THE Pope's legate reassembled his scattered troop with all speed, and once more pressed forward to effect an entrance into the Valley of Angrogna. This second attempt promised at first to be successful; for the Vaudois had meanwhile abandoned the heights of Rocomaneot-the scene of their late victory-and retired into the recesses of their mountains, to the Pra del Tor, in the Valley of Lucerne. Though they had been successful in checking Cataneo's first attack, they could not hope to finally defeat him. Besides, they knew that the Pra del Tor was almost impregnable, and could only be reached by traversing a series of narrow, dangerous defiles, on every available point of which the Vaudois could post themselves, and harass and impede the advance of an invader.
Surprised, therefore, that the Vaudois were offering no resistance, Cataneo rapidly advanced and gained possession of the Val Angrogna: but, finding that the inhabitants had all fled, he rashly determined, heedless of the fearful danger, to press forward into the narrow passes beyond. Little did the Pope's legate and his followers think, as they entered those gloomy fastnesses, what an awful fate awaited them, and how many were to find therein a tomb On either hand, vast, frowning rocks overhung their path; mighty chestnut trees flung their branches across the way, veiling them in deepest gloom; while far below they could hear the muffled roar of the wild cataract, as it swept along its rocky course. All went well, however, with the expedition, until the " Barricade," a steep, unscaleable mountain, came in sight. Behind this huge rampart was the Pra, where the Waldenses had retired, and which Cataneo knew must be passed, ere he could reach his prey. What was to be done? Must the Papal army return without achieving its purpose? It seemed as if it must. Cataneo could see the white peaks round the Pra, but how was he to surmount the huge " Barricade " which towered up between?
Unhappily for himself, he searched for an entrance, and found one. Some mighty convulsion of nature had here rent the rocks, and formed a frightful gorge, which led up to the head of the valley beyond. The Papal leader boldly ordered his troop to enter and traverse this dangerous defile, though the only footway was a narrow ledge on the rock, hung halfway between the stream far below, and the utmost summit of the mountain above. So narrow was this path, that only two men could walk abreast, and, if attacked, fight or retreat were alike impossible.
Into this terrible defile Cataneo's host now advanced. Slowly and cautiously, they crept along the ledge of rock, every step bringing them nearer to the Pra. It seemed that after all the Waldenses were not to escape. Once past this danger, the Pope's legate knew that there was nothing to hinder the full execution of his vengeance. But there was one thing he had not taken into account. He knew not that God was watching over the Vaudois, and that He was able by a breath to destroy Cataneo and his host, and that He was now about to do it. Of the Papal leader, as of a former persecutor of His people, God said, " I will put my hook in thy jaws, and my bridle in thy lips, and I will cause thee to return by the way which thou camest."
This wonderful deliverance has been so graphically related by a recent historian of the Waldenses that we shall here cite it in full. " By what agency was the advance of that host to be stayed? Will some mighty angel smite Cataneo's army, as he did Sennacherib's? No angel blockaded the pass. Will thunderbolts and hailstones be rained upon Cataneo's soldiers, as of old on Sisera's? The thunders slept; the hail fell not. Will earthquake and whirlwind discomfit them? No earthquake rocked the ground; no whirlwinds rent the mountains. The instrumentality now put in motion to shield the Vaudois from destruction was one of the lightest and frailest in all nature; yet no bars of adament could have more effectually shut the pass, and brought the march of the host to an instant halt. A white cloud, no bigger than a man's hand, unobserved by the invaders, but keenly watched by the Vaudois, was seen to gather in the mountain's summit. That cloud grew bigger and blacker. It began to descend. It came rolling down the mountain's side, wave on wave, like an ocean tumbling out of heaven-a sea of murky vapor. It fell right into the chasm in which was the Papal army, sealing it up, and filling it from top to bottom with a thick black fog. In a moment the host were in night; they were bewildered stupified, and could see neither before nor behind, could neither advance nor retreat. They halted in a state bordering on terror.
" The Waldenses interpreted this as an interposition of Providence on their behalf. It had given them the power of repelling the invader. Climbing the slopes of the Pra and issuing from all their hiding-places, they spread themselves over the mountains, the paths of which were familiar to them; and while the host stood riveted beneath them caught in the double toils of the defile and the mist, they tore up the great stones and rocks, and sent them thundering down into the ravine. The Papal soldiers were crushed where they stood. Nor was this all. Some of the Waldenses entered the chasm, sword in hand, and attacked them in front. Consternation seized the Papal host. Panic impelled them to flee, but their effort to escape was more fatal than the sword of the Vaudois or the rocks that, swift as arrows, came bounding down the mountain. They jerked one another; they threw each other down in the struggle; some were trodden to death, others were rolled over the precipice, and crushed on the rocks below, or drowned in the torrent, and so perished miserably."
Thus wonderfully at the eleventh hour did God rescue His people from the cruel hand of the destroyer. When that fatal mist had rolled away, and the Vaudois looked down from the heights above, not a trace remained of the invading host. Down, deep down in the awful abyss beneath they could just discern the mangled bodies of their pursuers, while, here and there a human form hung transfixed upon a projecting rock, caught as it had been hurled from the heights above. No wonder that songs of triumph and deliverance reechoed through the valleys, as the Vaudois beheld, like Israel of old, their enemies dead upon the mountain sides.
So ended Cataneo's expedition. Of the 18,000 regular troops, and almost as many irregular followers, few ever returned to their homes. " They left their bones," says the same historian, " on the mountains they came to subdue. They were cut off mostly in detail. They were led weary chases from valley to mountain, and from mountain to valley. The rocks rolled upon them, gave them at once death and burial. They were met in narrow defiles and cut to pieces. Flying parties of Waldenses would suddenly appear from the mist or from some cave known only to themselves, attack and discomfit the foe, and then as suddenly retreat into the friendly vapor or the sheltering rock. Thus it came to pass in the words of Muston, This army of invaders vanished from the Vaudois mountains as rain in the sands of the desert.' "
Not that the Waldenses escaped unspeakable sufferings: we saw how they fared at the cruel hands of La Palu, the leader of the French expedition. Thousands perished during this fearful visitation. Mothers with their infants were together rolled sheer down the mountain sides; others were hanged, shot, or suffered the most excruciating tortures. Whole villages were destroyed. The smiling peaceful valleys of the Vaudois were transformed into dreary desolation and ruin. Truly it was a sore hour of trial for the poor Waldenses and a severe test of their trust and confidence in God. Yet they wavered not. Boldly they clung to the faith that they had ever held more precious than life, abiding the time when He, who would not lay upon them a greater burden than they could bear, should stay the hand of the oppressor, and restore peace and quiet to the valleys.
A whole year war hung about the mountains, till at last, as Leger says, " God turned the heart of their prince toward this poor people." He sent for twelve deputies to give an account of this strange faith, to which the men of the valleys adhered with such tenacity. These men on being admitted into the duke's presence, gave so excellent an account of themselves, that he frankly owned be had been misled, and was much moved at the terrible suffering that had been inflicted.
He now became deeply interested in his subjects, and expressed a wish to see some of the children of the Vaudois. These were duly brought by their mothers from the Valley of Angrogna. The duke, when he saw them-twelve fine, plump, rosy boys and girls-was much surprised, having been told that " the Vaudois children were monsters, with only one eye, placed in the middle of the forehead, four rows of black teeth, and similar deformities."
So ended this terrible crusade, and once more ' the Church of the valleys' had repose. Though it was long ere she recovered from this terrible ordeal, the lamp of testimony to a pure and simple faith never totally expired. It was destined to remain there,-to burn even brighter and brighter, and spread even farther and farther until its rays should mingle with the glorious day-dawn of the Reformation. The light diffused by Peter Waldo, when driven an exile into Bohemia, had by the instrumentality of Huss and Jerome, still further been extended, until God should raise up one other witness, Martin Luther, through whom darkness and superstition in a great measure were to flee away.