The friendship of Melanchthon and Calvin was not one of those earthly ties which pass away with the years; this affection was deep-seated and its bonds were firm. The two friends had long interviews with each other at Worms. Melanchthon never forgot them. ‘Would that I could talk fully and freely with thee,’ he wrote to Calvin at a later period, ‘as we used to do when we were together!‘[[39]] Having received a work of Calvin’s in which he was mentioned, Melanchthon said to him—‘I am delighted with thy love for me; and I thank thee for thinking of inscribing a memorial of it in so famous a book, as in a place of honor.’ ‘Yes, dear brother,’ wrote he on another occasion, ‘I long to speak with thee of the weightiest matters, because I have a high opinion of thy judgment, and because I know the uprightness of thy soul, thy perfect candor. I am now living here like an ass in a wasp’s nest.’[[40]]

Calvin, although he loved Melanchthon, did not fail at the same time to tell him freely his opinion whenever he appeared too yielding. He had been told that, on one occasion of this kind, Melanchthon tore his letter to pieces; but he found that this was a mistake. ‘Our union,’ he said to him, ‘must remain holy and inviolable; and since God has consecrated it we must keep it faithfully to the end, for the prosperity or the ruin of the Church is in this case at stake. Oh! that I could talk with thee! I know thy candor, the elevation of thy sentiments, thy modesty and thy piety, manifest to angels and to men.’[[41]] Oftentimes Melanchthon, when worn out with the toil imposed on him by his attendance at the assemblies in company with Calvin, worried by the Catholic theologians, and not always agreeing with the Lutherans, overwhelmed with weariness, would betake himself to his friend, throw himself into his arms and exclaim, ‘Oh, would God, would God, I might die on thy bosom!‘[[42]] Calvin wished a thousand times that Melanchthon and he might have the happiness of living together. He did not hesitate to say to Melanchthon, ‘that he felt himself to be far inferior to him:’ and nevertheless he believed that, if they had been oftener together, his friend would have been more courageous in the conflict.

The friendship which united Melanchthon and Calvin at Worms, and afterwards at Ratisbon, did not remain without fruit. If Melanchthon, who was head of the Protestant deputation, displayed on that occasion more energy than usual, if the Romish theologians were almost brought over to the Evangelical doctrines, it must be attributed to the influence of Calvin. The metal, till then too malleable, acquired by tempering a greater degree of firmness.

Calvin, however, was saddened by what he saw. It might be possible to come to some arrangement with the papacy, which would in appearance make some concessions; but he had no doubt that if Protestantism were once caught in Rome’s net, it was lost. It was this which appears to have taken up his attention in the last days of the year, when mournful thoughts are wont to cast a gloom over the mind. But he did not stop there. He knew that Christ did conquer and will conquer the world. ‘When we are well-nigh overwhelmed in ourselves,’ he said, ‘if we but look at that glory to which Christ our head has been raised, we shall be bold to look with contempt on all the evils which impend over us.’[[43]] One circumstance might contribute also to remind him of the victories which Christ gives. On the first day of the year 1541 he was at Worms. Here it was that, twenty years before, Luther had appeared before the emperor and the diet, and by his faith had won a glorious victory. Calvin doubtless remembered this. ‘Moreover,’ says Conrad Badius, an eye-witness, who was admitted to the lodgings of the Protestant doctors, ‘the pope’s adherents were so astounded and distracted by the mere presence of the servants of Jesus Christ, that they did not dare to lift up their heads to utter a word.’[[44]]

Calvin’s ‘Song Of Victory.’

Deeply affected by the formidable struggle which had been going on for nearly a quarter of a century, and persuaded that Christ would put all his enemies under his feet, Calvin gave utterance to this thought in a Song of Victory (Epinicion). It is the only poem of his that we possess, and it contains some fine lines. ‘Yes,’ sang Calvin, ‘the victory will be Christ’s, and the year which announces to us the day of triumph is now beginning. Let pious tongues break the thankless silence and cause their joy to burst forth. His enemies will say, What madness is this? Are they triumphing over a nation which is not yet subdued, are they seizing the crown before they have routed the army? True, impiety sits haughtily on a lofty throne. There still exists one who by a nod bends to his will the most powerful monarchs, his mouth vomiting deadly poison and his hands stained with innocent blood. But for Christ death is life and the cross a victory. The breath of his mouth is the weapon with which he fights, and already for five lustra he has brandished his sword with a vigorous hand, not without smiting. The pope, leader of the sacrilegious army, wounded at last, groans under the unlooked-for plagues which have just fallen upon him, and the profane multitude is trembling for terror. If it be a great thing to conquer one’s enemies by force, what must it be to overthrow them by a mere sign? Christ casts them down without breaking his own repose: he scatters them while he keeps silence. We are a pitiful band, few in number, without apparel, without arms, sheep in the presence of ravening wolves. But the victory of Christ our king is for that very reason all the more marvellous. Let his head then be crowned with the laurel of victory, let him be seated on the chariot drawn by four coursers abreast, that his glory may shine forth before all.

Que tous ses ennemis qui lui ont fait la guerre

Aillent après, captifs, baissant le front en terre:

Eck still flushed with his Bacchic orgies, the incompetent Cochlæus, Nausea with his wordy productions, Pelargus with his mouth teeming with insolence—these are not chief men, but the shameless multitude have set them for standard-bearers in the fight. Let them learn then to bow their necks under an unaccustomed yoke. And you, O sacred poets, celebrate in magnificent song the glorious victory of Jesus Christ, and let all the multitude around him shout Io Pæan!‘[[45]]

Calvin And Viret.