may explain to us clearly and faithfully how that dispute between the two cities[261] has been settled; how our Genevese friends are disposed; in what manner that church holds itself together; what Viret is doing; what are the hopes and what the pursuits of all, provided that you do not begin to grow warm on the subject. For myself, I am also already too much disordered and put out; and by your vehemency you produce this effect, that those persons place less reliance upon you whom it had been of importance to have influenced. Neither ought you to be surprised at this, when you cannot escape this imputation of over vehemency even from myself. I would, however, specially recommend, that you would a second time press upon them, and seriously entreat them not to forget what they may have promised. It would be delightful to me to be informed of that when I return, as I have intimated by former letters; nor is it difficult to accomplish, if you will only assist.

[259] One of the numerous French refugees, whom persecution had
driven into Switzerland. He was a member of the Church at Neuchatel.

[260] Ulrich Chelius. See note 2, p. 160.

[261] The process between Geneva and Berne, submitted to the
arbitration of the town of Basle.

In the meetings of this Diet nothing memorable has yet been begun. The Emperor was allowed to choose a few pious and experienced men of weight and authority, who, upon examining and well considering the points in controversy, might deliberate upon the means of agreement, and afterwards submit to the approval of the states the heads of agreement which they had settled among themselves. On the 20th of this month he appointed, on the part of our adversaries, Julius Pflug,[262] John Gropper[263] of Cologne, and John Eck;[264] on our side, Philip Melanchthon, Martin Bucer, and John Pistorius.[265] He also mentioned publicly that he would fix upon one of the princes, who might preside over their business. Our friends having consulted together, at my request they desired that a greater number of witnesses might be present. It is not yet known what may be obtained, except that there is some hope entertained that the Emperor takes an interest in the matter. In the meanwhile, these six who were appointed were summoned; they were kindly received by the Emperor, who gave them his hand on their first meeting, and when they took their leave. By an interpreter the Emperor addressed to them a very solemn exhortation; that as he had committed such important interests to them, trusting in their piety, learning, and integrity, he doubted not they would answer his expectation. That, therefore, they should have the glory of God, the public peace, the salvation of all nations as their aim; that they should not be influenced by ambition; that they should yield nothing to the obstinacy or to any regard to the favour of men. Each answered separately for himself. Therefore,--and may the Lord grant success,--something will forthwith be attempted. Further, if we may forecast what is likely to be the issue, receive in few words what are the sentiments of many. First of all, it is worth while to ascertain the distinguishing characteristics of the men. That same Julius (Pflug) is an eloquent man, and thoroughly accomplished in human learning, but by no means well versed in theology; besides, he is ambitious and fond of applause; in other respects by no means of an impure life. Since, therefore, he has neither sound knowledge, nor a sufficiently settled determination, while he is trammelled by his ambition, you may consider how little is to be expected from him. Gropper sometimes reaches farther; but he also is of that large class of men who attempt to figure to themselves I know not what--some sort of middle path between Christ and the world. He is, however, such a man, that one may deliberate with him not without benefit. You know Eck[266] well enough already. No one entertains a doubt but that this Davus[267] will throw all into confusion by his forward impertinence. I do not indeed altogether despair; but when I begin to hope, then I remember what took place at Worms. Certainly, if anything very desirable shall be attained, it will so fall out beyond all my expectation. When they have made a beginning you shall hear more satisfactorily from me. Farewell, my very excellent and right-hearted brother; may the Lord preserve you to his Church, and confirm you along with all our holy brethren, all of whom will you greet kindly in my name? I cannot enumerate them; do you consider them as mentioned specially by name. You must keep up the spirits of Viret, by frequent encouragement, that he may not be too much cast down. Nevertheless, I was very glad when lately I heard that he had removed his wife and household furniture to Geneva. On receiving this intelligence I became less anxious.--Yours,

CALVIN.

[262] Julius Pflug, Canon, and afterwards Bishop of Numburg in
Saxony, a learned man, and of conciliatory and moderate temper.

[263] John Gropper, Canon of Cologne. He was so far enlightened
as to see and acknowledge the abuses of the Roman Church, but had
not courage to go forward in the reform of them. He obtained the
Cardinal's dignity, and was put to death in a strange and unusual
manner, having been strangled with the strings of his Cardinal's
hat. See Bezæ _Icones_.

[264] John Mayer, better known under the name of Eck, Doctor in
Theology, celebrated on account of his controversies with Carlostadt
and Luther.

[265] John Pistorius, superintendent of the province of Nidau. He
was called to the Diet of Augsbourg in 1529, and died, in 1583, at a
very advanced age.

[266] See the portrait of Eck which Mosellanus has sketched, cited
by Seckendorf: "Big-bodied, broad-shouldered, stout-hearted, even
to impudence, and more like the town-crier than a theologian--one
whom you might rather expect to find figuring in the theatre than a
Council;"--such was the principal adversary of the Protestants at
the Diet of Ratisbon.

[267] Davus, the type of all insolent slaves in the ancient drama.
Melanchthon writes, in speaking of Eck, "I do not think that any
pious person could listen without horror to the sophisms and vain
subtleties of that talking mountebank."--Seckendorf, iii. parag. 80,
addit. 1.

It has been lately written hither that many Asiatic tribes have revolted from the Turk, and that he is on that account to be occupied for the present with the war in Persia, so that he will be less likely to trouble Hungary. As this news has been written out of Hungary, I scarcely venture to put faith in it. I rather desire to think it to be true than believe it to be as reported. To-day also we have learned that the monk who had undertaken the government of the kingdom during the minority of his pupil, has been made a prisoner by his own countrymen.[268] There is, therefore, no doubt but that on occasion of such a favourable opportunity, Buda may have fallen under the power of Ferdinand. Many soldiers are said to collect in the territory of the Bishop of Bremen, although themselves do not tell under whose command they are. Many, however, have a suspicion that our friend Henry of Brunswick is the contriver of the plot;[269] for they have the same generals whom formerly he had armed against us. Should there be any disturbance there is danger of the war spreading.

[_Lat. orig. autogr._--_Library of Geneva._ Vol. 106.]

[268] The Bishop George Martinuzzi, Waywode of Transylvania. He was
feebly supported by the Turks, whom he had called into Hungary from
hatred to King Ferdinand.

[269] Henry of Brunswick endeavoured to have himself appointed head
of the Romanist League concluded at Nuremberg in 1538, in opposition
to the Protestant League of Smalkald. Incited by a blind hatred of
the Gospel, he is accused of having hired mercenary troops to lay
waste the dominions of the Elector of Saxony.--Seckendorf, iii.
parag. 86.

LXVI.--TO FAREL.

Request addressed by the ministers of the Church of Zurich
to those of Strasbourg--Calvin promises to return to
Geneva--message to Viret.

FROM RATISBON, _4th May 1541_.

Although I think that my former letters must have abundantly satisfied you, yet because a convenient opportunity was presented of writing to you by Frellon,[270] I was unwilling to forego it, especially since a new subject had occurred; for the Zurichers lately, as I hear, have earnestly requested the magistrates of Strasbourg to throw no obstacles in the way of my setting out, and have also solemnly conjured me in another letter, although I am only a private individual, that I would not refuse the calling of the Lord. That this has happened by your suggestion our friends can easily perceive. When I see, however, that you busy yourself so much, without intermission, about it, no other conclusion can be arrived at in my mind than that you entertain less favourable thoughts of me and others than you ought. It had been my wish to free you from such surmises when I wrote that at the request of Philip I had been sent hither for the second time. What if I, according to your practice, were to indulge in conjectures,--my mind would incline me otherwise. It would have made little difference had I remained at home in presence of the Council. Who do you think can have been the advisers of this journey? But I am unwilling to torture myself to no purpose with cogitations such as these. My choice would have been to excuse myself if my conscience had suffered me, although I have sought to be excused when it was too late; but at last it was not possible to decline. Certainly I have not dared to do so lest I should seem to set myself in opposition to God as well as men. Hither, therefore, have I been either driven out or sent. At present I am bound fast, as it were, with fetters, which even, if I wished ever so much, I cannot break asunder before the time. I shall, however, attempt to unloosen them by degrees. When I perceived, however, that my speed was all too tardy to meet your desires, I formed the determination at which I have hinted in former letters, that, having once finished what we had to do here, we should straightway depart thither; but many reasons compel me first of all to return home. I will endeavour, if it be possible, to return to Strasbourg before the fair time, where during the time of the fair I shall preach; afterwards I shall make my escape thither. I do not see what more you can require of me, unless, perhaps, you take a pleasure in wearying me out with your complaints, and only not to kill me outright. I will bear it, indeed, if I cannot successfully entreat that you would shew yourself more equitable towards me; but I would prefer to obtain of you that you would not scourge without deserving. As soon as I receive a message from the Zurichers I shall return a very friendly answer. They could not have written in more friendly or more respectful terms. But I assure you, all that was superfluous on my account, for our friends gave no evidence whatever that they had the slightest desire to retain me. These letters, however, have produced this good, that--what is every way desirable--they have a tendency to cherish agreement between these two Churches. On that account Bucer was certainly greatly rejoiced. Do you, in the meanwhile, confirm and strengthen Viret by frequent exhortations, that he may not be worn down by the weariness of delay; and communicate this letter. My anxiety is very great to know whether all my letters have reached you; for by the same messenger I wrote about my departure to you, to Viret, and to the Senate of Geneva; after that I wrote another letter from Ulm, three from hence--these make four. The first and second I sent to Strasbourg, the third to Soleure. You will also oblige me if you will let me understand how many copies you have yet remaining of the _Institution_. It will also be a most acceptable kindness, if you will undertake it, carefully and faithfully to explain the present state of things at Geneva. Adieu, most excellent and worthy brother; greet for me reverently all the brethren, Chaponneau, Thomas, Cordier, Michael, and the rest. I am tired with writing. This is the third messenger whom I charge with letters.--Yours,

CALVIN.

[_Lat. orig. autogr._--_Library of Geneva._ Vol. 106.]

[270] John Frellon, a printer of Lyons.

LXVII.--TO FAREL.

Results of the Diet of Ratisbon--conferences
of the theologians--original
sin--free-will--justification--impossibility of agreement in the
sacrament of the Supper.

RATISBON, _11th May 1541_.

Though I find my prolonged stay here to be irksome, yet never shall I regret having come. Do you think me to be not in a sound state of mind when I say so? I am quite conscious of what I am saying; and that I do not speak unreasonably you shall understand when we meet. For the present, you can pick up a few crumbs, as much as you can, by way of narrative. Our friends in the commission have come to agreement on the doctrine of original sin without any difficulty; a discussion followed on that of free-will, which was drawn together out of the writings of Augustine; they departed in neither of these points from ourselves. The debate in controversy was more keen upon the doctrine of justification. At length a formula was drawn up, which, on receiving certain corrections, was accepted on both sides. You will be astonished, I am sure, that our opponents have yielded so much, when you read the extracted copy, as it stood when the last correction was made upon it, which you will find enclosed in the letter. Our friends have thus retained also the substance of the true doctrine, so that nothing can be comprehended within it which is not to be found in our writings; you will desire, I know, a more distinct explication and statement of the doctrine, and, in that respect, you shall find me in complete agreement with yourself. However, if you consider with what kind of men we have to agree upon this doctrine, you will acknowledge that much has been accomplished. Next came the subject of the Church: as to the definition they agreed in opinion; on the question of the power of the Church they began to differ. When at length they could not anyhow be reconciled, it seemed best to omit that article. With regard to the sacraments, there was some jarring of opinion; but when those of our side conceded to them their ceremonies as things indifferent, they advanced then to the consideration of the sacrament of the Supper. There stood the impassable rock which barred the way to farther progress. Transubstantiation, reposition, circumgestation, and other superstitious forms of worship, were utterly rejected. This our opponents would by no means allow. My colleague,[271] who is full of enthusiasm in the desire for agreement, began to murmur, and to become indignant, because such unseasonable questions were entertained. Melanchthon rather tended to the opposite opinion, that so, the gangrene being brought to a height, he might cut off all hope of pacification. Our friends having consulted, they called us together. We were requested, each in succession, to state our opinions; it was the unanimous voice of all, that transubstantiation was a mere fiction or figment, the reposition of the consecrated wafer a piece of superstition, that the adoration of the wafer was idolatrous, or at the least dangerous, since it had no authority from the word of God. I had also to explain in Latin what were my sentiments. Although I had not understood any one of the others, deliberately, without fear of offence, I condemned that peculiar local presence; the act of adoration I declared to be altogether insufferable. Believe me, in matters of this kind, boldness is absolutely necessary for strengthening and confirming others. Do you, therefore, earnestly supplicate the Lord that he may uphold us with that spirit of fortitude. A document in writing was then drawn up by Philip, which, when it was presented to Granvelle, was rejected with harsh expressions, because those three commissioners had made us aware of them. When such things happen, at the very threshold, you may conceive how much difficulty remains in regard to private masses, the sacrifice of the mass, and the cup in the communion. What if it should come to a consideration of the open confession of the spiritual presence? How much disturbance would be ready to burst forth out of it! Your letters, by the quill merchant, were delivered to me a month after they were written; I shall be surprised if, in the course of a day or two, others do not make their appearance. The safety of the brethren has been recommended to me to attend to it as I ought, but we stick as yet at that obstruction which you are aware of. Maurus,[272] who was sent about that business, is actively engaged in untying that knot. Greater hope than usual breaks forth: for the Landgrave begins to perceive some failure in the quarter from which he expected most; therefore he will incline to that which we propose. If that shall so fall out, they will, I doubt not, have a particular consideration of the brethren; and Maury will do his utmost, as he is a pious and right-hearted man. Believe me, he has hitherto been faithful in attending to that which he undertook. Nothing more, however, has been obtained, than that they might have permission to return home with impunity, provided they abjured in presence of the bishop. N. is most troublesome to us; may the Lord either take him away or amend him. Greet all the brethren in the most friendly manner. May the Lord Jesus keep you. Philip and Bucer salute you. When we dined with the Landgrave the day before yesterday, kindly mention was made of you.

[_Calvin's Lat. Corresp._ Opera, tom. ix. p. 17.]

[271] Martin Bucer.

[272] This was doubtless that gentleman of the chamber of King
Francis I., to whom Œcolampadius wrote in 1524, to congratulate
him on his sincere attachment to the Gospel. This gentleman is known
only under the pseudonyme of Maurus Musæus, _a secretis et cubiculo
Regis Galliarum_. See the letter of Œcolampadius in the Life of
Gerard Roussel, by M. Schmidt. Strasbourg, 1845, in 8vo, App. No. 3,
p. 179.

LXVIII.--TO FAREL.

Efforts of Bucer and of Melanchthon to effect a connection
between the two Churches--formula of concord--feeling of Calvin
on the subject.

_12th May 1541._