(Continued from p. 47).
WHEN Sunday morning came, the people assembled in the church, as up to this time they had always done, to hear the mass. The priest stood ready in his gaudy vestments on the altar steps, for these things had not yet been forbidden in Berne. But before the service began. Zwingli appeared in the pulpit. He said aloud the form called the Apostles’ Creed. When he came to the words “He ascended into Heaven, and sitteth at the right hand of God the Father Almighty, from thence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead,” he stopped. “If these words are true,” he said, after a pause, “the mass is a lie.” And as he continued to speak, the people gazed at him in wonder and consternation.
But greater was their consternation, when suddenly the priest upon the altar steps stripped off his priestly vestments, threw them upon the altar, and said aloud, “Unless the mass has better proofs from Scripture than I know of, I can have no more to do with it.”
The whole city of Berne was thunderstruck at the news of this Sunday morning. Three days later was the feast of St. Vincent, the patron saint of Berne. On that day high mass had always been celebrated in the cathedral. The Council did not even now forbid it. The sacristans went as usual to prepare the incense, and to light the large wax tapers. But they waited alone in the cathedral. Neither priests nor people appeared.
In the evening, at the time of vespers, the organist went to his post. But as before, no one came. The poor man waited with sad forebodings. Would there be an end to that beautiful service, which was also a livelihood to him? The end came sooner than he expected. When, tired of waiting, he left the church, some of the citizens came in, fell upon the organ, and broke it to pieces. No more choral services at Berne!
The conference was now nearly over. Two priests more had owned themselves convinced by the proofs from Scripture as to the mass being contrary to the Christian faith.
The last discussion was to be in Latin, between Farel and a priest from Paris. The point which the priest desired to prove was, that men were to submit to the church. Being reduced to the Bible for a reason to give, he quoted Matt. 5:2525Agree with thine adversary quickly, whiles thou art in the way with him; lest at any time the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. (Matthew 5:25). “Agree with thine adversary quickly.” He thus explained it. “The adversary is the devil. We are here commanded to submit to the devil, how much more then to the church?” This was too much for the gravity even of the reformers, and the priest was disconcerted at being answered by their laughter. It was certainly impossible to answer such a speech by arguments.
The conference being over, the Council decreed that the mass should be abolished, and the churches stripped of their ornaments and images. Twenty-five altars and a crowd of images were destroyed at once, in the cathedral. Zwingli Preached to the people amidst the shattered fragments. His last words were these, “Stand Fast in the liberty wherewith Christ has made you free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage.” What a word for England now!
And so the cathedral of Berne stood emptied of images, but in their place were living worshippers of the living and true God. In the eyes of the priests, and of the poor organist, it had “become a stable.” “Only fit to keep cattle in,” said they. And one, in the height of his anger, rode into it upon an ass. Are there not many now, whose thoughts of a “place of worship,” are much the same as those of these poor Swiss priests? Are there none to whom the things that can be seen, the painted windows, the carved images, the “long drawn aisles,” are dear and even sacred, but who are utterly blind and unconscious as to the presence of the unseen Christ in the midst of the two and three, wherever they are gathered in His name: Where He is not, they do not miss Him. Where the music and the painting and the sculpture are not, they are conscious only of being “in a barn,” or “in a stable.” The Holy Ghost is the One whom the world cannot receive, because it seeth Him not, neither knoweth Him. But where He leads the worship, and where Christ is present, the believing heart craves no more for the sight and sounds, which form all that the world knows of worship—a worship enjoyed by the eyes and ears of men, but which is, alas, too often in the sight of God, “as the husks that the swine do eat.”
On the 7th of February, the Council of Berne passed an edict that the Romish bishops should no longer have power or authority in the canton. “These four bishops,” they said, “know well how to shear their sheep, but know not how to feed them.” The sheep were now to be shorn no more, and it was the desire of the Council that they should be fed.
Farel returned to the villages of the Pays de Vaud, and though still for a time single-handed, he carried the gospel into every mountain valley, preaching in churches where he could do so, not, in houses, in fields, on mountain sides, or in the streets.
Thus passed away the remainder of the year 1528.
The lords of Berne desired earnestly that the four parishes of the Pays de Vaud which were under their rule, should receive the gospel, Message after message was sent to the magistrates and to the priests, desiring them to leave Farel to preach unhindered. Riot after riot was raised by the priests. They assured the people, that were they to leave the Romish faith, the pope himself, the emperor Charles, and the king of France, would all come in person with a large army, ravage their country, and punish the Bernese. Mobs were called together by the sound of a drum, and harangued by the excited priests till they were ready for any act of violence. A man called Anthony Nicodey rushed into the church where Farel was preaching—and upset the pulpit. They constantly interrupted his sermons by loud noises, or by asking silly questions. Both men and women would call him names during the preaching, and would beat him in the streets. They tore down the Bernese edicts from the church doors whenever they were posted up. They abused the Bernese Council. At the same time they accused Farel to the Council of having stirred up the people against the government, and forbidden them to pay taxes.
So month after month passed by. The Lord was working by His servant, and Satan by his servants also.
At last the Council of Berne sent some of their number to the Pays de Vaud. These councilors were to call together the chief inhabitants of the four parishes. They were by their means to put the question to every person in all the towns and villages of these parishes, whether they would henceforward have the mass or the gospel. As the greater number decided it, so would the government leave it. They could not force the gospel upon them, but if they desired to have it, they should be protected from all who would hinder. Which would they have? And now appeared the fruit of Farel’s toilsome labors. In three of the four parishes, the mass of the people declared with one voice they would have mass no more, they would have the gospel as Master Farel preached it, and in that faith would they live and die. The fourth parish, Ormont, declared for the mass. The councilors said they should be allowed to go on with the mass until Whitsuntide. The government would then again inquire their mind, and they hoped to find that they would, by that time, welcome a gospel preacher in the place of the priest.
In the meantime, preachers came from distant parts to take the places of the priests who were now dismissed from Aigle, from Bex, and from Ollon. These were the three reformed parishes of which I have told you.
Not only were gospel preachers called to the towns and villages of these three parishes, but a fresh order followed from the Council of Berne, which gave the last blow to the old worship. “Let none hope,” said the Council, “that the popish days are to return. The altars shall be demolished, the idols shall be burned. The pictures shall be destroyed, and there shall be nothing left to tell of the past idolatry.”
At once were these orders executed. The strange sight was seen of the burning piles in every village, on which the idols were cast, amidst the thanksgivings of the people. The new governor, sent from Berne, carried out his orders fully and completely. Those who had ill-treated Farel were to be called to account. The women who had beaten him with their clubs were to pay £5 apiece. Those who had falsely accused him of sedition, £10. Where was Anthony Nicodey? He must have to answer for upsetting the pulpit. But he had fled, and could never be found.
Ormont alone held out. But whether they liked it or not, a gospel preacher was to have full liberty to preach amongst them, and they were to touch him if they dared. And so it came to pass that by the summer of the year 1529, Ormont too received the glad tidings. The mass was abolished. The priest was dismissed. The whole of the four parishes were now delivered from the darkness and the bondage of the long ages of popery. True, many amongst the people still clung to the old worship, but the number of these became less as each year went by, and to this day those villages and towns of the Pays de Vaud, still profess, at least, the gospel faith.
We must not think that all who do so, now, are truly believers, or that all who did so then, had really turned to God. There are many reasons why the rule of popery is found to be a heavy yoke, and thousands who have no love to God, and no care for their souls, are glad enough to cast it off. “It is a religion of money,” is the saying of nine out of ten—perhaps of ninety-nine out of a hundred in popish countries, but we must not conclude because a man dislikes to give his money for senseless objects, that he is therefore enlightened, or that he loves God.
Still we cannot but see, unless we are blind, that the preaching of the gospel is always used by God for the saving of countless souls. And were we to imagine that the great work for which God raised up the gospel preachers of the 16th century was merely to release men from the bondage of priestcraft, we should have altogether lost sight of His blessed purpose. We should entirely misunderstand what power it was which worked in the men of the Pays de Vaud when they declared in the face of the priests they would have no mass, but the gospel of Christ. We may thank God for the thousands who were then truly turned to Him, and who burned their idols, not from a love of novelty and excitement, but solemnly and deliberately, because they now knew the living God. Farel thanked the Lord, and took courage. Many other preachers had now arrived. The time was come when he could turn his steps elsewhere, and be happy in knowing that the sheep of Christ would be fed by faithful shepherds in his absence.
There were other towns and cantons of Switzerland which were in alliance with the city of Berne, though not subjects of Berne, as were the four parishes of the Pays de Vaud. Amongst the large towns which were partly dependent upon Berne for protection, were Lausanne and Freyburg. And in fact the whole of Switzerland west and north of the canton of Berne, was in alliance with the Bernese government. The Bernese were very anxious that the gospel should be made known wherever their influence extended, and the Council of Berne gave to Farel a letter of introduction to the various towns and villages of west Switzerland. They advised him to preach only where there was some desire to hear the glad tidings, and they sent messages at the same time to several towns, recommending the people to receive the preacher who was coming amongst them.
For the remainder of that year, 1529, Farel went therefore from town to town, and from village to village, as far north as the Münster valley. You will find this valley in the map stretching across the country, between Basle and the lake of Bienne. He went also to Lausanne. There, however, every door was closed. The Council of Lausanne were willing, even desirous, that he should preach, but the bishop and the priests were determined that he should not. Twice did Farel appear before the Council, asking leave to preach in the town. The Bernese sent a letter of commendation, desiring the Council to grant his request. “And beware,” they added, “that you do not touch a hair of his head.”
But the Council of Lausanne had by this time learned more about the preaching and lives of the reformers. They had long been complaining loudly of the vices and crimes of the clergy, and would have been glad to oppose them, could they have done so without having the gospel in exchange. But bad as were the profligate lives of the priests, they thought the strict lives of the gospel preachers more appalling. It was less terrible to them to have constant scenes of rioting and drunkenness, than to have no plays, no dances, no shows and processions, no gay parties gathered in the taverns, no merry-makings on the saints’ days. They therefore yielded to the bishop and the priests, and Farel went to preach elsewhere.
F. B.