He was buried on Wednesday, March 4th in the Cemetery at Tremel. Such a sight as his funeral had never been seen there before; from all parts the mourners came; the nobles of the land mingled with the peasants round his grave. More than a thousand people were there.
The Maire of Tremel, a Roman Catholic, sent a message to Madame Lecoat, asking that he and the Councilors of Tremel might have the privilege of carrying him to his last resting-place. At ten o’clock in the morning Mr. Terrall, of Paimpol, gave a most touching address to the mourners in the chapel, and then the sad procession left the Mission for the Cemetery.
At the grave Monsieur Scarabin, a preacher of the gospel, spoke to the people of the life of Pasteur Lecoat, and said that what would make him immortal in Brittany was his translation of the Bible. He said, also, that as one of the old scholars in Pasteur’s school, he felt it was an honor to be allowed to say a few words at his grave.
Then a Roman Catholic, Monsieur Jaffrennou, a Breton poet and author, spoke in Breton. He, too, retraced Pasteur’s life. He said that the faith he had in Jesus Christ, and the courage he had shown in His cause had given him the victory over all his enemies. He was an evangelist, and one who loved his fellow-men. Even those who opposed him had to admit how true he was to his principles, and how difficult it would be to find any wrong-doing in his life. He was a Breton born, and a Breton he died, and all his lift was spent in Brittany. Who could recount, he continued, all hip literary works, his tracts, his hymns, his yearly almanac? He had written enough to fill three lives, but his greatest work, the wort; that took seven hard years of his life to complete, was the translation of the Holy Scriptures into the purest Breton. Many other things he said, but I have not time to record them now.
I came here on June 20th, and it was my privilege to see a sight on Wednesday, June 24th, that I shall never forget.
Madame Lecoat had invited to her house the Maire and Councilors of Trèmel and their wives. After she had given them dinner, she gave them a faithful gospel address. She told them that if they read the Bible, Pasteur had translated into Breton for them, they would find there the secret of the peace and the assurance that he had. She told them that no Pope or Roman Catholic priest or Protestant priest could have saved her husband, only faith in the Lord Jesus Christ and His finished work. If they were without sin they did not need a Saviour, but if they felt they were sinners He was ready to save them. Salvation was not of works, but by faith.
Many were moved to tears as she spoke, and although they were all Roman Catholics they were most attentive. One woman cried out, “Ah, the blessed man, how many poor boys would have been starving had he not picked them up and fed them? He never forgot that he was once a poor boy himself; he has been a good example to everyone from his youth.”
Then a copy of Pasteur’s translation of the Bible was given to each one, with an inscription written inside and Pasteur’s photograph on the cover. One of the colporteurs of the Mission offered to give them paper to wrap the Bibles in, thinking they might not like to be seen carrying the Bible, but they declined, saying they were NOT ashamed to be seen carrying the Bible.
So a sight was seen in Tremel that could never have been possible a short time ago, and which seemed to me to show out the value of Pasteur’s influence and work in a most remarkable way—the Maire and Councilors, all Roman Catholics, carrying a Protestant Bible in broad daylight to their homes.
“He being dead, yet speaketh,” may well be said of my dear friend now with Christ. I have loved him for his work for Christ for many years now, and I felt I must bring the closing scenes of his life before my readers, so that they might praise God for the light that he has kindled in Brittany, and pray to God that nothing may hinder that gospel glory from shining more and more, until all that shines for Christ on earth is absorbed in the glory of the perfect day.