NEARLY a century separates the persecution recorded in our last, from the greatest tragedy of Waldensian history-the Massacre of 1655. We can only bestow a passing glance at the more prominent events which fill up this interval.
The war which ended so ingloriously for La Trinita, had not for that reason proved the less disastrous for the Vaudois. No sooner had the invader retired, than the bitter effects of his invasion began to be experienced. The harvests of the Vaudois were ruined; their vineyards and fruit trees destroyed; the-ix hamlets and villages leveled with the ground; desolation was everywhere, and now famine threatened to succeed to persecution and war Nor was this all. A host of persecuted refugees from Calabria suddenly sought an asylum in the Valleys; and, impoverished as the Vaudois were, they did not hesitate to receive them. Many had now perished, but that the tale of suffering reached to other countries, and kind and generous hearts freely gave of their substance to relieve the much enduring people of the Valleys.
But by-and-bye seed-time and harvest returned, and peace and plenty was restored; churches, and little chalets dotted again the mountain side; the sweet sounds of praise, mingling with the solemn voice of prayer, awoke once more the silence of those mountain solitudes. God seemed to have placed, as it were, a protecting hand over His little flock; granting to them a brief breathing space, wherein they might be encouraged and strengthened for the corning conflict. This unusual quiet was the more remarkable, inasmuch as the Protestants in the surrounding countries were passing through a time of severe trial; the Papacy waging a deadly warfare against all who confessed the Reformed faith.
The Vaudois, however, were not without their sorrows, though these were of another kind. During this respite from persecution, it pleased God to test them in a different way. We are told that " on the morning of the 23rd of August, 1629, a cloud of unusual blackness gathered on the summit of the Col Julien. It burst in a waterspout or deluge. The torrent rolled down the mountains on both sides, and several villages were overthrown by the sudden inundation. Many of the houses were swept away, and the inhabitants had barely time to save their lives by flight. In September of the same year, there came an icy wind, accompanied by a dry cloud, which scathed their valleys, and destroyed the crop of the chestnut tree. Then followed a second deluge of rain which completely ruined the vintage." These calamities the Vaudois received as the chastening hand of God; and their pastors solemnly assembled together to humble themselves, and supplicate in prayer to God.
But a still heavier calamity was about to burst upon them, spreading a deep gloom, and carrying mourning into every dwelling in the Valleys. In the following year (1630), a terrible plague broke out, which, passing rapidly from valley to valley, swept away great numbers of the inhabitants. Nothing could stay this awful scourge; despite the heroic efforts of the Waldensian pastors, it ravaged every village and hamlet in the valleys, finally carrying off twelve of the fifteen of these devoted men, who thus sacrificed their lives for their flocks. Everywhere were these true shepherds present visiting the sick, consoling the dying, and preaching to the terrified crowds, who hung upon their lips; not knowing but that they might be the next victims of the plague. All through the summer this malady raged. " Horsemen would be seen," says one writer, " to drop from the saddle on the highway, seized with sudden illness. Soldiers and sutlers, struck down in by-paths, lay there infecting the air with their corpses. Towns and villages which had rung so recently with the sound of industry were now silent. Parents were without children, and children without parents." Not less than 10,000, or from a half to two-thirds of the entire population of the Valleys, were thus swept away during this awful visitation. There was not a house into which death had not entered; and long and loud was the voice of lamentation heard after the destroyer had departed.
Fifteen years pass away, and we are brought to the eve of the greatest woe which had yet befallen the Waldenses. It is the year 1650. The clouds once more begin to gather, and are seen traveling over in the direction of the Valleys. The throne of Savoy is filled at this time with a mild and humane prince, but, alas, he is counseled by one of the most faithful adherents of the Papacy, and consequently a bitter and cruel enemy to the " heretics." In shore, a fresh persecution is about to commence -a persecution which this time, alas, will not cease till its bloody and relentless purpose shall have been entirely fulfilled. The blow did not fall at once. A series of smaller attacks were made before the great and final stroke descended.
We need not follow all the events that led up to the final catastrophe-the Massacre of 1655. Suffice it to say that the expedition now directed against the Waldenses, was commanded by a cruel, cunning, and bigoted Catholic named Pianeza, who had secret and positive instructions to pluck out root, and branch, the heresy so long existing in the mountains.
Nothing short of utter extermination was the deliberate purpose of Pianeza, and his wretched followers; and we have now to see how faithfully, and fearfully this was accomplished.
Past experience of Vaudois valor had taught the Papal arms that it was worse than useless to attempt to enter the Valleys by force. Success when before obtained, had always been the result of treachery and deceit; and Pianeza was not slow to adopt the same means. Appearing suddenly before the Valleys with only a small force, he gave the deputies sent out by the Waldenses to understand that he was in pursuit of some fugitives, who had recently deserted from the Duke's army. He only intended passing through their territory; but at the same time wished that his soldiers might be quartered for a few days in the several valleys of Piedmont. The Vaudois, having no suspicion of treachery, not only permitted Pianeza to enter their valleys, but actually opened the doors of their dwellings to his soldiers. Once in the heart of the Waldensian territory, it was easy for the Papal leader to dispose his troops so as the most effectually to carry out his atrocious design. Now, indeed, was this poor people undone. Their murderers were in their homes, and they knew it not. The soldiers eat, slept and conversed with their intended victims, who had not a suspicion of the horrors awaiting them.
At last, when all was ready, the blow fell, and with the sudden crash of a thunderbolt. It was at four o'clock on the morning of the 24th of April, 1655, that the signal was given from the castle hill of La Torre. The peace and quiet which a moment before had reigned throughout the Valleys, was suddenly broken by the shrieks and cries of a thousand victims being butchered and tortured in cold blood. No words could adequately describe the awful horrors of this massacre. Utterly defenseless, the poor Waldenses were entirely at the mercy of their destroyers, who took a brutal delight in inflicting every kind of excruciating torture on their victims.
An extract or two from the pen of Leger, the native historian, and an eye witness of these horrible scenes, will best convey an idea of their enormity. " We see," he says, " the victims climbing the hills with what speed they are able, the murderer on their track. We see the torrents as they roll down from the heights, beginning to be tinged with blood. Gleams of lurid light burst out through the dark smoke that is rolling through the vales, for a priest and monk accompany each party of soldiers, to set fire to the houses, as soon as the inmates have been dispatched. Alas! what sounds are those that fall upon our ears! The cries and groans of the dying are echoed and re-echoed from the rocks around, and it seems as if the mountains had taken up a wailing for the slaughter of their children."
" Little children," he continues, " were torn from the arms of their mothers, clasped by their tiny feet, and their heads dashed against the rocks; or were held between two soldiers, and their quivering limbs torn up by main force. Their mangled bodies were then thrown on the highways to be devoured by beasts. The sick and the aged were burned alive in their dwellings. Some had their hands and arms and legs chopped off, and fire applied to the several parts to staunch the bleeding and prolong their suffering. Some were fastened down into the furrows of their own fields, and plowed into the soil, as men plow manure into it.
Others were burned alive. Fathers were marched to death with the heads of their sons suspended round their necks. Parents were compelled to look on, while their children were massacred, before being themselves permitted to die." No wonder that after such a recital, Leger exclaims, " My hand trembles, so that I can scarce hold the pen, and my tears mingle in torrents with my ink, while I write the deeds of these children of darkness-blacker even than the Prince of Darkness himself."
Never, indeed, had there been such an unjustifiable wickedness perpetrated as this massacre. Uncontrollable was the grief of the survivors as they looked upon their brethren slain, and their country devastated. What was to be done? Many seriously thought of abandoning the Valleys, never to return but the brave Leger encouraged their drooping spirits, and besought them to remain in their ancient inheritance, for God would surely never forsake them. Further to encourage them, he promised to address an appeal to their Protestant brethren in other countries, feeling sure that help would be willingly given in their dire distress. Most pitiful is this lamentation-this bitter cry of the poor remnant of the slaughtered Vaudois Church. "Our tears are no longer of water," write they, " they are of blood; they do not merely obscure our sight, they choke our very hearts. Our hands tremble, and our heads ache by the many blows we have received. We cannot frame an epistle answerable to the intent of our minds, and the strangeness of our desolations. We pray you to excuse us, and to collect amid our groans the meaning of what we fain would utter."
Nowhere did these tidings awaken a deeper sympathy than in England, and nowhere was indignation so great against the perpetrators. A letter was addressed by Cromwell to the Duke of Savoy, expressing his unmitigated horror of the awful deeds that had been committed. He further despatched to Turin, an ambassador, who visited, the Valleys on his way, and saw with his own eyes the frightful effects of the massacre.
But sympathy with the poor afflicted Vaudois was show in a practical way, and a large sum of money was conveyed to the Valleys to alleviate the distress. Yet none but God could heal their broken hearts; their grief was too great for man. To God they turned and poured forth their lament in the words of the 79th Psalm, which so literally set forth their condition:—
O God, the heathen are come unto thine inheritance, Thy holy temple have they defiled; They have laid Jerusalem in heaps.
The dead bodies of Thy servants have they given To be meat unto the fowls of heaven; The flesh of thy saints unto the beasts of the earth, Their blood have they shed like water...
And there was none to bury them."