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The Protest of
Spires and the Confession at Augsburg, which marked the triumph of
the Reformation in Germany, were followed by years of conflict and
darkness. Weakened by divisions among its supporters, and assailed
by powerful foes, Protestantism seemed destined to be utterly
destroyed. Thousands sealed their testimony with their blood. Civil
war broke out; the Protestant cause was betrayed by one of its
leading adherents; the noblest of the reformed princes fell into the
hands of the emperor and were dragged as captives from town to town.
But in the moment of his apparent triumph, the emperor was smitten
with defeat. He saw the prey wrested from his grasp, and he was
forced at last to grant toleration to the doctrines which it had
been the ambition of his life to destroy. He had staked his kingdom,
his treasures, and life itself upon the crushing out of the heresy.
Now he saw his armies wasted by battle, his treasuries drained, his
many kingdoms threatened by revolt, while everywhere the faith which
he had vainly endeavored to suppress, was extending. Charles V had
been battling against omnipotent power. God had said, "Let there be
light," but the emperor had sought to keep the darkness unbroken.
His purposes had failed; and in premature old age, worn out with the
long struggle, he abdicated the throne and buried himself in a
cloister.
In Switzerland, as in Germany, there
came dark days for the Reformation. While many cantons accepted the
reformed
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faith, others clung with blind
persistence to the creed of Rome. Their persecution of those who desired
to receive the truth finally gave rise to civil war. Zwingli and many
who had united with him in reform fell on the bloody field of Cappel.
Oecolampadius, overcome by these terrible disasters, soon after died.
Rome was triumphant, and in many places seemed about to recover all that
she had lost. But He whose counsels are from everlasting had not
forsaken His cause or His people. His hand would bring deliverance for
them. In other lands He had raised up laborers to carry forward the
reform.
In France, before the name of Luther
had been heard as a Reformer, the day had already begun to break. One of
the first to catch the light was the aged Lefevre, a man of extensive
learning, a professor in the University of Paris, and a sincere and
zealous papist. In his researches into ancient literature his attention
was directed to the Bible, and he introduced its study among his
students.
Lefevre was an enthusiastic adorer of
the saints, and he had undertaken to prepare a history of the saints and
martyrs as given in the legends of the church. This was a work which
involved great labor; but he had already made considerable progress in
it, when, thinking that he might obtain useful assistance from the
Bible, he began its study with this object. Here indeed he found saints
brought to view, but not such as figured in the Roman calendar. A flood
of divine light broke in upon his mind. In amazement and disgust he
turned away from his self-appointed task and devoted himself to the word
of God. The precious truths which he there discovered he soon began to
teach.
In 1512, before either Luther or
Zwingli had begun the work of reform, Lefevre wrote: "It is God who
gives us, by faith, that righteousness which by grace alone justifies to
eternal life."--Wylie, b. 13, ch. 1. Dwelling upon the mysteries of
redemption, he exclaimed: "Oh, the unspeakable greatness of that
exchange,--the Sinless One is condemned,
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and he who is guilty goes free; the
Blessing bears the curse, and the cursed is brought into blessing; the
Life dies, and the dead live; the Glory is whelmed in darkness, and he
who knew nothing but confusion of face is clothed with glory."--
D'Aubigne, London ed., b. 12, ch. 2.
And while teaching that the glory of
salvation belongs solely to God, he also declared that the duty of
obedience belongs to man. "If thou art a member of Christ's church," he
said, "thou art a member of His body; if thou art of His body, then thou
art full of the divine nature. . . . Oh, if men could but enter into the
understanding of this privilege, how purely, chastely, and holily would
they live, and how contemptible, when compared with the glory within
them,-- that glory which the eye of flesh cannot see,--would they deem
all the glory of this world."--
Ibid., b. 12, ch. 2.
There were some among Lefevre's
students who listened eagerly to his words, and who, long after the
teacher's voice should be silenced, were to continue to declare the
truth. Such was William Farel. The son of pious parents, and educated to
accept with implicit faith the teachings of the church, he might, with
the apostle Paul, have declared concerning himself: "After the most
straitest sect of our religion I lived a Pharisee." Acts 26:5. A devoted
Romanist, he burned with zeal to destroy all who should dare to oppose
the church. "I would gnash my teeth like a furious wolf," he afterward
said, referring to this period of his life, "when I heard anyone
speaking against the pope."--Wylie, b. 13, ch. 2. He had been untiring
in his adoration of the saints, in company with Lefevre making the round
of the churches of Paris, worshipping at the altars, and adorning with
gifts the holy shrines. But these observances could not bring peace of
soul. Conviction of sin fastened upon him, which all the acts of penance
that he practiced failed to banish. As to a voice from heaven he
listened to the Reformer's words: "Salvation is of grace." "The Innocent
One is condemned, and the criminal is acquitted." "It is the cross of
Christ alone that
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openeth the gates of heaven, and shutteth
the gates of hell." -- Ibid.,
b. 13, ch. 2.
Farel joyfully accepted the truth. By
a conversion like that of Paul he turned from the bondage of tradition
to the liberty of the sons of God. "Instead of the murderous heart of a
ravening wolf," he came back, he says, "quietly like a meek and harmless
lamb, having his heart entirely withdrawn from the pope, and given to
Jesus Christ."--D'Aubigne, b. 12, ch. 3.
While Lefevre continued to spread the
light among his students, Farel, as zealous in the cause of Christ as he
had been in that of the pope, went forth to declare the truth in public.
A dignitary of the church, the bishop of Meaux, soon after united with
them. Other teachers who ranked high for their ability and learning
joined in proclaiming the gospel, and it won adherents among all
classes, from the homes of artisans and peasants to the palace of the
king. The sister of Francis I, then the reigning monarch, accepted the
reformed faith. The king himself, and the queen mother, appeared for a
time to regard it with favor, and with high hopes the Reformers looked
forward to the time when France should be won to the gospel.
But their hopes were not to be
realized. Trial and persecution awaited the disciples of Christ. This,
however, was mercifully veiled from their eyes. A time of peace
intervened, that they might gain strength to meet the tempest; and the
Reformation made rapid progress. The bishop of Meaux labored zealously
in his own diocese to instruct both the clergy and the people. Ignorant
and immoral priests were removed, and, so far as possible, replaced by
men of learning and piety. The bishop greatly desired that his people
might have access to the word of God for themselves, and this was soon
accomplished. Lefevre undertook the translation of the New Testament;
and at the very time when Luther's German Bible was issuing from the
press in Wittenberg, the French New Testament was published at Meaux.
The bishop spared no labor or expense to circulate it in his parishes,
and soon the
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peasants of Meaux were in possession of
the Holy Scriptures.
As travelers perishing from thirst
welcome with joy a living water spring, so did these souls receive the
message of heaven. The laborers in the field, the artisans in the
workshop, cheered their daily toil by talking of the precious truths of
the Bible. At evening, instead of resorting to the wine-shops, they
assembled in one another's homes to read God's word and join in prayer
and praise. A great change was soon manifest in these communities.
Though belonging to the humblest class, an unlearned and hard-working
peasantry, the reforming, uplifting power of divine grace was seen in
their lives. Humble, loving, and holy, they stood as witnesses to what
the gospel will accomplish for those who receive it in sincerity.
The light kindled at Meaux shed its
beams afar. Every day the number of converts was increasing. The rage of
the hierarchy was for a time held in check by the king, who despised the
narrow bigotry of the monks; but the papal leaders finally prevailed.
Now the stake was set up. The bishop of Meaux, forced to choose between
the fire and recantation, accepted the easier path; but notwithstanding
the leader's fall, his flock remained steadfast. Many witnessed for the
truth amid the flames. By their courage and fidelity at the stake, these
humble Christians spoke to thousands who in days of peace had never
heard their testimony.
It was not alone the humble and the
poor that amid suffering and scorn dared to bear witness for Christ. In
the lordly halls of the castle and the palace there were kingly souls by
whom truth was valued above wealth or rank or even life. Kingly armor
concealed a loftier and more steadfast spirit than did the bishop's robe
and miter. Louis de Berquin was of noble birth. A brave and courtly
knight, he was devoted to study, polished in manners, and of blameless
morals. "He was," says a writer, "a great follower of the papistical
constitutions, and a great hearer of masses and sermons; . . . and he
crowned all his other virtues by holding Lutheranism in
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special abhorrence." But, like so many
others, providentially guided to the Bible, he was amazed to find there,
"not the doctrines of Rome, but the doctrines of Luther."--Wylie, b. 13,
ch. 9. Henceforth he gave himself with entire devotion to the cause of
the gospel.
"The most learned of the nobles of
France," his genius and eloquence, his indomitable courage and heroic
zeal, and his influence at court,--for he was a favorite with the
king,-- caused him to be regarded by many as one destined to be the
Reformer of his country. Said Beza: "Berquin would have been a second
Luther, had he found in Francis I a second elector." "He is worse than
Luther," cried the papists.--
Ibid., b. 13, ch. 9. More
dreaded he was indeed by the Romanists of France. They thrust him into
prison as a heretic, but he was set at liberty by the king. For years
the struggle continued. Francis, wavering between Rome and the
Reformation, alternately tolerated and restrained the fierce zeal of the
monks. Berquin was three times imprisoned by the papal authorities, only
to be released by the monarch, who, in admiration of his genius and his
nobility of character, refused to sacrifice him to the malice of the
hierarchy.
Berquin was repeatedly warned of the
danger that threatened him in France, and urged to follow the steps of
those who had found safety in voluntary exile. The timid and
time-serving Erasmus, who with all the splendor of his scholarship
failed of that moral greatness which holds life and honor subservient to
truth, wrote to Berquin: "Ask to be sent as ambassador to some foreign
country; go and travel in Germany. You know Beda and such as he--he is a
thousand-headed monster, darting venom on every side. Your enemies are
named legion. Were your cause better than that of Jesus Christ, they
will not let you go till they have miserably destroyed you. Do not trust
too much to the king's protection. At all events,
do not compromise me
with the faculty of theology."--
Ibid., b. 13, ch. 9.
But as dangers thickened, Berquin's
zeal only waxed the stronger. So far from adopting the politic and
self-serving
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counsel of Erasmus, he determined upon
still bolder measures. He would not only stand in defense of the truth,
but he would attack error. The charge of heresy which the Romanists were
seeking to fasten upon him, he would rivet upon them. The most active
and bitter of his opponents were the learned doctors and monks of the
theological department in the great University of Paris, one of the
highest ecclesiastical authorities both in the city and the nation. From
the writings of these doctors, Berquin drew twelve propositions which he
publicly declared to be "opposed to the Bible, and heretical;" and he
appealed to the king to act as judge in the controversy.
The monarch, not loath to bring into
contrast the power and acuteness of the opposing champions, and glad of
an opportunity of humbling the pride of these haughty monks, bade the
Romanists defend their cause by the Bible. This weapon, they well knew,
would avail them little; imprisonment, torture, and the stake were arms
which they better understood how to wield. Now the tables were turned,
and they saw themselves about to fall into the pit into which they had
hoped to plunge Berquin. In amazement they looked about them for some
way of escape.
"Just at that time an image of the
Virgin at the corner of one of the streets, was mutilated." There was
great excitement in the city. Crowds of people flocked to the place,
with expressions of mourning and indignation. The king also was deeply
moved. Here was an advantage which the monks could turn to good account,
and they were quick to improve it. "These are the fruits of the
doctrines of Berquin," they cried. "All is about to be
overthrown--religion, the laws, the throne itself--by this Lutheran
conspiracy."-- Ibid.,
b. 13, ch. 9.
Again Berquin was apprehended. The
king withdrew from Paris, and the monks were thus left free to work
their will. The Reformer was tried and condemned to die, and lest
Francis should even yet interpose to save him, the sentence was executed
on the very day it was pronounced. At noon
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Berquin was conducted to the place of
death. An immense throng gathered to witness the event, and there were
many who saw with astonishment and misgiving that the victim had been
chosen from the best and bravest of the noble families of France.
Amazement, indignation, scorn, and bitter hatred darkened the faces of
that surging crowd; but upon one face no shadow rested. The martyr's
thoughts were far from that scene of tumult; he was conscious only of
the presence of his Lord.
The wretched tumbrel upon which he
rode, the frowning faces of his persecutors, the dreadful death to which
he was going--these he heeded not; He who liveth and was dead, and is
alive for evermore, and hath the keys of death and of hell, was beside
him. Berquin's countenance was radiant with the light and peace of
heaven. He had attired himself in goodly raiment, wearing "a cloak of
velvet, a doublet of satin and damask, and golden hose."--D'Aubigne,
History of the Reformation in
Europe in the Time of Calvin,
b. 2, ch. 16. He was about to testify to his faith in the presence of
the King of kings and the witnessing universe, and no token of mourning
should belie his joy.
As the procession moved slowly through
the crowded streets, the people marked with wonder the unclouded peace,
and joyous triumph, of his look and bearing. "He is," they said, "like
one who sits in a temple, and meditates on holy things."--Wylie, b. 13,
ch. 9.
At the stake, Berquin endeavored to
address a few words to the people; but the monks, fearing the result,
began to shout, and the soldiers to clash their arms, and their clamor
drowned the martyr's voice. Thus in 1529 the highest literary and
ecclesiastical authority of cultured Paris "set the populace of 1793 the
base example of stifling on the scaffold the sacred words of the
dying."-- Ibid.,
b, 13, ch. 9.
Berquin was strangled, and his body
was consumed in the flames. The tidings of his death caused sorrow to
the friends of the Reformation throughout France. But his example was
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not lost. "We, too, are ready," said the
witnesses for the truth, "to meet death cheerfully, setting our eyes on
the life that is to come."--D'Aubigne,
History of the Reformation in Europe in
the Time of Calvin, b. 2, ch.
16.
During the persecution of Meaux, the
teachers of the reformed faith were deprived of their license to preach,
and they departed to other fields. Lefevre after a time made his way to
Germany. Farel returned to his native town in eastern France, to spread
the light in the home of his childhood. Already tidings had been
received of what was going on at Meaux, and the truth, which he taught
with fearless zeal, found listeners. Soon the authorities were roused to
silence him, and he was banished from the city. Though he could no
longer labor publicly, he traversed the plains and villages, teaching in
private dwellings and in secluded meadows, and finding shelter in the
forests and among the rocky caverns which had been his haunts in
boyhood. God was preparing him for greater trials. "The crosses,
persecutions, and machinations of Satan, of which I was forewarned, have
not been wanting," he said; "they are even much severer than I could
have borne of myself; but God is my Father; He has provided and always
will provide me the strength which I require."--D'Aubigne,
History of the Reformation of the
Sixteenth Century, b. 12, ch.
9.
As in apostolic days, persecution had
"fallen out rather unto the furtherance of the gospel." Philippians
1:12. Driven from Paris and Meaux, "they that were scattered abroad went
everywhere preaching the word." Acts 8:4. And thus the light found its
way into many of the remote provinces of France.
God was still preparing workers to
extend His cause. In one of the schools of Paris was a thoughtful, quiet
youth, already giving evidence of a powerful and penetrating mind, and
no less marked for the blamelessness of his life than for intellectual
ardor and religious devotion. His genius and application soon made him
the pride of the college, and it was confidently anticipated that John
Calvin would become
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one of the ablest and most honored
defenders of the church. But a ray of divine light penetrated even
within the walls of scholasticism and superstition by which Calvin was
enclosed. He heard of the new doctrines with a shudder, nothing doubting
that the heretics deserved the fire to which they were given. Yet all
unwittingly he was brought face to face with the heresy and forced to
test the power of Romish theology to combat the Protestant teaching.
A cousin of Calvin's, who had joined
the Reformers, was in Paris. The two kinsmen often met and discussed
together the matters that were disturbing Christendom. "There are but
two religions in the world," said Olivetan, the Protestant. "The one
class of religions are those which men have invented, in all of which
man saves himself by ceremonies and good works; the other is that one
religion which is revealed in the Bible, and which teaches man to look
for salvation solely from the free grace of God."
"I will have none of your new
doctrines," exclaimed Calvin; "think you that I have lived in error all
my days?" --Wylie, b. 13, ch. 7.
But thoughts had been awakened in his
mind which he could not banish at will. Alone in his chamber he pondered
upon his cousin's words. Conviction of sin fastened upon him; he saw
himself, without an intercessor, in the presence of a holy and just
Judge. The mediation of saints, good works, the ceremonies of the
church, all were powerless to atone for sin. He could see before him
nothing but the blackness of eternal despair. In vain the doctors of the
church endeavored to relieve his woe. Confession, penance, were resorted
to in vain; they could not reconcile the soul with God.
While still engaged in these fruitless
struggles, Calvin, chancing one day to visit one of the public squares,
witnessed there the burning of a heretic. He was filled with wonder at
the expression of peace which rested upon the martyr's countenance. Amid
the tortures of that dreadful death, and under the more terrible
condemnation of the church, he
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manifested a faith and courage which the
young student painfully contrasted with his own despair and darkness,
while living in strictest obedience to the church. Upon the Bible, he
knew, the heretics rested their faith. He determined to study it, and
discover, if he could, the secret of their joy.
In the Bible he found Christ. "O
Father," he cried, "His sacrifice has appeased Thy wrath; His blood has
washed away my impurities; His cross has borne my curse; His death has
atoned for me. We had devised for ourselves many useless follies, but
Thou hast placed Thy word before me like a torch, and Thou hast touched
my heart, in order that I may hold in abomination all other merits save
those of Jesus." --Martyn, vol. 3, ch. 13.
Calvin had been educated for the
priesthood. When only twelve years of age he had been appointed to the
chaplaincy of a small church, and his head had been shorn by the bishop
in accordance with the canon of the church. He did not receive
consecration, nor did he fulfill the duties of a priest, but he became a
member of the clergy, holding the title of his office, and receiving an
allowance in consideration thereof.
Now, feeling that he could never
become a priest, he turned for a time to the study of law, but finally
abandoned this purpose and determined to devote his life to the gospel.
But he hesitated to become a public teacher. He was naturally timid, and
was burdened with a sense of the weighty responsibility of the position,
and he desired still to devote himself to study. The earnest entreaties
of his friends, however, at last won his consent. "Wonderful it is," he
said, "that one of so lowly an origin should be exalted to so great a
dignity."--Wylie, b. 13, ch. 9.
Quietly did Calvin enter upon his
work, and his words were as the dew falling to refresh the earth. He had
left Paris, and was now in a provincial town under the protection of the
princess Margaret, who, loving the gospel, extended her protection to
its disciples. Calvin was still a youth, of
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gentle, unpretentious bearing. His work
began with the people at their homes. Surrounded by the members of the
household, he read the Bible and opened the truths of salvation. Those
who heard the message carried the good news to others, and soon the
teacher passed beyond the city to the outlying towns and hamlets. To
both the castle and the cabin he found entrance, and he went forward,
laying the foundation of churches that were to yield fearless witnesses
for the truth.
A few months and he was again in
Paris. There was unwonted agitation in the circle of learned men and
scholars. The study of the ancient languages had led men to the Bible,
and many whose hearts were untouched by its truths were eagerly
discussing them and even giving battle to the champions of Romanism.
Calvin, though an able combatant in the fields of theological
controversy, had a higher mission to accomplish than that of these noisy
schoolmen. The minds of men were stirred, and now was the time to open
to them the truth. While the halls of the universities were filled with
the clamor of theological disputation, Calvin was making his way from
house to house, opening the Bible to the people, and speaking to them of
Christ and Him crucified.
In God's providence, Paris was to
receive another invitation to accept the gospel. The call of Lefevre and
Farel had been rejected, but again the message was to be heard by all
classes in that great capital. The king, influenced by political
considerations, had not yet fully sided with Rome against the
Reformation. Margaret still clung to the hope that Protestantism was to
triumph in France. She resolved that the reformed faith should be
preached in Paris. During the absence of the king, she ordered a
Protestant minister to preach in the churches of the city. This being
forbidden by the papal dignitaries, the princess threw open the palace.
An apartment was fitted up as a chapel, and it was announced that every
day, at a specified hour, a sermon would be preached, and the people of
every rank and station were invited to attend.
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Crowds flocked to the service. Not only
the chapel, but the antechambers and halls were thronged. Thousands
every day assembled--nobles, statesmen, lawyers, merchants, and
artisans. The king, instead of forbidding the assemblies, ordered that
two of the churches of Paris should be opened. Never before had the city
been so moved by the word of God. The spirit of life from heaven seemed
to be breathed upon the people. Temperance, purity, order, and industry
were taking the place of drunkenness, licentiousness, strife, and
idleness.
But the hierarchy were not idle. The
king still refused to interfere to stop the preaching, and they turned
to the populace. No means were spared to excite the fears, the
prejudices, and the fanaticism of the ignorant and superstitious
multitude. Yielding blindly to her false teachers, Paris, like Jerusalem
of old, knew not the time of her visitation nor the things which
belonged unto her peace. For two years the word of God was preached in
the capital; but, while there were many who accepted the gospel, the
majority of the people rejected it. Francis had made a show of
toleration, merely to serve his own purposes, and the papists succeeded
in regaining the ascendancy. Again the churches were closed, and the
stake was set up.
Calvin was still in Paris, preparing
himself by study, meditation, and prayer for his future labors, and
continuing to spread the light. At last, however, suspicion fastened
upon him. The authorities determined to bring him to the flames.
Regarding himself as secure in his seclusion, he had no thought of
danger, when friends came hurrying to his room with the news that
officers were on their way to arrest him. At that instant a loud
knocking was heard at the outer entrance. There was not a moment to be
lost. Some of his friends detained the officers at the door, while
others assisted the Reformer to let himself down from a window, and he
rapidly made his way to the outskirts of the city. Finding shelter in
the cottage of a laborer who was a friend to the reform, he disguised
himself in the garments of his host, and,
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shouldering a hoe, started on his
journey. Traveling southward, he again found refuge in the dominions of
Margaret. (See D'Aubigne,
History of the Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin,
b. 2, ch. 30.)
Here for a few months he remained,
safe under the protection of powerful friends, and engaged as before in
study. But his heart was set upon the evangelization of France, and he
could not long remain inactive. As soon as the storm had somewhat
abated, he sought a new field of labor in Poitiers, where was a
university, and where already the new opinions had found favor. Persons
of all classes gladly listened to the gospel. There was no public
preaching, but in the home of the chief magistrate, in his own lodgings,
and sometimes in a public garden, Calvin opened the words of eternal
life to those who desired to listen. After a time, as the number of
hearers increased, it was thought safer to assemble outside the city. A
cave in the side of a deep and narrow gorge, where trees and overhanging
rocks made the seclusion still more complete, was chosen as the place of
meeting. Little companies, leaving the city by different routes, found
their way hither. In this retired spot the Bible was read aloud and
explained. Here the Lord's Supper was celebrated for the first time by
the Protestants of France. From this little church several faithful
evangelists were sent out.
Once more Calvin returned to Paris. He
could not even yet relinquish the hope that France as a nation would
accept the Reformation. But he found almost every door of labor closed.
To teach the gospel was to take the direct road to the stake, and he at
last determined to depart to Germany. Scarcely had he left France when a
storm burst over the Protestants, that, had he remained, must surely
have involved him in the general ruin.
The French Reformers, eager to see
their country keeping pace with Germany and Switzerland, determined to
strike a bold blow against the superstitions of Rome, that should arouse
the whole nation. Accordingly placards attacking the
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mass were in one night posted all over
France. Instead of advancing the reform, this zealous but ill-judged
movement brought ruin, not only upon its propagators, but upon the
friends of the reformed faith throughout France. It gave the Romanists
what they had long desired--a pretext for demanding the utter
destruction of the heretics as agitators dangerous to the stability of
the throne and the peace of the nation.
By some secret hand--whether of
indiscreet friend or wily foe was never known--one of the placards was
attached to the door of the king's private chamber. The monarch was
filled with horror. In this paper, superstitions that had received the
veneration of ages were attacked with an unsparing hand. And the
unexampled boldness of obtruding these plain and startling utterances
into the royal presence aroused the wrath of the king. In his amazement
he stood for a little time trembling and speechless. Then his rage found
utterance in the terrible words: "Let all be seized without distinction
who are suspected of Lutheresy. I will exterminate them all.--
Ibid., b. 4, ch. 10. The die
was cast. The king had determined to throw himself fully on the side of
Rome.
Measures were at once taken for the
arrest of every Lutheran in Paris. A poor artisan, an adherent of the
reformed faith, who had been accustomed to summon the believers to their
secret assemblies, was seized and, with the threat of instant death at
the stake, was commanded to conduct the papal emissary to the home of
every Protestant in the city. He shrank in horror from the base
proposal, but at last fear of the flames prevailed, and he consented to
become the betrayer of his brethren. Preceded by the host, and
surrounded by a train of priests, incense bearers, monks, and soldiers,
Morin, the royal detective, with the traitor, slowly and silently passed
through the streets of the city. The demonstration was ostensibly in
honor of the "holy sacrament," an act of expiation for the insult put
upon the mass by the protesters. But beneath this pageant a deadly
purpose was
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concealed. On arriving opposite the house
of a Lutheran, the betrayer made a sign, but no word was uttered. The
procession halted, the house was entered, the family were dragged forth
and chained, and the terrible company went forward in search of fresh
victims. They "spared no house, great or small, not even the colleges of
the University of Paris. . . . Morin made all the city quake. . . . It
was a reign of terror." --
Ibid., b. 4, ch. 10.
The victims were put to death with
cruel torture, it being specially ordered that the fire should be
lowered in order to prolong their agony. But they died as conquerors.
Their constancy were unshaken, their peace unclouded. Their persecutors,
powerless to move their inflexible firmness, felt themselves defeated.
"The scaffolds were distributed over all the quarters of Paris, and the
burnings followed on successive days, the design being to spread the
terror of heresy by spreading the executions. The advantage, however, in
the end, remained with the gospel. All Paris was enabled to see what
kind of men the new opinions could produce. There was no pulpit like the
martyr's pile. The serene joy that lighted up the faces of these men as
they passed along . . . to the place of execution, their heroism as they
stood amid the bitter flames, their meek forgiveness of injuries,
transformed, in instances not a few, anger into pity, and hate into
love, and pleaded with resistless eloquence in behalf of the
gospel."--Wylie, b. 13, ch. 20.
The priests, bent upon keeping the
popular fury at its height, circulated the most terrible accusations
against the Protestants. They were charged with plotting to massacre the
Catholics, to overthrow the government, and to murder the king. Not a
shadow of evidence could be produced in support of the allegations. Yet
these prophecies of evil were to have a fulfillment; under far different
circumstances, however, and from causes of an opposite character. The
cruelties that were inflicted upon the innocent Protestants by the
Catholics accumulated in a weight of retribution, and in after centuries
wrought the very doom they had predicted to be impending, upon the king,
his government, and his
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subjects; but it was brought about by
infidels and by the papists themselves. It was not the establishment,
but the suppression, of Protestantism, that, three hundred years later,
was to bring upon France these dire calamities.
Suspicion, distrust, and terror now
pervaded all classes of society. Amid the general alarm it was seen how
deep a hold the Lutheran teaching had gained upon the minds of men who
stood highest for education, influence, and excellence of character.
Positions of trust and honor were suddenly found vacant. Artisans,
printers, scholars, professors in the universities, authors, and even
courtiers, disappeared. Hundreds fled from Paris, self-constituted
exiles from their native land, in many cases thus giving the first
intimation that they favored the reformed faith. The papists looked
about them in amazement at thought of the unsuspected heretics that had
been tolerated among them. Their rage spent itself upon the multitudes
of humbler victims who were within their power. The prisons were
crowded, and the very air seemed darkened with the smoke of burning
piles, kindled for the confessors of the gospel.
Francis I had gloried in being a
leader in the great movement for the revival of learning which marked
the opening of the sixteenth century. He had delighted to gather at his
court men of letters from every country. To his love of learning and his
contempt for the ignorance and superstition of the monks was due, in
part at least, the degree of toleration that had been granted to the
reform. But, inspired with zeal to stamp out heresy, this patron of
learning issued an edict declaring printing abolished all over France!
Francis I presents one among the many examples on record showing that
intellectual culture is not a safeguard against religious intolerance
and persecution.
France by a solemn and public ceremony
was to commit herself fully to the destruction of Protestantism. The
priests demanded that the affront offered to High Heaven in the
condemnation of the mass be expiated in blood, and that the king, in
behalf of his people, publicly give his sanction to the dreadful work.
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The 21st of January, 1535, was fixed
upon for the awful ceremonial. The superstitious fears and bigoted
hatred of the whole nation had been roused. Paris was thronged with the
multitudes that from all the surrounding country crowded her streets.
The day was to be ushered in by a vast and imposing procession. "The
houses along the line of march were hung with mourning drapery, and
altars rose at intervals." Before every door was a lighted torch in
honor of the "holy sacrament." Before daybreak the procession formed at
the palace of the king. "First came the banners and crosses of the
several parishes; next appeared the citizens, walking two and two, and
bearing torches." The four orders of friars followed, each in its own
peculiar dress. Then came a vast collection of famous relics. Following
these rode lordly ecclesiastics in their purple and scarlet robes and
jeweled adornings, a gorgeous and glittering array.
"The host was carried by the bishop of
Paris under a magnificent canopy, . . . supported by four princes of the
blood. . . . After the host walked the king. . . . Francis I on that day
wore no crown, nor robe of state." With "head uncovered, his eyes cast
on the ground, and in his hand a lighted taper," the king of France
appeared "in the character of a penitent."--
Ibid., b. 13, ch. 21. At every
altar he bowed down in humiliation, nor for the vices that defiled his
soul, nor the innocent blood that stained his hands, but for the deadly
sin of his subjects who had dared to condemn the mass. Following him
came the queen and the dignitaries of state, also walking two and two,
each with a lighted torch.
As a part of the services of the day
the monarch himself addressed the high officials of the kingdom in the
great hall of the bishop's palace. With a sorrowful countenance he
appeared before them and in words of moving eloquence bewailed "the
crime, the blasphemy, the day of sorrow and disgrace," that had come
upon the nation. And he called upon every loyal subject to aid in the
extirpation of the pestilent heresy that threatened France with ruin.
"As true, messieurs, as I am your king," he said, "if I knew one of my
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own limbs spotted or infected with this
detestable rottenness, I would give it you to cut off. . . . And
further, if I saw one of my children defiled by it, I would not spare
him. . . . I would deliver him up myself, and would sacrifice him to
God." Tears choked his utterance, and the whole assembly wept, with one
accord exclaiming: "We will live and die for the Catholic
religion!"--D'Aubigne, History
of the Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin,
b. 4, ch. 12.
Terrible had become the darkness of
the nation that had rejected the light of truth. The grace "that
bringeth salvation" had appeared; but France, after beholding its power
and holiness, after thousands had been drawn by its divine beauty, after
cities and hamlets had been illuminated by its radiance, had turned
away, choosing darkness rather than light. They had put from them the
heavenly gift when it was offered them. They had called evil good, and
good evil, till they had fallen victims to their willful self-deception.
Now, though they might actually believe that they were doing God service
in persecuting His people, yet their sincerity did not render them
guiltless. The light that would have saved them from deception, from
staining their souls with bloodguiltiness, they had willfully rejected.
A solemn oath to extirpate heresy was
taken in the great cathedral where, nearly three centuries later, the
Goddess of Reason was to be enthroned by a nation that had forgotten the
living God. Again the procession formed, and the representatives of
France set out to begin the work which they had sworn to do. "At short
distances scaffolds had been erected, on which certain Protestant
Christians were to be burned alive, and it was arranged that the fagots
should be lighted at the moment the king approached, and that the
procession should halt to witness the execution."--Wylie, b. 13, ch. 21.
The details of the tortures endured by these witnesses for Christ are
too harrowing for recital; but there was no wavering on the part of the
victims. On being urged to recant, one answered: "I only believe in what
the prophets and the apostles formerly preached, and what all the
company of
Page 230
saints believed. My faith has a
confidence in God which will resist all the powers of hell."--D'Aubigne,
History of the Reformation in
Europe in the Time of Calvin,
b. 4, ch. 12.
Again and again the procession halted
at the places of torture. Upon reaching their starting point at the
royal palace, the crowd dispersed, and the king and the prelates
withdrew, well satisfied with the day's proceedings and congratulating
themselves that the work now begun would be continued to the complete
destruction of heresy.
The gospel of peace which France had
rejected was to be only too surely rooted out, and terrible would be the
results. On the 21st of January, 1793, two hundred and fifty-eight years
from the very day that fully committed France to the persecution of the
Reformers, another procession, with a far different purpose, passed
through the streets of Paris. "Again the king was the chief figure;
again there were tumult and shouting; again there was heard the cry for
more victims; again there were black scaffolds; and again the scenes of
the day were closed by horrid executions; Louis XVI, struggling hand to
hand with his jailers and executioners, was dragged forward to the
block, and there held down by main force till the ax had fallen, and his
dissevered head rolled on the scaffold."--Wylie, b. 13, ch. 21. Nor was
the king the only victim; near the same spot two thousand and eight
hundred human beings perished by the guillotine during the bloody days
of the Reign of Terror.
The Reformation had presented to the
world an open Bible, unsealing the precepts of the law of God and urging
its claims upon the consciences of the people. Infinite Love had
unfolded to men the statutes and principles of heaven. God had said:
"Keep therefore and do them; for this is your wisdom and your
understanding in the sight of the nations, which shall hear all these
statutes, and say, Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding
people." Deuteronomy 4:6. When France rejected the gift of heaven, she
sowed the seeds of anarchy and ruin; and the inevitable outworking of
cause and effect resulted in the Revolution and the Reign of Terror.
Page 231
Long before the persecution excited by
the placards, the bold and ardent Farel had been forced to flee from the
land of his birth. He repaired to Switzerland, and by his labors,
seconding the work of Zwingli, he helped to turn the scale in favor of
the Reformation. His later years were to be spent here, yet he continued
to exert a decided influence upon the reform in France. During the first
years of his exile, his efforts were especially directed to spreading
the gospel in his native country. He spent considerable time in
preaching among his countrymen near the frontier, where with tireless
vigilance he watched the conflict and aided by his words of
encouragement and counsel. With the assistance of other exiles, the
writings of the German Reformers were translated into the French
language and, together with the French Bible, were printed in large
quantities. By colporteurs these works were sold extensively in France.
They were furnished to the colporteurs at a low price, and thus the
profits of the work enabled them to continue it.
Farel entered upon his work in
Switzerland in the humble guise of a schoolmaster. Repairing to a
secluded parish, he devoted himself to the instruction of children.
Besides the usual branches of learning, he cautiously introduced the
truths of the Bible, hoping through the children to reach the parents.
There were some who believed, but the priests came forward to stop the
work, and the superstitious country people were roused to oppose it.
"That cannot be the gospel of Christ," urged the priest, "seeing the
preaching of it does not bring peace, but war."--Wylie, b. 14, ch. 3.
Like the first disciples, when persecuted in one city he fled to
another. From village to village, from city to city, he went, traveling
on foot, enduring hunger, cold, and weariness, and everywhere in peril
of his life. He preached in the market places, in the churches,
sometimes in the pulpits of the cathedrals. Sometimes he found the
church empty of hearers; at times his preaching was interrupted by
shouts and jeers; again he was pulled violently out of the pulpit. More
than once he was set upon by the rabble and beaten almost to death. Yet
he
Page 232
pressed forward. Though often repulsed,
with unwearying persistence he returned to the attack; and, one after
another, he saw towns and cities which had been strongholds of popery,
opening their gates to the gospel. The little parish where he had first
labored soon accepted the reformed faith. The cities of Morat and
Neuchatel also renounced the Romish rites and removed the idolatrous
images from their churches.
Farel had long desired to plant the
Protestant standard in Geneva. If this city could be won, it would be a
center for the Reformation in France, in Switzerland, and in Italy. With
this object before him, he had continued his labors until many of the
surrounding towns and hamlets had been gained. Then with a single
companion he entered Geneva. But only two sermons was he permitted to
preach. The priests, having vainly endeavored to secure his condemnation
by the civil authorities, summoned him before an ecclesiastical council,
to which they came with arms concealed under their robes, determined to
take his life. Outside the hall, a furious mob, with clubs and swords,
was gathered to make sure of his death if he should succeed in escaping
the council. The presence of magistrates and an armed force, however,
saved him. Early next morning he was conducted, with his companion,
across the lake to a place of safety. Thus ended his first effort to
evangelize Geneva.
For the next trial a lowlier
instrument was chosen--a young man, so humble in appearance that he was
coldly treated even by the professed friends of reform. But what could
such a one do where Farel had been rejected? How could one of little
courage and experience withstand the tempest before which the strongest
and bravest had been forced to flee? "Not by might, nor by power, but by
My Spirit, saith the Lord." Zechariah 4:6. "God hath chosen the weak
things of the world to confound the things which are mighty." "Because
the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is
stronger than men." 1 Corinthians 1:27, 25.
Froment began his work as a
schoolmaster. The truths which he taught the children at school they
repeated at
Page 233
their homes. Soon the parents came to
hear the Bible explained, until the schoolroom was filled with attentive
listeners. New Testaments and tracts were freely distributed, and they
reached many who dared not come openly to listen to the new doctrines.
After a time this laborer also was forced to flee; but the truths he
taught had taken hold upon the minds of the people. The Reformation had
been planted, and it continued to strengthen and extend. The preachers
returned, and through their labors the Protestant worship was finally
established in Geneva.
The city had already declared for the
Reformation when Calvin, after various wanderings and vicissitudes,
entered its gates. Returning from a last visit to his birthplace, he was
on his way to Basel, when, finding the direct road occupied by the
armies of Charles V, he was forced to take the circuitous route by
Geneva.
In this visit Farel recognized the
hand of God. Though Geneva had accepted the reformed faith, yet a great
work remained to be accomplished here. It is not as communities but as
individuals that men are converted to God; the work of regeneration must
be wrought in the heart and conscience by the power of the Holy Spirit,
not by the decrees of councils. While the people of Geneva had cast off
the authority of Rome, they were not so ready to renounce the vices that
had flourished under her rule. To establish here the pure principles of
the gospel and to prepare this people to fill worthily the position to
which Providence seemed calling them were not light tasks.
Farel was confident that he had found
in Calvin one whom he could unite with himself in this work. In the name
of God he solemnly adjured the young evangelist to remain and labor
here. Calvin drew back in alarm. Timid and peace-loving, he shrank from
contact with the bold, independent, and even violent spirit of the
Genevese. The feebleness of his health, together with his studious
habits, led him to seek retirement. Believing that by his pen he could
best serve the cause of reform, he desired to find a quiet
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retreat for study, and there, through the
press, instruct and build up the churches. But Farel's solemn admonition
came to him as a call from Heaven, and he dared not refuse. It seemed to
him, he said, "that the hand of God was stretched down from heaven, that
it lay hold of him, and fixed him irrevocably to the place he was so
impatient to leave."-- D'Aubigne,
History of the Reformation in Europe in
the Time of Calvin, b. 9, ch.
17.
At this time great perils surrounded
the Protestant cause. The anathemas of the pope thundered against
Geneva, and mighty nations threatened it with destruction. How was this
little city to resist the powerful hierarchy that had so often forced
kings and emperors to submission? How could it stand against the armies
of the world's great conquerors?
Throughout Christendom, Protestantism
was menaced by formidable foes. The first triumphs of the Reformation
past, Rome summoned new forces, hoping to accomplish its destruction. At
this time the order of the Jesuits was created, the most cruel,
unscrupulous, and powerful of all the champions of popery. Cut off from
earthly ties and human interests, dead to the claims of natural
affection, reason and conscience wholly silenced, they knew no rule, no
tie, but that of their order, and no duty but to extend its power. (See
Appendix.)
The gospel of Christ had enabled its adherents to meet danger and endure
suffering, undismayed by cold, hunger, toil, and poverty, to uphold the
banner of truth in face of the rack, the dungeon, and the stake. To
combat these forces, Jesuitism inspired its followers with a fanaticism
that enabled them to endure like dangers, and to oppose to the power of
truth all the weapons of deception. There was no crime too great for
them to commit, no deception too base for them to practice, no disguise
too difficult for them to assume. Vowed to perpetual poverty and
humility, it was their studied aim to secure wealth and power, to be
devoted to the overthrow of Protestantism, and the re-establishment of
the papal supremacy.
Page 235
When appearing as members of their
order, they wore a garb of sanctity, visiting prisons and hospitals,
ministering to the sick and the poor, professing to have renounced the
world, and bearing the sacred name of Jesus, who went about doing good.
But under this blameless exterior the most criminal and deadly purposes
were often concealed. It was a fundamental principle of the order that
the end justifies the means. By this code, lying, theft, perjury,
assassination, were not only pardonable but commendable, when they
served the interests of the church. Under various disguises the Jesuits
worked their way into offices of state, climbing up to be the counselors
of kings, and shaping the policy of nations. They became servants to act
as spies upon their masters. They established colleges for the sons of
princes and nobles, and schools for the common people; and the children
of Protestant parents were drawn into an observance of popish rites. All
the outward pomp and display of the Romish worship was brought to bear
to confuse the mind and dazzle and captivate the imagination, and thus
the liberty for which the fathers had toiled and bled was betrayed by
the sons. The Jesuits rapidly spread themselves over Europe, and
wherever they went, there followed a revival of popery.
To give them greater power, a bull was
issued re-establishing the inquisition. (See
Appendix.)
Notwithstanding the general abhorrence with which it was regarded, even
in Catholic countries, this terrible tribunal was again set up by popish
rulers, and atrocities too terrible to bear the light of day were
repeated in its secret dungeons. In many countries, thousands upon
thousands of the very flower of the nation, the purest and noblest, the
most intellectual and highly educated, pious and devoted pastors,
industrious and patriotic citizens, brilliant scholars, talented
artists, skillful artisans, were slain or forced to flee to other lands.
Such were the means which Rome had
invoked to quench the light of the Reformation, to withdraw from men the
Bible, and to restore the ignorance and superstition of the Dark
Page 236
Ages. But under God's blessing and the
labors of those noble men whom He had raised up to succeed Luther,
Protestantism was not overthrown. Not to the favor or arms of princes
was it to owe its strength. The smallest countries, the humblest and
least powerful nations, became its strongholds. It was little Geneva in
the midst of mighty foes plotting her destruction; it was Holland on her
sandbanks by the northern sea, wrestling against the tyranny of Spain,
then the greatest and most opulent of kingdoms; it was bleak, sterile
Sweden, that gained victories for the Reformation.
For nearly thirty years Calvin labored
at Geneva, first to establish there a church adhering to the morality of
the Bible, and then for the advancement of the Reformation throughout
Europe. His course as a public leader was not faultless, nor were his
doctrines free from error. But he was instrumental in promulgating
truths that were of special importance in his time, in maintaining the
principles of Protestantism against the fast-returning tide of popery,
and in promoting in the reformed churches simplicity and purity of life,
in place of the pride and corruption fostered under the Romish teaching.
From Geneva, publications and teachers
went out to spread the reformed doctrines. To this point the persecuted
of all lands looked for instruction, counsel, and encouragement. The
city of Calvin became a refuge for the hunted Reformers of all Western
Europe. Fleeing from the awful tempests that continued for centuries,
the fugitives came to the gates of Geneva. Starving, wounded, bereft of
home and kindred, they were warmly welcomed and tenderly cared for; and
finding a home here, they blessed the city of their adoption by their
skill, their learning, and their piety. Many who sought here a refuge
returned to their own countries to resist the tyranny of Rome. John
Knox, the brave Scotch Reformer, not a few of the English Puritans, the
Protestants of Holland and of Spain, and the Huguenots of France carried
from Geneva the torch of truth to lighten the darkness of their native
lands.
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