I at length received your former letter, which I thought had been destroyed, three days before the latter of the two reached me. For when the person who married the other sister[220] sought Hooper's[221] letter from his companion, observing another small packet, he immediately laid hands on it. His companion, either from modesty, or from some cause I know not what, did not dare to take it from him. I have read your annotations, from which I have discovered what you regard as wanting in my method of treating the subject. I have endeavoured briefly to satisfy you, because the matter itself did not demand a long discourse. I shall know how far I have succeeded in this, when I have received your reply. I may at least on good grounds wish to obtain this of you, viz., that you will not allow yourself to become entangled in baseless suspicions. For I observe that, owing to this cause, you are perplexed in regard to many points which present difficulty, simply because you put upon the majority of my statements a different construction from what you have any ground for doing. A pre-conceived opinion regarding me leads you to imagine and attribute to me what never occurred to my mind. Besides, while you are concerned to maintain your own opinions, whatever they may be, to the very last, you sometimes consider more what is in harmony with them, than what is the truth on the subject. If simplicity pleases you, I certainly take no delight in disguise and circumlocution. If you love a free declaration of the truth, I never had any mind to bend what I wrote, so as to receive its acceptance with men. If there be any who have flattered Luther and others, I am not of that number. Our most excellent Musculus knows, that even when wise men were in fear, I was always free [from apprehensions]. But had it not been for the obstacle of an unprofitable distrust, there would by this time have been no controversy between us, or none to speak of. Although, however, I differ from you in opinion, that does not imply the least severance of affection; just as I cultivate the friendship of Bucer, and yet am free to dissent occasionally from his views. You are accordingly too severe in saying in your letter that the matter can only go well, provided you understand that you are not regarded as our enemies. On what grounds you form that surmise, I know not. This indeed I know, that I both think and speak of you in a friendly spirit. This, moreover, is known to very many who have heard me speak. It may indeed be that I have found fault with you in private letters to my friends, or that I have not concealed my conviction, that what they censured was deserving of reprehension. There was always, however, such an admixture of praise, as qualified any bitterness, and afforded proof of good intentions. Others may form what opinion they choose, but I shall never have to repent of lack of integrity on my part. If Master Blaurer[222] shall undertake Provence, which is offered to him, and Musculus accept the Professorship of Theology, I shall not only congratulate the Church of Berne, but hope that this will prove a bond of closer relationship between us. I beg you will inform me of your affairs, whenever an opportunity occurs. You would have had my Commentaries on the Five Epistles of Paul before this time, had I not thought that they were for sale with you. As messengers rarely go and come between this and your quarter, I was afraid that the carriage would cost more than the purchase of them. I now send you the Commentaries on the Second Epistle to the Corinthians, and the four [Epistles] immediately following. I have yet published nothing on the Epistle to Titus, and the two Epistles to the Thessalonians. I also send my reply, which is highly approved of by Brentius, whose opinion I do not mention to you in the way of boasting, but that you may therefrom form a conjecture as to how much more moderate he is in his doctrine of the Sacraments than he formerly was. Adieu, most illustrious sir, and dearest brother in the Lord. May the Lord Jesus always guide you and your colleagues, all of whom you will salute respectfully in my name. Ours in turn desire best greetings to you, of whom Des Gallars presents for your acceptance a small treatise he has composed. The best greeting to Master Musculus, and other pious brethren.—Yours,
John Calvin.
[Lat. orig. autogr.—Archives of Zurich. Gest. VI. 166, p. 19.]
CCXXXVI.—To Bucer.[223]
Consolations to be found in the study of divine and everlasting truth.
[February 1549.]
As truth is most precious, so all men confess it to be so. And yet, since God alone is the source of all good, you must not doubt, that whatever truth you anywhere meet with, proceeds from him, unless you would be doubly ungrateful to him; it is in this way you have received the word descended from heaven. For it is sinful to treat God's gifts with contempt; and to ascribe to man what is peculiarly God's is a still greater impiety. Philosophy is, consequently, the noble gift of God, and those learned men who have striven hard after it in all ages have been incited thereto by God himself, that they might enlighten the world in the knowledge of the truth. But there is a wide difference between the writings of these men and those truths which God, of his own pleasure, delivered to guilty men for their sanctification. In the former, you may fall in with a small particle of truth, of which you can get only a taste, sufficient to make you feel how pleasant and sweet it is; but in the latter, you may obtain in rich abundance that which can refresh the soul to the full. In the one, a shadow and an image is placed before the eyes which can only excite in you a love of the object, without admitting you to familiar intercourse with it; in the other, the solid substance stands before you, with which you may not only become intimately acquainted, but may also, in some measure, handle it. In that, the seed is in a manner choked; in this, you may possess the fruit in its very maturity. There, in short, only a few small sparks break forth, which so point out the path that they fail in the middle of the journey,—or rather, which fail in indicating the path at all,—and can only restrain the traveller from going farther astray; but here, the Spirit of God, like a most brilliant torch, or rather like the sun itself, shines in full splendour, not only to guide the course of your life, even to its final goal, but also to conduct you to a blessed immortality. Draw then from this source, wherever you may wander, and as soon as he finds you a settled abode, you ought to make that your place of rest....
[Calvin's Lat. Corresp. Opera, tom. ix. p. 50.]