The light of the gospel began to shine in France five years before Luther nailed his historic Theses to the door of Wittenberg Church. In 1512, the very year when Luther, crawling up “Pilate’s Staircase” at Rome, heard for the third time that powerful voice saying, “The just shall live by faith,” a professor of theology in the University of Paris published a commentary on the epistles of Paul, in which the doctrine of justification by faith was clearly expounded. This man’s name was Lefevre, at that time sixty-seven years old. Some time before, he had been editing the lives of the saints, a work from which he finally turned away in disgust. He then applied himself to the study of Paul’s epistles. From that time light entered his soul and began to shine out. He boldly taught to the astonished students, “It is God alone who, by His grace, through faith justifies unto everlasting life.” The new teaching made a great impression, and among those who listened was a young man named Farel, son of a noble family from a village near Grenoble. He was a devout Romanist, fervently attached to the forms and superstitions of the Church. He listened eagerly and was promptly and fully convinced. All chains were broken save one — he still adored the saints — but he soon learned that the Lord alone was worthy of that homage. Liberated in his soul, he turned to the Scriptures and began to study Hebrew and Greek. From now on he made rapid progress in the truth. Meanwhile, the truth was making headway in the University and others were drinking the water of life.
A distinguished nobleman at the Court of Francis, who had become Bishop of Meaux, received the gospel. Through him the King’s sister, Margaret of Valois, was converted, and many of the nobility were favorably influenced. The study of the Scriptures and the revival of learning, which had the patronage of the King, went hand in hand.
But opposition soon raised its head. The King made a concordat with the Pope by which he obtained the right to appoint bishops and other dignitaries of the Church. Rich benefices went to favorites and courtiers. The doctors of dry scholasticism and a dissolute court now combined to attack the truth. A certain Beda, head of the Sorbonne, led the movement.
By this time, Luther’s teachings had become known, and to be a Lutheran was a term of reproach applied to any whose opinions were based on Scripture. Beda sought occasion to attack Lefevre. He seized on an absurd pretext, namely that Lefevre distinguished Mary Magdalene, the sister of Lazarus and the woman in Luke 7 as three distinct persons. Orthodox teaching regarded them as one and the same. It is a sidelight on the fanaticism of that day that this shocking heresy nearly cost Lefevre his life. But for the King’s intervention, he would have perished as a heretic.
Luther’s disputation with Eck was causing a great stir at this time and the University of Paris was appealed to. After a year’s consideration, the University decided Luther’s works should be burned. Heretics were now numerous, and the King’s aid was sought against them, so far in vain, for he regarded the leaders as men of learning who should not be suppressed.
Lefevre, however, found it necessary to retire to Meaux, where the enlightened bishop had offered him asylum. The good bishop, moreover, began a thorough reformation of his diocese. He instituted a college for the training of ministers, so that his diocese might be served by worthy and evangelical men. Farel and others, who found the atmosphere of Paris intolerant, were warmly received at Meaux. Meanwhile, Margaret of Valois poured out her soul in sighs and tears as she found herself alone in the worldly surroundings of the court without Christian fellowship.
The truth, driven from Paris, began to spread in Meaux. The gospel was openly preached in the churches. In 1522 Lefevre published a French translation of the four gospels and, later in the same year, the remainder of the New Testament. In 1525 a French version of the Psalms followed. By this means many were enlightened. The gospel was spreading now among the working class. Artisans, fullers and woolcombers found their pleasure and recreation in conversing together about the Word of God. Sundays and holidays were devoted to the reading of the Scriptures. Superstition gave way to piety, and the friends of the truth rejoiced. The gospel spread to other villages, and the whole diocese became permeated with evangelical doctrine.
The enemy was now roused to attack the new movement. The monks of Meaux went to Paris and denounced the bishop and his confederates. “The city,” they said, “and all the neighborhood are infected with heresy and its polluted waters flow from the episcopal palace.”
The bishop, though zealous, was weak and timid; he bowed to the demands of Rome, and idolatry returned to the churches. Deprived of their leaders, the simple Christians of Meaux and the neighborhood began to edify each other. They met in secret, prayed together and encouraged each other. Prominent among them was a woolcomber named Leclerc who went from house to house exhorting his friends. His enthusiasm outran his discretion. He posted an anti-papal placard on the very gates of the cathedral. It created an uproar. He was imprisoned, publicly whipped and branded on the forehead. His life, however, was spared and he withdrew to a village some distance away and finally to Metz.
Among the noblemen who had espoused the cause of the gospel was Berquin. He had written against the practice of invoking the Virgin Mary. His works were being disseminated throughout France. This had to be stopped. His library was searched. The hated books of Luther and other reformers were discovered. He was accused before Parliament and imprisoned. This was in 1523. Once again the King intervened and he was freed, but in 1529 he was burned alive.
Leclerc, who had been driven by persecution to Metz, began to preach the gospel there to men of his own class, and many were converted. At the same time, many of the clergy and nobility of the city were affected by Luther’s stand at Worms. About this time, too, a monk of Tournay began to preach in Metz. Shortly after, in 1524, arrived Lambert, an ex-friar from Avignon. Brought up in that hotbed of papal vice, he found his way to the Saviour through some of Luther’s tracts which had reached his cell. He determined to leave Avignon and visit Luther. It was not long before his emancipation was complete. He was now in Metz, but within a fortnight he was driven out. Nevertheless, by the zeal of Leclerc and one named Chatelain the gospel was spread in the city. Then again Leclerc’s zeal got the better of him. He repaired one night to a celebrated chapel some distance from the city, which housed some highly venerated images of Mary and the saints. These he destroyed. On the following day, a great procession, arriving to do homage to these idols, found them in fragments. The anger of the priests, the monks and the people was unbounded. Leclerc was seized, brought before the magistrates and condemned to be burned. At the scaffold, he was treated with horrible cruelty, his flesh being torn off in many places by hot pincers and his body reduced to ashes by a slow fire. In the midst of these tortures, he repeated in a firm voice part of Psalm 115: “Their idols are silver and gold” (vss. 48). His fellow-laborer, Chatelain, soon followed him to the stake.
Lambert, in exile, translated the Scriptures and other Christian literature into French and sent them into France. Farel went to the town of Gapp, near his home, and God used him to the conversion of his three brothers. Being compelled again to leave those parts, he went to Wurtemburg and became the means of disseminating many copies of the Scriptures and other helpful writings. On St. Anthony’s Day, 1524, meeting a procession carrying the image of the Saint, in a fit of imprudent zeal, he seized the image and threw it into the river. He barely escaped with his life and had to leave Germany.
While Francis was at war with Spain, his sister Margaret stayed at Lyons and greatly furthered the gospel by her influence. After his defeat at Pavia, Francis became more hostile to the gospel, the new teaching being blamed for the disaster.
In 1534 placards denouncing the Romish religion suddenly appeared all over Paris. This provocative act enraged the papists, and the King made up his mind to show his zeal for Rome. A multitude of persons were arrested, including many persons of note. A number were burned to death.
Francis came more and more under the influence of the Romish hierarchy. In 1540 the Parliament of Provence decreed the entire extermination of the Vaudois. After some years’ delay, this hateful plan was put into execution. In 1545 twenty-two towns and villages were plundered and burned, and abominable atrocities were committed. Four thousand persons were slaughtered, and many were sent to the galleys for life. Words fail to convey the suffering of these long-tried and innocent victims of papal hate. Their only crime was that they worshipped God in separation from Rome, whose idolatries they abhorred.
Francis died in 1547 and was succeeded by Henry II. It was a period of awful persecution, but the gospel still continued to spread. Many of the nobility and persons of education and wealth had been won over to the Huguenot cause, but a political leaven was thereby introduced. Among these distinguished supporters were the Prince of Condé, Admiral Coligny and the Queen of Navarre, mother of Henry IV, who was an earnest supporter of the Reformation. Quieter times followed, due in part to the many Protestants who were in positions of influence and also to the war between Henry and Charles V. Persecution was revived in 1559. Huguenots were assailed by the mob, without redress or protection, for the King was bent on the destruction of the movement. In 1560 the King was killed in a tournament. For the next thirty years France came under the control of the wicked but clever Catherine de Medici. From now on, politics and religion mingled in the Huguenot cause. In 1561 there was an attempt at compromise in a conference held at Poisy. It did not succeed, and violence and massacre were the lot of the Huguenots. They took up the sword in self-defense. Strife between them and the Romanists continued and increased, till it culminated in the abominable massacre of St. Bartholomew on August 24, 1572, when fifty thousand Huguenots were slaughtered in cold blood. The Pope celebrated this awful atrocity with great rejoicing. When the King tried to excuse it on the grounds that the Huguenots were guilty of conspiracy, Pope Gregory XIII rebuked his moderation and commended his action as pious and glorious. Processions and thanksgiving services were held in Rome. Like the King, many of his Catholic subjects were inclined to excuse the massacre as an unfortunate accident, but the papal envoy assured them, on the contrary, that they had accomplished a worthy deed. At Lyons, the leader in the work of butchery was sought out and given the Pope’s blessing and absolution.
Twenty more years of suffering and strife ensued, until, finally, the Edict of Nantes was signed in 1592, and religious freedom was granted to the Huguenots, which they enjoyed, though not without some interruption, until its revocation by Louis XIV in 1685, when further, terrible tribulations came upon these sorely tried defenders of the faith, and they lasted right up to the French Revolution.
This brief sketch does not do justice to the poignant story of the Reformation in France. God alone knows how many thousands in those long years of suffering were led out of Romish darkness into the light and liberty of the gospel, or how many won the crown of life and were purified and made white in the furnace of affliction and torture. But not a tear was shed but will find its rich compensation when the day of Christ appears and the suffering bride of the suffering Lamb shines in her resplendent garments.