It was a joyful day to the people of the Waldensian valleys, when at last the pastors from Switzerland came in sight. They had had a long and dangerous journey through the enemy’s country. They had traveled along the loneliest of the mountain paths, avoiding towns and villages, and hiding themselves amongst the rocks, and in the woods. The point they had to reach was the valley of Angrogna, in Piedmont, the home of Martin Gonin.
This glorious valley is one of the most beautiful and fertile of all those amongst the Italian Alps. At the bottom rushes a wild mountain torrent, sometimes foaming amongst the piled-up rocks, and sometimes hidden beneath the thick shade of walnut trees, willows, and weeping ashes. Green meadows and cornfields lie on either side of the river. Higher up are vineyards, and magnificent woods of walnut and chestnut. Higher up still are forests of beech and oak, and above these, wild rocks, intermingled with copses of birch and hazel. Here and there, scattered over the meadows, and amongst the woods, were the little hamlets and the wooden cottages of the Waldenses. In the mountains around was many a cavern, and deep rocky cleft, where in former days the persecuted Waldenses had met for worship, or had hidden from the armies of the pope.
As the preachers drew near this lovely valley they were met by some of the peasants, who had been watching the mountain paths to catch the first sight of their Swiss brethren. Soon all the villagers had gathered to see them arrive, for the tidings that they were near at hand had been brought by a man of the village, John Peyret, who had gone to meet them, and had returned quickly to tell the glad tidings to his friends and neighbors.
“That one on the white horse,” he said, “is William Farel. That one on the dark horse is Anthony Saunier.”
The preachers received a warm welcome. Many other travelers arrived at the same time, for it had been told far and wide that there was to be a great meeting in the valley of Angrogna, and that the preachers from Switzerland would be there. Every little house was filled, and the quiet valley had become for a time a meeting place for hundreds of strangers.
There were Waldenses from distant settlements in the south of Italy, in France, in Bohemia, and from many parts of Savoy and Piedmont. These distant settlements had been formed by Waldenses who had fled in former times from the fire and sword of the papists.
There were nobles from their castles in Italy, there were the barbes from all the villages, and others who were only peasants, cowherds, laborers, and vine-dressers.
No room in the villages would have been large enough for this great meeting. It was therefore to be held in the open air. Martin Gonin had prepared a number of rough benches beneath the chestnut trees, where all might sit. The meeting divided itself into two parties—those who wished to be on terms of fellowship with Rome, and those who desired to stand aloof from every trace of popish observances. The speakers for the first party were two barbes called Daniel of Valence, and John of Molines. The speakers for the second, Farel and Saunier. Most of the men of the higher classes were on the side of Daniel and John.
It was on the 12th of September that this meeting on the mountains was opened “in the name of God.”
Farel rose up, and at once proceeded to the point. “Christians,” he said, “have no ceremonial law. No act of worship has any merit before God. The multitude of feasts, consecrations, ceremonies, chants, and machine-made prayers are a great evil. What then is worship? The Lord has answered this question: ‘God is a Spirit; and they that worship Him, must worship Him in spirit and in truth.’”
Daniel and John were ill-pleased at Farel’s address. They would not throw over all feasts, ceremonies, and chants, but take some and reject others. But the other barbes said that their fathers had spoken as Farel did, and they had the old confessions of their faith in writing, saying that “all feasts, vigils of saints, holy water, abstaining from flesh, and other like things invented by men, were to be rejected.” The meeting, with few exceptions, declared that Farel was right.
But Farel was not satisfied with this admission. He knew that faith in forms and love of ceremonies are but the branches which grow from a root that is deep in the heart of every natural man. It would be of little use to lop off the branches, and leave the root untouched. What is this root?
It is in your heart, and in mine. The root is the belief that we all naturally have, that we ourselves must needs have a share in the work of salvation, and that the power by which we worship God is in ourselves, not in the Holy Spirit. If there are any who are brought to the simple confession, “Salvation is of the Lord,” it is by the power of the Holy Spirit alone. Thus the papist, who thinks that baptism and absolution will save him, and the Protestant, who thinks that his prayers and repentance are for the same purpose, and the ranter, who trusts in his feelings and in natural excitement, are all alike putting forth branches from the same root, the pride of the heart of man.
In the same way does this pride of our hearts lead us to imagine that we can render prayer and worship more acceptable to God by our addition to it of sights, sounds, and even smells, which are pleasing to our natural senses, and which are contrived by our own imaginations. “The Holy Spirit is not enough,” is the motto which really befits all these attempts of man’s heart, to manufacture something which is called the worship of God.
“It is by means of this teaching of the natural power of man,” said William Farel, “that popery took salvation out of the hands of God, and put it into the hands of the priests. God has chosen, before the foundation of the world, all those who have been, or will be saved. It is therefore impossible for them not to be saved. Whosoever upholds free-will, absolutely denies the grace of God.”
Daniel and John resisted this with all their might. They did not like to be put in the place of the man who fell among thieves, who could do nothing, and pay nothing: nor do we till we have learned the blessed heart of Christ, how to satisfy the love of His Father, and His own love also. He sought and found us, dead as we were in trespasses and sins, and laid us on His shoulders rejoicing, and gave to us eternal life, which we can never lose, because it is the eternal life that is in Him. “As the Father raiseth up the dead, and quickeneth them, even so the Son quickeneth whom He will.” But it is only the dead who can be quickened. How many good works, I would ask you, had David done, when God called him the man after His own heart? How much had he prayed, or repented, or sought after God? Look in your Bible, and you will see that he was born eight years after this word of God was spoken: and when the time came God sought him.
Some of the barbes now brought forward their old confessions of faith, in which it was written that to deny the truths of which Farel had been speaking was the work of antichrist. “More than that,” said Farel, “That which I have said is written in the Scripture.” He read the passages that proved it. The barbes said they must consider this matter. And at last, with the exception of Daniel and John, they owned that Farel was right in this matter also. Other points had then to be settled—as for example the observance of the Lord’s Day, confession of sins to God, not to a priest, &c.
But again Daniel and John came forward. “Is it not right,” they said,” to conform outwardly to some things which we do not entirely go along with, in order to avoid persecution?” “Certainly it is wrong,” replied Farel, “all dissimulation is wrong.”
But the two barbes were not to be silenced. They said if they were to break off from all these outward observances, they would be condemning their former pastors, who had allowed them. And if they provoked the Roman Catholics, the preaching of the gospel would be stopped altogether. And if a thing is done with a good intention, it is not to be condemned as wrong.
Then Farel spoke with his voice of thunder. He said all outward forms are but lies if we do not observe them in sincerity and truth. Thus we are guilty of falsehood, if we outwardly conform to those things which we in our hearts believe to be wrong. He spoke long and earnestly, and the solemn words reached the hearts of the Waldenses. On all sides they wept abundantly saying, “We have sinned against the Lord.” They then wrote a confession, and signed it, and declared that henceforth they would stand utterly aloof from all the ceremonies of Rome.
But Daniel and John would not sign this paper. In grief and displeasure they turned from their brethren, and went to the distant settlements of the Waldenses in Bohemia. They there told their sad tale, how they had lived in happy harmony in their peaceful valleys, till some unknown preachers and teachers had crept in amongst them, and made disputes and divisions, and drawn upon them fresh persecutions. The Bohemian Waldenses fully believed and trusted Daniel and John, and wrote a letter to their brethren on the Alps, warning them against false prophets, and lamenting over them, that they had been so easily led astray. Daniel and John brought back this letter in triumph. But the Alpine Waldenses wrote a more truthful account of all that had happened, and sent it to Bohemia, when the fresh persecutions which followed Farel's visit gave them time to do so.
We must now return to Farel. Whilst he remained at Angrogna he had many talks with the barbes and the villagers. They showed him their old books—not printed books, for they had been written long before printing was known: some, they said, were already more than 400 years old. They were kept as precious treasures, and handed down from father to son. They were few in number, but they were all the books they had. Those they valued most were some ancient Bibles carefully copied out in old French. Whilst in all those countries called Christian, the Bible had been a book unknown to the people, these poor peasants in their mountain cottages had read the old Bibles from generation to generation.
“But,” said Farel, “if these are all the Bibles you have there must be many amongst you who can see them but seldom. You ought all of you to have Bibles. If there are so many sects and heresies, it all comes from ignorance of the Word of God. There must be French Bibles printed, and you must have as many as you want.”
The Waldenses were delighted at the hope of each one having a French Bible. But this was not so easy. It is true there were some French New Testaments. Master Faber had, as you know, translated the whole New Testament some years before. But these were not plentiful. Besides, Farel thought it was a translation that might be improved. There was, therefore, a great work to be done —to get the whole Bible translated into good French, and to get it printed and sent over the mountains into the Waldensian villages. Farel would look to God for the men who could do this work.
“Besides having Bibles,” he said further to the barbes, “you ought to have schools. I must send you not only Bibles but schoolmasters.” The Waldenses were thankful for this also, and they asked Farel to take a written account of all that had been decided at the great mountain-meeting, and get the whole printed, so that each might have a copy. Then with much love and affection, Farel took his leave of them. They watched the white horse and the black horse till they disappeared in the wooded valleys below, and went to their homes thanking the Lord that He had sent Farel amongst them.