Melancthon was charged to give this letter to Luther, but finding no doubt that his master was not in the right humour to receive it, the timid disciple kept the letter, and Luther never knew of it. I do not know if it would have had the effect of calming his irritation, but it remains as a noble expression of the sentiments which Calvin entertained for him, and which he continued to express even after Luther's death.
During the Diets of 1539 and 1542, Calvin frequently met Melancthon, and they became close friends. When men are earnest and sincere, they are drawn together, and united by their points of difference almost as powerfully as by their common sympathies. Melancthon attracted Calvin by the cultivation and fertility of his intellect, by its comprehensiveness as well as its subtlety and elegance; he was at the same time philosophical and literary, as well versed in the ancient Greek and Latin literature as in Christian history and theology. He belonged quite as much to the Restoration of literature in the sixteenth century as to the Reformation. All these things influenced Calvin, who was keenly alive to the charm of great learning and fine language. Moreover Melancthon shared the greater number of his own views on the principal religious questions which were at that time in dispute, especially his views on free-will and predestination. He was older than Calvin, and a man of much greater renown, and yet he showed him marked esteem and affection. During their early intercourse Calvin was the disciple, welcomed and treated with great favour by the celebrated man whose amiable nature was as great an attraction as his rare intellect and acquirements, so that he was no less honoured than delighted. He was not slow to perceive that these fine qualities were allied in Melancthon to defects which his own character and personal instincts caused him to feel keenly. Calvin was a man of great intellectual precision and courage, energetic, and of passionate intensity of character; Melancthon was gentle, open to many influences, easily moved and intimidated either by friends or enemies, and inclined to make concessions in order to avoid a contest. Although Calvin was impressed by these characteristics, which were unfavourable to the common cause, yet he was no less alive to Melancthon's rare and attractive merits; he remained faithful to his master, but the pupil soon became an independent and candid critic, and during the whole of their friendship he made it a duty to warn Melancthon, and put him on his guard against his weakness: 'You complain,' he wrote, 'of Luther's violence and blind intolerance; but must not this defect increase and grow from day to day, if every one trembles before him and gives way to him in everything? I gladly acknowledge that by your gentle and conciliatory manner you have kept many from quarrelling, or made peace between them. I approve of this moderation and prudence; but is it a reason for shrinking in terror from every contested question as from an abyss, for fear of opposing and offending some one? Do you not thus leave in uncertainty and perplexity a large number of friends who look to you and rely upon you as the man in whom they put their trust? Truly, as I have already told you more than once, it is not to our honour that we refuse to sign with our ink the doctrines which so many saints are sealing with their blood. You know why I address you with such earnestness: I would rather die with you a hundred times over than see you outlive your divine and native nobility. I am not afraid of that, but I am afraid that you will give our enemies a pretext that they have long desired for injuring you in one manner or another. Forgive these bitter complaints, which can do no good. May God guard thee, excellent man, whom I carry always in my heart! May the Lord still guide thee by his Holy Spirit, and sustain thee by his strength!'
It is possible that Calvin sometimes felt a secret pleasure in thus assuming towards Melancthon the attitude and language of an independent and severe judge; the noblest of human beings do not entirely escape from the small and ignoble defects of human nature, but, in spite of this, their nobility and rectitude are, on the whole, the true motives of their conduct. It was love of truth, sincere friendship for Melancthon, and zeal for their common cause, much more than a secret pleasure in the gratification of his own self-esteem, which led Calvin during the whole of their intercourse to address Melancthon in frank and dignified language. This was the tone of the last words—words imbued with the deepest tenderness—which he wrote concerning his friend when in 1560, having himself only a few more years to live, he heard of his death.
'O Philip Melancthon! for it is upon thee that I call, upon thee who now livest with Christ in God, and art waiting for us, until we shall also be gathered to that blessed rest! A hundred times, worn out with fatigue, and overwhelmed with care, thou hast laid thy head upon my breast and said, "Would to God that I might die here, on thy breast!" And I, a thousand times since then, have I earnestly desired that it had been granted us to be together. Certainly thou wouldst have been more valiant to face danger, and stronger to despise hatred, and bolder to disregard false accusations. Thus the wickedness of many would have been restrained, whose audacity was increased by what they called thy weakness.'
It would be difficult to reconcile truth, piety, and friendship more tenderly.
Calvin had now lived at Strasburg for more than two years—years of incessant work and arduous struggle. He had no other domestic enjoyment than his books, and occasionally the society of one or two young students who were invited to his humble home, no other relaxation than conversation from time to time with his friends, and journeys upon the different missions with which he was entrusted. He was scarcely thirty, and yet his health was already delicate and uncertain. He occasionally contemplated marriage, but entertained neither romantic nor worldly notions on the subject. On the 19th of May, 1539, he wrote to his most intimate friend Farel, and no doubt alluded to some suggestion which had been made to him: 'I will now speak more openly on the subject of marriage. I do not know if, before the departure of Michael, any one mentioned the person about whom I have written to you. Remember, I pray you, what I look for in a wife. I am not one of those idiotic lovers who can even adore defects when once they are captivated by beauty. The only beauty I care for in a woman is that she shall be modest, gentle, unobtrusive, economical, patient, and that I may expect her to look after my health. If you think that I do well to marry, pray see about it at once, lest some one else should be beforehand with you. If you do not think so, then let us give it up.' Some months later, on the 6th of February, 1540, he wrote again to Farel: 'In the midst of all these labours I have leisure enough to think of taking a wife. A young girl of noble birth and good fortune—far beyond my position—has been proposed to me. But there were two reasons against the marriage. She did not understand our language, and I was afraid that she might think too much of her birth and education. Her brother, a very pious man, urged the marriage strongly, from no other motive than his affection for me, which blinded him so that he forgot himself; his wife entreated as earnestly as he did, and I should have been compelled to give my hand, if the Lord had not delivered me. I answered that I would do nothing unless the young lady promised at once to devote herself to the study of French. She asked for time to consider. I immediately sent my brother, and a worthy man whom I know, in search of another person; and if she is as good as her reputation, she will bring me an ample marriage portion without any money, for all who know her speak of her with admiration. If the thing succeeds according to our hopes, the marriage will take place not later than March 10th. God grant that you may be present to bless our union! I shall feel rather foolish if my expectations come to nothing, but I fully believe that the Lord will help me, and so I act as if the thing were certain.' Three weeks later, on the 26th of February, 1540, Calvin wrote once more to Farel: 'I am afraid that if you wait for my wedding it will be a long time before you come. My wife is not yet found, and I am afraid that I must look again for her. Three days after my brother's return, I received certain information about the young lady in question which compelled me to send him back at once, in order to break off the engagement.'
His friend Bucer now came to his aid, spared him the trouble of a fresh search and saved him from further uncertainty. John Störder, an Anabaptist from Liege, had been converted to the orthodox faith by Calvin, and had since died of the plague; his widow now lived at Strasburg. Her name was Idelette, and she was born at Buren, a little town in Gueldres; she had been left with three children, and in her humble position had gained the esteem and affection of all who knew her. Beza says: 'She was a grave and virtuous woman.' On Bucer's recommendation Calvin saw her and conversed with her, and was convinced, as he afterwards wrote to his friend Viret, 'that whatever sharp trial might be sent him, she would willingly be his companion in exile, poverty, and even unto death.' Their wedding was celebrated in September 1540, with considerable solemnity. Many of his friends, and deputies sent by different consistories in French Switzerland, were present at the marriage of an already celebrated reformer; a man from whom the members of the reformed faith in western Europe, in the midst of their struggles, expected much greater things than any that he had yet done.