6 William Farel.

William Farel. As we have seen in the foregoing chapters, during the dark night that shrouded Europe for so many centuries, a few lights appeared at intervals, raised up of God, to minister a little solace to the few faithful ones who wearily waited for the dawn. We have seen how Wickliffe, in the middle of the fourteenth century, appeared in England, and endeavoured, by spreading divine truth, to liberate his groaning brethren from the spiritual bondage of iniquitous Rome. We have seen, too, how, nearly half a century later, Huss and Jerome arose to do a similar work in Bohemia. A century rolled away, and then with the appearance of Luther came the partial emancipation of the church in many countries from the thraldom of popery. In the account we are about to give of God’s honoured and devoted servant, William Farel, we must turn our gaze for a short space to another scene of action. A new nationality has come to mingle in the great drama of the Reformation. France held, in the opening of the sixteenth century, a very foremost place among Christian countries. On its south and south-east was Switzerland, on its east was Germany, and on the north, parted only by a silver streak of sea, was England. At all these gates, as it were, the Reformation was waiting for admission. In the year 1510, we find the throne of France occupied by Louis XII. He had just assembled a parliament at Tours to resolve for him the question as to the lawfulness of going to war with the Pope — one who violated treaties, and sustained his injustice by levying soldiers and fighting battles. The answer of that assembly marked the moral decadence of the Papacy. "It is lawful not only for the king to act defensively, but offensively against such a man." Thus fortified by the advice of his parliament, Louis commanded his armies to march against the Pope. This is mentioned here as a symptom of the near approach of the new times.

"The river," says one, "which waters great kingdoms and bears on its bosom the commerce of many nations, may be traced up to some solitary fountain among the far-off hills. So was it with that river of the water of Life that was now to go forth to refresh France." It had its rise in a single soul. In the year 1510, a stranger visiting Paris would hardly have failed to mark an old man, small in stature and simple in manners, going the round of all the churches, and prostrating himself devoutly before the images and shrines. This same old man, steeped as he was at this time in darkness and superstition, was destined to be, on a small scale, to the realm of France what Wickliffe had been to England. His name was Jacques Lefevre. He was born at Etaples, a village of Picardy, and although now verging on seventy, was hale and hearty.

Wonderfully in this old man was the promise fulfilled, "At evening time it shall be light," for it pleased the Lord that he should not depart, until the eclipse of superstition had wholly passed from his soul. As he was, as far as we know, the first man to emerge from the darkness of his native land, and as he was the instrument in God’s hand for the conversion of the subject of our narrative, we think he is worthy of some share of our attention; we will describe him, then, in a few words. Lefevre was naturally endowed with a capacious intellect. There was scarcely a field of study open in those ages which he had not entered, and made in them great proficiency. His thirst for knowledge had led him to visit Asia and Africa, there to view all that the fifteenth century had to show. Returning to Paris he was, Erasmus tells us, the first luminary in the constellation of lights that at that time adorned the Theological Hall of the great Paris University. Yet with all his learning he was so meek, so amiable, so candid, so full of loving-kindness that it was impossible to know him and not to love him. But even this man had his enemies, and they tried to insinuate that the man who had visited so many countries could hardly have escaped some taint of heresy. So they began watching him, but could find no fault with him; never was he absent from mass, and none remained so long on his knees before the saints as Lefevre. Nay, so superstitious was he, that this man, the most distinguished professor of the Sorbonne, might often be seen decking the statue of Mary.

Lefevre at this time formed the idea of collecting and rewriting the lives of the saints, and this, through God’s mercy, was the means used to open his eyes to the truth. When he had already made some progress, it struck him that he might find in the Bible materials that would be useful in his work. "Unwittingly," says Wylie, "he opened the portals of a new world. Saints of another sort than those that had till that moment engaged his attention, now stood before him — the virtue of the real saints dimmed in his eyes the glories of the legendary ones. The pen dropped from his hand and he could proceed no further." As he continued to search the Word of God, Lefevre really found that the Church of the Bible was a totally different thing from the Church of Rome; the wondrous plan of salvation, the plan of justification by faith alone, came to him like a sudden revelation. He says in one of his works which is still extant, "It is God who gives us, by faith, that righteousness which by grace alone justifies to eternal life."

These words of Lefevre, surely Spirit-born, assure us that the dawn had broken on poor benighted France. It was a single ray, perhaps, but it had come direct from heaven, and was the harbinger of the flood of glorious light that was about to burst forth. As the light of the truth of God which had entered Lefevre’s soul banished for ever from his mind the gloom of monasticism, so he knew well that this light had not been given him to hide under a bushel; and he felt that at once he must, by God’s grace, communicate it to his pupils around him.

Now of all places the Sorbonne was the most dangerous in which to proclaim a new doctrine. Centuries had rolled away, and none but the school-men had spoken there; and daring indeed would be the man who could proclaim in this, the citadel of scholasticism, a doctrine which if received would explode that which had been heard with reverence for ages.

Lefevre well knew the risks to which he was exposing himself; nevertheless, he went on to spread around the joyful tidings of salvation by grace. As may well be supposed, a great commotion was raised around the chair from whence proceeded sounds so new and strange. With varied feeling did the pupils of the venerable man listen to the new teaching. The faces of some were lighted up with joy, and they looked like men to whose eyes some glorious vista had suddenly opened, or as though they had unexpectedly discovered something for which they had long but vainly sought. On the faces of others, astonishment and anger were plainly written; and their knitted brows and flashing eyes plainly bespoke the anger of their souls. The agitation in the class-room soon communicated itself to the university, and on every side were heard reasonings and objections. Some were frivolous, some were filled with blind prejudice and hatred of the doctrine; but some were honest, and in real earnest, and these Lefevre made it his business to answer, showing them that his doctrine did not give licence to sin, and that it was not new, but as old as the Bible. Mutterings of the distant storm were heard, but it had not burst; and meanwhile Lefevre, within whose soul the light burnt clearer day by day, went quietly on with his work.

It is well to mark that these events took place in 1512. Not until five years after this had the name of Luther been heard of in France: the monk of Wittemberg had not yet nailed his Theses to the doors of the Schlosskirk. From this we see most manifestly that the Reformation, springing up at this time in France, did not come from Germany. Before Luther’s hammer, as one has said, was heard ringing out the knell of the old times in Wittemberg, Lefevre was proclaiming beneath the vaulted roof of the Sorbonne the advent of a new and brighter age. The Word of God, like God Himself, is light; and from that source alone came the welcome day, which after a long dark night broke upon the nations in the morning of the sixteenth century.

Among the crowd of pupils who gathered around the chair of the aged Lefevre, there was one who is now especially to claim our attention. Between this scholar and the master existed an attachment of no ordinary kind. None of all the crowd so hung upon his lips as did this youth; nor was their one on whom the eyes of that master rested with so kindly a light. This youth was William Farel. He was born among the Alps of Dauphine, at Gap near Grenoble, in the year 1489. His parents, measured by the standard of that age, were eminently pious. Every morning as the sun kindled into glory the white mountains around his dwelling, the family were assembled to count their beads; and as evening descended, crimsoning and then paling the beautiful Alps, the customary hymn ever ascended to the Virgin. As Farel himself tells us, his parents believed all that the priests told them, and he in his turn believed everything that his parents told him. Until the age of twenty he grew up with all the grandeur of nature around him, but with the darkness of superstition in his soul. A historian speaking truthfully of him says, "It would have been as hard for him to believe at this time that Rome, with her pope, and her holy priests, with her rites and ceremonies, were the mere creation of superstition, as to believe that the great mountains around him, with their snows and their pine forests, were a mere illusion, a painting on the sky, which but mocked the senses, and would one day dissolve like an unsubstantial, though gorgeous exhalation. ’I would gnash my teeth, like a furious wolf,’ said he, speaking of his blind devotion to Rome at this period of his life, ’when I heard anyone speaking against the Pope.’"

It was his father’s desire that he should devote himself to arms, but young Farel longed to be a scholar. Shut up though he was in the seclusion of his native valley, the fame of the Sorbonne had reached him, and he longed to drink his fill at this renowned well of learning. In 1510 he presented himself at the gates of the university, and was enrolled among its students.

It was here that young Farel became acquainted with Lefevre, and before long they were bound together in the bonds of closest friendship. Outwardly there were few points, one would have thought, to bring them together. One was old, the other young; one deeply learned, the other a mere tyro in knowledge; one enthusiastic, the other shrinking and timid; but beneath these external differences there beat two kindred souls. Both alike were noble, unselfish, and devout; and although living in an age rife with scepticism, their devotion was ardent and sincere. Often might the aged master and the young disciple be seen hand in hand visiting the shrines, and kneeling together before the same images. But the time came when the spiritual dawn broke upon the soul of Lefevre and he now began to let fall at times words that told of the new light he had gleaned from the Bible.

"Salvation is of grace," would he say to his pupils, "the innocent One is condemned, and the criminal is acquitted; it is the cross of Christ alone that openeth the gates of heaven, and shutteth the gates of hell." With consternation Farel listened to these words. What did they mean? to what would they lead? If this were true, what use then were his visits to saints, his kneeling at altars? Had his prayers been uttered to the air? All the teachings of his youth, the sanctities of home, the beliefs learned at his parents’ feet, rose up before his mind and appeared to frown upon him. Tossed with doubt and uncertainty, he longed to be back in his quiet home, where such thoughts might never torture him more. A crisis had come in the history of Farel; he must either press forward into the light with his beloved master, and become what the world called a heretic, or plunge back again into deeper darkness — but he felt he could never be the same as before.

Peace had left him; "the sorrows of death" and "the pains of hell" had taken hold of him and he felt he could not save himself. It was just when he was near despair that the words of Lefevre were spoken again in his hearing. "The cross of Christ alone opens the gates of heaven." "This is the only salvation for me," said Farel, "if I am to be saved it must be of grace, without money and without price." And so he immediately pressed into the portals that were opened to him by the blood of Jesus. The tempest was at an end, and he was now in a quiet haven. "All things," he tells us, "appear to me in a new light, Scripture is cleared up. Instead of the murderous heart of a ravening wolf," he says, "I came back quietly, like a meek and harmless lamb, having my heart entirely drawn from the pope, and given to Jesus Christ." With soul at peace within, and with heart welling over with joy, Farel, now fully emancipated from the yoke of the Pope, went forth with his Bible in his hand to preach in the temples. Like Paul before him, he allowed all the zeal of his nature to be used for the God who had saved him; and he was now as bold and uncompromising in his advocacy of the Gospel, as before he had been in behalf of popery.

"Young and resolute," says Felice, "he caused the public places to resound with his voice of thunder." But William Farel was not content with the mere preaching of the Gospel: he was studying the Word deeply for himself. There he found out how Christians in a great measure had wandered from the clear light in which God had placed them, at the time of the early formation of the Church, and how, by allowing themselves to become mixed up with the world, they had passed into such darkness that now they scarcely knew the difference between good and evil. "Grievous wolves," said the Apostle "shall come in amongst you, not sparing the flock." How true these words were, was manifest to Farel as he cast his eyes around. God’s beautiful flock of sheep! How was it scattered! Instead of feeding in the green pastures and beside the still waters of God’s own Truth, they were wandering away on the dark and dreary mountains of ignorance and superstition, being fleeced by the hand of cruel hirelings. His heart yearned over those poor deceived ones; deceived by those, too, who professed to be their teachers sent from God. "Listen" he cried in his impassioned manner, as he stood amongst them, St Paul spake these words: Though we or an angel from heaven preach any other gospel unto you than that which we have preached unto you, let him be accursed.’ This sentence is worthy to be written in all our hearts, being in truth spoken by God Himself, through the mouth of the holy Apostle. And this good personage was thus led to speak on account of the evil ways of heretics, who dared to preach what they could not prove by the holy Scriptures, who dared to set up their own reasons and opinions in the face of the fact that the things they taught were not to be found in the Scriptures at all. And in truth, all the ruin and down fall of men has always come from the same source — namely, that they persisted in adding to, or taking from the Word of God.

"You see that in the time of the holy Apostles, these teachers were not contented with the grace and truth which were fully and plentifully preached by Paul. They began to hinder the truth, and to hinder God’s blessing — not by disapproving of the preaching of Jesus Christ, they approved of it, in fact, but they persisted in adding to that which God had commanded. They added to it those things which God had never commanded to believers in Jesus, but to the nation of Israel. It is true, these false teachers had some show of having the right on their side, because it was a fact that God did speak to Moses, and what Moses commanded was really by the order of God, and the Apostles themselves had observed those ceremonies. But the holy Apostle Paul, and God who spoke by His mouth, would give no ear to such excuses; he would not admit that Moses, to whom the Gentiles had never been given in charge, was to be ranked with Jesus Christ, nor that Moses was to be added on to Christ to give salvation and life. And not only does Paul say that the ordinances of Moses were unnecessary for believers; he goes much further, and says on the contrary, that all who teach such things are to be detested, and held as accursed — that they are miserable troublers of the church, and that any such ought to be entirely disowned; even should such a teacher prove to be an angel from heaven — such an angel should be held as accursed by God; for nothing is to be added, nothing to be diminished from that which God has said. His holy and perfect Word is to be kept pure and entire.

"The Apostle Paul says, in the first Epistle to the Corinthians, that what he preached was to be proved by the Scriptures, and he says also, that all Scripture is written by inspiration of God, and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness, that the man of God may be perfect, throughly furnished unto all good works.

"If all could receive this pure truth, and give to Christ that honour which belongs to Him, and if the old fathers had, in every single matter, kept to that rule, there would have been no need now to write against evil doctrine, and to have such trouble to weed out of the hearts of men the things which have taken such deep root in them. On the contrary, all that is not contained in the holy Scriptures, all that has no foundation there, would have been held in abhorrence; and instead of writing as they did, with such affection, about the sign of the cross, and such like things, the old fathers would have opposed them, as not contained in the Bible; they would have firmly resisted every thing of the sort "......" We ought not to be," he went on to say, "as reeds shaken by the wind, but firmly established in Christ, knowing for certain that we have His Word for every thing, and thus the gates of hell shall never prevail against us.

"This is what God requires of all Christians, and admits nothing less in any who are members of the Body of Christ, sheep of the Good Shepherd. And he who does not know what to believe, nor whom he is to believe, who hears no difference between the voice of Jesus and other voices, who cannot distinguish between the voice of the Shepherd and the voice of the stranger, he does not belong to Jesus Christ as yet, he is not in Christ at all. It is no use to say, "I have always been used to believe and teach so and so," it is no use to say, "Our pastors and teachers teach us this and that," for custom without truth is useless. God never has approved, and never will approve of any thing but the truth, and He will judge us by that. The pastor and teacher must keep to the Word of God only, and feed the flock with that, otherwise he is a blind leader of the blind, and altogether will fall into the ditch.

"And now that things are come to this, that every thing is poison, except that heavenly bread, the Word of God, it is quite certain that whosoever attempts to feed upon other food than that, will be poisoned and die. The whole of popery falls at once, the moment we admit that the Word of God alone is the rule to guide us. Where then, is the authority for the mass, and such like services? Where is the authority for the consecration of altars and of churches? Where is the authority for using the sign of the cross? God has not commanded any of these things. And if we once admit that it is lawful for a man in any one thing, to command and order that which God has not commanded, where are we to stop? How are we to have any rule, if once we step beyond the plain Word of God? O that it might please God in His grace to open the eyes of men, that they may seek no longer to make excuses for any thing which is not to be found in the holy Scriptures; that they might believe, do, hold, and follow nothing that is not found there."

You may be sure that by such plain speaking as this, Farel made bitter enemies of the doctors and priests of the Sorbonne; yet there were some, who, taking his advice, went to the Scripture and found there a loving Saviour, and He who could save them without the help of saints, penances or fastings. Among these was Princess Margaret of Valois. She was the beloved sister of the King, Francis I of France, a woman of a sweet and gentle disposition. Another who received the truth was Briçonnet Bishop of Meaux.

Great hopes were raised in the hearts of Lefevre and Farel by the conversion of these so-called great ones of the earth. All Paris, they hoped, would soon be turned to the truth. But not many mighty, not many noble, are called. And after the Gospel had been proclaimed for two years in Paris, the University after a long consultation on the subject of the Reformation, decreed that all Luther’s books should be publicly burned in the streets. And so the great city refused to receive Christ, preferring rather to be subject to the Pope. With a sad heart William Farel turned his steps from the city where they refused to hear the sweet sounds of a free salvation, and we next find him at Meaux, preaching everywhere, in the streets, the market places or wherever a place could be found. The people crowded to hear him, and as the thirsty earth gladly drinks in the refreshing shower, so did many hearts drink in the life-giving words.

Come with me to the edge of this crowd, consisting chiefly of labouring people. They have just left for a little space their toilsome labours in the fields, the workshops and vineyards. Old age is there and youth, mothers with their babies in their arms, fathers with care worn brows, and backs bent with toil and labour. See how one and all listen with eager attention, while as the words of the preacher tell home, great drops fall from the eyes down many a rugged grief worn cheek.

Listen to his words. "What, then, are those treasures of the goodness of God, which are given to us in the death of Jesus Christ? Firstly, if we diligently consider what the death of Jesus was, we shall there see in truth how all the treasures of goodness and the grace of God our Father are magnified, and glorified, and exalted in that act of mercy and love. Is not that sight an invitation to wretched sinners to come to Him, who has so loved them, that he did not spare His only Son, but delivered Him up for us all. Does it not assure us that sinners are welcome to the Son of God, who so loved them that He gave his life, His body, and His blood, to be a perfect sacrifice, a complete ransom, for all who believe in Him; for he it is, Who calls to all those who labour and are heavy laden, saying He will give them rest. He it is Who spoke in His love to the wretched thief, giving him a place in heaven, saying to him, Verily I say unto thee this day shall thou be with me in Paradise. He it is, Who so loved and pitied His enemies, who hated Him unto death, that He prayed, Father forgive them for they know not what they do. And lastly, if we behold diligently, that death of Christ, there we see how the vail of the temple was rent in twain from the top to the bottom; and why? Because that hidden place into which none might enter, was now revealed, and thrown open by the death of Jesus, so that all who believe have access and free entrance there — may go in boldly, in full assurance of faith — may come before the throne of grace, and find mercy and grace to help in every time of need. For He who is the Son of God, the power and wisdom of God, He who is God Himself, so humbled Himself as to die for us. He the holy and the righteous one, for the ungodly and for sinners offering up Himself that we might be made pure and clean. And it is the will of the Father, that those whom He thus saves by the precious gift of His Son, should be certain of their salvation and life, and should know that they are completely washed and cleansed from all their sins. And the Father, for the love of Himself, and not for the love of us, nor of our doings, our deservings, and our righteousness’s (which are simply abominations — ) — He, the Father, saves us, and gives us eternal life. Yes, it is for the love of Himself, that His counsels may stand, to quicken and to serve those whom he has ordained to life, without any respect to persons. He sees nothing to cause His love in the sinner whom he saves — nothing in his works, nor his race, nor in his country, nor in any thing belonging to him. He pardons all his sins and transgressions on account of the work of His beloved Son. He gives the precious gift of His Son to the wretched prisoner of the devil, of sin, of hell, and of damnation. He gives him His Son because of his wicked lost condition; a sinner born in sin, and the child of wrath — a sinner in whom sin and rebellion against God live and reign. The gracious God, the Father of mercy, takes such as this to make him His child of adoption, to be His heir, joints-heir with Christ! He makes him a new creature." In words such as these, Farel set forth with wonderful power the blessed truth of a full, free, and present salvation for all those who will receive it, through the saving blood of a crucified Saviour.

Strange, blessed news, for the poor priest-ridden inhabitants of Meaux, and numbers gladly opened their hearts to the sweet tidings of divine grace and love; and before long a little meeting was formed, and often when the toils of the day were over, these dear saved souls came together that they might search the Scriptures, converse of the wondrous, blessed liberty into which they had been brought, and sing and pray one with the other. Meek in spirit, loving in heart, and holy in life, they presented a blessed testimony to all around them. But not long did these happy days last; bitter persecutions were commenced against them, Briçonnet who had done so much for the spread of the Truth, recanted in the face of the stake, and the little flock had the unspeakable honour of furnishing martyrs, "whose blazing stakes," as an eloquent writer has said, "were to shine like beacons in the darkness of France, and afford glorious proof to their countrymen that a power had entered the world which, braving the terror of scaffolds and surmounting the force of armies, would finally triumph over all opposition." But we must leave this devoted little company, to follow the footsteps of Farel, who, now that he was chased from France, turned his gaze towards Switzerland. He arrived there in 1526, took up his abode in Aigle, and there commenced his Gospel campaign, being determined to conquer to Christ, with God’s help, the brave and hardy people dwelling amid the glaciers of the eternal mountains, as well as those who sunned themselves in the happy valleys and by smiling lakes.

Darkness, almost like that of Egypt, over-hung this place, but Farel carried with him a light that was able to dispel it. And how do you think he began? By brilliant sermons and thrilling discourses? No, he knew if he began in that way most probably he would not have been allowed to speak at all, so he took the name of Ursin, and commenced to keep a school. The little children of the village flocked to it, and he began to teach the little ones about Jesus; so tenderly and winningly did he speak, that many of the little ones received the Saviour as their own. Then they in their turn carried home the divine seed to their parents, and thus the blessed truth quietly and assiduously spread until many in the little villages were rejoicing in Christ. Then Farel threw off his disguise and told them who he was.

Great was the fright of the priests at this sudden, metamorphosis of the Schoolmaster, for well they knew who William Farel was. But without any hesitation, he now ascended the pulpits, and with bold look and burning eye, and voice of thunder, and with words rapid and eloquent, stamped with the majesty of truth he ploughed up the consciences of those who listened, and through God’s mercy a great work was commenced Not for long however was it allowed to go on. The curés were filled with wrath at this bold intruder who had dared to enter their quiet valley, and shake their ancient beliefs. A clamour was raised against him, and Farel was obliged to retire, thankful that at least, the standard of the cross had been planted, and that he had left behind him men whose eyes had been opened, and who would never again bow the knee to the idols of their fathers. From this place Farel proceeded to Lausanne, and from thence to Berne. But in each of these places he was repulsed. Now turning northwards he made a short pause at Morat, and here, by the help of God, the victory of the Gospel was complete, and this important town embraced the protestant faith. An unseen but mighty power was with Farel, softening hearts and opening the understandings of men to receive the truth, and encouraged in heart, Farel pressed on hoping to win other cities and cantons to the gospel.

He now crossed the lovely lake and presented himself at Neuchatel. This place was peculiarly given up to popery. It had a great Cathedral with its full compartment of canons, priests, and monks, who, you may be sure gave the poor credulous people the usual store of pomps, dramas, indulgencies, banquetings and scandals. In the midst of their devotions the people were startled by a man of small stature, red beard, glittering eye, and stentorian voice, who stood up in the market place and announced that he had brought a religion not from Rome, but from the Bible. The shaven monks could not speak for astonishment, but at last, when they had found their voices they cried with one accord, "Let us beat out his brains," "Duck him, duck him." In spite of their clamour, Farel proceeded with his preaching, and many opened their hearts to the glad tidings. Before long the whole city declared for the Reformed faith.

Having sown the seeds of divine truth here, Farel left them to fructify, and departed to evangelize in the mountains and valleys which lay around. The winter came on and cold, hunger, and weariness were his frequent attendants; his life, too, was in peril, almost every hour. Once he was seized and almost beaten to death. Nothing however could daunt the bold Reformer. At times he would mount the pulpit, even while the priest was celebrating mass, and such was the power of his eloquence, that sometimes the priest would strip himself of his stole and chasuble, while the congregation would demolish the altars, remove the images, and declare that Farel was speaking the Truth of God. In three weeks time four villages renounced popery.

Farel was far from resting satisfied with his spiritual triumphs in the little villages at the foot of the Jura. His eye was ever turned with longing towards Geneva. On his way there at St Blaise, he made a short halt and commenced to preach. He was cruelly set upon by the mob instigated by the priests, and almost beaten to death. "Covered with bruises" says a writer, "spitting blood, and so disfigured as scarcely to be recognised by his friends, he was put into a small boat, carried across the lake, and nursed at Morat." But his time had not yet come to depart, and in spite of his cruel wounds, he recovered, and in 1532 we find Farel’s long cherished wish accomplished, and he is preaching the Gospel in Geneva. With dismay almost bordering on despair the priests learned that the man had arrived in their midst, who, as they said, had passed like a devastating tempest over the Pays de Vaud. His track so far, they knew, had been marked with altars overturned, images demolished, and canons and monks, and nuns flying before him in terror. What were they to do? They must at once take effectual steps to put him down or all would be lost. So without loss of time Farel, was summoned before the Town Council. With angry looks and bitter words did the magistrates receive him, but happily for Farel he carried letters from their Excellencies of Berne with whom Geneva was in alliance, and whom the Council feared to offend. Thus protected the Reformer and his friend left the Council chamber unharmed. This acquittal only the more aroused the anger of the priests and they met in council, and under pretext of debating the question, summoned the two preachers before them. Two magistrates were with them, "to see," says an historian, "that they returned alive," for it was known that some of the priests carried arms under their robes. The Reformer was asked by what authority he preached? Farel replied by quoting the Divine injunction, "Preach the Gospel to every creature." His meek answer was received with derision, and in a few moments the members starting to their feet, flung themselves upon the two evangelists, and commenced to ill-treat them. They spat upon them, pulled them about, struck them, "crying, come Farel, you wicked devil, what makes you go up and down thus? Whence comest thou? What business brings you to our city to throw us into trouble?" As soon as the noise had a little subsided, Farel answered courageously, "I am not a devil; I am sent by God as an ambassador of Jesus Christ; I preach Christ crucified — dead for our sins — risen again for our justification; he that believeth upon Him hath eternal life; he that believeth not is condemned." "He blasphemes; he is worthy of death" cried some. "To the Rhone, To the Rhone!" shouted others, "It were better to drown him in the Rhone than permit this wicked Lutheran to trouble all the people." "Speak the words of Christ, not Caiaphas," replied Farel. This was the signal for a more furious attack. "Kill the Lutheran hound," they exclaimed, Strike, Strike!" They closed round Farel, and one of the great Vicars servants levelled a gun at him, and pulled the trigger, but here again the Lord intervened for His servant, the pruning flashed, and the magistrates after a vigorous interposition rescued the evangelists.

Such, however, was the rage and enmity of the mob that Farel was obliged to flee the city. But although Farel’s first essay was so unsuccessful it was not God’s will that the good work should die out. Another and a gentler hand was to scatter the seed, — this was a young man, Fromont by name, of a gentle peaceful disposition. Him Farel sent back to the city where he had been almost torn to pieces.

"Fromont’s appearance," says Wylie, "was so mean that even the Huguenots, as the friends of liberty and progress were styled, turned their backs upon him.’’ Thus cast off and despised by all, what was young Fromont to do? "Recalling Farel’s example at Aigle," the historian goes on to say, "he resolved to turn schoolmaster. He hired a room at the Croix d’or, near the Molard, and speedily his fame as a teacher of youth filled Geneva. The lessons Fromont taught the children at school the children taught their parents when they went home. Gradually, and in a very short time, the class grew into a congregation of adults, the schoolroom into a church, and the teacher into an evangelist. Reading out a chapter he would explain it with simplicity and impressiveness." Thus with a tender, gentle hand the young man scattered the Divine seed into hearts, and many were converted; and soon great crowds were seen pressing round him listening eagerly to his words. This was in the year 1532 and the good work went on apace. Two rich and honourable women were among the first converted; and their conversion made a great sensation in Geneva. Their husbands and many others were drawn to hear and embrace the Gospel.

Space would not suffice for me to tell how rapidly the good work sped although in the midst of much trouble and persecution; suffice to say, that, in only one year after the beginning of Fromont’s ministry, Farel to his great joy, was allowed to return to Geneva, and he did not leave it until the city so dear to his heart had declared in favour of the truths of the Reformation.