CHAPTER VI

SEBASTIAN CASTELLIO: A FORGOTTEN PROPHET[1]

Reformation history has been far too closely confined to a few main

highways of thought, and few persons therefore realize how rich in

ideas and how complex in typical religious conceptions this spiritual

upheaval really was. The types that prevailed and won their way to

wide favour have naturally compelled attention and are adequately

known. There were, however, very serious and impressive attempts made

to give the Reformation a totally different course from the one it

finally took in history, and these attempts, defeated by the sweep of

the main current, became submerged, and their dedicated and heroic

leaders became forgotten. Many of these spiritual ventures which for

the moment failed and were submerged are in striking parallelism with

currents of thought to-day, and our generation can perhaps appreciate

at their real worth these solitary souls who were destined to see their

cause defeated, to hear their names defamed, and to live in jeopardy

among the very people whom they most longed to help.

Sebastian Castellio is one of these submerged venturers. While he

lived he was so absolutely absorbed in the battle for truth that he

took no pains at all to acquaint posterity with the details of his

life, or to make his name quick and powerful in the ears of men. When

he died {89} and laid down the weapons of his spiritual warfare his

pious opponents thanked God for the relief and did what they could to

consign him to oblivion. But after the long and silent flow of years

the world has come up to his position and can appreciate a spirit who

was too far in advance of the line of march to be comprehended in his

lifetime. He was born in the little French village of St. Martin du

Fresne--not many miles west of Lake Geneva in the year 1515. The home

was pinched with poverty, but somebody in the home or in the village

discovered that little Bastian was endowed with unusual gifts and must

be given the chance to realize the life which his youth forecast; and

that ancient family sacrifice, which has glorified so many homes of

poverty, was made here in St. Martin, and the boy, possessed with his

eager passion for knowledge, was started on his course in the College

de la Trinite in Lyons. He soon found himself bursting into a new

world, the world of classic antiquity, which the Humanists were

restoring to the youth of that period, and he experienced that

emancipating leap of soul and thrill of joy which such a world of

beauty can produce upon a lofty spirit that sees and appreciates it.

Some time during the Lyons period he came also under a still greater

and more emancipating influence, the divine and simple Christ of the

Gospels, whom the most serious of the Humanists had rediscovered, and

to whom Castellio now dedicated the central loyalty of his soul.

At twenty-five years of age, now a splendid classical scholar, radiant

with faith and hope and the vision of a new age for humanity which the

recovered gospel was to bring in, Castellio went to Strasbourg to share

the task of the Reformers and to put his life into the new movement.

Calvin, then living in Strasbourg, received the brilliant recruit with

joy and took him into his own home. When the great Reformer returned

to Geneva in 1541 to take up the mighty task of his life he summoned

Castellio to help him, and made him Principal of the College of Geneva,

which Calvin planned to make one of the {90} foremost seats of Greek

learning and one of the most illuminating centres for the study of the

Scriptures. The young scholar's career seemed assured. He had the

friendship of Calvin, he was head of an important institution of

learning, the opportunity for creative literary work was opening before

him, and he was aspiring soon to fulfil the clearest call of his

life--to become a minister of the new gospel. His first contribution

to religious literature was his volume of "Sacred Dialogues," a series

of vivid scenes out of the Old and New Testaments, told in dialogue

fashion, both in Latin and French.[2] They were to serve a double

purpose: first, to teach French boys to read Latin, and secondly, to

form in them a love for the great characters of the Bible and an

appreciation of its lofty message of life. The stories were really

good stories, simple enough for children, and yet freighted with a

depth of meaning which made them suitable for mature minds. Their

success was extraordinary, and their fine quality was almost

universally recognized. They went through twenty-eight editions in

their author's lifetime, and they were translated into many

languages.[3] His bent toward a religion of a deeply ethical and

spiritual type already appears in this early work, and here he

announces a principle that was to rule his later life and was to cost

him much suffering: "The friend of Truth obeys not the multitude _but

the Truth_."

At the very time this book was appearing, an opportunity offered for

testing the mettle of his courage. One of those ever-recurrent plagues

that harassed former ages, before microbes were discovered, fell upon

Geneva. The minister, who had volunteered to give spiritual comfort to

those who were suffering with the plague in the hospital, was stricken

with the dread disease, and a new volunteer was asked for. The records

of the city show that Castellio, though not yet ordained, and under no

obligation to take such risk, offered himself for the {91} hazardous

service when the ministers of the city declined it. The ordination

through human hands was, however, never to come to him, and a harder

test of courage than the plague was before him. In the course of his

studies he found himself compelled to take the position that the "Song

of Solomon" was an ancient love poem, and that the traditional

interpretation of it as a revelation of the true relation between

Christ and the Church was a strained and unnatural interpretation. He

also felt that as a scholar he could not with intellectual honesty

agree with the statement in the Catechism that "Christ descended into

Hell." Calvin challenged both these positions of Castellio, but his

opposition to him was clearly far deeper than a difference of opinion

on these two points. Calvin instinctively felt that the bold and

independent spirit of this young scholar, his qualities of leadership,

and his literary genius marked him out as a man who could not long be

an easy-minded and supple subordinate. A letter which Calvin wrote at

this time to his friend Viret shows where the real tension lay.

"Castellio has got it into his head," he writes, "that I want to rule!"

The great Reformer may not have been conscious yet of such a purpose,

but there can be no question that Castellio read the signs correctly,

and he was to be the first, as Buisson has said, to discover that "to

resist Calvin was in the mind of the latter, to resist the Holy

Ghost."[4] Calvin successfully opposed his ordination, and made it

impossible for him to continue in Geneva his work as an honest scholar.

To remain meant that he must surrender his right of independent

judgment, he must cease to follow the line of emancipated scholarship,

he must adjust his conscience to fit the ideas that were coming to be

counted orthodox in the circle of the Reformed faith. _That_ surrender

he could no more make than Luther could surrender to the demands of his

opponents at Worms. He quietly closed up his work in the College of

Geneva and went into voluntary exile, to seek a sphere of life where he

might think and speak as {92} he saw the truth and where he could keep

his conscience a pure virgin.

He settled in Basle, where Erasmus had found a refuge, and where, two

years before, the exiled and hunted Sebastian Franck, the spiritual

forerunner of Castellio, had died in peace. For ten years (1545-1555)

he lived with his large family in pitiable poverty. He read proof for

the Humanist printer Oporin, he fished with a boat-hook for drift-wood

along the shores of the Rhine,--"rude labour no doubt," he says, "but

honest, and I do not blush for having done it,"--and he did whatever

honest work he could find that would help keep body and soul together.

Through all these years, every moment of the day that could be saved

from bread-winning toil, and much of his night-time, went into the

herculean task to which he had dedicated himself--the complete

translation of the Bible from its original languages into both Latin

and French.[5] Being himself one of the common people he always had

the interests and needs of the common people in view, and he put the

Bible into current sixteenth-century speech. His French translation

has the marked characteristics of the Renaissance period. He makes

patriarchs, prophets, and the persons of the New Testament live again

in his vivid word-pictures, as the great contemporary painters were

making them live on their canvases. But that which gave his

translation its great human merit and popular interest was a serious

defect in the eyes of the theologians. It was vivid, full of the

native Oriental colour, true in the main to the original, and strong in

its appeal to religious imagination, but painfully weak in its support

of the dogmas and doctrines around which the theological battles of the

Reformation were centring. Still less were the theologians pleased

with the Preface of his Latin Bible, dedicated to the boy-king of

England, Edward VI. Here he boldly insists that the Reformation, {93}

wherever it spreads, shall champion the principle of _free conscience_,

and shall wage its battles with spiritual weapons alone. The only

enemies of our faith, he says, are vices, and vices can be conquered

only by virtues. The Christ who said if they strike you on one cheek

turn the other, has called us to the spiritual task of instructing men

in the truth, and that work can never be put into the hands of an

executioner! "I address you, O king," he concludes, "not as a prophet

sent from God, but as a man of the people who abhors quarrels and

hatred, and who wishes to see religion spread by love rather than by

fierce controversy, by purity of heart rather than by external methods.

. . . Read these sacred writings with a pious and religious heart, and

prepare yourself to reign as a mortal man who must give an account to

immortal God. I desire that you may have the meekness of Moses, the

piety of David, and the wisdom of Solomon."[6]

Two years after this appeal to the new Protestantism to make the great

venture of spreading its truth by love and persuasion, there came from

Geneva the decisive answer in the burning of Servetus, followed by the

famous _Defence_ before the world, written mainly by Calvin, of the

course that had been taken. One month later, a brief Latin work

appeared from the press with the title, _De haereticis, an sint

persequendi, etc._ (Magdeburgi, 1554), followed in very short time by a

French edition (Rouen, 1554). The body of the work contained

impressive passages in favour of toleration from Church Fathers, from

Luther, Erasmus, Sebastian Franck, and others, concluding with a

passage from "Basil Montfort," a name which thinly veils Bastian

Castellio himself. The Preface was addressed to the Duke of

Wurtemberg, bore the name of "Martinus Bellius," and was beyond doubt

written by Castellio, who inspired and directed the entire work, in

which he was assisted by a very small group of refugees in Basle of

similar ideas on this subject to his {94} own. This Preface is one of

the mother documents on freedom of conscience, from which in time came

a large offspring, and it is, furthermore, an interesting

interpretation of a type of Christianity then somewhat new in the

world. Its simplicity, its human appeal, its restrained emotional

power, its prophetic tone, its sincerity and depth of earnestness mark

it as a distinct work of genius, almost in the class with Pascal's

_Provincial Letters_.

"If thou, illustrious Prince, had informed thy subjects that thou wert

coming to visit them at an unnamed time and had requested them to be

prepared in white garments to meet thee on thy coming; what wouldst

thou do, if, on arrival, thou shouldst find that instead of robing

themselves in white they had occupied themselves in violent debate

about thy person--some insisting that thou wert in France, others that

thou wert in Spain; some declaring that thou would come on horseback,

others that thou would come by chariot; some holding that thou would

come with great pomp, others that thou would come without train or

following? And what especially wouldst thou say if they debated not

only with words but with blows of fist and strokes of sword, and if

some succeeded in killing and destroying others who differed from them?

'He will come on horseback.' 'No, he won't; he will come by chariot.'

'You lie.' 'No, I do not; _you_ are the liar.' 'Take _that_'--a blow

with the fist. 'You take _that_'--a sword-thrust through the body. O

Prince, what would you think of such citizens? Christ asked us to put

on the white robes of a pure and holy life, but what occupies our

thought? We dispute not only of the way to Christ, but of His relation

to God the Father, of the Trinity, of predestination, of free will, of

the nature of God, of angels, of the condition of the soul after

death,--of a multitude of matters that are not essential for salvation,

and _matters, in fact, which never can be known until our hearts are

pure, for they are things which must be spiritually perceived_."

With a striking boldness, but with beautiful simplicity of spirit, he

describes "an honest follower of Christ"--and {95} it is himself whom

he is describing--"who believes in God the Father and in His Son Jesus

Christ, and who wants to do His will, but cannot see that will just as

others about him see it, in matters of intellectual formulation and in

matters of external practice." "I cannot," he adds, "do violence to my

conscience for fear of disobeying Christ. I must be saved or lost by

my own personal faith, not by that of another. I ask you, whether

Christ, who forgave those who went astray, and commanded His followers

to forgive until seventy times seven, Christ who is the final Judge of

us all, if He were here, would command a person like that to be killed!

. . . O Christ, Creator and King of the world," he cries out, "dost

Thou see and approve these things? Hast Thou become a totally

different person from what Thou wert? When Thou wert on earth, nothing

could be more gentle and kind, more ready to suffer injuries. Thou

wert like a sheep dumb before the shearers. Beaten, spit upon, mocked,

crowned with thorns, crucified between thieves, Thou didst pray for

those who injured Thee. Hast Thou changed to this? Art Thou now so

cruel and contrary to Thyself? Dost Thou command that those who do not

understand Thy ordinances and commandments as those over us require,

should be drowned, or drawn and quartered, and burned at the stake!"

The Christian world holds this view now. It is a part of the necessary

air we breathe. But at this crisis in modern history it was

unforgivably _new_.[7] One man's soul had the vision, one man's entire

moral fibre throbbed with passion for it, and his rich intellectual

nature pleaded for it as the only course of reason: "To burn a man is

not to defend a doctrine, it is to _burn a man_!" But it was a voice

crying in a wilderness, and from henceforth Castellio was a marked and

dangerous man in the eyes of all who were opposed to "Bellianism "--as

the principle of toleration was nicknamed in honour of Martinus

Bellius--and that included almost all the world. But to the end of his

life, and in almost every one of his multitudinous {96} tracts he

continued to announce the principle of religious liberty, and to work

for a type of Christianity which depended for its conquering power

solely on its inherent truth and on its moral dynamic.

Calvin, who recognized the hand of Castellio in this powerful defence

of freedom of thought, called his opponent "a monster full of poison

and madness," and proceeded to demolish him in a Reply. In his _Contra

libellum Calvini_, which is an answer to this Reply, Castellio declares

that Calvin's act in burning Servetus was a bloody act, and that now

his book is a direct menace to honest, pious people. "I," he adds,

"who have a horror of blood, propose to examine the book. I do not

defend Servetus. I have never read his books. Calvin burned them

together with their author. I do not want to burn Calvin or to burn

his book. I am only going to _answer_ it." He notes that Calvin

complains of "novelties and innovations," a strange complaint, he

thinks, from a man who "has introduced more innovations in ten years

than the entire Church had introduced in six centuries!" All the

sects, he reminds the great Reformer, claim to be founded on the Word

of God. They all believe that their religion is true. Calvin says

that his is _the only true one_. Each of the others says that his is

the only true one. Calvin says that they are wrong. He makes himself

(by what right I do not know) the judge and sovereign arbiter. He

claims that he has on his side the sure evidence of the Word of God.

Then why does he write so many books to prove what is evident? The

truth is surely not evident to those who die denying that it is truth!

Calvin asks how doctrine is to be guarded if heretics are not to be

punished. "Doctrine," cries Castellio, "Christ's doctrine means loving

one's enemies, returning good for evil, having a pure heart and a

hunger and thirst for righteousness. _You_ may return to Moses if you

will, but for us others Christ has come."

Love, he constantly insists, is the supreme badge of any true

Christianity, and the traits of the beatitudes in a person's life are a

surer evidence that he belongs in {97} Christ's family, than is the

fact that he holds current opinions on obscure questions of belief.

"Before God," he writes in his _Defensio_, a work of the year 1562, to

those who wish to hunt him off the face of the earth, "and from the

bottom of my heart, I call you to the spirit of love." "By the bowels

of Christ, I ask and implore you to leave me in peace, to stop

persecuting me. Let me have the liberty of my faith as you have of

yours. At the heart of religion I am one with you. It is in reality

the same religion; only on certain points of interpretation I see

differently from you. But however we differ in opinion, why cannot we

love one another?"

He was, however, never to have the peace for which he pleaded, and he

was never to experience the love and brotherly kindness for which he

longed. Whole sheaves of fiery arrows were shot at him, and in tract

after tract he had to see himself called "monster," "wretch," "dog,"

"pest," "fog-bank," and finally to see himself proclaimed to the world

as a petty thief "who was supporting himself by stealing wood from his

neighbours"! With beautiful dignity Castellio tells the story of how

he fished for public drift-wood on the shores of the Rhine, and how he

kept his family alive by honest toil, when he was living in pitiable

poverty, "to which," he says to Calvin, "everybody knows that thy

attacks had brought me." "I cannot conceive how thou of all persons,

thou who knowest me, can have believed a tale of theft about me, and in

any case have told it to others."[9]

Compelled, as he was, to see the Reformation take what seemed to him

the false course--the course of defending itself by persecution, of

buttressing itself on election, of elevating, through a new

scholasticism, doctrine above life,--he turned more and more, as time

went on, toward interior religion, the cultivation of an inner

sanctuary, the deepening of the mystical roots of his life, and the

perfection of a religion of inner and spiritual life. "I have never

taken holy things lightly," {98} he once wrote, and in the later years

of what proved to be his brief as well as stormy life, he drew nearer

to Christ as the Life of his life, and laboured with deepening passion

to practise and present a religion of veracity, of reality and of

transforming power. "It is certain," he says in his _Contra libellum

Calvini_, "that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and there is

furthermore no doubt about the worth of love--love to God and love to

man. There is no doubt, again, of the worth of forgiveness, of

patience, of pity, of kindness, and of obedience to duty. Why leave

these sure things and quarrel over inscrutable mysteries?"

This point that the things which are essential to salvation are clear

and luminous is a frequently occurring one in his writings.

Impenetrable mysteries do not interest him, and he declares with

reiteration that controversies and divisions are occasioned mainly by

the proclamation of dogma on these inscrutable things. In a remarkable

work, which remains still in manuscript--his _De arte dubitandi et

confidendi, sciendi et ignorandi_,--he pleads for a religion that fits

the facts of life and for the use of intelligence even in these lofty

matters of spiritual experience where most astonishing miracles occur.

He returns, in this writing, to his old position that the truths which

concern salvation are clear and appeal powerfully to human reason.

"There are, I know," he says, "persons who insist that we should

believe even against reason. It is, however, the worst of all errors,

and it is laid upon me to fight it. I may not be able to exterminate

the monster, but I hope to give it such a blow that it will know that

it has been hit. Let no one think that he is doing wrong in using his

mental faculties. It is our proper way of arriving at the truth."[9]

Without entering in detail into the bottomless controversy of those

times, let us endeavour to get an adequate view of Castellio's type of

Christianity, and then we shall be able to form an estimate of the man

who in the {99} strong power of his faith stood almost alone as the

great battle of words raged around him.[10]

Those on the other side of the controversy began always from the

opposite end of the spiritual universe to his point of departure.

_They_ were fascinated with the mysteries of the Eternal Will, and used

all the keys of their logic to unlock the mysteries of foreknowledge,

predestination, and grace which has wrought the miracle of salvation

for the elect. Castellio, on the other hand, in true modern fashion,

starts always with the concrete, the near and the known, to work upward

to the nature of the unknown. We must, he says, try to discover the

Divine attributes and the Divine Character by first finding out what

our own deepest nature implies. If God is to speak to us it must be in

terms of our nature. Before undertaking to fathom with the plummet of

logic the unsoundable mystery of foreknowledge, let us see what we can

know through a return to the real nature of man as he is, and

especially to the real nature of the new Adam who is Christ, the Son of

God. Man, as both Scripture and his own inner self testify, is made

_in the image of God_, is dowered with freedom to determine his own

destiny, may go upward into light, or downward into darkness. Man thus

made, when put to trial, _failed_, followed lower instincts instead of

higher, and experienced the awful penalty of sin, namely its cumulative

power, the tendency of sin to beget sin, and to make higher choices

ever more difficult. Christ, however, the new Adam, has _succeeded_.

He has completely revealed the way of obedience, the way in which

spirit conquers flesh. He is the new kind of Person who lives from

above and who exhibits the cumulative power of goodness. His victory,

which was won by His own free choice, inspires all men who see it with

faith and hope in man's spiritual possibilities. Castellio declines to

discuss Christ's metaphysical nature, except in so far as His life has

revealed {100} it to us. He sees in Him the Heart and Character of

God, the certainty of Divine love and forgiveness, and the way of life

for all who desire to be spiritually saved, which means, for him, the

formation of a new inward self, a purified nature, a morally

transformed man, a will which no longer loves or wills sin. "Christ

alone," he says, "can heal the malady of the soul, but He can heal it."

"There is," he says again, "no other way of salvation for any man than

the way of self-denial. He must put off his old man and put on

Christ--however much blood and sweat the struggle may cost." Man, he

insists, is always wrong when he represents God as angry. Christ

showed that God needed no appeasing, but rather that man needed to be

brought back to God by the drawing of Love, and be reconciled to Him.

Faith--which for every prophet of human redemption is the key that

unlocks all doors for the soul--is for Castellio the supreme moral

force by which man turns God's revelations of Himself into spiritual

victories and into personal conquests of character. It is never

something forensic, something magical. It is, as little, mere belief

of historical facts and events. It is, on the contrary, a moral power

that moves mountains of difficulty, works miracles of transformation,

and enables the person who has it to participate in the life of God.

It is a passionate leap ("elan") of the soul of the creature toward the

Creator; it is a way of renewing strength in Him and of becoming a

participator in His divine nature. It is a return of the soul to its

source. It is a _persistent will_, which multiplies one's strength a

hundredfold, makes Pentecost possible again, and enables us to achieve

the goal which the vision of our heart sees. The only obstacle to this

all-conquering faith is selfishness, the only mortal enemy is

self-will.[11]

There have been, Castellio holds, progressive stages in the Divine

education of the race, and in man's apprehension of God. The mark of

advance is always found in the progress from law and letter to spirit,

and from {101} outward practices and ceremonies to inward experience.

Divine revelations can always be taken at different levels. They can

be seen in a literal, pictorial, temporal way, or they can be read

deeper--by those who are purified by faith and love, and made partakers

of the self-giving Life of God--as eternal and spiritual realities.

The written word of God is the garment of the Divine Thought which is

the real Word of God. It takes more than eyes of flesh to see through

the temporal garment to the inner Life and Spirit beneath. Only the

person who has in himself the illumination of the same Spirit that gave

the original revelation can see through the garment of the letter to

the eternal message, the ever-living Word hidden within.[12] In the

Christianity of the full-grown spiritual man, sacraments and everything

external must be used only as pictorial helps and symbolic suggestions

for the furtherance of spiritual life. Within us, as direct offspring

of God, as image of God, there is a Divine Reason, which existed before

books, before rites, before the foundation of the world, and will exist

after books and rites have vanished, and the world has gone to wreck.

It can no more be abolished than God Himself can be. It was by this

that Jesus Christ, the Son of God--called, in fact, Logos of God--lived

and taught us how to live. It was in the Light of this that He

transcended books and rites and declared, without quoting text, "God is

Spirit and thou shalt worship God in spirit and in truth." This Reason

is in all ages the right investigator and interpreter of Truth, even

though time changes outward things and written texts grow corrupt.[13]

As his life was drawing to a close, he sent forth anonymously another

powerful prophet-call for the complete liberation of mind and

conscience. Ten years before the awful deeds of St. Bartholomew's Day,

he issued his little French book with the title _Conseil a la France

desolee_--Counsel {102} to France in her Distress. It is a calm and

penetrating diagnosis of the evils which are destroying the life of

France and working her desolation. It throbs with noble patriotism and

is full of real prophetic insight, though he spoke to deaf ears and

wrote for blind eyes. The woes of France--her torn and distracted

condition--are mainly due to the blind and foolish method of attempting

to force intelligent men to accept a form of religion which in their

hearts they do not believe is true. There can be no united people,

strong and happy, until the blunder of compelling conscience entirely

ceases. He pleads in tenderness and love with both religious parties,

Catholics and Evangelicals, to leave the outgrown legalism of Moses and

go to the Gospels for a religion which leads into truth and freedom.

"O France, France," he cries--as formerly a greater One had said, "O

Jerusalem, Jerusalem"--"my counsel is that thou cease to compel men's

consciences, that thou cease to kill and to persecute, that thou grant

to men who believe in Jesus Christ the privilege of serving God

according to their own innermost faith and not according to some one

else's faith. And you, that are private people, do not be so ready to

follow those who lead you astray and push you to take up arms and kill

your brothers. And Thou, O Lord our Saviour, wilt Thou give to us all

grace to awake and come to our senses before it is forever too late.

I, at least, have now done my duty and spoken my word of truth." St.

Bartholomew's Day was the answer to this searching appeal, and the

land, deaf to the call of its prophet, was to become more "desolate"

still.

Just as the storm of persecution that had been gathering around him for

years was about to burst pitilessly upon him in 1563, he quietly died,

worn out in body, and "passed to where beyond these voices there is

peace." His students in the University of Basle, where, in spite of

the opposition from Geneva, he had been Professor of Greek for ten

years, bore his coffin in honour on their shoulders to his grave, and

his little band of disciples devoted themselves to spreading, in

Holland and wherever {103} they could find soil for it, the precious

seed of his truth, which had in later years a very wide harvest.[14]

He was not a theologian of the Reformation type. He did not think the

thoughts nor speak the dialect of his contemporaries. They need not be

blamed for thanking God at his death nor for seeing in him an

arch-enemy of their work. They were honestly working for one goal, and

he was as honestly living by the light of a far different ideal. The

spiritual discipline of the modern world was to come through their

laborious systems, but he, anticipating the results of the travail and

the slow spiral progress, and seeing in clear vision the triumph of

man's liberated spirit, with exuberant optimism believed that the

religion of the Spirit could be had for the taking--and he stretched

out his hand for it!

"I am," he cried out beneath the bludgeons, "a poor little man, more

than simple, humble and peaceable, with no desire for glory, only

affirming what in my heart I believe; why cannot I live and say my

honest word and have your love?" The time was not ready for him, but

he did his day's work with loyalty, sincerity, and bravery, and seen in

perspective is worthy to be honoured as a hero and a saint.[15]

[1] F. Buisson, _Sebastien Castellion, sa vie et son oeuvre_ (Paris,

1892), 2 vols.; Charles Jarrin, _Deux Oublies_ (Bourg, 1889); Emile

Broussoux, Sebastien Castellion, sa vie, ses oeuvres, et sa theologie

(Strasbourg, 1867); A. Schweizer, _Die protestantischen Centraldogmen_

(Zuerich, 1854), pp. 311-373.

[2] _Dialogi sacri, latino-gallici, ad linguas moresque puerorum

formandos_. Liber primus. Geneve, 1543.

[3] There were at least three English translations--1610, 1715, and

1743.

[4] Buisson, _op. cit._ i. p. 205.

[5] His Latin Bible appeared in 1551 and the French Bible in 1555.

During this period he also brought out a new edition of his "Sacred

Dialogues," an edition of Xenophon, a translation of the Sibylline

Oracles, a Latin poem on Jonah, and a Greek poem on John the Baptist,

the Forerunner.

[6] Calvin, in striking contrast, had written to the same boy-king in

1548: "Under the cover of the Gospel, foolish people would throw

everything into confusion. Others cling to the superstitions of the

Antichrist at Rome. _They all deserve to be repressed by the sword

which is committed to you_."

[7] Beza called it "diabolical doctrine."

[8] He selected as the title of this book the opprobrious word which

Calvin had used in the charge--_Harpago_, _i.e._ "Boat-hook."

[9] This MS. is in the Bibliotheque de l'Eglise des Remontrants in

Rotterdam. I have used only the extracts given from it in Buisson and

Jarrin.

[10] The main lines of Castellio's Christianity can be found in his

_Dialogi quatuor_: (i.) De praedestinatione, (ii.) De electione, (iii.)

De libero arbitrio, (iv.) De fide (Gouda, 1613) and in his _Scripta

selecta_. (1596).

[11] For Faith see _De fide and De arts dub._ ii. 212.

[12] This idea comes out in his Preface to the Bible, in his _Moses

latinus_, and in his manuscript work, _De arte dubitandi_.

[13] _De arte dubitandi_.

[14] Under the nom-de-plume of John Theophilus, Castellio translated

the _Theologia Germanica_ into Latin, and published it with an

Introduction. His translation carried this "golden book" of mystical

religion into very wide circulation, and became a powerful influence,

especially in England, as we shall see, in reproducing a similar type

of religious thought.

The Quaker William Caton, who spent the latter part of his life in

Holland, cites Castellio seven times in his Tract, _The Testimony of a

Cloud of Witnesses, who in their Generation have testified against that

horrible Evil of Forcing of Conscience and Persecution about Matters of

Religion_ (1662), and he seems very familiar with his writings. He

also cites Schwenckfeld and Franck on pp. 37 and 17 respectively.

[15] Castellio's plea for toleration, _Traite des Heretiques a savoir,

si on les doit persecuter_ (Rouen, 1554), has just been reissued in

attractive form in Geneva, edited by Olivet and Choisy.

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Spiritual Reformers in the 16th & 17th Centuries · 第 6 / 18 章