nquiries on the loftiest subjects which can interest a
thoughtful mind.

But whatever defects the system of doctrines which Calvin elaborated
with such transcendent ability may have, there is no question as to its
vast influence on the thinking of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries. The schools of France and Holland and Scotland and England
and America were animated by his genius and authority. He was a burning
and a shining light, if not for all ages, at least for the unsettled
times in which he lived. No theologian ever had a greater posthumous
power than he for nearly three hundred years, and he is still one of
the great authorities of the church universal. John Knox sought his
counsel and was influenced by his advice in the great reform he made in
Scotland. In France the words Calvinist and Huguenot are synonymous.
Cranmer, too, listened to his counsels, and had great respect for his
learning and sanctity. Among the Puritans he has reigned like an oracle.
Oliver Cromwell embraced his doctrines, as also did Sir Matthew Hale.
Ridicule or abuse of Calvin is as absurd as the ridicule or abuse with
which Protestants so long assailed Hildebrand or Innocent III. No one
abuses Pascal or Augustine, and yet the theological views of all these
are substantially the same.

In one respect I think that Calvin has received more credit than he
deserves. Some have maintained that he was a sort of father of
republicanism and democratic liberty. In truth he had no popular
sympathies, and leaned towards an aristocracy which was little short of
an oligarchy. He had no hand in establishing the political system of
Geneva; it was established before he went there. He was not even one of
those thinkers who sympathized with true liberty of conscience. He
persecuted heretics like a mediaeval Catholic divine. He would have
burned a Galileo as he caused the death of Servetus, which need not have
happened but for him. Calvin could have saved Servetus if he had
pleased; but he complained of him to the magistrates, knowing that his
condemnation and death would necessarily follow. He had neither the
humanity of Luther nor the toleration of Saint Augustine. He was the
impersonation of intellect,--like Newton, Leibnitz, Spinoza, and
Kant,--which overbore the impulses of his heart. He had no passions
except zeal for orthodoxy. So pre-eminently did intellect tower above
the passions that he seemed to lack sympathy; and yet, such was his
exalted ch