place of those who had been banished, and a feeling of jealousy would not have been unnatural, but every feeling of this kind is suppressed, if it ever existed, and he endeavours most earnestly to quell the discord and strife which had continued in the church from the time of his expulsion. Thus he writes :

:

'Nothing, most beloved brethren, has caused me greater sorrow, since those disturbances, which had so sadly scattered, and almost entirely overthrown you church, than when I understood your strivings and contentions with those ministers who succeeded us. For although the disorders which were inseparably connected with their first arrival among you, might with good reason prove offensive to you; whatever may have given the occasion, I cannot hear without great and intense horror that any schism should settle down within the church, I trust that you will readily perceive that my only object is to lead you into the right way, that being so persuaded with regard to me, you may show in reality by what motive you are brought into subjection to the truth. Especially I ask you to weigh maturely, having put aside all respect of persons, of what honour the Lord accounts them worthy, and what grace he has committed to those whom he has appointed in his own church as pastors and ministers of the word. For he not only commands us to render a willing obedience to the word while it is proclaimed to us, but also commands that the ministers of the word are to be treated with honour and reverence, as being clothed with the authority of his ambassadors, whom he would have to be acknowledged even as his own angels and messengers.. Nor besides ought it to seem a light matter to you, that sects and divisions are formed and cherished within the church, which no one who has a Christian heart beating in his breast can without horror even drink in with the hearing of the cars. But that the state of matters is indeed such, where a separation of this kind exists, and as it were a secession between pastor and people, the thing speaks for itself.'-Ibid. vol. i. pp. 118-124.

He writes much more to the same effect, and this excessive estimate of the dignity and authority of the pastor, together with his horror of all divisions, will explain his frequently overbearing conduct in the ministerial office.

In 1540 overtures were made to him to return to Geneva, but nothing could exceed the antipathy which he manifested to the very thought of return. Virel advised it on the ground of health. "Why,' replied Calvin, 'could you not have said at the cross? for it would have been far more preferable to perish once for all than to be tormented again in that place of torture.' (P. 163.) Again to Farel he says:

"Whenever I call to mind the state of wretchedness in which my life was spent when there, how can it be otherwise but that my very soul must shudder when any proposal is made for my return? While I call to mind by what torture my conscience was racked at that time, and with how much anxiety it was continually boiling over, pardon me if I dread that place as having about it somewhat of a fatality in my case.'-Ibid. p. 187.

His scruples were at last overcome, and in August, 1541, he wrote to Farel:

'As to my intended course of proceeding, this is my present feeling: had I the choice at my own disposal, nothing would be less agreeable to me than to follow your advice. But when I remember that I am not my own, I offer up my heart. presented as a sacrifice to the Lord. Therefore there is no ground for your apprehension that you will only get fine words. Our friends are in earnest, and promise sincerely. And for myself I protest that I have no other desire than that setting aside all consideration of me, they may look only to what is most for the

glory of God and the advantage of the church. Although I am not very ingenious, I would not want pretexts by which I might adroitly slip away, so that I should easily excuse myself in the sight of men, and show that it was no fault of mine. I am well aware, however, that it is God with whom I have to do, from whose sight such crafty imaginations cannot be withheld.'—Ibid. pp. 256, 257.

No sooner had he returned, however, than the same difficulties beset his path, and he felt unhappy in his charge. A month or two after his arrival he writes to Farel:

'As for our own proceedings, what I wrote to you about being unequally yoked, I find to be more completely verified than was expected; but must endure what cannot be remedied. Therefore, should Virel be taken away from me, I shall be utterly ruined, and this church will be past recovery.'-Ibid. p. 283.

From this time forward he maintained his post, but so far as his correspondence extends, his life appears to have been a scene of constant excitement, caused by his attempt to enforce strict discipline, and the contentions with individuals in which the attempt involved him. Among his failures was the endeavour to suppress all dancing in the city, and he advised the Consistory to proceed against the dancers according to the strict letter of the law :

'After your departure,' he writes to Farel, 'the dances caused us more trouble than I had supposed. All those who were present being summoned to the Consistory with the two exceptions of Coma and Perrin, shamelessly lied to God and us. When I was fully informed of the state of the case, I could do nothing but call God to witness that they would pay the penalty of such perfidy. Finally, I added that a new city must be built for them, in which they might live apart, unless they were willing to be restrained by us here under the yoke of Christ; that so long as they were in Geneva they would strive in vain to cast off obedience to the laws, for were there as many diadems in the house of the Favres as frenzied heads, that would be no barrier to the Lord being superior. They not only confessed what we wished, but that they on that day danced at the house of the widow of Balthazar. They were all cast into prison.'

Calvin was quite as strenuous in his efforts to put down foppery as dancing, and apparently as unsuccessful. A peculiar style of trousers had come into fashion, at which he took great offence, and he procured the passing of an ordinance, in which the wearing of them was prohibited.

'We have here lately some little trouble about slashed breeches. This was the pretext, but they had already begun to break out into the greatest license. When the Two Hundred had been summoned at their request, we were all present. I made a speech, which in a moment extorted from them what with firm expectation they had eagerly swallowed, for I discoursed about sources of corruption in general, premising that I was not speaking against these trumperies. They fall into a rage, and gnash with their teeth, as they do not dare openly to shout.'

Again he writes:

'The state of our young people is very corrupt; so that when we will not allow them every license, they go from bad to worse. Of late they were sorely enraged under cover of a small matter. It was because they were not allowed to wear slashed breeches, which has been prohibited in the town for these twelve years past. Not that we make overmuch of this, but because we see that by the loop-holes of the breeches they wish to bring in all manner of disorders. We have protested, however, in the meantime, that the slashing of the breeches was but a mere piece of foppery, which was not worth speaking about, but that we had quite another end in view, which was to curb and repress their follies. During this little conflict the

devil has interjected others, so that there has been great murmuring. And because they perceived in us more courage than they could have wished, and more determination to resist them, the venom which some of them had concealed within their heart burst forth. But this is nought but smoke; for their threats are nothing else but a splutter of the pride of Moab, who is powerless to execute what he thus presumes to threaten.'

The danger was greater, however, than Calvin anticipated, and the affair did not pass away in smoke. Hitherto it had been an affair of words, and he writes respecting one of the leaders-' provided he does not go the length of throwing stones, our patience, yours and mine, will not find it very hard to bear with his abuse.' But, shortly after, a riot broke out which showed at once the courage of Calvin in the midst of danger, and the bitter feelings which his iron rule had excited in the minds of the people.

The enemy,' he writes, are so blinded that they pay no regard to propriety. Yesterday not a little confirmed a suspicion previously entertained by us, that they were shamelessly striving to excite some commotion. The Two Hundred had been summoned. I had publicly announced to my colleagues that I would go to the Senate House. We were there a little indeed before the hour of meeting. As many people were still walking about in the public street, we went out by the gate that is contiguous to the Senate House. Numerous confused shouts were heard from that quarter. These, meanwhile, increased to such a degree as to afford a sure sign of an insurrection. I immediately ran up to the place. The appearance of matters was terrible. I cast myself into the thickest of the crowds, to the amazement of almost everyone. The whole people, however, made a rush towards me; they seized and dragged me hither and thither, lest I should suffer some injury. I called God and men to witness that I had come for the purpose of presenting my body to their swords. I exhorted them, if they designed to shed blood, to begin with me. The worthless, but especially the respectable portion of the crowd, at once greatly relaxed in their fervour. I was at length dragged through the midst to the Senate. There fresh fights arose, into the midst of which I threw myself. All are of opinion that a great and disgraceful carnage was prevented from taking place by my interposition. My colleagues, meanwhile, were mixed up with the crowd. I succeeded in getting them all to sit down quietly. They say that all were exceedingly affected by a long and vehement speech, suitable to the occasion, which I delivered. . . I hardly hope, however, to be able any longer to retain any position for the church, especially under my ministry. My influence is gone, believe me, unless God stretch forth his hand.'—Letters, vol. ii. pp. 134, 135.

We must not suppose, however, that Calvin proceeded with puritanical zeal against all kinds of amusement. He even sanctioned the public performance of a morality, or play, entitled, 'The Acts of the Apostles,' and showed himself on this occasion far less scrupulous and stringent than some of his colleagues, one of whom stirred up such a tumult in the city that Calvin was obliged to put forth all his influence and authority to quiet the agitation and to save his colleague's life.

Amidst the care and toil connected with his position as minister of the Geneva church, Calvin found time to attend to the interests of the other churches round about. But there were two things at which he constantly aimed-viz., the removal of differences which prevented a thorough union among the churches of Switzerland; and, above all, the reconciliation of the two Protestant churches, the Lutheran and the Reformed. The former was happily effected in the course of time,

but the latter proved to be no easy matter. The church at Zurich held firmly by the doctrines taught by Zuingli, and the antipathy which Luther cherished to some of these could only be exceeded by his hostility to the Church of Rome. The one point, upon which every attempt to effect a reconciliation was destined to be wrecked, was the nature and meaning of the Lord's Supper. All Protestants agreed to reject the Catholic doctrine of transubstantiation, and one would imagine that, this once rejected, there could be no resting-place short of the doctrine of Zuingli, that the whole ceremony is symbolical, and the bread and wine are merely signs. Not only did Luther find what to him was no doubt an intelligible and satisfactory position between the two-namely, in his doctrine of consubstantiation-but Calvin was able to split the difference between Luther and Zuingli, and, all unconsciously no doubt, was doubly anxious to bring the two together, because of his desire that both should cede just what was necessary to bring them to his own stand-point. His letters on this topic serve to show both his desire for such an union, and his own views of the sacrament :

'I rejoice,' he writes, to find that my pamphlet De Canâ has met with your approbation. I have also published a Catechism, which is trustworthy and pertinent evidence of the kind of doctrine with which the common people are imbued by me. Would that the people of Zurich, as you say, were willing to give their assent to that confession! I do not think Luther is so unyielding but that there might easily be an agreement, and they do not withal venture to disapprove of my views. The chief obstacle to their giving assent to my doctrine is, that being preoccupied by a meaning, once and now for a length of time prescribed to them, they so stick to their customary forms as to admit of nothing new.'-Ibid. p. 26.

In several letters Calvin hints at the difference between his own views and those held by the Zuinglians and most of the Reformed. Thus:

'Many think that we make no distinction between the sign and the truth signified, unless we separate them entirely, to make God like a mountebank, who exhibits delusive representations by sleight of hand.'—Ibid. p. 69.

Again, to Bullinger, successor of Zuingli :

In whatever way I may hold the firm persuasion of a greater communication of Christ in the sacraments than you express in words, we will not on that account cease to hold the same Christ and to be one in him.'-Ibid. p. 146.

'We teach that the sacraments are instruments of the grace of God; for as they were instituted in view of a certain end, we refuse to allow that they have no proper use. We therefore say, that what is represented in them is exhibited to the elect, lest it should be supposed that God deludes the eyes by a fallacious representation. Thus we say, that he who receives baptism with true faith, further receives by it the pardon of his sins. But lest anyone should ascribe his salvation to baptism as the cause, we at the same time subjoin the explanation, that the remission flows from the blood of Christ. Our opinion regarding regeneration is precisely similar to that about baptism. When the signs of the flesh and blood of Christ are spread before us in the supper, we say that they are not spread before us in vain, but that the thing itself is also manifested to us. Whence it follows that we eat the body and drink the blood of Christ. By so speaking, we neither make the sign the thing, nor confound both in one, nor enclose the body of Christ in the bread; nor, on the other hand, imagine it to be infinite; nor dream of a carnal transfusion of Christ into us; nor lay down any other fiction of that sort. You maintain that Christ, as to his human nature, is in heaven. We also profess

the same doctrine. The word heaven implies, in your view, distance of place; we also readily adopt the opinion, that Christ is undoubtedly distant from us by an interval of place. You deny that the body of Christ is infinite, but hold that it is contained within its circumference. We candidly give an unhesitating assent to that view, and raise a public testimony on its behalf. You refuse to allow the sign to be confounded with the thing; we are sedulous in admonishing that the one should be distinguished from the other. You strongly condemn impanation; we subscribe to your decision. What, then, is the sum of your doctrine? It is this, that when we discern here on earth the bread and wine, our minds must be raised to heaven in order to enjoy Christ, and that Christ is there present with us while we seek him above the elements of this world. For it is not permitted us to charge Christ with imposition; and that would be the case, unless we held that the reality is exhibited together with the sign. And you also concede that the sign is by no means empty. It only remains that we define what is contained within it. When we briefly reply, that we are made partakers of the flesh and blood of Christ that he may dwell in us and we in him, and in this way enjoy all his benefits; what is there, I ask, in these words either absurd or obscure, especially as we, in express terms, exclude whatever delirious fancies might occur to the mind?'-Ibid. pp. 155, 156.

Calvin's wishes were in part realized; and a sacramentary truce was brought about with much difficulty; but it lasted for a short time only, and Calvin blamed Luther for the rupture. We quote one or two extracts from his letters with regard to this, chiefly for the references they contain to the great Reformer. Even after the truce Luther continued to show his ill-humour against the memory of Zuingli, by writing against his doctrines. At length the church of Zurich replied by publishing Zuingli's works, with an apology for his doctrine prefixed. This is thought by some to be equivalent to throwing down the gauntlet, and Calvin was requested to remonstrate with the Zurichers. To this he replies :

'What you have been advising of late, I mean for me to go to Zurich to admonish the brethren, I do not see what good that would do. At present the danger arises not so much from them as from Luther. He must be pacified. Will this be screwed out of the Zurichers, that they be brought meekly to entreat Luther? It ought to have been looked to long ago that they should not stir that filthy puddle. But who among ourselves had foresight enough for that? Let us therefore make known our request unto the Lord, who only can apply the healing remedy to this disease. It will certainly occasion a serious and ruinous conflagration, but let us await the issue.'-Ibid. p. 405.

In a letter to Bullinger he says:—

'Of this I do earnestly desire to put you in mind, in the first place that you would consider how eminent a man Luther is, and the excellent endowments wherewith he is gifted, with what strength of mind and resolute constancy, with how great skill, with what efficiency and power of doctrinal statement he hath hitherto devoted his whole energy to overthrow the reign of Antichrist, and at the same time to diffuse far and near the doctrine of salvation. Often have I been wont to declare that, even although he were to call me a devil, I should still not the less hold him in such honour that I must acknowledge him to be an illustrious servant of God. But while he is endued with rare and excellent virtues, he labours at the same time under serious faults; would that he had rather studied to curb this restless, uneasy temperament, which is so apt to boil over in every direction. I wish, moreover, that he had always bestowed the fruits of that vehemence of natural temperament upon the enemies of the truth, and that he had not flashed his lightning sometimes also upon the servants of the Lord. Would that he had been more observant and careful in the acknowledgment of his own vices. Flat