=CALVIN'S PLEA FOR COMPASSION.=

At the end of November, Calvin heard of the successive deaths of Berthelot, Du Bourg, Paille, and several others whom he had known. How often he had sat at Du Bourg's table, how often conversed with the poor cripple!... Calvin, in his emotion, was greatly surprised at those who could find no tears for such sorrows. 'Let us reject that mad philosophy,' he said in after years, 'which would make men entirely unfeeling that they may be wise. The stoics must have been void of common sense, when they trampled on the affections of man.... There are fanatics even now who would like to introduce these dreams into the Church, who ask for a heart of iron, who cannot support one little tear, and yet, if anything happens to them, against their will, they lament perpetually.... The affections which God has placed in human nature are not more vicious of themselves than He who gave them. Ought we not to rejoice in God's gifts? Why, then, should we not be permitted to feel sorrow when they are taken from us? Let believers lament, therefore, when one of their relations or friends is taken away by death, and let them be sad when the Church is deprived of good men. Only, as we know that life is given us in Christ Jesus, let our sorrow be moderated by hope.'[330]

One day, probably in December or January, Calvin saw an old man arrive: he was half blind, and felt his way as he walked towards him. It was Courault, who, liberated from prison by Margaret's influence, had escaped from the convent where he had been shut up. It was a great joy to the young doctor to see this venerable Christian again, whose death three years later was to overwhelm him with such deep distress. The refugees surrounded Courault, and wanted to know the terrible news from Paris. He had not witnessed the punishments, but he could describe them, and cries of sorrow rose from every heart. Courault was soon followed by other fugitives. For some weeks there was a little repose; the sky was heavy and threatening, but silent.

On a sudden the tempest burst out again, the bolts fell furiously and consumed many other victims. About the end of January 1535 the news of the martyrdoms of the 21st of that month reached Basle. Calvin's soul was perpetually agitated by these atrocious persecutions. 'Alas!' he exclaimed, 'in France they are burning many faithful and holy people!'[331] He saw them fastened to the estrapade, swinging in the air, plunged into the flames, and then drawn out to be plunged into them again.... 'With what furious rage the enemies of God are transported,' he said; 'but though horrible curses and execrable reproaches are hurled upon the Christians from every side, they continue to repose firmly on the grace of Jesus Christ, having confidence that they will be safe even in death.'[332]

Calvin was not the only person to feel these keen emotions. 'As gibbets were set up in various parts of the kingdom,' says Mézeray, 'and chambres ardentes were instituted, the Lutheran preachers and those who had listened to them took flight, and in a few months there were more than a hundred refugees who carried their sorrows and their complaints to the courts of the German princes.'[333] Their tales excited great indignation in Germany. True, the martyrs were often calumniated, but in many cities the refugees from beyond the Rhine were able to refute the falsehoods of their enemies. The true Christians were not deceived, and they recognised the victims as their brethren.[334] This was a consolation to the reformer. 'The news having spread to foreign nations,' he said, 'these burnings were counted very wicked by a large number of Germans, and they felt great bitterness against the authors of such tyranny.'[335]

=OSWALD MYCONIUS.=

The 'bitterness' was still greater at Basle. Among those who shared Calvin's sorrow was Oswald Myconius, the friend of Zwingle, antistes or president of the Church, for whom the reformer entertained an affection that lasted all his life. He called him 'his very excellent, most esteemed brother, and very respected friend.'[336] Myconius, as we have stated elsewhere,[337] was a distinguished philosopher and pupil of Erasmus and Glareanus: while residing at Zurich, he had taught the classics, and among his pupils was Thomas Plater; but the disastrous battle of Cappel had made him renounce this duty. At the moment when Plater, outstripping the fugitives, who were hurrying from the fight, was about to enter the city, he encountered Myconius, who was pacing backwards and forwards before the gates, full of anguish at the thought of the dangers incurred by Zwingle, Zurich, and the Reformation.... The professor had hardly caught sight of his pupil, when, running up to him, he asked: 'Is Master Ulrich dead?' 'Alas! yes,' answered Plater. Myconius, struck to the heart, stood motionless, and then, with profound sorrow, exclaimed: 'I can live at Zurich no longer.' Plater, who had had nothing to eat for twenty-four hours, went home with Myconius, who gave him food, and then sat down by him, silent and oppressed by the weight of his thoughts. At last Myconius took him into his room, and said to him, with consternation: 'Where must I go?'... The pastor of St. Alban's church at Basle had also fallen on the mountain of Zug. 'Go to Basle, and become minister there,' said Plater.[338] Shortly after this the professor and his pupil set out on foot for Basle, where they arrived after many adventures and alarms.

A few days later Myconius was called upon to preach the Council Sermon, which was delivered at six in the morning. 'When I entered his room on the morning of the appointed day,' says Plater, 'I found him still in bed. "Father," said I, "get up; you have your sermon to preach." "What! is it to-day?" said Myconius, and jumped out of bed. "What shall be the subject of my sermon? Tell me." "I cannot." "I insist upon your giving me a subject." "Very well; show whence our disaster proceeded, and why it was inflicted on us." "Jot that down upon a piece of paper." I obeyed, and then lent him my Testament, in which he placed the memorandum I had just written. He went into the pulpit, and spoke eloquently before an audience of learned men, attracted there by the desire to hear a man who had never preached before. All were filled with wonder, and after the sermon I heard Doctor Simon Grynæus say to Doctor Sulterus (who at that time belonged to us): "O Sulterus, let us pray God for this man to stay among us, for he may do much good." '[339]

=SYMPATHY WITH CALVIN.=

Myconius was nominated pastor of St. Alban's, and was soon after called to replace Œcolampadius as president of the Church at Basle. He had entertained some illusions with regard to Francis I. A Frenchman, a strong partisan of that king, had persuaded him that Francis was not ill-disposed towards the Gospel; that if he dissembled his sentiments, it was only because of the prelates of his kingdom; and that if he once obtained the possessions in Italy which he coveted, it would be seen that he had not much liking either for the pope or the papists.[340] Myconius was struck with indignation and grief, when he heard of the barbarous executions with which that prince had feasted the eyes of the citizens of Paris. He could sympathise all the more with Calvin, as, although a man of mild and temperate disposition, he shared in the decided and energetic opinions of the author of the placards. 'Why sew new patches on so torn a garment?' he said, speaking of popery. 'We should never meet the dragon but to kill him.'[341] A great unity of sentiment drew Calvin and Myconius together in the disastrous times of which we are speaking. The burning stakes of Paris drove them farther from Rome, and bound them closer to the Gospel.