It was during this winter that a stranger was observed at the gospel meetings. She attended them diligently. After a while she told our friend, Claude Bernard, that she had been obliged to leave France because she had become a gospeller. She had come to take refuge at Geneva, having lost her situation, and having now nothing to live upon.
Good Claude Bernard was touched by her tale of sorrow, and pleased with her great desire to hear the gospel. He engaged her as his servant, for now that he had three preachers living in his house, he could well find work for an extra maid. This woman, whose name was Antonia Vax, was, therefore, to be employed chiefly in waiting on the preachers, who had a room to themselves.
One day in March, Antonia brought up the dinner as usual, for Farel, Viret, and Anthony. She had made some thick spinach soup. Farel looked at it, and said he liked the thin household soup much better—he would therefore have some from the family dinner. Anthony Froment was helping himself to the spinach soup. At that moment a person came in to tell him that his wife and children had just arrived in Geneva. Without waiting to eat a mouthful, Anthony ran off to find them. Peter Viret, who was not yet recovered from his stabbing, began to eat. Antonia told him she had made this strong thick soup on purpose to do him good.
Scarcely had he eaten it, when Antonia rushed into the room, looking wild and excited. She gave him a cup of water, and told him to drink it immediately. She would not tell him why she wished him to do so. Peter drank the water, and soon became very ill.
Claude Bernard was in great sorrow; his friend appeared to be dying. It was now discovered for the first time, that several articles which had been missing, had been stolen by Antonia. The truth flashed upon Claude’s mind that Antonia had poisoned Peter. He inquired for her, but she was nowhere to be found. Someone had seen her run to the lodging where her children were, and take them hastily to the lake-side, from whence she had gone away in a boat.
Claude jumped into a boat with some of his friends, and pursued her. She was overtaken about nine miles from the town. Claude did not tell her his suspicions, but brought her back in his boat, with her children.
Antonia looked pale and frightened. When they reached the landing-place, she sprang from the boat, and whilst Claude was taking out the children, she disappeared. She was seen by someone running down a dark alley, and another person had observed her going into the house of a priest. The magistrates sent their officers to search the house, and there, in a dark underground cellar, Antonia was found. She was taken to prison, and brought to trial on the 13th of April. She at once confessed her crime. She said she had been led into it by “the round-caps “; the priests, that is to say. The priests whom she named were seized and taken to prison.
This was the first time in Geneva that priests were arrested by laymen, and judged according to the common law.
Antonia was sentenced to be beheaded. As she was brought to the scaffold, she took no notice of the immense crowd that surrounded her. But fixing her eyes upon some object unseen by the officers who led her, she waved her hand, and said, “Take them away! take them away!” “Take whom?” asked the officers. “Take them away!” repeated Antonia; “take away those round-caps! It is they who are the cause of my death!” As the ax was lifted, she once more called out in a piercing voice, “Take them away!” and her head fell.
It was soon after told through the city, that this attempted murder was only a part of the priests’ plot. They had intended also to poison the bread and wine at the Lord’s Supper of the gospellers, and had tried to do so. From this moment even Catholics looked with horror and suspicion at these wicked men; but Sister Jane and her nuns believed, in spite of Antonia’s confession, that Peter’s illness was merely accidental. Peter was for a time in the greatest danger. He recovered at last, but felt the effects of the poison, more or less, during the remainder of his life.
It was in this same spring of 1535 that James Bernard determined to hold a public meeting, and defend the faith he now held, in the face of any priests and monks who would undertake to contradict him. It was not an easy task to find any who would come forward. One after another refused. In vain the council commanded the monks to appear. They did not refuse to be present, but said they were not learned enough to speak, which was no doubt true.
Sister Jane and her nuns were also commanded to be present. But this order they at once refused to obey; “and if we are forced to go,” said the mother vicar, “we shall make such an uproar that you will have to give way, and leave us in possession of the field.” The council decided that they could do without the nuns. But how could they do without the priests or monks? Would no one come forward to answer James Bernard? It was quite plain a discussion could not be all on one side.
At last a doctor of the Sorbonne, named Caroli, made his appearance. He said he had come from Paris, and was ready to dispute, but it did not seem clear which side he meant to take. He gave out to the citizens that he was a bishop. He also said that he had disputed at Paris on the side of the gospel, against Bédier. Do you remember Bédier who was long ago the enemy of Master Faber? He said, too, Margaret of Navarre had given him a living. All this was very bewildering to the people of Geneva. But William Farel had heard of this man before. He went to his inn, where he found Caroli at breakfast.
Farel wasted no words upon the doctor from Paris. He began at once, “You say you are driven from France for the faith. Certainly you have not deserved it, for you have done nothing that was unworthy of the pope, or worthy of Jesus Christ.” The doctor was offended at these words, which was natural. He made no answer, but went on eating his breakfast in silence. At last he thought it best to make an attempt to gain the good opinion of Farel. He offered him some money, which he said he expected from France, for the relief of the poor gospellers of Geneva.”
“God,” said Farel, “will never fail either the poor or us. It is our business to give the bread of life.” Caroli was again silent.
The council made every arrangement for the discussion. Crowds were expected, and crowds came. Bernard and the three preachers were in their places, but the opposite seats were empty.
At last two champions of the pope appeared. One was a Dominican monk, the other was Caroli.
I need not give you an account of this disputation. It ended in Caroli having to defend the cause of popery single-handed. But he was so completely silenced by the arguments of Peter Viret, who was just able to get up from his sick bed, that even the Catholics admitted that the gospellers had proved their point. Several seem to have been truly converted.
Thus the Word of God had free course, and was glorified, and at the same time the faith of the gospellers was tried as never before.
The bishop, who had forbidden the country people to enter Geneva, now forbade them to trade with the citizens who went into the country for provisions. No eggs, no butter, no cheese, no meat, could be had. The hungry people would go out by night to any villages where they had friends, and bring back bread or corn.
And just at this time several amongst them were called to suffer death itself for the sake of Christ.
The bishop’s band of robbers, who still kept watch in the castle of Peney, were daily committing outrages upon any passers by, who were suspected of having dealings with Geneva. Many had been thus seized and carried into the castle dungeons. Some were tortured, one hanged, one torn limb from limb, by being tied to restive horses in the courtyard of the castle.
“It is impossible to tell,” wrote the Council of Geneva to their ambassador at Berne, “how we are tormented by the outlaws at Peney. They have never ceased to do us injury, and do so more and more. They seize our people and our goods. They steal our cows from the mountains; they take our horses, they waylay and beat our women, and at Signy they caught a poor woman of Geneva, coming home from market at Gep. They took her money and her goods, cut off her hand, and because she complained of this, stuck a knife into her throat, and left her dead in the high road.” They also carried off the corn from the fields, being protected in these acts of plunder by soldiers sent from France by the bishop.
The good knight, Gaudet, was thus waylaid, and seized by the spies from Peney. You remember that he had been for some months preaching the gospel at Geneva. This faithful soldier of Christ was tortured for five days. His life was offered him, if he would give up the gospel. But Gaudet had a strength which could withstand all that the devil or man could do. “The Lord stood beside him and strengthened him.” He was condemned to be roasted alive over a slow fire, “for having settled at Geneva, for having attended sermons, and heard and preached the gospel.” Such was the charge laid against him. All the peasants of the neighborhood were invited to have the pleasure of seeing him burnt in the castle-yard. He was fastened to a post, with burning embers under his feet. He was then burnt, limb by limb, and pricked meanwhile with the spears and halberds of his tormentors. For two days was he thus kept in torture. Meanwhile he prayed for his enemies, and told them that Christ made all suffering light to him, and that he rejoiced to endure the torment for His blessed name. The peasants went back to their homes, weeping and horror-stricken. The priests said, “Gaudet’s death will do us more mischief than twenty of Farel’s sermons.”
Such were the acts of the bishop, of whom a Roman Catholic historian writes that he may be truly called “the apostle of Geneva,” the “defender of her rights and liberties.” Gaudet’s murder was speedily followed by other acts of brutality. A citizen of Geneva was beheaded. A poor embroiderer of Avignon, on his way to Geneva, was caught, and asked why he was going to the heretic city? “I am going to hear the gospel,” he said, “you had better come too.” “No, indeed,” they answered. “I entreat you to come,” said the poor man; “I am utterly astonished at you, that you live so near, and do not go to the preaching. I am come all the way from Avignon for no other purpose. I implore you to come with me.” “Come along, rascal,” they replied, “we will teach you to listen to the devils of Geneva.” Then dragging him into the castle, they gave him three lashes with the end of a rope, saying, “This is in the name of the three devils you wanted to hear, Farel, Viret, and Froment.” To this the poor man made no other reply than that go he would, and that he besought them to come with him. So earnest were his entreaties, that happily for him, they came to the conclusion that he was a lunatic, and let him go.
Some of the Huguenots determined to avenge Gaudet’s death, and drive the murderers from their stronghold. But they returned mournfully to Geneva. Some had been killed in the assault, others terribly wounded, and the castle was left in the hands of the enemy. “God can do greater things for you,” said Farel, “than you can do for yourselves. He has ways and means which you do not understand, in order that He may have all the honor, and that you may look to Him, not to your human undertakings, and your pieces of cannon.”
Yes, in God’s good time the help would come. But for the present the little flock at Geneva must learn to wait upon God. Their ambassador wrote back from Berne to say that many there were roused to grief and anger by the tidings of their persecution. Yet still Berne hung back from helping them. “God has all in His own hand,” said the ambassador; “He will give us all that is needful; needful not to carry out our will, but His. And this is what we must look for, if we are Christians... Jesus, our Redeemer, will not let us suffer more than we can bear. To Him be honor and glory, to you His peace and grace.” The ambassador also advises them in this letter to destroy the dens of the robbers, who were at the bottom of the mischief. By this, he meant the convents of Geneva.
There would not be room in this little history to tell you all that happened to the gospellers, even at Geneva, during that year 1535. Much less would it be possible to tell you the sad but glorious stories of those in other places. But I would mention that all through the winter and spring that were past, tidings came to William Farel from his beloved France, that filled him alike with joy and with grief. Joy, that the good seed sown in the happy days of Meaux, and by the colporteurs from Lyons, had brought forth such a glorious harvest of believing men and women. Grief, for the awful storm of persecution which had burst upon them in the autumn of 1534. This was occasioned by the rage of Francis I at some placards which had been posted up at Paris, and even in his own palace, condemning the mass as idolatry, and speaking in words true no doubt, but violent, of the awful corruption of the church of Rome. As these placards had been printed at Neuchâtel, they were, till quite lately, supposed to have been written by Farel, but from letters now discovered we find that Farel had nothing to do with them. They were written by a gospeller at Neuchâtel, most likely Anthony Marcourt.
Francis, urged on by the priests, determined to root out the heretics at once. Between November 10th, 1534, and May 3rd, 1535, no less than 24 Protestants were burnt at Paris alone—many others were put to death elsewhere. This butchery began with a solemn procession through the streets of Paris. “The Bishop of Paris walked first,” we are told, holding in his hands the holy sacrament, and by his side the three sons of the king and of the Duke of Vendome, who held the canopy above his head. The king walked last, a torch in his hand, between two cardinals. At each station he gave the torch to the Cardinal of Lorraine, joined his hands, and falling humbly on his face, he entreated the divine mercy for his people.” The king looked on, as six gospellers were all roasted alive at one time. Very many who were not burnt, were tortured and imprisoned.
And strange to say, but a few days before the procession, the king, intelligent man as he was, had been persuaded by the clergy to pass a law, ordering that in all his dominions printing should be abolished, because it led to the spread of the “new opinions.” But a month later, the king was ashamed of such an excess of folly, and the law was not enforced.
The murder of the saints in France was carried on all through the summer and autumn of that dark year. And during that same year, the wretched king, at the entreaties of the new pope, Paul III, began a persecution of the Waldenses, which was carried on for 10 years, in the last of which, 1545, 3 of the Waldensian towns and 22 villages were destroyed—763 houses, 89 cattle sheds, and 31 barns burnt down—3,255 persons killed in cold blood, about 700 sent as slaves to the galleys, and a number of children sold, in order to be brought up as Roman Catholics.
You will remember that Walter Farel had been amongst those persecuted in France, and that he had been imprisoned in Dauphiné. He was soon after set free, probably by means of Queen Margaret. But in this summer of 1535, he was again seized. He, and his brother Claude, had ventured to Geneva, partly to see William, and partly, it would appear, to provide themselves with small Bibles and New Testaments, Concordances, and other books. The Waldensian Bible was by this time translated and printed, Robert Olivetan having undertaken the work. But the small Bibles were, perhaps, an older translation.
The day that Walter and Claude left Geneva, in company with Anthony Saunier, they had gone with William to visit a friend. They found this friend at dinner. One of the guests was a Catholic, called Roceau. William and Anthony Saunier held an argument with Roceau, who appeared to take it in very good part. He came out to the door to help Walter to mount his horse. But scarcely were the two brothers and Anthony Saunier started on their journey, than Roceau galloped off to Peney, to give warning to the bishop’s ruffians that a party of Lutherans were in the road. Seven other travelers had joined Walter, Claude, and Saunier. The Captain of Peney lost no time. He very soon overtook the little party, who were all seized and carried to a prison in Faverges, a town of Savoy. Anthony, however, managed to escape, and, after hiding in a field of oats, made his way back to Geneva. Walter and Claude, with the other prisoners, soon after made their escape also, having paid their gaolers to release them. They took refuge amongst the Waldenses in Italy. Anthony Saunier joined them there, but was soon after caught, and imprisoned at Turin, by order of the Duke of Savoy. The Bernese demanded that he should be set free, but the duke replied that Anthony was the prisoner of “the holy father, the pope,” and that he had no power to release him.