Was this the moment for celebrating the feast of peace? In the judgment of every sensible man it would have been an absurdity. If a feast is to be held on board ship, is it to be just when the whirlwind of the tempest strikes the vessel, when the sea-waves lift themselves up, when those on board shake and totter like a drunken man, while they go up to the heavens and down to the abysses? Is that the time for the dance to begin, and for the passengers gracefully to execute measured paces, to the sound of musical instruments? Or would anyone choose for attendance at a sweet and harmonious concert the moment when the hall is on fire? And yet it was proposed, in the midst of burning lawless passions, to have by force, by the decree of the magistrate, a display of holy things which would be nothing but a profanation. It cannot even be said, as is usually said, that the subject of excommunication was in question here. Not to give the supper at present did not mean that it should not be given afterwards. Calvin had given it. But it was not the time for it. _Non erat hic locus._ The reformer acted with the wisdom of a physician who will not give leave to impatient sick folk to take a mountain journey; he will do so afterwards, when they have regained their strength, but not now. Perhaps there may be individuals among them who will never scale the rocks because they will never have the power to do so. But that has nothing to do with those who are whole. For the physician there will be no more lovely day than that on which, at the head of his party, he shall be able to breathe with his friends the keen and healthful air of the heights, which at an earlier period would have killed them. That joy, we say again, Calvin had once tasted.