(Continued from Gage 77).
YOU will like to hear Farel’s own account of these happy days. He had been there scarcely a week when he thus wrote to his friend, the preacher at Noville, near Aigle:— “I would not have you ignorant, dear brethren, of the work which Christ is doing in His own. For against all hope He has here touched the hearts of several. Notwithstanding the tyrannical orders, and the enmity of the men with shaven crowns, numbers have come to hear the word preached in the city gates, in the streets, in barns, and in houses. They listened eagerly, and nearly all have believed what they heard, though it was the exact contrary to the errors so deeply rooted in their hearts. Therefore join with me in thanking the Father of mercies, and pray for greater blessing. I would gladly return to you at Aigle, but the glory of Jesus Christ and the thirst of His sheep compel me to go forward in the face of sufferings which tongue cannot tell. But Christ makes all things light to me. Oh, my friends, may His cause be to us the dearest thing we know!”
We hear of Farel in one place after another, and we hear everywhere of the same blessing from God, and the same opposition from the enemy. “Last Thursday,” on one occasion, wrote the lords of Berne to the Count of Gruyere, “Master William Farel, passing through your country, lodged for the night at S. Martin, and the clergyman of the place, in company with two other priests, assaulted the said Farel, and the vicar reviled him with bad and abusive language, and hit him with a pot, and also struck our officer, who was with him, calling the said Farel a heretic and a devil, which insults we consider to have been directed at ourselves. You will please to make inquiries as to these things, and to bestow the punishment that is due for such offenses.”
This is but one of the many complaints addressed by the lords of Berne to those who had ill-treated Farel and other preachers. On the other hand, they received constant entreaties from the Bishop of Lausaune, and from their allies at Friborg, who besought them to put a stop to the preaching. In consequence Farel had many warnings from Berne not to go too far—not to preach where he was not wanted—not to give offense—not to break images, or make commotions. Fuel regarded these warnings just as much as he considered it right to do so. He did not profess to take his orders from any other than the Master who had sent him, and, though he was thankful for the protection of Berne, he did not consider that his friends there had a right to make his plans, or to limit his movements. “It would be well,” he said, “if the men of Berne were as zealous for the gospel as the men of Friborg are for idolatry.”
In the month of April of that year, 1530, the priest of Tavannes was singing mass in the village church. Tavannes is a village not very far from Basle. As he sang, two men came into the church, and one of them, going up into the pulpit, began to preach. The priest had no need to be told that it was William Farel. The other man, who was very young, only eighteen or nineteen years old, was Anthony Boyne. Do you remember Anthony Boyne, of Dauphiné? Some say he was a cousin of Farel’s, but I do not know that there is any good reason for saying so, nor do I know why he is generally called by the name of Anthony Froment from the time of his arrival in Switzerland, but by this name you will henceforth hear of him.
He tells us that the sermon at Tavannes was with “such might and power, that no sooner was it ended than the people rose up with one accord and broke down both images and altars.” The priest fled in dismay. The people of Tavannes then wrote to the lords of Berne. “We thank you humbly,” they said, “that you have sent us a preacher to declare to us the holy gospel of God, which we have received, and desire, God helping us, to live according to the same.”
The Bishop of Basle soon heard of these strange doings. He, too, wrote an epistle to the lords of Berne. “A man named Fuel,” he said, “is roaming in our diocese and vomiting forth insults against our person, which, doubtless, he did not learn in the gospel. He attempts to spread his doctrine amongst our subjects” (the bishop was also prince of a large territory); “he pretends he has a commission from you; but we cannot suffer a stranger to come and sow trouble and discord amongst our people, and hold us up to contempt. A lesser than we would not submit to this. We earnestly request that you will desire the said Farel to leave our country in peace and to content himself with preaching where he is wanted, and where there are people who find pleasure in hearing him. Otherwise, if he persists, bloodshed might follow, and we should then act, as the case requires, in order to rid ourselves of his presence.”
But Farel was as deaf to the bishop’s complaints as was the bishop to the gospel of God, and the preaching went on as before.
It may interest you to read an account written by a Roman Catholic of this eventful time. It is as follows—
“Farel had a belief in a voice from heaven, which called to him, ‘Forward!’ and forward did he go, resistless as death. He troubled himself neither for red or blue vestments, nor for mantles of ermine, nor for robes of silk, nor for coronets of dukes, nor crowns of kings, nor for holy vessels, nor for pictures, nor for images. All were alike to him as the dust of the ground. History, Christian art, traditions, and forms were only matter to him for insolent mockery. Hoist him up on a railing, he will carry away every passer-by with the magic of his preaching. Take him down into the mines of Mansfeld, and every workman will leave his anvil to hang upon his words and follow his steps. Put him into a pulpit surrounded by images, at once he will fall upon them with a knife or a hammer till he has utterly destroyed every trace of what he calls an idol. Montbéliard, Aigle, and Bienne, stirred up by his words, drove away their monks, and set up a new worship. If he only passed through a town, the inhabitants were sure to come to blows with another. ‘The kingdom of heaven suffers violence,’ he would say, and forward he went in his remorseless work of noise and ruin. The magistrates themselves, utterly frightened by his doings, dared not keep him in their hands. The revolution finished, they opened to him the gates of the town, and Farel, perfectly happy, took his pilgrim’s staff, and went off on foot across the mountains to find another city or village where his voice might awaken a fresh tempest. His stick meanwhile battered down along the roadsides alike the crosses of Christ and the images of Mary.”
In the month of June Farel appeared again a Neuchatel. Anthony Froment came with him during the six months of his absence many more of the people of Neuchatel had turned to the Lord. Farel began again to preach in the streets and in private houses. But one day the people led him to the hospital. They said he should preach to them in the hospital chapel. In vain did the priests attempt to block the way. Like a mighty wave the people pressed in: Farel in their midst. “Long ago,” said Farel, “the Son of God came down from heaven—it was amongst the poor, and in a stable, that he was welcomed on the earth—and here, at Neuchatel, His welcome is amongst the poor and the maimed in a hospital.” There amongst the poor and the maimed was the gospel now to be preached. Farel spoke of Christ, the living Saviour in heaven. The poor people listened in joy and wonder.
“And now,” said Farel, “what do we, who have a living Christ, need with these dead images and pictures? Let us cast them away, and have in their place the living God and Saviour.”
With his own hands he then took down the crucifix, the images, and the pictures which adorned the chapel. The people carried them out, and destroyed them.
The governor now thought it was time to bestir himself. He called the citizens to account for these outrages. But they, in their turn, appealed to the Council of Berne, who sent messages to the governor, and to Farel. To the governor they said that they desired that amongst all their allies, liberty of conscience should be allowed. They would see to it if it were withheld from the people of Neuchatel. To Farel they said that he must be careful not to use force, nor to attempt more than the bold preaching of the gospel, as he had no authority to make any changes in the town of Neuchatel. They must be made by the citizens themselves, if they were brought to believe the gospel. The governor, who knew how needful it was for the little state to have the protection of Berne, dared make no further opposition to the preaching. He could only look on in displeasure and grief. And the preaching, therefore, continued in the town, and in the villages round.
Not long ago there was still to be seen a memorial of those wanderings. Some village artist painted in a rough way on a cottage wainscot the picture of the preacher who was come amongst them. This rude picture was preserved with care till a few years since. “It represented,” we are told, “the preacher on his journeys, stick in hand, in a dress poor and mean, just as he had been seen traveling through the valleys, exhorting, encouraging, praying with his people, spending, and being spent for them. He had no doctor’s robe, no doctor’s cap, he was nothing, he would be nothing but the messenger of Him who preached the gospel to the poor, and who had not where to lay His head.” Such was the servant the Lord had sent.
Thus the summer days passed by—and in the meantime many lost sinners were saved—many blind eyes were opened—many who were athirst came and drank of the water of life freely. Amongst them were three priests of the college. Emer Beynon now dared to come forward, and confess his faith in Christ. But so many of his parishioners were converted, it caused far more joy than grief in the village of Serrières. “You have sometimes called me a good priest,” said Emer Beynon, “I hope you will find me a better pastor.”
A great day was now at hand in the town of Neuchatel. It was on the 23rd of October, of that year (1530), that Farel was preaching, as was his wont, in the hospital chapel. He said he was glad to preach there, “but yet,” he said, “it is sad that the mass is still honored in Neuchatel more than the gospel. In the large church, which holds so many, the mass is sung. In this little chapel, where so few can listen, the gospel is preached.” At these words his hearers rose in a body. “The gospel shall be preached in the great church!” they said; and moving as one man, they seized upon Farel and carried, rather than led him through the streets, up to the great church in the upper town.
We are told much of the grandeur and wealth of this large and ancient church. It contained no less than thirty chapels, ranged around the nave and choir. Twenty-five altars glittered with gold and jewels; images and pictures stood all around. Many were the saints who were worshipped there. But no glad tidings of great joy had ever sounded in those solemn aisles. Masses had been sung there, candles had been burnt there—plays had been acted there on the great festivals. Such were the sermons of popery, acted and spoken dramas, where monks and priests, men, women, and boys, acted the parts of prophets and apostles, of David and of Judas, of Esther and of Adam, in strange confusion.
There, dressed in gaudy finery, might be seen on these festival days a medley of the men and women of Bible history, and of later history, and of no history at all—S. George and the dragon; S. Christopher the giant; S. Peter, and S. Paul; and, awful to say, the Lord Himself. These were the lessons given to the people of Neuchatel. Nothing wiser, nothing better had been heard or seen in the beautiful old church.
But a new day had dawned. It was a crowd of earnest men who now pressed into the great door, and who led Farel in their midst. The priests and monks shrunk back in helpless fear.
Farel went up into the pulpit, and looked around on the glittering finery of the altars and chapels. He looked down on the eager faces of those who were thirsting for the living water. He looked up to Christ in Heaven. And he preached, says the Chronicle, the “mightiest sermon that he ever yet had preached in Neuchatel.” He told the people how far they had wandered from the one living way—he told them of the one Saviour for sinners, and of the one true worship which the saints of God can offer up in spirit and in truth.
Suddenly a cry arose in the crowd below, which was taken up by one and another till it echoed from every corner of the great church— “We will follow Christ, and the gospel, and in that faith alone will we and our children live and die.” And then, rising altogether as one man, they fell upon the altars and the images, upon the pictures and the crucifixes, and shattered them upon the pavement. The honored image of the Virgin, set up by the mother of the Countess Jeanne, shared the fate of the rest. Not an altar, not an image was left standing. The golden vessels used for the mass, and for the incense, were thrown over the churchyard wall into the streets of the lower town. The holy wafers were divided amongst the people, and they ate them there and then, “to show,” said they, “that they are nothing more than bread.”
In vain did George de Rive appear amongst them. His voice was unheard amidst the tumult.
There were four priests who were in charge of the church; but strange to say, they, too, were to be seen breaking the images and overthrowing the altars. “For it is plain,” they said, “that Master Farel has the Bible on his side.” That mighty sermon had not only cast down the idols of wood and stone, but the idolatry of the hearts of men.
The people of Neuchatel then put up a brass plate, on which these words were written, “This year, 1530, the 23rd day of October, idolatry was removed and abolished by the citizens.” If you ever go to Neuchatel, you may still see that brass plate, with those memorable words, on a pillar on the left of the communion table, in the great church on the hill. There was also an inscription put up over the pulpit, as follows:— “When the sun of October 23rd arose, there arose also the sun of life for the town of Neuchatel.” For 600 years had the old church resounded with Latin masses and idolatrous prayers, and now, “in one hour was the judgment come.” Not a trace was left of the dark ages of the past.
It is not for us to judge how much of the energy of the flesh, how much of human excitement there was in that day’s work of which I have told you in the cathedral of Neuchatel. No doubt the instruments thus used by God were imperfect and liable to err; but that it was God’s work we cannot doubt, if the Scriptures are true, and if the God is unchanged whose solemn words we read, spoken of the idols of older times. “The graven images of their gods shall ye burn with fire; thou shalt not desire the silver or the gold that is on them, nor take it unto thee, lest thou be snared therein, for it is an abomination to the Lord thy God. Neither shalt thou bring an abomination into thine house, lest thou be a cursed thing like it, but thou shalt utterly detest it, and thou shalt utterly abhor it, for it is a cursed thing.”
F. B.