No time was to be lost,-Farel never had any to lose. He took with him Anthony Saunier, a Dauphinese, who knew popery. by hard experience, having lain in prison at Paris fourten years, for daring to believe what his Redeemer taught. Certain friends had fears for their safety. Everywhere there were persecutions, and in Savoy and Dauphiny the bishops had specially "ordered a raid to be made upon the heretics." In the last days of August they passed by the caverns of Pignerol, in which the Waldenses had once their retreats and their temples; they passed La Tour, where every rock was a memorial of persecutions and martyrdoms; they went on to Angrogna. There the synod was to meet, in the parish of Martin Gonin. The people were in the fields and in the roads, ready "to be a guard to the ministers of the good law."

"That one with the red beard and riding the white horse is Farel," said John Peyret of Angrogna, the escort, to the people who gazed along the way. "The other, on the black horse, is Saunier." There was a third, "a tall man and rather lame, a Waldensian, perhaps, who had joined them. Other "foreign Christians' were gathering in this remote valley.

On the 12th of September the synod was opened "in the name of God." Farel was the leading man in favour of urging the Waldenses to renounce the papal errors that had slowly crept among them, or been forced upon them by the violence of the Romanists. The other party contended that they should compromise a little, in order to save their lives and their church. Farel gained his point with most of them. They confessed their errors and signed a covenant of faith and love.

It greatly interested Farel and Saunier to examine the old manuscripts, preserved for centuries, among which was the Noble Lesson, saying,

The Scriptures speak, and we must believe.

*

Search the Scriptures from beginning to end.

And they looked at several manuscript copies of the Bible, which the Waldenses showed them with peculiar pride, saying,"These were copied correctly by hand so long ago as to be beyond memory, and are to be seen in several families." The visitors were moved as they turned over the leaves, "marvelling at the heavenly favour accorded to so small a people."

Farel proposed to the synod that measures should be taken to have the Bible and other books translated, printed and circulated among the Waldenses, and to establish schools in all their parishes. They agreed "joyfully and with good hearts to Farel's demand." The hour came to adjourn and separate. The pastors returned to their churches, the shepherds to their flocks, the lords to their castles, and never forgot that people whose church has been "the burning bush of Christendom." Farel and Saunier shook hands with the villagers, who wept to see them go, mounted their horses and rode on, talking of teachers and translators, books and Bibles for the Waldenses. They were directing their way to an ancient city, where Cæsar had built long walls against the Helvetii, and where popery had thrown up entrenchments against the reformation. We turn now to Geneva, which God is about to make renowned for a theology that has been called "the grandest form of the grandest faith in heaven or on earth." The truth of the motto on her shield was being proved,—“After darkness I wait for light.'

It was no sudden purpose, formed along the way, that led Farel to Geneva. It had long been in his mind, and before starting for Italy, he had resolved to stop there on his return. With that intent he had obtained from the Lords of Berne, certain letters of introduction to the leading Huguenots of Ge-

neva. "I will go to them," said he, "I will speak to them, even if there is nobody that will hear me."

This plan of Farel is the beginning of the positive work of the Reformation in Geneva. But it was not the beginning of the movement against the papacy and the bishops. For years in that city, Rome had been opposed by a band of patriots who sought liberty in the state, but cared less for a new life in the church. Young Geneva had already been shaking old Rome. To understand the difficult work before Farel, it is quite important to trace the rise of the patriots, and see how they came to be called Huguenots.

There came to Geneva, in 1513, a brilliant young man, full of good-humour, making himself easily a favourite with everybody, laughing at almost everything, with wit sparkling on his pen, and Virgil and Cicero at his tongue's end. The priests admired him, the people loved him, and he was the hero of the hour. He could amuse his company, or in solitude prove himself one of the best French writers of his times. This agreeable scholar was Francis Bonivard, known in poetry as the prisoner of Chillon. "He was to play in Geneva by his liberalism, his information and his cutting satires, a part not very unlike that played by Erasmus in the great Reformation." With him there were two subjects too serious for a jest; one was the revival of letters, and the other was the love of liberty. He was born at Seyssel, and was in high favour with Charles III., Duke of Savoy, the worst of foes to Geneva. "He was educated at Turin where he became the ringleader of the wild set at the University." This, in the duke's eyes, qualified him for a work quite similar to that of Catiline when he sought to gain his treasonable plots by corrupting the youth of Rome. Charles was intent upon drawing Geneva into the snare, and annexing it

to his dominions. The jovial Bonivard seemed to be just the man to prove "an excellent bait to entice the youth of the city into the nets of Savoy."

He soon met a genial companion. Philibert Berthelier, with three centuries of noble blood in his veins, was the leader of a rising party in the city. In April, 1513, he had lamented the death of Charles de Seyssel, the bishop and prince of Geneva. This "right good person," ever mild and frank, was "for a wonder, a great champion of both ecclesiastical and secular liberty." He wished Geneva to remain with a free state and a free church. Duke Charles had sharply quarrelled with him, saying, "I made you bishop, but I will unmake you, and you shall be the poorest priest in the diocese." The bishop had just returned from a pilgrimage, and he suddenly died. It was thought that the duke made sure his threat, and poisoned him for the crime of protecting the liberties of Geneva.

When this report was on the wind there was intense excitement in the city. The gates were shut, cannon were dragged through the streets and placed on the walls, and sentries were posted everywhere. The citizens expected that the duke would seize the city, set his own bishop over them, and take the secular power in his own hands. They had good reasons for their suspicion. They gathered in groups on the streets, ready for any orator who might lift his voice.

Berthelier seized the opportunity to resist the pope and the duke, so that the one should not get the church, nor the other the state. "Let us resist the duke," said he and his associates. "Is there a people whose franchises are older than ours? We have always been free, and there is no memory of man to the contrary." "Come, you canons, choose a bishop! Elect a bishop who will defend our liberties." The man for them was

at hand. They were too earthly themselves to ask for a candi· date of a very heavenly spirit. Liberty, not religion, was the word on their lips. Aimé de Gingins, canon of St. Peter's, was then a firm advocate of Genevan rights. He was the best boon companion in the world, keeping open house and feasting joyously the friends of pleasure; fond of hearing his associates laugh and sing, and of rather free manners, after the custom of the church in those days. The people named him their bishop, and the canons confirmed the vote. The one thing now was to uphold their new bishop, and persuade the pope to sanction their choice. They sent men to Rome to obtain his confirmation.

The pope, Leo X., had another affair to manage. His brother Julian, the Magnificent, needed a wife. The pope had an eye upon the noble lady, Philiberta of Savoy, the sister of the duke Charles, and the aunt of Margaret, queen of Navarre. She was “a pure, simple-hearted young girl, of an elevated mind, a friend to the poor," and too good to be put up as the price of a bishopric. But so it was. With her, Charles would buy Geneva, and place over it a bishop from his own relatives.

He had a cousin, John, the son of an unmarried bishop, who was the grandson of the once married Amadeus, who was the last of the rival popes under the name of Felix V. John had no birth to boast, and was withal a puny, repulsive debauchee. "That is the man to be bishop of Geneva," thought the duke; "he is so much in my debt that he can refuse me nothing." John was ready for any bargain that would give him an office. Charles sent for him. "Cousin," said he, "I will raise you to a bishopric, if you will, in return, make over the temporal power to me." Thus John agreed to pay his debts, which the duke had "talked about pretty loudly" of late.