What indeed could be done? Oppression kept the boldest voices silent. It was necessary to draw up an energetic protest against error, and place it at the same moment, if possible, before the eyes of all France. Farel undertook the task; he could not write without making use of 'his trenchant style and thundering eloquence.'[201] He reflected on the evils that afflicted his country. Indignation guided his daring pen; his style was uneven, harsh perhaps, but masculine, nervous, and full of fire. At length the evangelical protest was written, and Farel laid it before his brethren, who accepted it, believing that it would be _like a hammer that breaketh the rock in pieces_. The document was taken to the printer's, and came out in two forms: in placards to be posted up against the walls, and little tracts that were to be dropped in the streets.[202] The sheets were packed up and intrusted to the care of Feret, who departed with the precious bales containing 'the thunderbolt forged on Farel's anvil.'[203] No one stopped him at the frontier; he traversed Franche-Comté, Burgundy, and Champagne without difficulty, and arrived in Paris. [Sidenote: DISCUSSION ABOUT THE PLACARDS.] The evangelical christians of the capital, impatient to receive news from Switzerland, assembled hastily, and Feret laid the placard before them. Those energetic words, written at the foot of the Jura, seemed strangely bold when they were read under the walls of the Sorbonne, and at the gates of the Louvre. That brave and pious minister, Courault, came forward in the meeting as the organ of the 'men of judgment,' as they were afterwards called. 'Let us beware of posting up these placards,' he said; 'we shall only inflame the rage of our adversaries thereby, and increase the dispersion of believers.' But on the other hand, those who were alarmed at the steps taken by Francis I. to unite the pope and the Gospel were delighted. 'Let us be cautious of so squaring our prudence,' they said, 'that it does not make us act like cowards. If we look timidly from one side to the other to see how far we can go without exposing our lives, we shall forsake Jesus Christ.' In their view it was of importance to confess the Lord in the sight of France, and in order to do so, they were ready, like the martyrs of old, to encounter death. Many of the opposite party gave way, and the publication of the placard was resolved on. These sincere Christians were so firmly convinced of the divinity of their doctrine, and so full of faith, that they expected an intervention from God—not a miraculous one indeed, but an extraordinary one—'a rushing mighty wind from heaven,' and 'cloven tongues like as of fire,' which should kindle all hearts. They thought that God would by this declaration open to France the gate of His spiritual treasures.