In the meantime, the priests became more active than before. One of them, called Claude Pelliez, gave notice that he would preach against the heretics in the large church of which he was the vicar. The church was crowded by the papists. And several of the gospellers went to hear also. The vicar praised “the church,” and the head of it—not Christ, but Clement VII., the pope at Rome. The vicar further described our poor little Anthony as an ignorant liar, and a wolf who prowled around the fold to devour the sheep.
After the sermon, four Huguenots called at the vicar’s house. “Froment,” they said, “is a good and learned man. You say he has lied. Prove it by the Bible.”
The vicar said he would do so. The Huguenots demanded that he would give his proofs in public. But the vicar said he would only do so in the presence of a few friends at the parsonage. The discussion was fixed for the last afternoon of that year, 1532.
Anthony had, you see, been scarcely two months in Geneva. The work the Lord had already done by him had been as rapid as it was astonishing.
When the afternoon came which Claude had named, the four Huguenots went to the parsonage. Some priests whom the vicar had invited were already there. But the vicar himself was still shut up in his private room. He was looking vainly for texts. He had not yet found one. The Huguenots and the priests sat together for a long time. They drank some wine they found under the table, which Perrin, one of the Huguenots, paid for. The vicar did not appear. They were beginning to despair of him, when suddenly he walked in, a huge book under his arm. It was stuck full of slips of paper to mark the places. The vicar opened his book, and read a long piece in contradiction to Froment’s sermons.
“What book is that?” asked Perrin; “it is not a Bible.”
“Ah!” said the others; “you have not been able to find one text in the Bible to suit your purpose.”
The priest grew red with anger. “What do you mean?” he said, “this book is the Postillae Perpetuae in Biblia of the illustrious Nicholas Lyra.”
“But you promised to prove Froment wrong out of the Bible,” said the Huguenots.
“Lyra is the best commentator,” said the vicar.
“We don’t want commentators, we want the Bible,” repeated the Huguenots.
Perrin grew angry, and the vicar more so.
In fact they both lost their temper completely.
Perrin was one of those Huguenots who had taken part with Froment out of dislike to the priests, not out of love to Christ. One of the vicar’s friends stole out of the room, and called in a band of armed priests, who were ready waiting—the foremost with a naked sword in his hand. The four Huguenots were indignant at this treachery. They seized the swords they had taken off when they first came into the room, and making a way through the regiment of priests, rushed into the streets. One of the priests ran to ring the alarm bell in the belfry of the church hard by. Before the four Huguenots could get away, a crowd had collected. Huguenots and papists alike hurried to the spot.
“The Huguenots want to seize the church, and make Froment preach in it!” shouted the priests.
Meanwhile the magistrates came upon the scene. They dispersed the crowds, and followed the priests into a distant quarter of the town, where they had hoped afresh to raise a riot. The town council then met, to form plans for preventing any further disturbance. The chief Huguenots were summoned to appear.
The magistrates said, “We charge you to stop Anthony Froment’s preaching, either at the Golden Cross or in private houses.”
Now that Anthony’s preaching was forbidden, the Huguenots were the more determined to go in a body to the Golden Cross next morning.
When Anthony started from his inn that New Year’s morning to go to his school, he found the streets round the Golden Cross so closely packed with people that it was impossible to make his way. With great effort he succeeded in getting within a short distance of the door. But the doorway, the passages, the stairs, and the great hall were already crowded to suffocation. The mass of people still in the streets were anxious that Anthony should remain outside. If he once got in they had no chance of hearing a word.
A man shouted out, “To the Molard!” and in a minute the cry ran through the crowd, “To the Molard!”
The Molard is a large square near the lake, and not very far from the Golden Cross. It is the place where the fish market is held, and where it was held in the days of Froment.
Anthony was speedily carried off to the Molard. The Huguenots cleared a fish stall without ceremony, and hoisted up Anthony to preach from it. The crowd had followed, and the great square was completely filled.
“Preach the Word of God to us!” they shouted on every side. But so great was the noise, preaching was at first impossible. Anthony made signs to them to be silent. He then got off the stall, and knelt upon the ground. The people were at once quiet. They uncovered their heads; some knelt also. Anthony at first could not speak. The tears ran down his cheeks. At last, lifting up his hands and eyes to heaven, he prayed in a voice so clear and strong that all could hear. He thanked God that He was the hearer and answerer of prayer—that He was bound by His own promise to hear the prayers of all who draw near to Him through His beloved Son.
“Father,” he said, “look down upon Thy poor blind people, led by the blind, so that they both fall into the ditch, and can only be lifted out by Thy mercy.” He prayed that the Lord would open their eyes, and open their ears to listen to the word, though preached to them by one “unworthy to be the bearer of so great a message—one chosen from among the weak things of the world.” “Give me, Lord,” he said, “strength and wisdom, so that Thy power may be shown—that it may be seen that Thy power is greater than Satan’s, and that Thy strength is not like man’s strength.”
The people wondered at this prayer. They knew no prayers, but those which the priests chanted out of their books. This prayer seemed a reality to them.
Then Anthony stood up on his stall, and took out of his pocket a little book. It was a New Testament. The text he read from it was, “Beware of false prophets, which come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravening wolves.”
You can imagine, having heard the text, what was the subject of Anthony’s sermon.
In the midst of Anthony’s sermon, arrived a serjeant, sent by the magistrates, to whom the priests had carried the startling news that “the Lutherans had taken their idol to preach in the square.”
“In the name of my lords,” shouted the serjeant, “I command you to cease from preaching!”
Anthony stopped, and answered in a loud voice, “We ought to obey God rather than man.” He then continued his sermon.
The serjeant dared not do more, in the presence of the army of Huguenots. He carried back Anthony’s answer to the magistrates. Anthony went on to speak of the evil teaching of the priests—of their profligate lives, and of their human inventions. Suddenly a body of armed men entered the square—magistrates, soldiers, and priests, all alike well provided with swords and guns. Claude Bernard, one of the Huguenots rushed forward. “Save yourself, Anthony Froment!” he shouted at the top of his voice. Anthony, nothing daunted, refused to move, or to break off his preaching. “For God’s honor let us avoid the spilling of blood,” said Bernard, who perceived that a fight was beginning. Froment saw it was right to give way. His friends dragged him from the stall, and carried him by a covered passage to the house where Robert Olivetati was tutor. There they hid him in a secret corner. The magistrates dispersed the crowd, and sought in vain for the preacher. They then returned to report to the town council that he had suddenly vanished.
The priests were not willing that the matter should end by the disappearance of Anthony. They prowled about the streets, and before the day was over they had assured themselves of the fact that Anthony was somewhere in Chautemps’ house. They therefore collected in a crowd under the windows, shouting and threatening. Chautemps led Anthony out of the back door, in the dark, and took him to the house of the resolute Perrin, who had defied the priests the day before. But the priests soon found out what had happened. They rushed to Perrin’s house, and shouted loudly that they would set it on fire, and burn all who were in it. But Perrin, who was a match for them, went to the door, and said, “I am free to keep an honest servant in my house without asking your leave, and I shall do so.”
He then turned to Anthony, and said, “You are my servant—I herewith engage you.” At the same moment a body of Huguenots appeared in the street, and the priests fled.
During the few days that followed, the magistrates and the priests consulted together as to what should be done next. Had not some of the magistrates been Huguenots things might have been speedily settled. But the town was divided, and so equally divided, it was impossible to decide between the two parties.
Meanwhile Anthony worked for his master, Perrin, being employed in weaving ribbon. He went out sometimes to visit those who had been converted by the preaching. Every now and then he was insulted and abused, but as some of his friends always followed him, armed with stout sticks, no one dared to touch him.
One day he met a procession on the Rhone bridge. The priests carried crosses and relics, and chanted prayers to Peter and Paul. Anthony stood upright, and did not bow to the images. The priests left off chanting, and shouted, “Fall on the dog! Drown him!” The women, always the most zealous, rushed upon him and endeavored to push him into the river. But his friends with their sticks rah to the rescue, seized Anthony, and dragged him into the house of our friend, Claudine Levet, which was at the corner of the bridge.
Anne, Claudine’s husband, was an apothecary, and the lower part of the house was his shop. The priests led on the people to the attack. They flung stones through the windows, threw mud into the shop, and at last rushed in, and shattered the bottles, and scattered the drugs over the floor. The Huguenots put Anthony in a secret chamber, and then, armed with their sticks, drove priests, women, and all the mob speedily from the bridge. At night, Anthony returned to his master, Perrin, and told him he felt that the time was come for him to leave Geneva. His Huguenot friends were grieved, but they said he was right-it was no longer safe for him to remain there. Setting out in the dark, he left the city, and found his way back to his peaceful little home at Yoonard.
F. B.
COME ye children, hearken unto me; I will teach you the fear of the Lord. What man is he that desireth life and liveth many days, that he may see good? Keep thy tongue from evil, and thy lips from speaking guile. Depart from evil and do good; seek peace and pursue it. (Prov. 34:11-14)