texts which present different meanings when studied by the lights of learning and science are still more liable to be untrustworthy.  It would seem to be the supremest necessity for theological schools to unravel the meaning of divine declarations, and present doctrines in their relation with apparently conflicting texts, rather than draw out a perfect and consistent system, philosophically considered, from any one class of texts.  Of all things in this wicked and perplexing world the science of theology should be the most cheerful and inspiring, for it involves inquiries 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