EQUALLY futile and untrue is another charge made against Calvin, that he was entirely destitute of tenderness and all natural affection, and that no expression of kindness can be found in his writings. That his intellectual powers were pre-eminent, and held his passions, appetites and desires in complete subjection to the dictates of prudence and calm sobriety, is unquestionably true. But that Calvin possessed deep feeling, and was susceptible of the strongest and most tender emotions, we believe to be incontrovertibly certain. “I had intended,” he says, on his return to the people of Geneva, who had so cruelly treated him, “to address the people, entering into a review of the past, and a justification of myself and my colleagues; but I found them so touched with remorse, so ready to anticipate me in the confession of their faults, that I felt that such a proceeding would not only be superfluous but cruel.” “It was beautiful,” says Beza, “to observe the union of these three great men — i, e., Calvin, Farel, and Viret — in the service of their common Master.” When Farel wished to visit him in his last illness, Calvin wrote him, saying: “Farewell, my best and most worthy brother. Since God has determined that you should survive me in this world, live mindful of our union, which has been so useful to the Church of God, and the fruits of which await us in heaven.

Do not fatigue yourself on my account. I draw my breath with difficulty, and am expecting continually that my breath will fail. It is sufficient that I live and die in Christ, who is gain to his servants in life and in death.

Again, farewell with the brethren.”

After the death of his friend Courault, he says, in a letter to Farel, “I am so overwhelmed, that I put no limits to my sorrow. My daily occupations have no power to retain my mind from recurring to the event, and revolving constantly the oppressive thought. The distressing impulses of the day are followed by the more torturing anguish of the night. I am not only troubled with dreams, to which I am inured by habit, but I am greatly enfeebled by the restless watchings which are extremely injurious to my health.”

On the death of Bucer, he thus writes: — “I feel my heart to be almost torn asunder, when I reflect on the very great loss which the Church has sustained in the death of Bucer, and on the advantages that England would have derived from his labors, had he been spared to assist in carrying on the Reformation in that kingdom.”

Look, also, at his letters of consolation, addressed to those confessors for the truth who had been unable to make their escape from persecution. f50 On the death of his son, he wrote to Viret, saying, “The Lord has certainly inflicted a heavy and severe wound on us, by the death of our little son; but He is our father and knows what is expedient for his children.” And when his wife was taken from him, we behold in Calvin all the tenderness of a most sensitive and affectionate heart. Writing to Farel, to whom he gives a detail of her illness, he says: “The report of the death of nay wife has doubtless reached you before this. I use every exertion in my power not to be entirely overcome with heaviness of heart. My friends, who are about me, omit nothing that can afford alleviation to the depression of my mind.” Again, “may the Lord Jesus strengthen you by his Spirit and me also in this so great calamity, which would inevitably have overpowered me unless from heaven he stretched forth his hand, whose office it is to raise the fallen, to strengthen the weak, and to refresh the weary.” Again, writing to Viret, he says, “Although the death of my wife is a very severe affliction, yet I repress as much as I am able, the sorrow of my heart. My friends also afford every anxious assistance, yet with all our exertions, we effect less, in assuaging my grief, than I could wish; but still the consolation which I obtain, I cannot express. You know the tenderness of my mind, or rather with what effeminacy I yield under trials; so that without the exercise of much moderation, I could not have supported the pressure of my sorrow. Certainly it is no common occasion of grief. I am deprived of a most amiable partner, who, what ever might have occurred of extreme endurance, would have been my willing companion, not only in exile and poverty, but even in death. While she lived, she was indeed the faithful helper of my ministry, and on no occasion did I ever experience from her any interruption. For your friendly consolation, I return you my sincere thanks. Farewell, my dear and faithful brother. May the Lord Jesus watch over and direct you and your wife. To her and the brethren express my best salutation.”