* * * * *
As a pendant to this story, another may be given of an entirely
different character, relating to the inhabitants of another commune in
the same valley, about midway between La Salette and Grenoble. In
1860, while the discussion about the miracle at La Salette was still
in progress, the inhabitants of Notre-Dame-de-Comiers, dissatisfied
with the conduct of their curé, invited M. Fermaud, pastor of the
Protestant church at Grenoble, to come over and preach to them, as
they were desirous of embracing Protestantism. The pastor, supposing
that they were influenced by merely temporary irritation against their
curé, cautioned the deputation that waited upon him as to the gravity
of their decision in such a matter, and asked them to reflect further
upon it.
For several years M. Fermaud continued to maintain the same attitude,
until, in 1865, a formal petition was delivered to him by the mayor of
the place, signed by forty-three heads of families, and by nine out of
the ten members of the council of the commune, urging him to send them
over a minister of the evangelical religion. Even then he hesitated,
and recommended the memorialists to appeal to the bishop of the
diocese for redress of the wrongs of which he knew they complained,
but in vain, until at length, in the beginning of 1868, with the
sanction of the consistory of Grenoble a minister was sent over to
Comiers to perform the first acts of Protestant worship, including
baptism and marriage; and it was not until October in the same year
that Pastor Fermaud himself went thither to administer the sacrament
to the new church.
The service was conducted in the public hall of the commune, and was
attended by a large number of persons belonging to the town and
neighbourhood. The local clergy tried in vain to check the movement.
Quite recently, when the curé entered one of the schools to inscribe
the names of the children who were to attend their first mass, out of
fifteen of the proper age eleven answered to the interrogatory of the
priest, "Monsieur, nous sommes Protestantes." The movement has also
extended into the neighbouring communes, helped by the zeal of the new
converts, one of whom is known in the neighbourhood as "Père la
Bible," and it is possible that before long it may even extend to La
Salette itself.
* * * * *
The route from Vizille up the valley of the Romanche continues hemmed
in by rugged mountains, in some places almost overhanging the river.
At Séchilienne it opens out sufficiently to afford space for a
terraced garden, amidst which stands a handsome château, flanked by
two massive towers, commanding a beautiful prospect down the valley.
The abundant water which rushes down from the mountain behind is
partly collected in a reservoir, and employed to feed a _jet d'eau_
which rises in a lofty column under the castle windows. Further up,
the valley again contracts, until the Gorge de Loiret is passed. The
road then crosses to the left bank, and used to be continued along it,
but the terrible torrent of 1868 washed it away for miles, and it has
not yet been reconstructed. Temporary bridges enable the route to be
pursued by the old road on the right bank, and after passing through
several hamlets of little interest, we arrive at length at the
cultivated plain hemmed in by lofty mountains, in the midst of which
Bourg d'Oisans lies seated.
This little plain was formerly occupied by the lake of St. Laurent,
formed by the barrier of rocks and débris which had tumbled down from
the flank of the Petite Voudène, a precipitous mountain escarpment
overhanging the river. At this place, the strata are laid completely
bare, and may be read like a book. For some distance along the valley
they exhibit the most extraordinary contortions and dislocations,
impressing the mind with the enormous natural forces that must have
been at work to occasion such tremendous upheavings and disruptions.
Elie de Beaumont, the French geologist, who has carefully examined the
district, says that at the Montagne d'Oisans he found the granite in
some places resting upon the limestone, cutting through the Calcareous
beds, rising like a wall and lapping over them.
On arriving at Bourg d'Oisans, we put up at the Hôtel de Milan close
by the bridge; but though dignified with the name of hotel, it is only
a common roadside inn. Still, it is tolerably clean, and in summer the
want of carpets is not missed. The people were civil and attentive,
their bread wholesome, their pottage and bouilli good--being such fare
as the people of the locality contrive to live and thrive upon. The
accommodation of the place is, indeed, quite equal to the demand; for
very few travellers accustomed to a better style of living pass that
way. When the landlady was asked if many tourists had passed this
year, she replied, "Tourists! We rarely see such travellers here. You
are the first this season, and perhaps you may be the last."
Yet these valleys are well worthy of a visit, and an influx of
tourists would doubtless have the same effect that it has already had
in Switzerland and elsewhere, of greatly improving the hotel
accommodation throughout the district. There are many domestic
arrangements, costing very little money, but greatly ministering to
cleanliness and comfort, which might very readily be provided. But the
people themselves are indifferent to them, and they need the requisite
stimulus of "pressure from without." One of the most prominent
defects--common to all the inns of Dauphiny--having been brought
under the notice of the landlady, she replied, "C'est vrai, monsieur;
mais--il laisse quelque chose à desirer!" How neatly evaded! The very
defect was itself an advantage! What would life be--what would hotels
be--if there were not "something left to be desired!"
The view from the inn at the bridge is really charming. The little
river which runs down the valley, and becomes lost in the distance, is
finally fringed with trees--alder, birch, and chestnut. Ridge upon
ridge of mountain rises up behind on the right hand and the left, the
lower clothed with patches of green larch, and the upper with dark
pine. Above all are ranges of jagged and grey rocks, shooting up in
many places into lofty peaks. The setting sun, shining across the face
of the mountain opposite, brings out the prominent masses in bold
relief, while the valley beneath hovers between light and shadow,
changing almost from one second to another as the sun goes down. In
the cool of the evening, we walked through the fields across the
plain, to see the torrent, visible from the village, which rushes from
the rocky gorge on the mountain-side to join its waters to the
Romanche. All along the valleys, water abounds--sometimes bounding
from the heights, in jets, in rivulets, in masses, leaping from rock
to rock, and reaching the ground only in white clouds of spray, or, as
in the case of the little river which flows alongside the inn at the
bridge, bursting directly from the ground in a continuous spring;
these waterfalls, and streams, and springs being fed all the year
through by the immense glaciers that fill the hollows of the mountains
on either side the valley.
Though the scenery of Bourg d'Oisans is not, as its eulogists allege,
equal to that of Switzerland, it will at least stand a comparison
with that of Savoy. Its mountains are more precipitous and abrupt, its
peaks more jagged, and its aspect more savage and wild. The scenery of
Mont Pelvoux, which is best approached from Bourg d'Oisans, is
especially grand and sublime, though of a wild and desolate character.
The road from Bourg d'Oisans to Briançon also presents some
magnificent scenery; and there is one part of it that is not perhaps
surpassed even by the famous Via Mala leading up to the Splügen. It is
about three miles above Bourg d'Oisans, from which we started early
next morning. There the road leaves the plain and enters the wild
gorge of Freney, climbing by a steep road up the Rampe des Commières.
The view from the height when gained is really superb, commanding an
extremely bold and picturesque valley, hemmed in by mountains. The
ledges on the hillsides spread out in some places so as to afford
sufficient breadths for cultivation; occasional hamlets appear amidst
the fields and pine-woods; and far up, between you and the sky, an
occasional church spire peeps up, indicating still loftier
settlements, though how the people contrive to climb up to those
heights is a wonder to the spectator who views them from below.
The route follows the profile of the mountain, winding in and out
along its rugged face, scarped and blasted so as to form the road. At
one place it passes along a gallery about six hundred feet in length,
cut through a precipitous rock overhanging the river, which dashes,
roaring and foaming, more than a thousand feet below, through the
rocky abyss of the Gorge de l'Infernet. Perhaps there is nothing to be
seen in Switzerland finer of its kind than the succession of charming
landscapes which meet the eye in descending this pass.
Beyond the village of Freney we enter another defile, so narrow that
in places there is room only for the river and the road; and in winter
the river sometimes plays sad havoc with the engineer's constructions.
Above this gorge, the Romanche is joined by the Ferrand, an impetuous
torrent which comes down from the glaciers of the Grand Rousses.
Immediately over their point of confluence, seated on a lofty
promontory, is the village of Mizoën--a place which, because of the
outlook it commands, as well as because of its natural strength, was
one of the places in which the Vaudois were accustomed to take refuge
in the times of the persecutions. Further on, we pass through another
gallery in the rock, then across the little green valley of Chambon to
Le Dauphin, after which the scenery becomes wilder, the valley--here
called the Combe de Malaval (the "Cursed Valley")--rocky and sterile,
the only feature to enliven it being the Cascade de la Pisse, which
falls from a height of over six hundred feet, first in one jet, then
becomes split by a projecting rock into two, and finally reaches the
ground in a shower of spray. Shortly after we pass another cascade,
that of the Riftort, which also joins the Romanche, and marks the
boundary between the department of the Isère and that of the Hautes
Alpes, which we now enter.
More waterfalls--the Sau de la Pucelle, which falls from a height of
some two hundred and fifty feet, resembling the Staubbach--besides
rivulets without number, running down the mountain-sides like silver
threads; until we arrive at La Grave, a village about five thousand
feet above the sea-level, directly opposite the grand glaciers of
Tabuchet, Pacave, and Vallon, which almost overhang the Romanche,
descending from the steep slopes of the gigantic Aiguille du Midi, the
highest mountain in the French Alps,--being over 13,200 feet above
the level of the sea.
After resting some two hours at La Grave, we proceeded by the two
tunnels under the hamlet of Ventelong--one of which is 650 and the
other 1,800 feet long--to the village of Villard d'Arene, which,
though some five thousand feet above the level of the sea, is so
surrounded by lofty mountains that for months together the sun never
shines on it. From thence a gradual ascent leads up to the summit of
the Col de Lauteret, which divides the valley of the Romanche from
that of the Guisanne. The pastures along the mountain-side are of the
richest verdure; and so many rare and beautiful plants are found
growing there that M. Rousillon has described it as a "very botanical
Eden." Here Jean Jacques Rousseau delighted to herborize, and here the
celebrated botanist Mathonnet, originally a customs officer, born at
the haggard village of Villard d'Arene, which we have just passed,
cultivated his taste for natural history, and laid the foundations of
his European reputation. The variety of temperature which exists along
the mountain-side, from the bottom to the summit, its exposure to the
full rays of the sun in some places, and its sheltered aspect in
others, facilitate the growth of an extraordinary variety of beautiful
plants and wild flowers. In the low grounds meridional plants
flourish; on the middle slopes those of genial climates; while on the
summit are found specimens of the flora of Lapland and Greenland. Thus
almost every variety of flowers is represented in this brilliant
natural garden--orchids, cruciferæ, leguminæ, rosaceæ, caryophyllæ,
lilies of various kinds, saxifrages, anemones, ranunculuses, swertia,
primula, varieties of the sedum, some of which are peculiar to this
mountain, and are elsewhere unknown.
After passing the Hospice near the summit of the Col, the valley of
the Guisanne comes in sight, showing a line of bare and rugged
mountains on the right hand and on the left, with a narrow strip of
land in the bottom, in many parts strewn with stones carried down by
the avalanches from the cliffs above. Shortly we come in sight of the
distant ramparts of Briançon, apparently closing in the valley, the
snow-clad peak of Monte Viso rising in the distance. Halfway between
the Col and Briançon we pass through the village of Monestier, where,
being a saint's day, the bulk of the population are in the street,
holding festival. The place was originally a Roman station, and the
people still give indications of their origin, being extremely
swarthy, black-haired, and large-eyed, evidently much more Italian
than French.
But though the villagers of Monestier were taking holiday, no one can
reproach them with idleness. Never was there a more hard-working
people than the peasantry of these valleys. Every little patch of
ground that the plough or spade can be got into is turned to account.
The piles of stone and rock collected by the sides of the fields
testify to the industry of the people in clearing the soil for
culture. And their farming is carried on in the face of difficulties
and discouragements of no ordinary character, for sometimes the soil
of many of the little farms will be swept away in a night by an
avalanche of snow in winter or of stones in spring. The wrecks of
fields are visible all along the valley, especially at its upper part.
Lower down it widens, and affords greater room for culture; the sides
of the mountains become better wooded; and, as we approach the
fortress of Briançon, with its battlements seemingly piled one over
the other up the mountain-sides, the landscape becomes exceedingly
bold and picturesque.
When passing the village of Villeneuve la Salle, a few miles from
Briançon, we were pointed to a spot on the opposite mountain-side,
over the pathway leading to the Col de l'Echuada, where a cavern was
discovered a few years since, which, upon examination, was found to
contain a considerable quantity of human bones. It was one of the
caves in which the hunted Vaudois were accustomed to take refuge
during the persecutions; and it continued to be called by the
peasantry "La Roche armée"--the name being thus perpetuated, though
the circumstances in which it originated had been forgotten.
The fortress of Briançon, which we entered by a narrow winding roadway
round the western rampart, is the frontier fortress which guards the
pass from Italy into France by the road over Mont Genèvre. It must
always have been a strong place by nature, overlooking as it does the
valley of the Durance on the one hand, and the mountain road from
Italy on the other, while the river Clairée, running in a deep defile,
cuts it off from the high ground to the south and east. The highest
part of the town is the citadel, or Fort du Château, built upon a peak
of rock on the site of the ancient castle. It was doubtless the
nucleus round which the early town became clustered, until it filled
the lower plateau to the verge of the walls and battlements. There
being no room for the town to expand, the houses are closely packed
together and squeezed up, as it were, so as to occupy the smallest
possible space. The streets are narrow, dark, gloomy, and steep, being
altogether impassable for carriages. The liveliest sight in the place
is a stream of pure water, that rushes down an open conduit in the
middle of the principal street, which is exceedingly steep and narrow.
The town is sacrificed to the fortifications, which dominate
everywhere. With the increasing range and power of cannon, they have
been extended in all directions, until they occupy the flanks of the
adjoining mountains and many of their summits, so that the original
castle now forms but a comparatively insignificant part of the
fortress. The most important part of the population is the
soldiery--the red-trousered missionaries of "civilisation," according
to the gospel of Louis Napoleon, published a short time before our
visit.
Other missionaries, are, however, at work in the town and
neighbourhood; and both at Briançon and Villeneuve Protestant stations
have been recently established, under the auspices of the Protestant
Society of Lyons. In former times, the population of Briançon included
a large number of Protestants. In the year 1575, three years after the
massacre of St. Bartholomew, they were so numerous and wealthy as to
be able to build a handsome temple, almost alongside the cathedral,
and it still stands there in the street called Rue du Temple, with the
motto over the entrance, in old French, "Cerches et vos troveres." But
at the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, the temple was seized by the
King and converted into a granary, and the Protestants of the place
were either executed, banished, or forced to conform to the Papal
religion. Since then the voice of Protestantism has been mute in
Briançon until within the last few years, during which a mission has
been in operation. Some of the leading persons in the town have
embraced the Reform faith, amongst others the professor of literature
in the public college; but he had no sooner acknowledged to the
authorities the fact of his conversion, than he was dismissed from his
office, though he has since been appointed to a more important
profession at Nice. The number of members is, however, as yet very
small, and the mission has to contend with limited means, and to carry
on its operations in the face of many obstructions and difficulties.
* * * * *
What are the prospects of the extension of Protestantism in France?
Various answers have been given to the question. Some think that the
prevailing dissensions among French Protestants interpose a serious
barrier in the way of progress. Others, more hopeful, think, that
these divisions are only the indications of renewed life and vigour,
of the friction of mind with mind, which evinces earnestness, and
cannot fail to lead to increased activity and effort. The observations
of a young Protestant pastor on this point are worth repeating.
"Protestantism," said he, "is based on individualism: it recognises
the free action of the human mind; and so long as the mind acts freely
there will be controversy. The end of controversy is death. True,
there is much incredulity abroad; but the incredulity is occasioned by
the incredibilities of Popery. Let the ground once be cleared by free
inquiry, and our Church will rise up amidst the ruins of superstition
and unbelief, for man _must_ have religion; only it must be consistent
with reason on the one hand, and with Divine revelation on the other.
I for one do not fear the fullest and freest inquiry, having the most
perfect confidence in the triumph of the truth."
It is alleged by others that the bald form in which Protestantism is
for the most part presented abroad, is not conformable with the
"genius" of the men of Celtic and Latin race. However this may be, it
is too generally the case that where Frenchmen, like Italians and
Spaniards, throw off Roman Catholicism, they do not stop at rejecting
its superstitions, but reject religion itself. They find no
intermediate standpoint in Protestantism, but fly off into the void of
utter unbelief. The same tendency characterizes them in politics. They
seem to oscillate between Cæsarism and Red Republicanism; aiming not
at reform so much as revolution. They are averse to any _via media_.
When they have tried constitutionalism, they have broken down. So it
has been with Protestantism, the constitutionalism of Christianity.
The Huguenots at one time constituted a great power in France; but
despotism in politics and religion proved too strong for them, and
they were persecuted, banished, and stamped for a time out of
existence, or at least out of sight.
Protestantism was more successful in Germany. Was it because it was
more conformable to the "genius" of its people? When the Germans
"protested" against the prevailing corruptions in the Church, they did
not seek to destroy it, but to reform it. They "stood upon the old
ways," and sought to make them broader, straighter, and purer. They
have pursued the same course in politics. Cooler and less impulsive
than their Gallican neighbours, they have avoided revolutions, but are
constantly seeking reforms. Of this course England itself furnishes a
notable example.
It is certainly a remarkable fact, that the stronghold of
Protestantism in France was recently to be found among the population
of Germanic origin seated along the valley of the Rhine; whereas in
the western districts Protestantism is split up by the two
irreconcilable parties of Evangelicals and Rationalists. At the same
time it should be borne in mind that Alsace did not become part of
France until the year 1715, and that the Lutherans of that province
were never exposed to the ferocious persecutions to which the
Evangelical Protestants of Old France were subjected, before as well
as after the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes.
In Languedoc, in Dauphiny, and in the southern provinces generally,
men and women who professed Protestantism were liable to be hanged or
sent to the galleys, down to nearly the end of the last century. A
Protestant pastor who exercised his vocation did so at the daily peril
of his life. Nothing in the shape of a Protestant congregation was
permitted to exist, and if Protestants worshipped together, it was in
secret, in caves, in woods, among the hills, or in the "Desert." Yet
Protestantism nevertheless contrived to exist through this long dark
period of persecution, and even to increase. And when at length it
became tolerated, towards the close of the last century, the numbers
of its adherents appeared surprising to those who had imagined it to
be altogether extinct.
Indeed, looking at the persistent efforts made by Louis XIV. to
exterminate the Huguenots, and to the fact that many hundred thousand
of the best of them emigrated into foreign countries, while an equal
number are supposed to have perished in prison, on the scaffold, at
the galleys, and in their attempts to escape, it may almost be
regarded as matter of wonder that the Église Reformée--the Church of
the old Huguenots--should at the present day number about a thousand
congregations, besides the five hundred Lutheran congregations of
Alsatia, and that the Protestants of France should amount, in the
whole, to about two millions of souls.
CHAPTER III.
VAL LOUISE--HISTORY OF FELIX NEFF.
Some eight miles south of Briançon, on the road to Fort Dauphin, a
little river called the Gyronde comes down from the glaciers of Mont
Pelvoux, and falls into the Durance nearly opposite the village of La
Bessie. This river flows through Val Louise, the entrance into which
can be discerned towards the northwest. Near the junction of the
rivers, the ruins of an embattled wall, with entrenchments, are
observed extending across the valley of the Durance, a little below
the narrow pass called the "Pertuis-Rostan," evidently designed to
close it against an army advancing from the south. The country people
still call those ruins the "Walls of the Vaudois;"[101] and according
to tradition a great Vaudois battle was fought there; but of any such
battle history makes no mention.
[Footnote 101: A gap in the mountain-wall to the left, nearly
over La Bessie, is still known as "La Porte de Hannibal,"
through which, it is conjectured, that general led his army.
But opinion, which is much divided as to the route he took,
is more generally in favour of his marching up the Isère, and
passing into Italy by the Little St. Bernard.]
Indeed, so far as can be ascertained, the Vaudois of Dauphiny rarely
if ever fought battles. They were too few in number, too much
scattered among the mountains, and too poor and ill-armed, to be able
to contend against the masses of disciplined soldiery that were
occasionally sent into the valleys. All that they did was to watch,
from their mountain look-outs, their enemies' approach, and hide
themselves in caves; or flee up to the foot of the glaciers till they
had passed by. The attitude of the French Vaudois was thus for the
most part passive; and they very rarely, like the Italian Vaudois,
offered any determined or organized resistance to persecution. Hence
they have no such heroic story to tell of battles and sieges and
victories. Their heroism was displayed in patience, steadfastness, and
long-suffering, rather than in resisting force by force; and they were
usually ready to endure death in its most frightful forms rather than
prove false to their faith.
The ancient people of these valleys formed part of the flock of the
Archbishop of Embrun. But history exhibits him as a very cruel
shepherd. Thus, in 1335, there appears this remarkable entry in the
accounts current of the bailli of Embrun: "Item, for persecuting the
Vaudois, eight sols and thirty deniers of gold," as if the persecution
of the Vaudois had become a regular department of the public service.
What was done with the Vaudois when they were seized and tried at
Embrun further appears from the records of the diocese. In 1348,
twelve of the inhabitants of Val Louise were strangled at Embrun by
the public executioner; and in 1393, a hundred and fifty inhabitants
of the same valley were burned alive at the same place by order of the
Inquisitor Borelli. But the most fatal of all the events that befell
the inhabitants of Val Louise was that which occurred about a century
later, in 1488, when nearly the whole of the remaining population of
the valley were destroyed in a cavern near the foot of Mont Pelvoux.
This dreadful massacre was perpetrated by a French army, under the
direction of Albert Catanée, the papal legate. The army had been sent
into Piedmont with the object of subjugating or destroying the Vaudois
on the Italian side of the Alps, but had returned discomfited to
Briançon, unable to effect their object. The legate then determined to
take his revenge by an assault upon the helpless and unarmed French
Vaudois, and suddenly directed his soldiers upon the valleys of
Fressinières and Louise. The inhabitants of the latter valley,
surprised, and unable to resist an army of some twenty thousand men,
abandoned their dwellings, and made for the mountains with all haste,
accompanied by their families, and driving their flocks before them.
On the slope of Mont Pelvoux, about a third of the way up, there was
formerly a great cavern, on the combe of Capescure, called La
Balme-Chapelle--though now nearly worn away by the disintegration of
the mountain-side--in which the poor hunted people contrived to find
shelter. They built up the approaches to the cavern, filled the
entrance with rocks, and considered themselves to be safe. But their
confidence proved fatal to them. The Count La Palud, who was in
command of the troops, seeing that it was impossible to force the
entrance, sent his men up the mountain provided with ropes; and fixing
them so that they should hang over the mouth of the cavern, a number
of the soldiers slid down in full equipment, landing on the ledge
right in front of the concealed Vaudois. Seized with a sudden panic,
and being unarmed, many of them precipitated themselves over the rocks
and were killed. The soldiers slaughtered all whom they could reach,
after which they proceeded to heap up wood at the cavern mouth which
they set on fire, and thus suffocated the remainder. Perrin says four
hundred children were afterwards found in the cavern, stifled, in the
arms of their dead mothers, and that not fewer than three thousand
persons were thus ruthlessly destroyed. The little property of the
slaughtered peasants was ordered by the Pope's legate to be divided
amongst the vagabonds who had carried out his savage orders. The
population having been thus exterminated, the district was settled
anew some years later, in the reign of Louis XII., who gave his name
to the valley; and a number of "good and true Catholics," including
many goitres and idiots,[102] occupied the dwellings and possessed the
lands of the slaughtered Vaudois. There is an old saying that "the
blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church," but assuredly it does
not apply to Val Louise, where the primitive Christian Church has been
completely extinguished.
[Footnote 102: It has been noted that these unfortunates
abound most in the villages occupied by the new settlers.
Thus, of the population of the village of St. Crepin, in the
valley of the Durance, not fewer than one-tenth are deaf and
dumb, with a large proportion of idiots.]
There were other valleys in the same neighbourhood, whither we are now
wending, where the persecution, though equally ferocious, proved less
destructive; the inhabitants succeeding in making their escape into
comparatively inaccessible places in the mountains before they could
be put to the sword. For instance, in Val Fressinières--also opening
into the valley of the Durance a little lower down than Val
Louise--the Vaudois Church has never ceased to exist, and to this day
the majority of the inhabitants belong to it. From the earliest times
the people of the valley were distinguished for their "heresy;" and as
early as the fourteenth century eighty persons of Fressinières and
the neighbouring valley of Argentières,--willing to be martyrs rather
than apostates,--were burnt at Embrun because of their religion. In
the following century (1483) we find ninety-nine informations laid
before John Lord Archbishop of Embrun against supposed heretics of Val
Fressinières. The suspected were ordered to wear a cross upon their
dress, before and behind, and not to appear at church without
displaying such crosses. But it further appears from the records,
that, instead of wearing the crosses, most of the persons so informed
against fled into the mountains and hid themselves away in caves for
the space of five years.
The nest steps taken by the Archbishop are described in a Latin
manuscript,[103] of which the following is a translation:--
"Also, that in consequence of the above, the monk Francis
Splireti, of the order of Mendicants, Professor in Theology, was
deputed in the quality of Inquisitor of the said valleys; and
that in the year 1489, on the 1st of January, knowing that those
of Freyssinier had relapsed into infamous heresy, and had not
obeyed their orders, nor carried the cross on their dress, but on
the contrary had received their excommunicated and banished
brethren without delivering them over to the Church, sent to them
new citation, to which not having appeared, an adjournment of
their condemnation as hardened heretics, when their goods would
be confiscated, and themselves handed over the secular power, was
made to the 28th of June; but they remaining more obstinate than
ever, so much so that no hope remains of bringing them back, all
persons were forbidden to hold any communication whatsoever with
them without permission of the Church, and it was ordered by the
Procureur Fiscal that the aforesaid Inquisitor do proceed,
without further notice, to the execution of his office."
[Footnote 103: This was one of the MSS deposited by Samuel
Morland (Oliver Cromwell's ambassador to Piedmont) at
Cambridge in 1658, and is quoted by Jean Leger in his History
of the Vaudois Churches.]
What the execution of the Inquisitor's office meant, is, alas! but too
well known. Bonds and imprisonment, scourgings and burnings at Embrun.
The poor people appealed to the King of France for help against their
persecutors, but in vain. In 1498 the inhabitants of Fressinières
appeared by a procurator at Paris, on the occasion of the new
sovereign, Louis XII., ascending the throne. But as the King was then
seeking the favour of a divorce from his wife, Anne of Brittany, from
Pope Alexander VI., he turned a deaf ear to their petition for mercy.
On the contrary, Louis confirmed all the decisions of the clergy, and
in return for the divorce which he obtained, he granted to the Pope's
son, the infamous Cæsar Borgia, that very part of Dauphiny inhabited
by the Vaudois, together with the title of Duke of Valentinois. They
had appealed, as it were, to the tiger for mercy, and they were
referred to the vulture.
The persecution of the people of the valleys thus suffered no
relaxation, and all that remained for them was flight into the
mountains, to places where they were most likely to remain unmolested.
Hence they fled up to the very edge of the glaciers, and formed their
settlements at almost the farthest limits of vegetation. There the
barrenness of the soil, the inhospitality of the climate, and the
comparative inaccessibility of their villages, proved their security.
Of them it might be truly said, that they "wandered about in
sheepskins and goat-skins; being destitute, afflicted, tormented (of
whom the world was not worthy); they wandered in deserts and in
mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth." Yet the character of
these poor peasants was altogether irreproachable. Even Louis XII.
said of them, "Would to God that I were as good a Christian as the
worst of these people!" The wonder is that, in the face of their
long-continued persecutions, extending over so many centuries, any
remnant of the original population of the valleys should have been
preserved. Long after the time of Louis XII. and Cæsar Borgia, the
French historian, De Thou (writing in 1556), thus describes the people
of Val Fressinières: "Notwithstanding their squalidness, it is
surprising that they are very far from being uncultivated in their
morals. They almost all understand Latin; and are able to write fairly
enough. They understand also as much of French as will enable them to
read the Bible and to sing psalms; nor would you easily find a boy
among them who, if he were questioned as to the religious opinions
which they hold in common with the Waldenses, would not be able to
give from memory a reasonable account of them."[104]
[Footnote 104: De Thou's History, book xxvii.]
After the promulgation of the Edict of Nantes, the Vaudois enjoyed a
brief respite from their sufferings. They then erected temples,
appointed ministers, and worshipped openly. This, however, only lasted
for a short time, and when the Edict was revoked, and persecution
began again, in the reign of Louis XIV., their worship was suppressed
wherever practicable. But though the Vaudois temples were pulled down
and their ministers banished, the Roman Catholics failed to obtain a
footing in the valley. Some of the pastors continued to brave the fury
of the persecutors, and wandered about from place to place among the
scattered flocks, ministering to them at the peril of their lives.
Rewards were offered for their apprehension, and a sort of "Hue and
Cry" was issued by the police, describing their age, and height, and
features, as if they had been veritable criminals. And when they were
apprehended they were invariably hanged. As late as 1767 the
parliament of Grenoble condemned their pastor Berenger to death for
continuing to preach to congregations in the "Desert."
This religious destitution of the Vaudois continued to exist until a
comparatively recent period. The people were without either pastors or
teachers, and religion had become a tradition with them rather than an
active living faith. Still, though poor and destitute, they held to
their traditional belief, and refused to conform to the dominant
religion. And so they continued until within the last forty years,
when the fact of the existence of these remnants of the ancient
Vaudois in the valleys of the High Alps came to the knowledge of Felix
Neff, and he determined to go to their help and devote himself to
their service.
* * * * *
One would scarcely expect to find the apostle of the High Alps in the
person of a young Swiss soldier of artillery. Yet so it was. In his
boyhood, Neff read Plutarch, which filled his mind with admiration of
the deeds of the great men of old. While passing through the soldier
phase of his career the "Memoirs of Oberlin" accidentally came under
his notice, the perusal of which gave quite a new direction to his
life. Becoming impressed by religion, his ambition now was to be a
missionary. Leaving the army, in which he had reached the rank of
sergeant at nineteen, he proceeded to prepare himself for the
ministry, and after studying for a time, and passing his preliminary
examinations, he was, in conformity with the custom of the Geneva
Church, employed on probation as a lay helper in parochial work. In
this capacity Neff first went to Mens, in the department of Isère,
where he officiated in the absence of the regular pastor, as well as
occasionally at Vizille, for a period of about two years.
It was while residing at Mens that the young missionary first heard of
the existence of the scattered communities of primitive Christians on
the High Alps, descendants of the ancient Vaudois; and his mind became
inflamed with the desire of doing for them what Oberlin had done for
the poor Protestants of the Ban de la Roche. "I am always dreaming of
the High Alps," he wrote to a friend, "and I would rather be stationed
there than under the beautiful sky of Languedoc."
But it was first necessary that he should receive ordination for the
ministry; and accordingly in 1823, when in his twenty-fifth year, he
left Mens with that object. He did not, however, seek ordination by
the National Church of Geneva, which, in his opinion, had in a great
measure ceased to hold Evangelical truth; but he came over to London,
at the invitation of Mr. Cook and Mr. Wilks, two Congregational
ministers, by whom he was duly ordained a minister in the Independent
Chapel, Poultry.
Shortly after his return to France, Neff, much to his own
satisfaction, was invited as pastor to the very district in which he
so much desired to minister--the most destitute in the High Alps.
Before setting out he wrote in his journal, "To-morrow, with the
blessing of God, I mean to push for the Alps by the sombre and
picturesque valley of L'Oisan." After a few days, the young pastor was
in the scene of his future labours; and he proceeded to explore hamlet
after hamlet in search of the widely-scattered flock committed to his
charge, and to arrange his plans for the working of his extensive
parish.
But it was more than a parish, for it embraced several of the most
extensive, rugged, and mountainous arrondissements of the High Alps.
Though the whole number of people in his charge did not amount to more
than six or seven hundred, they lived at great distances from each
other, the churches to which he ministered being in some cases as much
as eighty miles apart, separated by gorges and mountain-passes, for
the most part impassable in winter. Neff's district extended in one
direction from Vars to Briançon, and in another from Champsaur in the
valley of the Drac to San Veran on the slope of Monte Viso, close to
the Italian frontier. His residence was fixed at La Chalp, above
Queyras, but as he rarely slept more than three nights in one place,
he very seldom enjoyed its seclusion.
The labour which Neff imposed upon himself was immense; and it was
especially in the poorest and most destitute districts that he worked
the hardest. He disregarded alike the summer's heat and the winter's
cold. His first visit to Dormilhouse, in Val Fressinières, was made in
January, when the mountain-paths were blocked with ice and snow; but,
assembling the young men of the village, he went out with them armed
with hatchets, and cut steps in the ice to enable the worshippers from
the lower hamlets to climb up to service in the village church. The
people who first came to hear him preach at Violens brought wisps of
straw with them, which they lighted to guide them through the snow,
while others, who had a greater distance to walk, brought pine
torches.
Nothing daunted, the valiant soldier, furnished with a stout staff and
shod with heavy-nailed shoes, covered with linen socks to prevent
slipping on the snow, would set out with his wallet on his back across
the Col d'Orcières in winter, in the track of the lynx and the
chamois, with the snow and sleet beating against his face, to visit
his people on the other side of the mountain. His patience, his
perseverance, his sweetness of temper, were unfailing. "Ah!" said one
unbelieving Thomas of Val Fressinières in his mountain patois, "you
have come among us like a woman who attempts to kindle a fire with
green wood; she exhausts her breath in blowing it to keep the little
flame alive, but the moment she quits it, it is instantly
extinguished."
Neff nevertheless laboured on with hope, and neither discouragement
nor obstruction slackened his efforts. And such labours could not fail
of their effect. He succeeded in inspiring the simple mountaineers
with his own zeal, he evoked their love, and excited their
enthusiastic admiration. When he returned to Dormilhouse after a brief
absence, the whole village would turn out and come down the mountain
to meet and embrace him. "The rocks, the cascades, nay, the very
glaciers," he wrote to a friend, "all seemed animated, and presented a
smiling aspect; the savage country became agreeable and dear to me
from the moment its inhabitants were my brethren."
Unresting and indefatigable, Neff was always at work. He exhorted the
people in hovels, held schools in barns in which he taught the
children, and catechised them in stables. His hand was in every good
work. He taught the people to sing, he taught them to read, he taught
them to pray. To be able to speak to them familiarly, he learnt their
native patois, and laboured at it like a schoolboy. He worked as a
missionary among savages. The poor mountaineers had been so long
destitute of instruction, that everything had as it were to be begun
with them from the beginning. Sharing in their hovels and stables,
with their squalor and smoke, he taught them how to improve them by
adding chimneys and windows, and showed how warmth might be obtained
more healthfully than by huddling together in winter-time with the
cattle. He taught them manners, and especially greater respect for
women, inculcating the lesson by his own gentleness and tender
deference. Out of doors, he showed how they might till the ground to
greater advantage, and introduced an improved culture of the potato,
which more than doubled the production. Observing how the pastures of
Dormilhouse were scorched by the summer sun, he urged the adoption of
a system of irrigation. The villagers were at first most obstinate in
their opposition to his plans; but he persevered, laid out a canal,
and succeeded at last in enlisting a body of workmen, whom he led out,
pickaxe in hand, himself taking a foremost part in the work; and at
last the waters were let into the canal amidst joy and triumph. At
Violens he helped to build and finish the chapel, himself doing
mason-work, smith-work, and carpenter-work by turns. At Dormilhouse a
school was needed, and he showed the villagers how to build one;
preparing the design, and taking part in the erection, until it was
finished and ready for use. In short, he turned his hand to
everything--nothing was too high or too low for this noble citizen of
two worlds. At length, a serious accident almost entirely disabled
him. While on one of his mountain journeys, he was making a détour
amongst a mass of rocky débris, to avoid the dangers of an avalanche,
when he had the misfortune to fall and severely sprain his knee. He
became laid up for a time, and when able to move, he set out for his
mother's home at Geneva, in the hope of recovering health and
strength; for his digestive powers were also by this time seriously
injured. When he went away, the people of the valleys felt as if they
should never see him more; and their sorrow at his departure was
heart-rending. After trying the baths of Plombiéres without effect, he
proceeded onwards to Geneva, which he reached only to die; and thus
this good and noble soldier--one of the bravest of earth's
heroes--passed away to his eternal reward at the early age of
thirty-one.
* * * * *
The valley of Fressinières--the principle scene of Neff's
labours--joins the valley of the Durance nearly opposite the little
hamlet of La Roche. There we leave the high road from Briançon to Fort
Dauphin, and crossing the river by a timber bridge, ascend the steep
mountain-side by a mule path, in order to reach the entrance to the
valley of Fressinières, the level of which is high above that of the
Durance. Not many years since, the higher valley could only be
approached from this point by a very difficult mountain-path amidst
rocks and stones, called the Ladder, or Pas de l'Échelle. It was
dangerous at all times, and quite impassable in winter. The mule-path
which has lately been made, though steep, is comparatively easy.
What the old path was, and what were the discomforts of travelling
through this district in Neff's time, may be appreciated on a perusal
of the narrative of the young pastor Bost, who in 1840 determined to
make a sort of pilgrimage to the scenes of his friend's labours some
seventeen years before. M. Bost, however, rather exaggerates the
difficulties and discomforts of the valleys than otherwise. He saw no
beauty nor grandeur in the scenery, only "horrible mountains in a
state of dissolution" and constantly ready to fall upon the heads of
massing travellers. He had no eyes for the picturesque though gloomy
lake of La Roche, but saw only the miserable hamlet itself. He slept
in the dismal little inn, as doubtless Neff had often done before, and
was horrified by the multitudinous companions that shared his bed;
and, tumbling out, he spent the rest of the night on the floor. The
food was still worse--cold _café noir_, and bread eighteen months old,
soaked in water before it could be eaten. His breakfast that morning
made him ill for a week. Then his mounting up the Pas de l'Échelle,
which he did not climb "without profound emotion," was a great trouble
to him. Of all this we find not a word in the journals or letters of
Neff, whose early life as a soldier had perhaps better inured him to
"roughing it" than the more tender bringing-up of Pastor Bost.
As we rounded the shoulder of the hill, almost directly overlooking
the ancient Roman town of Rama in the valley of the Durance
underneath, we shortly came in sight of the little hamlet of Palons, a
group of "peasants' nests," overhung by rocks, with the one good house
in it, the comfortable parsonage of the Protestant pastor, situated at
the very entrance to the valley. Although the peasants' houses which
constitute the hamlet of Palons are still very poor and miserable, the
place has been greatly improved since Neff's time, by the erection of
the parsonage. It was found that the pastors who were successively
appointed to minister to the poor congregations in the valley very
soon became unfitted for their work by the hardships to which they
were exposed; and being without any suitable domestic accommodation,
one after another of them resigned their charge.
To remedy this defect, a movement was begun in 1852 by the Rev. Mr.
Freemantle, rector of Claydon, Bucks, assisted by the Foreign Aid
Society and a few private friends, with the object of providing
pastors' dwellings, as well as chapels when required, in the more
destitute places. The movement has already been attended with
considerable success; and among its first results was the erection in
1857 of the comfortable parsonage of Palons, the large lower room of
which also serves the purpose of a chapel. The present incumbent is M.
Charpiot, of venerable and patriarchal aspect, whose white hairs are a
crown of glory--a man beloved by his extensive flock, for his parish
embraces the whole valley, about twelve miles in extent, including the
four villages of Ribes, Violens, Minsals, and Dormilhouse; other
pastors having been appointed of late years to the more distant
stations included in the original widely-scattered charge of Felix
Neff.
The situation of the parsonage and adjoining grounds at Palons is
charmingly picturesque. It stands at the entrance to the defile which
leads into Val Fressinières, having a background of bold rocks
enclosing a mountain plateau known as the "Camp of Catinat," a
notorious persecutor of the Vaudois. In front of the parsonage extends
a green field planted with walnut and other trees, part of which is
walled off as the burying-ground of the hamlet. Alongside, in a deep
rocky gully, runs the torrent of the Biasse, leaping from rock to rock
on its way to the valley of the Durance, far below. This fall, or
cataract, is not inappropriately named the "Gouffouran," or roaring
gulf; and its sullen roar is heard all through the night in the
adjoining parsonage. The whole height of the fall, as it tumbles from
rock to rock, is about four hundred and fifty feet; and about halfway
down, the water shoots into a deep, dark cavern, where it becomes
completely lost to sight.
