WANDERINGS AND MUSINGS IN THE VALLEYS OF THE WALDENSES
 

By James A. Wylie, LL.D

1858
 

CHAPTER IV.
 

ORIGIN AND ANTIQUITY OF THE WALDENSES
 
 
 

There awaits us on the threshold of the country of the Waldenses, to which we have now come, a short discussion touching the origin of this remarkable people.
 

Let us first premise that this small and heroic people bear different name in different countries. The Italians call them Valdesi; the French Vaudois. In Latin they were termed Vallenses or Valdenses, which the German and English write Waldenses. In their own peculiar dialect they entitle themselves Vaudes; each and every of which refers to their position, and means simply Valley men.
 

Were we to stumble upon a temple of pure Grecian architecture, in a land where the arts were unknown, we would naturally ask, "How came this temple here in the midst of these huts of savages? Who was it's builder? And what age was it erected?" Or were one to alight upon a plant, thousands and thousands of miles away from any known specimen of the same genus, and surrounded by plants of a totally different character, he would be very incurious indeed if he did not inquire, "Who carried thither the seed from which that plant has sprung, and when was it first dropped in the earth?"
 

It is the same marvel, but on a far greater scale, that meets us in the case of the Waldenses. In the midst of Europe we alight upon a handful of people totally dissimilar in their faith and their manner of worship from the nations around them. For hundreds of leagues on all sides of them, in France on the north, in Italy on the south, in Spain on the west, and Austria on the east, there reigns the rankest Popery - deep, unbroken night. Enter the Valleys of the Waldenses, you are amongst a new people. In their sanctuaries no image was ever seen, in their valleys mass was never sung. Their knee was never bowed to the great Baal of modern Europe. In this little territory, walled around by "hills whose heads touch heaven," you behold a simple people worshipping God as the apostles and first Christians worshipped Him. We are constrained to ask, "Who are you, and whence came you?"
 

Some have taught that the Waldenses were not till the twelfth century, and that they are sprung from Peter Waldo, or Lyons. This opinion, though supported by some great names, has been too lightly adopted. Historical evidence exists which proves incontestably that the Waldenses of Piedmont existed before Peter Waldo arose, or his sect was known; nay, that a full half century before his birth they had a testimony formally pointed against all the leading errors of the Church of Rome. Peter Waldo may have got his name and opinions from the Waldenses, but certainly not the Waldenses from Peter Waldo.
 

The whole question touching the antiquity of the Waldensian Church may be narrowed to a single point, and can be very intelligibly stated. Starting from the present hour, we can trace the existence of that Church down to the beginning of the twelfth century. The line runs on in blood - fearful persecutions, tremendous woes being the stepping-stones. Following these red prints, we are brought down to the year 1100, which is the date of the Nobla Leycon, the Confession of Faith of the Waldensian Church. This remarkable document stands at the beginning of the modern history of this Church, like a great tower or pillar, proclaiming that the Waldensian Church then existed, that she existed separate from Rome, that she was a Church protesting against Rome, and holding the doctrines of the apostles. After that year the Waldensian Church passes for a while beyond our view; a cloud receives her out of our sight.
 

Let us now go back to the beginning of Christianity, and see how far upwards we can trace the primitive Apostolic Church. Well, then, we are informed, that in the days of Nero certain Christians in the Theban legion fled to the Alps from persecution. To what part of the Alps did they flee? To the valleys at the foot of Monte Viso, the very valleys known at this day as the Valleys of the Waldenses. In the third century we know these valleys were the sear of a pure Christianity, for they had their martyrs, who bequeathed their names to the spots where they suffered, and these names these spots bear to this day. We may instance San Secundo and San Crisolo.
 

In the fourth century flourished Vigilantius, a famous opponent of image-worship and of all the superstitious practices of the time. The precise spot where Vigilantius lived is not determined, but it is universally conceded that it was in the north of Italy, and not far from the Cottian Alps, the same mountains which the Waldenses inhabit. This brings us, then, to the fourth century. The existence of a pure primitive Christianity in the north of Italy, for many succeeding centuries, is a fact well noted in history. The waters of error, issuing from Rome, overflowed Italy bit by bit, leaving uncovered the lower valleys of the Alps, and the great plains at their feet, for many centuries after the rest of Italy had been submerged. Numerous Churches, comparatively pure in doctrine, and tended by holy men, continued to flourish in Piedmont and Lombardy till the ninth and tenth centuries. "It was not till the eleventh century," says Dr M'Crie in his "Italy," "that the popes succeeded in establishing their authority at Milan." In the beginning of the ninth century, Claude, the famous Archbishop of Turin, and many neighboring bishops like-minded with Claude, continued nobly to resist the attempted usurpation of Rome, and to guard their flocks against the pestiferous errors and idolatrous practices by which she sought to overwhelm the gospel. The practices were denounced as innovations unknown to the Church, unknown to the apostles; and Rome, their author, was branded as beginning to kythe the arts of the harlot - the marks of Antichrist.
 

Thus have we brought down the history of the Church in the north of Italy to the beginning of the ninth century. Here the curtain falls; but mark, it does not fall on a Church at the point of death, but on a Church whose congregations ramified over Lombrady and Piedmont, and whose battle was still sustained by holy, faithful, and courageous bishops.
 

It is also material to observe, that when the curtain rises again, which it does some two centuries and a half after this, i.e. in the year 1100, it rises not on a young Church, with a few simple points of belief, but on a Church which even then bore marks of age, inasmuch as it had an elaborate and fully formed creed - the "Noble Lesson" to wit. A church that has a creed mush have a history.
 

Such, then, are the two terminal points of the history of the Church of "the Valleys" - the end of the eleventh century on the one side, and the beginning of the ninth century on the other. Between these two points is a chasm of some two centuries and a half, over which there is a very distinct bridge. Now, the question is simply this, Did the Church's existence run on during these two centuries and a half, although, from the darkness of the times, we cannot trace it? Or did the Church expire in the ninth century, and return to life again in the eleventh. There is not much room to hesitate here. The great preponderance of probability is, we think, on the side of the first alternative, even that the line of the Church's existence runs on, though it passes for a while our of our view.
 

Our reasons for regarding this as bay far the more probable supposition we shall state in a few sentences. Our first reason is the belief of the Waldenses themselves. They repeatedly, and in the most solemn circumstances, claimed the highest antiquity for their Church. In their preface to the first French Bible, dated "The Alps, 17th February 1535," they give thanks to God, who, from the times of the apostles, or those of their immediate successors, had enriched them with the treasure of His gospel, which they had ever since continued to enjoy.
 

They never approached the throne of their native princes of the House of Savoy without reminding them that the faith professed in the Valleys had been handed down from father to son from time immemorial, even from the days of the apostles. We never read of the claim being challenged. Their claim of antiquity was believed by Beza and others among the Reformers. It was also tacitly admitted by their bitterest enemies, who spoke of them as the most dangerous of all heretics, because the most ancient. The famous inquisitor Reinerius, who wrote about 1250, states it as the tradition in his day, that this heretical sect "has lasted from the time of Sylvester, others from that of the apostles." Had this sect been then only an hundred and fifty years old, such a tradition could scarce have existed respecting it. We shall only further cite the testimony or Rorenco, Prior or St Roch, in Turin, about 1640. This person was requested to investigate the origin and antiquity of the Waldenses, and of course had access to all the Waldensian documents then in the Ducal archives. He was their bitter enemy, and may be presumed not to have made his report more favorable than he could help. Rorenco states that "they were not a new sect in the ninth and tenth centuries, and that Claude of Turin must have detached them from the Church in the ninth century." The testimony of friend and foe is alike favorable to the idea that the Waldensian Church is the venerable remnant of the primitive Church of Italy.
 

The supposition that this Church had it's origin in the eleventh or twelfth century involves a miracle almost. How could a handful of peasants and shepherds, in the darkest period of Europe, and in the most secluded valleys of the Alps, without books, without intercourse with the world, have discovered the errors of Rome, and felt their way back to primitive doctrines and primitive practices? Churches do not spring from the earth full formed, they must grow. But when the Church of the Alps is seen at the beginning of the twelfth century, she is found to possess a perfect organization and a perfect testimony - the "NOBLE LESSON," - compelling the inference of a previous existence of some centuries.
 

The very obscurity that rests on it's origin is confirmatory of the high antiquity of the Waldensian Church. Had the Waldenses arisen in the end of the eleventh century, their appearance would have caused so great a commotion, would have provoked such a thunderburst of excommunications on the part of Rome, that their rise would have been as distinctly and historically marked as that of Peter Waldo and his followers. The very persecutions endured by that Church attest it's antiquity. Unless it had had centuries to root itself in the soil, it never could have withstood the violent storms with which it was assailed. The sapling would have gone down before these furious blasts. Moreover, it may be asked, why were there persecutors so intent on destroying every scrap of intelligence that might throw light on the previous history of the Waldenses? If these documents showed that they were of recent origin, and had embraced novel opinions, we may be sure they would have been carefully preserved, and produced in confutation of their claims to apostolic origin.
 

The very position of the Valleys in confirmatory of the idea if their early evangelization. Lying on the great highway of early times across the Alps, they must have been often traversed by evangelists and pastors, as they passed to and fro betwixt the Churches of France and Italy. In fine, if we understand anything at all of the true meaning of the Apocalypse, we are sure of this, that foretold that a small but competent number of witnesses should always be preserved on the Latin earth, testifying against the apostasy of the Latin Church. But if there was so considerable a period as two centuries and a half during which there was no Church, no witnesses on the earth - and if not in the Valleys, where else in Europe are we to look for them? - it will be hard to show that the prophecy has been made good.
 

We infer, then, that the lamp of the Alps was kindled in primitive times, and has burned on and on to our day. What first brought it prominently into notice was the darkness; for so long as there was a considerable body of light both north and south of the Alps, it was natural that this lamp should pass without much observation. But when the darkness thickened - when it deepened into midnight, which it did in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries - then it's rays began to attract the notice of it's foes, and it comes into view in history by the very efforts which were then made to extinguish it. But that lamp is more ancient than the darkness. The gorgeous hierarchy and pompous ritual of Italy in the new, the simple worship of "the Valleys" is the old.
 

They tell of Cicero that when a young man he went to Sicily. "Where," he asked at the magistrates, "is the tomb of Archimedes?" "The tomb of Archimedes, " they replied; "we did not know that he had a tomb." "Oh yes," said Cicero, "he had a tomb and it must be hereabouts." And setting to work, and clearing away the rubbish, they came upon a tomb of pure white marble, fresh as the day it was built, with the compass, the symbol of the philosopher's favorite science, graven upon it. The tomb of Archimedes was before them.
 

Then we go to Italy and ask, "Where is the primitive Church - the Church which Paul planted in this land, and which was renowned throughout the earth for it's faith? The Pope and the Cardinals reply, "There it is," pointing to the Vatican. We examine narrowly; we look beneath the purple, and fine linen, and gold, for the marks of the Church primitive and apostolic: we read only the image and superscription of Caesar. "No," we say, "this cannot be the primitive Church: that Church must be somewhere else." Following the indications of history, we leave the threshold of the Vatican, and turn to the Alps. "Here is a Church," we exclaim, "buried deep amid the shadows of the mountains, with an open Bible graven upon it as it's symbol. This must be the Church primitive and apostolic."
 

But what a change! What a transformation! When Paul and the primitive fathers went to their rest, they left the Church on the banks of the Tiber; the twelfth century found her of the banks of the Angrogna. The first three centuries saw her seated amid the remains of the genius and art of classic antiquity; the middle ages beheld her dwelling amid the forests and glaciers of Mote Viso and Sella Vecchia. And had Paul returned to the world, he would, without peradventure, have said, "This is the Church I planted; not this in the marble halls of the Vatican, but this amid the grassy slopes of the Pra del Tor: these are my successors, not these mitered and purple-clad men, but these white-haired patriarchs and pastors, who here, in these mountain-engirdled valleys, feed their flocks by these waters which flow, not from the poisoned fount of tradition, but from the pure and eternal source of God's own Word."