Chapter 12—The French Reformation

The French Reformation

The Protest of Spires and the Confession at Augsburg, which
marked the triumph of the Reformation in Germany, were followed
by years of conflict and darkness. Weakened by divisions among
its supporters, and assailed by powerful foes, Protestantism seemed
destined to be utterly destroyed. Thousands sealed their testimony with
their blood. Civil war broke out; the Protestant cause was betrayed
by one of its leading adherents; the noblest of the reformed princes
fell into the hands of the emperor and were dragged as captives from
town to town. But in the moment of his apparent triumph, the emperor
was smitten with defeat. He saw the prey wrested from his grasp, and
he was forced at last to grant toleration to the doctrines which it had
been the ambition of his life to destroy. He had staked his kingdom,
his treasures, and life itself upon the crushing out of the heresy. Now
he saw his armies wasted by battle, his treasuries drained, his many
kingdoms threatened by revolt, while everywhere the faith which he
had vainly endeavored to suppress, was extending. Charles V had
been battling against omnipotent power. God had said, “Let there be
light,” but the emperor had sought to keep the darkness unbroken. His
purposes had failed; and in premature old age, worn out with the long
struggle, he abdicated the throne and buried himself in a cloister.
In Switzerland, as in Germany, there came dark days for the Reformation.
While many cantons accepted the reformed faith, others [212]
clung with blind persistence to the creed of Rome. Their persecution
of those who desired to receive the truth finally gave rise to civil war.
Zwingli and many who had united with him in reform fell on the
bloody field of Cappel. Oecolampadius, overcome by these terrible
disasters, soon after died. Rome was triumphant, and in many places
seemed about to recover all that she had lost. But He whose counsels
are from everlasting had not forsaken His cause or His people. His
hand would bring deliverance for them. In other lands He had raised
up laborers to carry forward the reform.
175
176 The Great Controversy
In France, before the name of Luther had been heard as a Reformer,
the day had already begun to break. One of the first to catch the light
was the aged Lefevre, a man of extensive learning, a professor in the
University of Paris, and a sincere and zealous papist. In his researches
into ancient literature his attention was directed to the Bible, and he
introduced its study among his students.
Lefevre was an enthusiastic adorer of the saints, and he had undertaken
to prepare a history of the saints and martyrs as given in the
legends of the church. This was a work which involved great labor;
but he had already made considerable progress in it, when, thinking
that he might obtain useful assistance from the Bible, he began its
study with this object. Here indeed he found saints brought to view,
but not such as figured in the Roman calendar. A flood of divine light
broke in upon his mind. In amazement and disgust he turned away
from his self-appointed task and devoted himself to the word of God.
The precious truths which he there discovered he soon began to teach.
In 1512, before either Luther or Zwingli had begun the work of
reform, Lefevre wrote: “It is God who gives us, by faith, that righteousness
which by grace alone justifies to eternal life.”—Wylie, b.
13, ch. 1. Dwelling upon the mysteries of redemption, he exclaimed:
“Oh, the unspeakable greatness of that exchange,—the Sinless One
[213] is condemned, and he who is guilty goes free; the Blessing bears the
curse, and the cursed is brought into blessing; the Life dies, and the
dead live; the Glory is whelmed in darkness, and he who knew nothing
but confusion of face is clothed with glory.”—D’Aubigne, London ed.,
b. 12, ch. 2.
And while teaching that the glory of salvation belongs solely to
God, he also declared that the duty of obedience belongs to man. “If
thou art a member of Christ’s church,” he said, “thou art a member
of His body; if thou art of His body, then thou art full of the divine
nature.... Oh, if men could but enter into the understanding of this
privilege, how purely, chastely, and holily would they live, and how
contemptible, when compared with the glory within them,—that glory
which the eye of flesh cannot see,—would they deem all the glory of
this world.”—Ibid., b. 12, ch. 2.
There were some among Lefevre’s students who listened eagerly to
his words, and who, long after the teacher’s voice should be silenced,
were to continue to declare the truth. Such was William Farel. The
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son of pious parents, and educated to accept with implicit faith the
teachings of the church, he might, with the apostle Paul, have declared
concerning himself: “After the most straitest sect of our religion I lived
a Pharisee.” Acts 26:5. A devoted Romanist, he burned with zeal to
destroy all who should dare to oppose the church. “I would gnash my
teeth like a furious wolf,” he afterward said, referring to this period
of his life, “when I heard anyone speaking against the pope.”—Wylie,
b. 13, ch. 2. He had been untiring in his adoration of the saints,
in company with Lefevre making the round of the churches of Paris,
worshipping at the altars, and adorning with gifts the holy shrines. But
these observances could not bring peace of soul. Conviction of sin
fastened upon him, which all the acts of penance that he practiced failed
to banish. As to a voice from heaven he listened to the Reformer’s
words: “Salvation is of grace.” “The Innocent One is condemned, and
the criminal is acquitted.” “It is the cross of Christ alone that openeth [214]
the gates of heaven, and shutteth the gates of hell.”—Ibid., b. 13, ch.
2.
Farel joyfully accepted the truth. By a conversion like that of Paul
he turned from the bondage of tradition to the liberty of the sons of
God. “Instead of the murderous heart of a ravening wolf,” he came
back, he says, “quietly like a meek and harmless lamb, having his
heart entirely withdrawn from the pope, and given to Jesus Christ.”—
D’Aubigne, b. 12, ch. 3.
While Lefevre continued to spread the light among his students,
Farel, as zealous in the cause of Christ as he had been in that of the
pope, went forth to declare the truth in public. A dignitary of the
church, the bishop of Meaux, soon after united with them. Other teachers
who ranked high for their ability and learning joined in proclaiming
the gospel, and it won adherents among all classes, from the homes of
artisans and peasants to the palace of the king. The sister of Francis
I, then the reigning monarch, accepted the reformed faith. The king
himself, and the queen mother, appeared for a time to regard it with
favor, and with high hopes the Reformers looked forward to the time
when France should be won to the gospel.
But their hopes were not to be realized. Trial and persecution
awaited the disciples of Christ. This, however, was mercifully veiled
from their eyes. A time of peace intervened, that they might gain
strength to meet the tempest; and the Reformation made rapid progress.
178 The Great Controversy
The bishop of Meaux labored zealously in his own diocese to instruct
both the clergy and the people. Ignorant and immoral priests were
removed, and, so far as possible, replaced by men of learning and
piety. The bishop greatly desired that his people might have access
to the word of God for themselves, and this was soon accomplished.
Lefevre undertook the translation of the New Testament; and at the
very time when Luther’s German Bible was issuing from the press in
Wittenberg, the French New Testament was published at Meaux. The
bishop spared no labor or expense to circulate it in his parishes, and
[215] soon the peasants of Meaux were in possession of the Holy Scriptures.
As travelers perishing from thirst welcome with joy a living water
spring, so did these souls receive the message of heaven. The laborers
in the field, the artisans in the workshop, cheered their daily toil by
talking of the precious truths of the Bible. At evening, instead of
resorting to the wine-shops, they assembled in one another’s homes
to read God’s word and join in prayer and praise. A great change was
soon manifest in these communities. Though belonging to the humblest
class, an unlearned and hard-working peasantry, the reforming,
uplifting power of divine grace was seen in their lives. Humble, loving,
and holy, they stood as witnesses to what the gospel will accomplish
for those who receive it in sincerity.
The light kindled at Meaux shed its beams afar. Every day the
number of converts was increasing. The rage of the hierarchy was for
a time held in check by the king, who despised the narrow bigotry of
the monks; but the papal leaders finally prevailed. Now the stake was
set up. The bishop of Meaux, forced to choose between the fire and
recantation, accepted the easier path; but notwithstanding the leader’s
fall, his flock remained steadfast. Many witnessed for the truth amid
the flames. By their courage and fidelity at the stake, these humble
Christians spoke to thousands who in days of peace had never heard
their testimony.
It was not alone the humble and the poor that amid suffering and
scorn dared to bear witness for Christ. In the lordly halls of the castle
and the palace there were kingly souls by whom truth was valued
above wealth or rank or even life. Kingly armor concealed a loftier
and more steadfast spirit than did the bishop’s robe and miter. Louis
de Berquin was of noble birth. A brave and courtly knight, he was
devoted to study, polished in manners, and of blameless morals. “He
French Reformation 179
was,” says a writer, “a great follower of the papistical constitutions,
and a great hearer of masses and sermons; ... and he crowned all his
other virtues by holding Lutheranism in special abhorrence.” But, like [216]
so many others, providentially guided to the Bible, he was amazed to
find there, “not the doctrines of Rome, but the doctrines of Luther.”—
Wylie, b. 13, ch. 9. Henceforth he gave himself with entire devotion
to the cause of the gospel.
“The most learned of the nobles of France,” his genius and eloquence,
his indomitable courage and heroic zeal, and his influence
at court,—for he was a favorite with the king,—caused him to be
regarded by many as one destined to be the Reformer of his country.
Said Beza: “Berquin would have been a second Luther, had he found
in Francis I a second elector.” “He is worse than Luther,” cried the
papists.—Ibid., b. 13, ch. 9. More dreaded he was indeed by the
Romanists of France. They thrust him into prison as a heretic, but
he was set at liberty by the king. For years the struggle continued.
Francis, wavering between Rome and the Reformation, alternately
tolerated and restrained the fierce zeal of the monks. Berquin was
three times imprisoned by the papal authorities, only to be released
by the monarch, who, in admiration of his genius and his nobility of
character, refused to sacrifice him to the malice of the hierarchy.
Berquin was repeatedly warned of the danger that threatened him
in France, and urged to follow the steps of those who had found safety
in voluntary exile. The timid and time-serving Erasmus, who with all
the splendor of his scholarship failed of that moral greatness which
holds life and honor subservient to truth, wrote to Berquin: “Ask to be
sent as ambassador to some foreign country; go and travel in Germany.
You know Beda and such as he—he is a thousand-headed monster,
darting venom on every side. Your enemies are named legion. Were
your cause better than that of Jesus Christ, they will not let you go till
they have miserably destroyed you. Do not trust too much to the king’s
protection. At all events, do not compromise me with the faculty of
theology.”—Ibid., b. 13, ch. 9.
But as dangers thickened, Berquin’s zeal only waxed the stronger.
So far from adopting the politic and self-serving counsel of Erasmus, [217]
he determined upon still bolder measures. He would not only stand in
defense of the truth, but he would attack error. The charge of heresy
which the Romanists were seeking to fasten upon him, he would rivet
180 The Great Controversy
upon them. The most active and bitter of his opponents were the
learned doctors and monks of the theological department in the great
University of Paris, one of the highest ecclesiastical authorities both in
the city and the nation. From the writings of these doctors, Berquin
drew twelve propositions which he publicly declared to be “opposed
to the Bible, and heretical;” and he appealed to the king to act as judge
in the controversy.
The monarch, not loath to bring into contrast the power and acuteness
of the opposing champions, and glad of an opportunity of humbling
the pride of these haughty monks, bade the Romanists defend
their cause by the Bible. This weapon, they well knew, would avail
them little; imprisonment, torture, and the stake were arms which they
better understood how to wield. Now the tables were turned, and they
saw themselves about to fall into the pit into which they had hoped to
plunge Berquin. In amazement they looked about them for some way
of escape.
“Just at that time an image of the Virgin at the corner of one of
the streets, was mutilated.” There was great excitement in the city.
Crowds of people flocked to the place, with expressions of mourning
and indignation. The king also was deeply moved. Here was an
advantage which the monks could turn to good account, and they were
quick to improve it. “These are the fruits of the doctrines of Berquin,”
they cried. “All is about to be overthrown—religion, the laws, the
throne itself—by this Lutheran conspiracy.”—Ibid., b. 13, ch. 9.
Again Berquin was apprehended. The king withdrew from Paris,
and the monks were thus left free to work their will. The Reformer
was tried and condemned to die, and lest Francis should even yet
interpose to save him, the sentence was executed on the very day it
[218] was pronounced. At noon Berquin was conducted to the place of
death. An immense throng gathered to witness the event, and there
were many who saw with astonishment and misgiving that the victim
had been chosen from the best and bravest of the noble families of
France. Amazement, indignation, scorn, and bitter hatred darkened the
faces of that surging crowd; but upon one face no shadow rested. The
martyr’s thoughts were far from that scene of tumult; he was conscious
only of the presence of his Lord.
The wretched tumbrel upon which he rode, the frowning faces of
his persecutors, the dreadful death to which he was going—these he
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heeded not; He who liveth and was dead, and is alive for evermore,
and hath the keys of death and of hell, was beside him. Berquin’s
countenance was radiant with the light and peace of heaven. He had
attired himself in goodly raiment, wearing “a cloak of velvet, a doublet
of satin and damask, and golden hose.”—D’Aubigne, History of the
Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin, b. 2, ch. 16. He was
about to testify to his faith in the presence of the King of kings and the
witnessing universe, and no token of mourning should belie his joy.
As the procession moved slowly through the crowded streets, the
people marked with wonder the unclouded peace, and joyous triumph,
of his look and bearing. “He is,” they said, “like one who sits in a
temple, and meditates on holy things.”—Wylie, b. 13, ch. 9.
At the stake, Berquin endeavored to address a few words to the
people; but the monks, fearing the result, began to shout, and the
soldiers to clash their arms, and their clamor drowned the martyr’s
voice. Thus in 1529 the highest literary and ecclesiastical authority of
cultured Paris “set the populace of 1793 the base example of stifling
on the scaffold the sacred words of the dying.”—Ibid., b. 13, ch. 9.
Berquin was strangled, and his body was consumed in the flames.
The tidings of his death caused sorrow to the friends of the Reformation
throughout France. But his example was not lost. “We, too, are ready,” [219]
said the witnesses for the truth, “to meet death cheerfully, setting
our eyes on the life that is to come.”—D’Aubigne, History of the
Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin, b. 2, ch. 16.
During the persecution of Meaux, the teachers of the reformed
faith were deprived of their license to preach, and they departed to
other fields. Lefevre after a time made his way to Germany. Farel
returned to his native town in eastern France, to spread the light in
the home of his childhood. Already tidings had been received of what
was going on at Meaux, and the truth, which he taught with fearless
zeal, found listeners. Soon the authorities were roused to silence
him, and he was banished from the city. Though he could no longer
labor publicly, he traversed the plains and villages, teaching in private
dwellings and in secluded meadows, and finding shelter in the forests
and among the rocky caverns which had been his haunts in boyhood.
God was preparing him for greater trials. “The crosses, persecutions,
and machinations of Satan, of which I was forewarned, have not been
wanting,” he said; “they are even much severer than I could have borne
182 The Great Controversy
of myself; but God is my Father; He has provided and always will
provide me the strength which I require.”—D’Aubigne, History of the
Reformation of the Sixteenth Century, b. 12, ch. 9.
As in apostolic days, persecution had “fallen out rather unto the
furtherance of the gospel.” Philippians 1:12. Driven from Paris and
Meaux, “they that were scattered abroad went everywhere preaching
the word.” Acts 8:4. And thus the light found its way into many of the
remote provinces of France.
God was still preparing workers to extend His cause. In one of the
schools of Paris was a thoughtful, quiet youth, already giving evidence
of a powerful and penetrating mind, and no less marked for the blamelessness
of his life than for intellectual ardor and religious devotion.
His genius and application soon made him the pride of the college,
[220] and it was confidently anticipated that John Calvin would become
one of the ablest and most honored defenders of the church. But a
ray of divine light penetrated even within the walls of scholasticism
and superstition by which Calvin was enclosed. He heard of the new
doctrines with a shudder, nothing doubting that the heretics deserved
the fire to which they were given. Yet all unwittingly he was brought
face to face with the heresy and forced to test the power of Romish
theology to combat the Protestant teaching.
A cousin of Calvin’s, who had joined the Reformers, was in Paris.
The two kinsmen often met and discussed together the matters that
were disturbing Christendom. “There are but two religions in the
world,” said Olivetan, the Protestant. “The one class of religions are
those which men have invented, in all of which man saves himself
by ceremonies and good works; the other is that one religion which
is revealed in the Bible, and which teaches man to look for salvation
solely from the free grace of God.”
“I will have none of your new doctrines,” exclaimed Calvin; “think
you that I have lived in error all my days?”—Wylie, b. 13, ch. 7.
But thoughts had been awakened in his mind which he could not
banish at will. Alone in his chamber he pondered upon his cousin’s
words. Conviction of sin fastened upon him; he saw himself, without
an intercessor, in the presence of a holy and just Judge. The mediation
of saints, good works, the ceremonies of the church, all were powerless
to atone for sin. He could see before him nothing but the blackness of
eternal despair. In vain the doctors of the church endeavored to relieve
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his woe. Confession, penance, were resorted to in vain; they could not
reconcile the soul with God.
While still engaged in these fruitless struggles, Calvin, chancing
one day to visit one of the public squares, witnessed there the burning
of a heretic. He was filled with wonder at the expression of peace
which rested upon the martyr’s countenance. Amid the tortures of
that dreadful death, and under the more terrible condemnation of the
church, he manifested a faith and courage which the young student [221]
painfully contrasted with his own despair and darkness, while living
in strictest obedience to the church. Upon the Bible, he knew, the
heretics rested their faith. He determined to study it, and discover, if
he could, the secret of their joy.
In the Bible he found Christ. “O Father,” he cried, “His sacrifice
has appeased Thy wrath; His blood has washed away my impurities;
His cross has borne my curse; His death has atoned for me. We had
devised for ourselves many useless follies, but Thou hast placed Thy
word before me like a torch, and Thou hast touched my heart, in
order that I may hold in abomination all other merits save those of
Jesus.”—Martyn, vol. 3, ch. 13.
Calvin had been educated for the priesthood. When only twelve
years of age he had been appointed to the chaplaincy of a small church,
and his head had been shorn by the bishop in accordance with the
canon of the church. He did not receive consecration, nor did he fulfill
the duties of a priest, but he became a member of the clergy, holding
the title of his office, and receiving an allowance in consideration
thereof.
Now, feeling that he could never become a priest, he turned for
a time to the study of law, but finally abandoned this purpose and
determined to devote his life to the gospel. But he hesitated to become
a public teacher. He was naturally timid, and was burdened with a
sense of the weighty responsibility of the position, and he desired
still to devote himself to study. The earnest entreaties of his friends,
however, at last won his consent. “Wonderful it is,” he said, “that one
of so lowly an origin should be exalted to so great a dignity.”—Wylie,
b. 13, ch. 9.
Quietly did Calvin enter upon his work, and his words were as the
dew falling to refresh the earth. He had left Paris, and was now in a
provincial town under the protection of the princess Margaret, who,
184 The Great Controversy
loving the gospel, extended her protection to its disciples. Calvin was
[222] still a youth, of gentle, unpretentious bearing. His work began with the
people at their homes. Surrounded by the members of the household,
he read the Bible and opened the truths of salvation. Those who heard
the message carried the good news to others, and soon the teacher
passed beyond the city to the outlying towns and hamlets. To both the
castle and the cabin he found entrance, and he went forward, laying
the foundation of churches that were to yield fearless witnesses for the
truth.
A few months and he was again in Paris. There was unwonted
agitation in the circle of learned men and scholars. The study of the
ancient languages had led men to the Bible, and many whose hearts
were untouched by its truths were eagerly discussing them and even
giving battle to the champions of Romanism. Calvin, though an able
combatant in the fields of theological controversy, had a higher mission
to accomplish than that of these noisy schoolmen. The minds of men
were stirred, and now was the time to open to them the truth. While
the halls of the universities were filled with the clamor of theological
disputation, Calvin was making his way from house to house, opening
the Bible to the people, and speaking to them of Christ and Him
crucified.
In God’s providence, Paris was to receive another invitation to
accept the gospel. The call of Lefevre and Farel had been rejected,
but again the message was to be heard by all classes in that great
capital. The king, influenced by political considerations, had not
yet fully sided with Rome against the Reformation. Margaret still
clung to the hope that Protestantism was to triumph in France. She
resolved that the reformed faith should be preached in Paris. During
the absence of the king, she ordered a Protestant minister to preach in
the churches of the city. This being forbidden by the papal dignitaries,
the princess threw open the palace. An apartment was fitted up as a
chapel, and it was announced that every day, at a specified hour, a
sermon would be preached, and the people of every rank and station
[223] were invited to attend. Crowds flocked to the service. Not only the
chapel, but the antechambers and halls were thronged. Thousands
every day assembled—nobles, statesmen, lawyers, merchants, and
artisans. The king, instead of forbidding the assemblies, ordered that
two of the churches of Paris should be opened. Never before had the
French Reformation 185
city been so moved by the word of God. The spirit of life from heaven
seemed to be breathed upon the people. Temperance, purity, order, and
industry were taking the place of drunkenness, licentiousness, strife,
and idleness.
But the hierarchy were not idle. The king still refused to interfere
to stop the preaching, and they turned to the populace. No means
were spared to excite the fears, the prejudices, and the fanaticism
of the ignorant and superstitious multitude. Yielding blindly to her
false teachers, Paris, like Jerusalem of old, knew not the time of
her visitation nor the things which belonged unto her peace. For
two years the word of God was preached in the capital; but, while
there were many who accepted the gospel, the majority of the people
rejected it. Francis had made a show of toleration, merely to serve his
own purposes, and the papists succeeded in regaining the ascendancy.
Again the churches were closed, and the stake was set up.
Calvin was still in Paris, preparing himself by study, meditation,
and prayer for his future labors, and continuing to spread the light. At
last, however, suspicion fastened upon him. The authorities determined
to bring him to the flames. Regarding himself as secure in his seclusion,
he had no thought of danger, when friends came hurrying to his room
with the news that officers were on their way to arrest him. At that
instant a loud knocking was heard at the outer entrance. There was
not a moment to be lost. Some of his friends detained the officers
at the door, while others assisted the Reformer to let himself down
from a window, and he rapidly made his way to the outskirts of the
city. Finding shelter in the cottage of a laborer who was a friend to
the reform, he disguised himself in the garments of his host, and, [224]
shouldering a hoe, started on his journey. Traveling southward, he
again found refuge in the dominions of Margaret. (See D’Aubigne,
History of the Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin, b. 2, ch.
30.)
Here for a few months he remained, safe under the protection of
powerful friends, and engaged as before in study. But his heart was
set upon the evangelization of France, and he could not long remain
inactive. As soon as the storm had somewhat abated, he sought a new
field of labor in Poitiers, where was a university, and where already the
new opinions had found favor. Persons of all classes gladly listened to
the gospel. There was no public preaching, but in the home of the chief
186 The Great Controversy
magistrate, in his own lodgings, and sometimes in a public garden,
Calvin opened the words of eternal life to those who desired to listen.
After a time, as the number of hearers increased, it was thought safer
to assemble outside the city. A cave in the side of a deep and narrow
gorge, where trees and overhanging rocks made the seclusion still
more complete, was chosen as the place of meeting. Little companies,
leaving the city by different routes, found their way hither. In this
retired spot the Bible was read aloud and explained. Here the Lord’s
Supper was celebrated for the first time by the Protestants of France.
From this little church several faithful evangelists were sent out.
Once more Calvin returned to Paris. He could not even yet relinquish
the hope that France as a nation would accept the Reformation.
But he found almost every door of labor closed. To teach the gospel
was to take the direct road to the stake, and he at last determined to
depart to Germany. Scarcely had he left France when a storm burst
over the Protestants, that, had he remained, must surely have involved
him in the general ruin.
The French Reformers, eager to see their country keeping pace
with Germany and Switzerland, determined to strike a bold blow
against the superstitions of Rome, that should arouse the whole nation.
[225] Accordingly placards attacking the mass were in one night posted
all over France. Instead of advancing the reform, this zealous but
ill-judged movement brought ruin, not only upon its propagators, but
upon the friends of the reformed faith throughout France. It gave the
Romanists what they had long desired—a pretext for demanding the
utter destruction of the heretics as agitators dangerous to the stability
of the throne and the peace of the nation.
By some secret hand—whether of indiscreet friend or wily foe
was never known—one of the placards was attached to the door of
the king’s private chamber. The monarch was filled with horror. In
this paper, superstitions that had received the veneration of ages were
attacked with an unsparing hand. And the unexampled boldness of
obtruding these plain and startling utterances into the royal presence
aroused the wrath of the king. In his amazement he stood for a little
time trembling and speechless. Then his rage found utterance in the
terrible words: “Let all be seized without distinction who are suspected
of Lutheresy. I will exterminate them all.—Ibid., b. 4, ch. 10. The die
French Reformation 187
was cast. The king had determined to throw himself fully on the side
of Rome.
Measures were at once taken for the arrest of every Lutheran in
Paris. A poor artisan, an adherent of the reformed faith, who had been
accustomed to summon the believers to their secret assemblies, was
seized and, with the threat of instant death at the stake, was commanded
to conduct the papal emissary to the home of every Protestant in the
city. He shrank in horror from the base proposal, but at last fear of
the flames prevailed, and he consented to become the betrayer of his
brethren. Preceded by the host, and surrounded by a train of priests,
incense bearers, monks, and soldiers, Morin, the royal detective, with
the traitor, slowly and silently passed through the streets of the city.
The demonstration was ostensibly in honor of the “holy sacrament,”
an act of expiation for the insult put upon the mass by the protesters.
But beneath this pageant a deadly purpose was concealed. On arriving [226]
opposite the house of a Lutheran, the betrayer made a sign, but no
word was uttered. The procession halted, the house was entered, the
family were dragged forth and chained, and the terrible company went
forward in search of fresh victims. They “spared no house, great or
small, not even the colleges of the University of Paris.... Morin made
all the city quake.... It was a reign of terror.”—Ibid., b. 4, ch. 10.
The victims were put to death with cruel torture, it being specially
ordered that the fire should be lowered in order to prolong their agony.
But they died as conquerors. Their constancy was unshaken, their
peace unclouded. Their persecutors, powerless to move their inflexible
firmness, felt themselves defeated. “The scaffolds were distributed
over all the quarters of Paris, and the burnings followed on successive
days, the design being to spread the terror of heresy by spreading
the executions. The advantage, however, in the end, remained with
the gospel. All Paris was enabled to see what kind of men the new
opinions could produce. There was no pulpit like the martyr’s pile.
The serene joy that lighted up the faces of these men as they passed
along ... to the place of execution, their heroism as they stood amid
the bitter flames, their meek forgiveness of injuries, transformed, in
instances not a few, anger into pity, and hate into love, and pleaded
with resistless eloquence in behalf of the gospel.”—Wylie, b. 13, ch.
20.
188 The Great Controversy
The priests, bent upon keeping the popular fury at its height, circulated
the most terrible accusations against the Protestants. They
were charged with plotting to massacre the Catholics, to overthrow
the government, and to murder the king. Not a shadow of evidence
could be produced in support of the allegations. Yet these prophecies
of evil were to have a fulfillment; under far different circumstances,
however, and from causes of an opposite character. The cruelties that
were inflicted upon the innocent Protestants by the Catholics accumulated
in a weight of retribution, and in after centuries wrought the
very doom they had predicted to be impending, upon the king, his
[227] government, and his subjects; but it was brought about by infidels
and by the papists themselves. It was not the establishment, but the
suppression, of Protestantism, that, three hundred years later, was to
bring upon France these dire calamities.
Suspicion, distrust, and terror now pervaded all classes of society.
Amid the general alarm it was seen how deep a hold the Lutheran
teaching had gained upon the minds of men who stood highest for
education, influence, and excellence of character. Positions of trust
and honor were suddenly found vacant. Artisans, printers, scholars,
professors in the universities, authors, and even courtiers, disappeared.
Hundreds fled from Paris, self-constituted exiles from their native
land, in many cases thus giving the first intimation that they favored
the reformed faith. The papists looked about them in amazement at
thought of the unsuspected heretics that had been tolerated among
them. Their rage spent itself upon the multitudes of humbler victims
who were within their power. The prisons were crowded, and the very
air seemed darkened with the smoke of burning piles, kindled for the
confessors of the gospel.
Francis I had gloried in being a leader in the great movement for the
revival of learning which marked the opening of the sixteenth century.
He had delighted to gather at his court men of letters from every
country. To his love of learning and his contempt for the ignorance
and superstition of the monks was due, in part at least, the degree of
toleration that had been granted to the reform. But, inspired with zeal
to stamp out heresy, this patron of learning issued an edict declaring
printing abolished all over France! Francis I presents one among the
many examples on record showing that intellectual culture is not a
safeguard against religious intolerance and persecution.
French Reformation 189
France by a solemn and public ceremony was to commit herself
fully to the destruction of Protestantism. The priests demanded that
the affront offered to High Heaven in the condemnation of the mass be
expiated in blood, and that the king, in behalf of his people, publicly
give his sanction to the dreadful work. [228]
The 21st of January, 1535, was fixed upon for the awful ceremonial.
The superstitious fears and bigoted hatred of the whole nation had
been roused. Paris was thronged with the multitudes that from all the
surrounding country crowded her streets. The day was to be ushered
in by a vast and imposing procession. “The houses along the line of
march were hung with mourning drapery, and altars rose at intervals.”
Before every door was a lighted torch in honor of the “holy sacrament.”
Before daybreak the procession formed at the palace of the king. “First
came the banners and crosses of the several parishes; next appeared the
citizens, walking two and two, and bearing torches.” The four orders
of friars followed, each in its own peculiar dress. Then came a vast
collection of famous relics. Following these rode lordly ecclesiastics
in their purple and scarlet robes and jeweled adornings, a gorgeous
and glittering array.
“The host was carried by the bishop of Paris under a magnificent
canopy, ... supported by four princes of the blood.... After the host
walked the king.... Francis I on that day wore no crown, nor robe of
state.” With “head uncovered, his eyes cast on the ground, and in his
hand a lighted taper,” the king of France appeared “in the character
of a penitent.”—Ibid., b. 13, ch. 21. At every altar he bowed down
in humiliation, nor for the vices that defiled his soul, nor the innocent
blood that stained his hands, but for the deadly sin of his subjects who
had dared to condemn the mass. Following him came the queen and
the dignitaries of state, also walking two and two, each with a lighted
torch.
As a part of the services of the day the monarch himself addressed
the high officials of the kingdom in the great hall of the bishop’s
palace. With a sorrowful countenance he appeared before them and in
words of moving eloquence bewailed “the crime, the blasphemy, the
day of sorrow and disgrace,” that had come upon the nation. And he
called upon every loyal subject to aid in the extirpation of the pestilent
heresy that threatened France with ruin. “As true, messieurs, as I
am your king,” he said, “if I knew one of my own limbs spotted or [229]
190 The Great Controversy
infected with this detestable rottenness, I would give it you to cut off....
And further, if I saw one of my children defiled by it, I would not
spare him.... I would deliver him up myself, and would sacrifice him
to God.” Tears choked his utterance, and the whole assembly wept,
with one accord exclaiming: “We will live and die for the Catholic
religion!”—D’Aubigne, History of the Reformation in Europe in the
Time of Calvin, b. 4, ch. 12.
Terrible had become the darkness of the nation that had rejected
the light of truth. The grace “that bringeth salvation” had appeared;
but France, after beholding its power and holiness, after thousands
had been drawn by its divine beauty, after cities and hamlets had been
illuminated by its radiance, had turned away, choosing darkness rather
than light. They had put from them the heavenly gift when it was
offered them. They had called evil good, and good evil, till they had
fallen victims to their willful self-deception. Now, though they might
actually believe that they were doing God service in persecuting His
people, yet their sincerity did not render them guiltless. The light that
would have saved them from deception, from staining their souls with
bloodguiltiness, they had willfully rejected.
A solemn oath to extirpate heresy was taken in the great cathedral
where, nearly three centuries later, the Goddess of Reason was to be
enthroned by a nation that had forgotten the living God. Again the
procession formed, and the representatives of France set out to begin
the work which they had sworn to do. “At short distances scaffolds
had been erected, on which certain Protestant Christians were to be
burned alive, and it was arranged that the fagots should be lighted at
the moment the king approached, and that the procession should halt
to witness the execution.”—Wylie, b. 13, ch. 21. The details of the
tortures endured by these witnesses for Christ are too harrowing for
recital; but there was no wavering on the part of the victims. On being
urged to recant, one answered: “I only believe in what the prophets
[230] and the apostles formerly preached, and what all the company of saints
believed. My faith has a confidence in God which will resist all the
powers of hell.”—D’Aubigne, History of the Reformation in Europe
in the Time of Calvin, b. 4, ch. 12.
Again and again the procession halted at the places of torture. Upon
reaching their starting point at the royal palace, the crowd dispersed,
and the king and the prelates withdrew, well satisfied with the day’s
French Reformation 191
proceedings and congratulating themselves that the work now begun
would be continued to the complete destruction of heresy.
The gospel of peace which France had rejected was to be only
too surely rooted out, and terrible would be the results. On the 21st
of January, 1793, two hundred and fifty-eight years from the very
day that fully committed France to the persecution of the Reformers,
another procession, with a far different purpose, passed through the
streets of Paris. “Again the king was the chief figure; again there were
tumult and shouting; again there was heard the cry for more victims;
again there were black scaffolds; and again the scenes of the day were
closed by horrid executions; Louis XVI, struggling hand to hand with
his jailers and executioners, was dragged forward to the block, and
there held down by main force till the ax had fallen, and his dissevered
head rolled on the scaffold.”—Wylie, b. 13, ch. 21. Nor was the king
the only victim; near the same spot two thousand and eight hundred
human beings perished by the guillotine during the bloody days of the
Reign of Terror.
The Reformation had presented to the world an open Bible, unsealing
the precepts of the law of God and urging its claims upon
the consciences of the people. Infinite Love had unfolded to men
the statutes and principles of heaven. God had said: “Keep therefore
and do them; for this is your wisdom and your understanding in the
sight of the nations, which shall hear all these statutes, and say, Surely
this great nation is a wise and understanding people.” Deuteronomy
4:6. When France rejected the gift of heaven, she sowed the seeds of
anarchy and ruin; and the inevitable outworking of cause and effect
resulted in the Revolution and the Reign of Terror. [231]
Long before the persecution excited by the placards, the bold and
ardent Farel had been forced to flee from the land of his birth. He
repaired to Switzerland, and by his labors, seconding the work of
Zwingli, he helped to turn the scale in favor of the Reformation. His
later years were to be spent here, yet he continued to exert a decided
influence upon the reform in France. During the first years of his
exile, his efforts were especially directed to spreading the gospel in
his native country. He spent considerable time in preaching among
his countrymen near the frontier, where with tireless vigilance he
watched the conflict and aided by his words of encouragement and
counsel. With the assistance of other exiles, the writings of the German
192 The Great Controversy
Reformers were translated into the French language and, together with
the French Bible, were printed in large quantities. By colporteurs these
works were sold extensively in France. They were furnished to the
colporteurs at a low price, and thus the profits of the work enabled
them to continue it.
Farel entered upon his work in Switzerland in the humble guise
of a schoolmaster. Repairing to a secluded parish, he devoted himself
to the instruction of children. Besides the usual branches of learning,
he cautiously introduced the truths of the Bible, hoping through the
children to reach the parents. There were some who believed, but the
priests came forward to stop the work, and the superstitious country
people were roused to oppose it. “That cannot be the gospel of Christ,”
urged the priest, “seeing the preaching of it does not bring peace, but
war.”—Wylie, b. 14, ch. 3. Like the first disciples, when persecuted in
one city he fled to another. From village to village, from city to city,
he went, traveling on foot, enduring hunger, cold, and weariness, and
everywhere in peril of his life. He preached in the market places, in
the churches, sometimes in the pulpits of the cathedrals. Sometimes
he found the church empty of hearers; at times his preaching was
interrupted by shouts and jeers; again he was pulled violently out of
the pulpit. More than once he was set upon by the rabble and beaten
[232] almost to death. Yet he pressed forward. Though often repulsed,
with unwearying persistence he returned to the attack; and, one after
another, he saw towns and cities which had been strongholds of popery,
opening their gates to the gospel. The little parish where he had first
labored soon accepted the reformed faith. The cities of Morat and
Neuchatel also renounced the Romish rites and removed the idolatrous
images from their churches.
Farel had long desired to plant the Protestant standard in Geneva.
If this city could be won, it would be a center for the Reformation in
France, in Switzerland, and in Italy. With this object before him, he had
continued his labors until many of the surrounding towns and hamlets
had been gained. Then with a single companion he entered Geneva.
But only two sermons was he permitted to preach. The priests, having
vainly endeavored to secure his condemnation by the civil authorities,
summoned him before an ecclesiastical council, to which they came
with arms concealed under their robes, determined to take his life.
Outside the hall, a furious mob, with clubs and swords, was gathered
French Reformation 193
to make sure of his death if he should succeed in escaping the council.
The presence of magistrates and an armed force, however, saved him.
Early next morning he was conducted, with his companion, across
the lake to a place of safety. Thus ended his first effort to evangelize
Geneva.
For the next trial a lowlier instrument was chosen—a young man,
so humble in appearance that he was coldly treated even by the professed
friends of reform. But what could such a one do where Farel
had been rejected? How could one of little courage and experience
withstand the tempest before which the strongest and bravest had been
forced to flee? “Not by might, nor by power, but by My Spirit, saith the
Lord.” Zechariah 4:6. “God hath chosen the weak things of the world
to confound the things which are mighty.” “Because the foolishness
of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than
men.” 1 Corinthians 1:27, 25.
Froment began his work as a schoolmaster. The truths which he
taught the children at school they repeated at their homes. Soon the [233]
parents came to hear the Bible explained, until the schoolroom was
filled with attentive listeners. New Testaments and tracts were freely
distributed, and they reached many who dared not come openly to
listen to the new doctrines. After a time this laborer also was forced
to flee; but the truths he taught had taken hold upon the minds of
the people. The Reformation had been planted, and it continued to
strengthen and extend. The preachers returned, and through their
labors the Protestant worship was finally established in Geneva.
The city had already declared for the Reformation when Calvin,
after various wanderings and vicissitudes, entered its gates. Returning
from a last visit to his birthplace, he was on his way to Basel, when,
finding the direct road occupied by the armies of Charles V, he was
forced to take the circuitous route by Geneva.
In this visit Farel recognized the hand of God. Though Geneva
had accepted the reformed faith, yet a great work remained to be
accomplished here. It is not as communities but as individuals that
men are converted to God; the work of regeneration must be wrought
in the heart and conscience by the power of the Holy Spirit, not by
the decrees of councils. While the people of Geneva had cast off the
authority of Rome, they were not so ready to renounce the vices that
had flourished under her rule. To establish here the pure principles of
194 The Great Controversy
the gospel and to prepare this people to fill worthily the position to
which Providence seemed calling them were not light tasks.
Farel was confident that he had found in Calvin one whom he
could unite with himself in this work. In the name of God he solemnly
adjured the young evangelist to remain and labor here. Calvin drew
back in alarm. Timid and peace-loving, he shrank from contact with
the bold, independent, and even violent spirit of the Genevese. The
feebleness of his health, together with his studious habits, led him
to seek retirement. Believing that by his pen he could best serve the
[234] cause of reform, he desired to find a quiet retreat for study, and there,
through the press, instruct and build up the churches. But Farel’s
solemn admonition came to him as a call from Heaven, and he dared
not refuse. It seemed to him, he said, “that the hand of God was
stretched down from heaven, that it lay hold of him, and fixed him
irrevocably to the place he was so impatient to leave.”—D’Aubigne,
History of the Reformation in Europe in the Time of Calvin, b. 9, ch.
17.
At this time great perils surrounded the Protestant cause. The
anathemas of the pope thundered against Geneva, and mighty nations
threatened it with destruction. How was this little city to resist the
powerful hierarchy that had so often forced kings and emperors to
submission? How could it stand against the armies of the world’s great
conquerors?
Throughout Christendom, Protestantism was menaced by
formidable foes. The first triumphs of the Reformation past, Rome
summoned new forces, hoping to accomplish its destruction. At this
time the order of the Jesuits was created, the most cruel, unscrupulous,
and powerful of all the champions of popery. Cut off from earthly ties
and human interests, dead to the claims of natural affection, reason
and conscience wholly silenced, they knew no rule, no tie, but that of
their order, and no duty but to extend its power. (See Appendix.) The
gospel of Christ had enabled its adherents to meet danger and endure
suffering, undismayed by cold, hunger, toil, and poverty, to uphold
the banner of truth in face of the rack, the dungeon, and the stake. To
combat these forces, Jesuitism inspired its followers with a fanaticism
that enabled them to endure like dangers, and to oppose to the power
of truth all the weapons of deception. There was no crime too great
for them to commit, no deception too base for them to practice, no
French Reformation 195
disguise too difficult for them to assume. Vowed to perpetual poverty
and humility, it was their studied aim to secure wealth and power, to
be devoted to the overthrow of Protestantism, and the re-establishment
of the papal supremacy. [235]
When appearing as members of their order, they wore a garb of
sanctity, visiting prisons and hospitals, ministering to the sick and the
poor, professing to have renounced the world, and bearing the sacred
name of Jesus, who went about doing good. But under this blameless
exterior the most criminal and deadly purposes were often concealed.
It was a fundamental principle of the order that the end justifies the
means. By this code, lying, theft, perjury, assassination, were not
only pardonable but commendable, when they served the interests
of the church. Under various disguises the Jesuits worked their way
into offices of state, climbing up to be the counselors of kings, and
shaping the policy of nations. They became servants to act as spies
upon their masters. They established colleges for the sons of princes
and nobles, and schools for the common people; and the children of
Protestant parents were drawn into an observance of popish rites. All
the outward pomp and display of the Romish worship was brought to
bear to confuse the mind and dazzle and captivate the imagination, and
thus the liberty for which the fathers had toiled and bled was betrayed
by the sons. The Jesuits rapidly spread themselves over Europe, and
wherever they went, there followed a revival of popery.
To give them greater power, a bull was issued re-establishing the
inquisition. (See Appendix.) Notwithstanding the general abhorrence
with which it was regarded, even in Catholic countries, this terrible
tribunal was again set up by popish rulers, and atrocities too terrible
to bear the light of day were repeated in its secret dungeons. In many
countries, thousands upon thousands of the very flower of the nation,
the purest and noblest, the most intellectual and highly educated, pious
and devoted pastors, industrious and patriotic citizens, brilliant
scholars, talented artists, skillful artisans, were slain or forced to flee
to other lands.
Such were the means which Rome had invoked to quench the light
of the Reformation, to withdraw from men the Bible, and to restore
the ignorance and superstition of the Dark Ages. But under God’s [236]
blessing and the labors of those noble men whom He had raised up to
succeed Luther, Protestantism was not overthrown. Not to the favor or
196 The Great Controversy
arms of princes was it to owe its strength. The smallest countries, the
humblest and least powerful nations, became its strongholds. It was
little Geneva in the midst of mighty foes plotting her destruction; it
was Holland on her sandbanks by the northern sea, wrestling against
the tyranny of Spain, then the greatest and most opulent of kingdoms;
it was bleak, sterile Sweden, that gained victories for the Reformation.
For nearly thirty years Calvin labored at Geneva, first to establish
there a church adhering to the morality of the Bible, and then for the
advancement of the Reformation throughout Europe. His course as a
public leader was not faultless, nor were his doctrines free from error.
But he was instrumental in promulgating truths that were of special
importance in his time, in maintaining the principles of Protestantism
against the fast-returning tide of popery, and in promoting in the
reformed churches simplicity and purity of life, in place of the pride
and corruption fostered under the Romish teaching.
From Geneva, publications and teachers went out to spread the
reformed doctrines. To this point the persecuted of all lands looked for
instruction, counsel, and encouragement. The city of Calvin became
a refuge for the hunted Reformers of all Western Europe. Fleeing
from the awful tempests that continued for centuries, the fugitives
came to the gates of Geneva. Starving, wounded, bereft of home and
kindred, they were warmly welcomed and tenderly cared for; and
finding a home here, they blessed the city of their adoption by their
skill, their learning, and their piety. Many who sought here a refuge
returned to their own countries to resist the tyranny of Rome. John
Knox, the brave Scotch Reformer, not a few of the English Puritans,
the Protestants of Holland and of Spain, and the Huguenots of France
carried from Geneva the torch of truth to lighten the darkness of their
[237] native lands.