From Strasbourg, this 19th February 1541.
Nobles, honourable and potent Lords,—In furtherance of the answer made to your ambassadors by the members of the Council of this town, immediately upon our return from Worms, I have procured of them that they would take into their consideration the rendering assistance to your Church, as I ought to keep in mind that she must be duly provided. And if it had been thought good that I should go there, I would have set about my duty; for although the charge of administering the government of such a church would be very difficult for me, yet, notwithstanding, seeing that I am at the disposal of God, and not at my own, I am always ready to employ myself thereto in whatsoever it shall seem good to him to call me. And, also, since you are pleased to have so much confidence in me, I feel myself bound to satisfy, in so far as shall depend upon me, your desire, over and above the perpetual obligation which binds me to the church whereto our Lord has at the first appointed me. Howbeit, a hindrance has come in the way, which does not permit me to follow out the purpose further;—it is, that I have been chosen as a deputy to go to the Diet of Ratisbon, which call I could not avoid, seeing that therein I am serving your Church, as well as that of Strasbourg, inasmuch as it is a common cause. I have, however, been greatly delighted to hear that our brother, Master Peter Viret, had undertaken the charge of instructing you in the word of God,[233] for he is of such faithfulness and prudence, that in having him you are not unprovided. Wherefore, Messieurs, you will please to have me excused, seeing that I cannot come, since our Lord draws me elsewhere, but yet to such a place as does in nowise withdraw me from you, seeing that I am always allied to you in heart and affection, and hope, besides, never more to be separated from you. I beseech you to well consider all the means of rightly ordering your Church, so that she may be ruled according to the scriptural method of our Lord. We hope on this side, from all we have heard, that the disputes which you have with the Messieurs of Berne will shortly be settled, for which we are thankful to God, acknowledging that there is nothing in this world which can be more to your advantage than to maintain the worthy friendship which God has ordained among you.
Noble, potent, and honourable lords, after that I have humbly commended me to your good favour, I beseech our God of his goodness to uphold you specially in the obedience of his holy word, and to confirm you more and more in his Spirit, to direct you in true prudence and justice for the well governing of your town, and causing you to prosper in every good thing.
Your humble servant and assured friend,
John Calvin.
[Fr. orig. autogr.—Library of Geneva. Portfolio 1.]
Strasbourg, 19th February 1541.
I was not a little delighted, my dear Farel, with your letter; nor did Bucer derive less pleasure than myself, because both of us could perceive that you did not omit a single point which could tend in any way to the preservation of a good understanding and agreement, and that you had laid bare to them that singular fervency of spirit and of charity, as well as of your anxious care for the Church, by which she ought to be stirred up to serious concern. If nothing has been attained, as you observe, our condition is most wretched, who place our reliance upon hearts of stony hardness; but I can scarcely be induced to believe that they are not in some little degree softened; for themselves also, in a letter of their own to our friends, shew that they are possessed by the desire, somehow or other, of helping that Church, and the cause itself does not admit of their doing otherwise. Therefore, we may hope well of them, even although the grounds of good hope may not distinctly appear to us all at once. You are aware, angry passions when once aroused must be allayed by degrees, and cannot be appeased in a single day. One consideration, however, made me singularly glad, that I see the Church of Geneva provided with a minister by the arrival of Viret;[234] for I very much feared, that if that Church should remain destitute for a longer period, something else might happen than we would wish. Now, I trust, the matter is beyond the risk of danger. As for me, nothing must be done at present. Would that I had not that excuse which I am compelled to put forward to them; for I am dragged most unwillingly to Ratisbon,[235] as well because I foresee that the journey will prove very troublesome to me, as because I much fear that there may be a prolonged delay, for they are wont, ofttimes, to lengthen out the Diets even for ten months; and, last of all, I am unwilling, because I see myself to be no way adapted for that kind of business, whatever others may think. But I shall follow wherever God leads, who knows best why he has laid this necessity upon me. I am much surprised that Sulzer has written to his correspondents, that I knew that it was approved of in the judgment of Melanchthon. Whence he had that information I cannot divine, since I had earnestly entreated that you would not say a syllable about it. I foresaw, indeed, that it would not be without envy; for, perchance, even that might be interpreted as if I had thrown out ambitiously what you had heard out of his own mouth. But this also I commit to the overruling direction of the Lord.
We rejoice that the lawsuit between the Bernese and the Genevese[236] has been referred to the arbitration of Basle, and may therefore entertain the hope, that in a short time it will be settled without any uproar. Do insist, with all your influence, that the Genevese may acquiesce in the judgment, whatever may be pronounced, for their obstinacy cannot be approved of if they insist any further. Do, therefore, take effectual measures that they may not attempt anything in opposition to the decree-arbitral; if the others reject it, there will not be one right-thinking person who will not condemn such a proceeding.
Concerning the brethren, I was very much alarmed when a report was spread, that they were not now to be accused of heresy, but of riot and sedition.[237] What I had sometime heard from the mouth of Jo... , came to mind; so I was surmising that they had not been overwell advised in this respect. Lately, however, the Cardinal[238] has written to Morler, who had been sent to our friends by the King of France, that he was ready to grant pardon. We have heard from other quarters that this was obtained after very much and earnest discussion; but, however that may be, we have to thank the Lord, that one way or other the cruel persecution is moderated, both there and throughout the whole kingdom.
We depart hence on Tuesday; if anything shall occur, you will find Capito here, for I set out alone with Bucer. I beg and entreat of you that you would alleviate the irksomeness of my present situation with long and frequent letters; for unless my weariness can be refreshed by the solace of friendship, I shall be utterly in darkness. Adieu, my very excellent and most kindly brother.—Yours,
Calvin.
Salute particularly all the brethren for me. May the Lord Jesus always confirm you with his own Spirit. All our friends greet you in a very special manner, and especially Claude, with his companions, who commend to you the care of your throat.
There is a certain theologian, named Becholoz of Caen, who has made his escape almost, as it were, out of the flame of conflagration; for he was burnt in effigy. As he had no means of livelihood, they say that he has retired either to Strasbourg or to Geneva. Our friend Claude, to whom he is well enough known, gives an excellent character of him, that he is a pious man, learned and upright. The more uncommon these endowments are, they ought all so much the more to be valued among ourselves. If he shall come to you,—we desire to recommend him to you in the highest terms; if, however, he has gone to Geneva, you can let Viret have timely notice, in order that he may not neglect him.
[Lat. orig. autogr.—Library of Geneva. Vol. 106.]
Ulm, 1st March 1541.
When your letter was delivered to me, we were then ready for the journey, and I do not remember ever in my life a more noisy and troublesome outsetting; so, on that account, as I could not reply myself, I therefore left it in charge with Claude Feray, whom you have seen with me at Basle, and to my brother, to write to Farel and let him understand what were my thoughts. Having at length got an interval of leisure, though ever so small, I have felt desirous to write you while upon the journey; you will, however, excuse that I reply to you so confusedly and so briefly, because I have not your letter beside me, so as to see at once the different heads of it in their right order, and so to consider them with attention; neither is there time enough allowed to the wayfarer at the inn to enable him to commit to writing anything duly weighed, or, as it were, to fasten his thoughts well together; but as well as I recollect there were two principal heads. In the first, you point out that I ought not to desert the Church of Geneva; in the other, you also strongly enforce the desirableness of hastening my return, that Satan may not throw some hindrance in the way should we make a more lengthened sojourn. To the former I can make no other reply than what I have been always in the habit of returning, that there is no place under heaven of which I can have a greater dread, not because I have hated it, but because I see so many difficulties presented in that quarter which I do feel myself far from being equal to surmount. Whenever the recollection of former times recurs to my mind, I cannot but shudder throughout with heartfelt alarm at the thought, that I may be forced to expose myself a second time to these sort of contests. Had I merely to superintend that church, I would feel more at ease upon the matter, certainly I would be much less alarmed at the prospect, but you must understand well enough that there is much more in this matter than I can describe. This much, however, I may say in one word, while from many tokens I wot very well that he whom you wot of, who can do the most mischief of all, entertains an implacable hatred towards me: when I call to mind how all around him there lie open to his hand so many inlets of approach on every side, ready for mischief-making, how many bellows may be set agoing for lighting up the fires of contention, how many opportunities presented which I can never be well provided against, it quite appals me. In the city itself there are many other difficulties which cause me no little anxiety even now. The further I proceed, the clearer do I perceive how arduous a charge it is to rule in the superintendence of a church; albeit I would not flinch from doing my utmost to help that Church in her wretchedness, but would be most ready to do so whenever it shall be given me to understand that I can be of any service; for howsoever certain considerations may rather alarm me in this enterprise, though they do operate rather as a drawback while they hold my mind's resolve somewhat in suspense, they cannot, however, drive this out of me, that I must be adoing to my very uttermost whatsoever I shall have concluded to be most for her welfare and prosperity. Farel can vouch for me that I had never, even by a single word, shrunk back from that call; but only that I earnestly entreated, lest through unadvisedness the already forlorn Church should suffer a second dispersion, and, in the meanwhile, I have shewn clearly enough that I desired nothing more wishfully than to spend even my very soul where there might be any need for it. By very clear and convincing arguments I could, were you present, make it quite plain to you, that I have here concealed nothing from you; but this, indeed, appeared most evidently to myself, for when the deputations from Geneva had arrived at Worms, with many tears I besought our friends, by everything sacred, that putting me entirely out of their thoughts, they would well and carefully consider, as in the sight of God, what might be most for the benefit of the Church, now imploring their present relief and further help. When we came home, although no one took up the matter, I never ceased to exhort that they would seriously advise about that spiritual charge; nor indeed were they themselves, I do assure you, at all wanting in their duty; but, as I in some measure anticipated, it was almost immediately thereupon resolved that I should be conjoined with Bucer. This did not appear to me to have been done upon any previous understanding or arrangement; as I have formerly written to Farel, so now do I also solemnly assure you; for indeed it almost looked as if it had been determined on before we returned from Worms, and that by the advisement of those who were thinking very little about Geneva. Indeed, were you even to ask me the reason why I was sent at all, I see no cause for it; but, nevertheless, however unfit I may be, it was no part of my duty to refuse. My going thither, therefore, was unavoidable, unless I would everywhere hear the worst of it. And thereupon, until the arrival of your letter, when there was no longer any room for deliberation, I thought that you would hold me even more than excusable, on a right understanding of the whole affair. You have now wherewithal to satisfy both your requirements, that up to this date I have never refused to come, nor could hitherto have done so. Further, this I promise you, that in time to come I will not think of changing my opinion upon the propriety of proceeding thither, except some far more overruling power had foreclosed the way against me; for I am so taken up about the care of that church, as it is only reasonable to suppose I would be, that already somehow, I cannot tell how it happens, I begin to feel more of an inclination to take the helm in hand should circumstances so require. Thus, however, we agreed among ourselves, that immediately after our return I proceed thither along with Bucer, that we may take counsel in common, according to present circumstances, as to what may be most advisable, and not as to the settlement of a pastor merely, but that we may take some thought about the complete restoration of the Church. In this way a deliverance upon the whole matter will have greater weight of authority, and will be more fixed and certain for the future, since those also will have lent their sanction to it from whom afterwards the most would have to be feared. The head of discipline once settled, they will be bound by their own judgment to make no further remonstrance: nor can they well set agoing any measure for disturbing the order of our discipline. In the meantime, my dear brother, I entreat of you, for Christ's sake, that you do not despair or lose courage. The more uncertain it may be how long we shall be here, the less on that account ought the thought of further delay to vex or annoy you. I am well aware, that there are very many annoyances which cannot but occasion you much trouble and anxiety; but bethink yourself that the charge is at present laid upon you by the Lord, of supporting and maintaining that Church, whose welfare you have at heart, until our arrival. The day before I received your letter, I had excused myself to your council, that for the present I could not come thither. I trust that my excuse has been accepted.
Farewell, my very kind brother and right-minded friend. Salute respectfully on my behalf all the godly. The Lord the Spirit, may he confirm you in every good work.
[Calvin's Lat. Corresp. Opera, tom. ix. p. 14.]
Ulm, 1st March 1541
Your letter was delivered to me when we were just prepared and making ready to start upon our journey.[241] You will therefore excuse my having replied somewhat later than you may have expected. For the same reason I would wish that you may excuse this epistle, if it shall appear rather brief and confusedly put together, since it has to be written by fits and starts upon the journey. That you advise me to take upon myself the administration of the Church of Geneva, in so far as you are concerned, I have no doubt that you have done so in sincerity and from the best motives; because you are of opinion that it cannot be restored to order unless those persons shall come to their help by whose departure it has come to pass that they are thus unhappily afflicted. Moreover, that argument by which you endeavour to prevail has always had great weight with me; for because I was afraid lest I might withstand God, I have never dared utterly to reject that call. On the other hand, my conscience holds me bound in that charge which I sustain at present; neither does it suffer me easily, as if that were a matter of no concern, at once to desert it. My own heart bears witness before God that it was a sacred and a lawful call, as many godly persons can also testify to the world. For, indeed, after that calamity, when my ministry appeared to me to be disastrous and unprosperous, I had determined in my own mind never again to enter upon any ecclesiastical charge whatever, unless the Lord himself, by a clear and manifest call, should summon me to it: I mean by this, that such a necessity had occurred as that it was not possible for me to strive against it. Standing upon this determination, the Strasburghers never ceased to employ many devices, and to set many engines in motion, until they overturned my resolution. At their first onset, however, they did not succeed. And when they saw that all was to little purpose, they threatened, by many arguments, that at the long run I could no more escape the hand of God by flying from him, than Jonah had escaped of old. It is nothing wonderful, therefore, if I do not lightly relinquish that outpost in which God has stationed me. Albeit, I am not so fixed or nailed to it, but that I am prepared at the same time to remove as often as it may be the mind of the Church that I should do so. I will not stir a step, however, except in the way of lawful procedure. This was the reason why I referred the hearing and entire disposal of this case to the judgment of our Church. Over and above all, my dear brethren and colleagues, whom, as they deserve, I esteem very highly in the Lord, and to whose authority I defer not less than to the parental, although they were most unwilling to let me away, yet themselves gave way so far as to agree that I should set out thither with Bucer, and taking into consideration the condition of the Church, might consult and advise together upon what we might conclude as likely to prove most beneficial. In order, however, that we might not accomplish this purpose forthwith on the instant, we have been hindered by this journey. But as soon as we shall have returned home, you may depend on our whole attention being given to the disposal of this matter. In what relates to yourself privately, you are well aware that the entrance of every one of you upon that ministry was with very good reason disapproved by me.[242] Nothing really good could be expected to come from so inauspicious a commencement, saving that I always besought the Lord that he would make you apt to teach in the ministry, and sufficient for himself. In the meantime, many things were reported which one could scarcely credit, neither was it possible utterly to disprove them. Most assuredly, it was not without the most intense heaviness of heart that I heard things which I foresaw must tend so greatly to the dishonour and disgrace of the sacred ministry; for as to what I heard of myself and the brethren having been treated in no very friendly style, that was a consideration that either did not at all affect my mind, or pricked me so slightly that it could inflict no sore. Although I acknowledge that I had such esteem to Farel and to Courault—as their piety, learning, and sanctity well deserved, that I could not bear patiently to hear anything spoken disparagingly of them. This, therefore, I neither conceal nor dissemble, that you may understand I deal with you candidly and in simplicity. And, therefore, as touching the present solicitation, I cannot do otherwise than return you my best thanks, for that by your letters you shew yourself so well disposed; and I trust that the inward affection will respond to your words. You may in turn securely depend on me; for of a truth I promise you, whatever may be expected from an individual who is a lover of peace, and averse from contention—who is, moreover, your friend, very desirous indeed of your salvation, and lastly, neither difficult nor implacable in forgiving offences. But at the same time, I beseech you, by the name of God and by his awful judgment, that you keep in mind with whom you have to do,—one who will exact a strict account in that day of eternity, by the most searching and fiery trial, who can no way be satisfied by mere words, or put off by some vain excuse. Above all, do you seriously consider that you are engaged in the discharge of an office, which, as it excels every other, so it is the most dangerous of all, if you do not apply yourself with the utmost diligence and intensity to the duties which belong to it. If you care for my approval, I would forewarn you of this one thing, that I require no more of you than that you devote yourself sincerely and faithfully to the Lord. Adieu, my very dear brother; may the Lord Jesus, by his own Spirit, prepare and confirm you in every good work. Salute, I pray you, all the godly on my behalf.
[Calvin's Lat. Corresp. Opera, tom. ix. p. 260.]
Ratisbon, 28th March 1541.
From the time of my arrival here I had not written to you, but had commissioned my friend Claude, that whatever news he might receive from me he should take care to forward to you; nor was there, indeed, anything worth your reading; and I was myself in expectation, first of all, of receiving a letter from you, which I would then reward with a like communication. In the meantime, while I wait for your letter, a distressing event is announced to me, that our dear friend Claude,[244] whom I singularly esteemed, had been carried off by the plague. Louis, the brother of Charles,[245] followed three days afterwards. My house was in a state of sad desolation; my brother had gone with Charles to a neighbouring village, my wife had betaken herself to my brother's, and the youngest of Claude's scholars was lying sick in bed. To the bitterness of grief, therefore, there was added a very anxious concern for those who survived. Day and night my wife was constantly present in my thoughts, in need of advice, seeing that she was deprived of her husband. The bereaved condition of the very estimable Charles, who, within the space of four days, has been deprived of his only brother, and of his instructor, whom he reverenced as a father, grievously distressed me. I was aware, besides, that he was most tender in his affection. I could not think about Malherbe, but, at the same time, the excellent youths who took care of him came into my mind. Although, however, these events have produced in me so much sadness, that it seems as if they could utterly upset the mind and depress the spirit, you cannot believe the grief which consumes me on account of the death of my dear friend Claude. Nor need this surprise you. For these two years bygone, you can well conceive how much I stood in need of an assured and faithful friend, who might help to uphold me in the midst of so many and such varied troubles and causes of disquiet; he not only proved himself most faithful, but in every way so dutiful, and withal so kindly, that I could use almost the same familiarity in my intercourse with him as if he were my brother. When of late I left this place, as you know, in a state of suspense and irresolution, he promised, in the most sacred manner, that he would come wherever I wished, and that his friendship should never fail me. The more I consider with myself how much I stood in need of a good counsellor always at my side, and, on the other hand, how rare, in these times, is such an instance of affectionate good-will and faithfulness, I cannot arrive at any other conclusion, than that the Lord, in taking him away, has meant to chastise me severely for my sins. But while I only intended to touch upon the subject of my misery in a passing way, I am already running to excess. That is to be accounted for, however, as well by the recollection of a most excellent man, (which I wish may some time be as sweet to me as it shall ever be sacred,) as from a pious regard to those who are left.
The Emperor has been waiting hitherto for the arrival of the princes; the two Bavarians have been here from the commencement,[246] and the highwayman of Brunswick,[247] at once the dishonour and the very pest of Germany; from time to time the deputies are arriving, one after the other. At length some of the princes make their appearance, Frederic the Palatine, brother of the Elector, Otho his nephew, the young Duke of Wurtemberg,[248] the Landgrave, the Archbishop of Mentz, Albert of Baden, the Prince of Anhalt, the Saxon ambassador; the Elector of Brandenbourg is expected shortly. The Emperor does not cease from urging attendance upon the others, while, in the meantime, he spins out the time for their appearance. The Elector of Saxony has excused his absence upon very satisfactory grounds, by his ambassadors. There are two of the cities belonging to the League, Goslar and Brunswick, which Henry, under cover of the bann, has annoyed by his depredations and robberies. Our friends have lately resolved, that they shall be defended by the army of the League. The Emperor, in the meantime, that the meeting of the Diet may not be hindered, has suspended all the judicial proceedings which he had instituted against us, and has been pleased also to annul all the sentences which have been passed against us, until the whole matter shall be definitely ascertained. That Edict having been promulgated, the Duke of Brunswick was ordered to make restitution of what he had plundered, and to abstain in future from all violence. Although he undertook that he would do so, he proceeds, however, as he had begun. One may almost be of opinion that he acts in collusion with the Emperor. However that may be, assuredly the Elector of Saxony cannot desert his allies; he continues, therefore, upon the lookout, that should there be any commotion he may immediately oppose himself to the attack of the enemy. Moreover, from the time that these suspensions were intimated, he has been cited to hear the proclamation of the bann, that is, the sentence of denunciation and proscription. A similar intimation was made to us some few days afterwards. The Emperor, how conscientiously I know not, but with strong asseveration nevertheless, declares that these proceedings are very unpleasant to him, and that he would endeavour that they may pass away in smoke. These proceedings, however, are allowed to go forward, not without our being put in very great jeopardy of our lives; for what if they should pronounce sentence upon us to-morrow? We could not stir a single foot without risking the loss of our heads. The Duke of Savoy had escaped my recollection, who has come hither for the purpose of taking the oath of fealty to the empire, in order that he may recover, with our assistance, those possessions which, while he had them, did not incline him to join the alliance of the empire. When it was, therefore, somewhat too late, the advocate Raimond has been sent ambassador by the King of France, to request that he might be received, as the representative of the duchy of Savoy, to the allegiance and protection of the empire. The embassies from foreign nations are many and magnificent. The Cardinal Contarini[249] is legate from the Pope, who has distributed so many crosses for us at his first entrance, that for two days afterwards his arm, I think, must have felt the fatigue of it. The Bishop of Modena, son of Jerome Morone, has been sent separately, under the title and designation of Nuncio. Contarini is desirous of bringing us under the yoke of subjection without bloodshed; on that account he tries all methods of settling the business on the ground of expediency, without having recourse to arms. He of Modena[250] is altogether sanguinary, and talks of nothing but war. Both of them are entirely bent on cutting off all friendly treaty; but of this afterwards. The Venetians have an ambassador here—a magnificent personage. The King of England, besides the ordinary embassy to the Diet, has sent the Bishop of Winchester, with a numerous suite, who is a man over-sharp in malice. I pass by the Portugese and others. From the French King, also, there is one, Du Veil, a busy blockhead. When I mentioned the Princes I passed over the whole fry of the Pfaffery, excepting one, the Elector of Mentz. There are present, however, a good many bishops, the Bishop of Ratisbon, of Augsburg, Spire, Bremen, Saltzburg, Brixen, Worms, Bamberg, Heidelsheim, and some others.
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.
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.]
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.]
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.
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.
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.]