ULRICH ZWINGLI

1484-1531

THE SWISS REFORMER

J. G. HESS.

 

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AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

 

The reformation of the sixteenth century, which separated a great part of Christendom from the Romish Church, whether its causes or its consequences are examined, may be regarded as one of the most interesting events of modern history.

Some individuals, of obscure birth, undertake to change the religious opinions of their contemporaries: habit, the veneration of the multitude foe all that is ancient, and a thousand different interests, oppose obstacles to them which would appear invincible—yet they surmount them with no other assistance than that derived from their own talents and courage. Docile to the voice of the reformers, whole nations desert the worship of their fathers; they reject dogmas long revered, and refuse to obey the decrees of that spiritual power which for a long series of ages had held dominion over consciences. Arts, letters, manners and politics, feel the effects of this violent shock; and a dispute which might at first have appeared interesting only to theologians, produces a moral revolution, the influence of which extends over the civilised world.

The opinions of the reformers were alternately attacked and defended with equal obstinacy and equal vehemence. On both sides there were men who forgot what is due to decency, justice, and charity, and gave themselves up to a culpable violence of passion. Ambition and revenge, taking advantage of the general irritation, excited bloody wars, and perpetuated the animosity of the two parties. Ages have been requisite to efface the remembrance of the evils caused by these religious dissensions, to pacify men’s minds, and to enable the voice of moderation to be heard. Time and the progress of knowledge have produced this happy change. Catholics and protestants have learned to do justice to each other; they acknowledge that men may be sincerely attached to each mode of faith, and that virtue may subsist under each.

France has suffered more than any other country, by intolerance and the fury of fanaticism. Formerly rent by factions which borrowed the name of religion to justify their excesses, and tormented by factions that disturbed her prosperity, she for a long time afterwards saw a portion of her inhabitants stripped of their rights, and deprived of the exercise of their worship.

At the present day, the protestant, reassuming the character of a citizen, may publicly profess his opinions; and wise laws, dictated by the greatest monarch of Europe, confirm the peace between the two Christian communities, secure liberty of conscience, and banish those distinctions which recall the memory of ancient enmities. Thanks to these principles of tolerance, it is now permitted to depict the authors of the reformation in the colours in which they appeared to their partisans; that is, as men of great energy, full of enthusiasm for what they believed true and just, and en­tirely devoted to the cause which they had embraced.

The reformer whose life will here be read, enjoys less celebrity than Luther and Calvin; either because his life is not connected with great political events, or because his disciples have not been designated by his name. Yet was he inferior to neither of them in talents or in knowledge. Coeval with Luther, and older than Calvin he was indebted for his opinions to no one, but raised himself above his age by the liberality of his own ideas. The circumstances which contributed to give a new direction to his mind, and the means that he employed to induce his fellow-citizens to adopt his system, appeared to me a subject capable of exciting interest. I have endeavoured to treat it in such a manner as to place the character and conduct of Zwingli in their true light: if I have succeeded, the reader, whatever may be his own faith, will certainly be unable to refuse him his esteem.

 

 

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.

The merit of Zwingli, and the general reasons that may render his biography an object of attention, the reader will find sufficiently explained in the simple and candid preface of M. Hess himself. His translator will therefore confine herself to a few remarks on the particular circumstances which impart an incidental interest to the work here offered to an English public. In the present scantiness of our information respecting the internal condition of France, a document tending to throw light upon the state of religion in that country will not be regarded with indifference.

It will be recollected, that the prodigious extension of territory which comprehended Switzerland and part of Germany within the limits of France, compelled its ruler to sanction the establishment of three different forms of Christianity within his empire; consequently, we can no longer be surprised to receive from the Paris press, works, which could formerly only have issued from those of Holland or Geneva: but it may be matter of satisfaction to ob­serve, that the reformed are actually availing g themselves of the rights which they have acquired, and that some compensation is thus made for the loss of independence of those once celebrated asylums of learning and free speculation.

Keen ridicule of the doctrines and ceremonies of popery was often connived at under the indulgent inspectorship of the virtuous Malesherbes, and the lax administration of the last of the Bourbons: the “life of Zwingli” may prove that a sober exposure of its errors and abuses is openly permitted under the strict and scrutinising government of Napoleon. The latter mode of attack, upon what was then the only established religion, would scarcely have been allowed under the old order of things; the former may perhaps be forbidden at present: no doubt religion is a gainer by the change.

Zwingli departed more widely in doctrine from the Romish church, than cither of the eminent reformers whose churches are now established in France; yet M. Hess may give his system to the public without molestation; and this extensive liberty of promulgating their opinions, granted to the sects of Protestantism, can scarcely fail of producing serious effects, though it is probable that Bonaparte will still preserve some control over that spirit of religious inquiry, with which, a zeal for civil freedom so frequently and naturally connects itself.

The attentive reader will observe occasionally, in the measured expressions of the biographer of Zwingli, and his scrupulous anxiety to draw a broad line of distinction between the more sober reformers, and the wild sects who were enemies of all regular government, that kind of apprehensiveness, which must’ necessarily haunt every man of free and generous sentiments, when writing under the eye of a despot. Either this sentiment, or some prejudice of his own, has rendered him a little uncharitable in his imputation of motives to Mantz and Grebel, the anabaptist leaders in Switzerland; and in his transactions with them, if any where, Zwingli may possibly be thought to have made some sacrifice of his particular opinions, to the prosperity of the reformation in general. Had not the fanatics rendered adult baptism the badge of their sect, Zwingli would apparently have embraced it, as most conformable to the scriptural notion of that rite.

From the earnest recommendations of classical learning which more than once occur, we may perhaps infer how much that branch of study is neglected in France, where all examinations for degrees are now in the native tongue, and do not suppose the knowledge of any other.

After perusing the eloquent pleadings by which Zwingli thought it his duty, as a patriot and a Christian, to deter his countrymen from entering as mercenaries into foreign services, the note appended by his biographer will not be read without a mixture of pity and indignation. It must be regarded as the miserable offering of fear, wrung from the reluctant hands of morality and religion, by a military tyrant, who would rather tolerate any heresy, than that benignant philosophy which would establish the reign of peace and equity over the face of the earth. How little can the manliness of sincerity, and the unbendingness of rectitude, consist with the privation of political liberty!

It is chiefly the merit of a lively and feeling narrative of facts, that the translator would claim for this volume, which is designed for general reading, and is probably not the work of a profound theologian. It contains explanations of terms and things familiar to all but mere beginners in divinity; it enters into no deep discussions of controverted points; but aims at giving such a picture of the truly evangelical character and spirit of the Swiss reformer and his doctrine as, by interesting the heart, may gently invite the reason to a closer investigation of those principles, which it was the business of his life to inculcate.

 

 

 

PART I

 

 

Ulric Zwingli was born January 1st 1484, at Wildhaus, a village of the county of Tockenburg in Switzerland. Lofty mountains and narrow valleys, covered with wood and pasturage, occupy the whole surface of this small district, the principal riches of which consist in its numerous flocks and herds. The inhabitants of Tockenburg, formerly governed by Counts of the same name, came in the fifteenth century under the domination of the Abbot of St. Gall, who was both a prince of the empire, and a member of the Helvetic confederacy; and they had contracted an alliance with the Swiss Cantons which protected them from every arbitrary act of oppression, and guaranteed to them the privileges that they had successively obtained from their masters. The extremes of wealth and poverty were equally unknown, and the only distinction recognized among them was that conferred by the reputation of perfect integrity. 

It was in the midst of this pastoral people that the father of Zwingli passed his life. He was a simple peasant, but he enjoyed an easy competence, and he had deserved the esteem of his fellow citizens, by whom the office of first magistrate of the district was confided to him. Born in so obscure a situation, it is probable that young Ulric would never have stepped beyond the narrow sphere of his village, had not the promising dispositions which he manifested in his childhood, determined his father to consecrate him to the church, and to procure him the means of a learned education. With this intention, he sent him first to Basil, and then to Bern, where a school of polite literature was lately founded. The instructions he there received were principally in latin; and his masters were not content with giving him a grammatical knowledge of the language; they also taught him to feel the beauties of the classical authors, and caused him to study the rules of eloquence and poetry, in the models left us by the ancients? This study, long continued, greatly assisted in unfolding the talents of young Zwingli. Nothing indeed is better calcu­lated to expand the intellectual faculties, than the well-directed study of the dead languages, from the tenderest age. The continual application of the rules, perpetually revives the attention of the scholar; the necessity of clothing the same idea under different forms, and the choice of expressions more or less elegant, noble, or energetic, exercises at once the taste and the judgment, without fatiguing young minds with a chain of ideas above their comprehension.

During his abode at Bern, Zwingli had nearly embraced a vocation which would have changed the whole colour of his life. The Dominicans at that time exerted great influence in this city, as well by their preaching, as by exercising the office of confessors. Eager to preserve the authority they enjoyed, they sought to attach to themselves young men of talents, fitted to support the credit of the order. The qualities announced by Zwingli fixed upon him their attention, and profiting by the indiscretion of a youth abandoned to his own guidance, they prevailed upon him to come and reside in their convent, till he should have attained the age requisite for entering upon the noviciate. Zwingli’s father disapproved of this step; he dreaded irrevocable engagements taken in early life, and in order to break the connection of his son with the Dominicans, he ordered him to quit Bern, and repair to Vienna, the university of which city enjoyed great celebrity. Zwingli obeyed; arrived at his new place of destination, and applied himself to the study of philosophy. Had this science then been what it afterwards became in the hands of Descartes, Locke, and Leibnitz, Zwingli would doubtless have found it as attractive as his former studies; but what was at that time decorated with the name of philosophy, was nothing but a mass of definitions of things indefinable; of subtilties the more admired the less they were understood. So barren a study could have no charms for the mind of Zwingli, which had been nourishing itself on the works of the ancients. He surmounted his repugnance however, being aware that no one could pretend to the title of a man of letters, without having threaded the mazes of scholastic philosophy, which enjoyed at that time too high a reputation to allow a young man, still diffident of his own judgment, to call in question the utility of its conclusions. This science did not contribute to enlarge the ideas of Zwingli, but it at least enabled him afterwards to defend himself with the same weapons employed by his adversaries in attacking him.

After two years passed at Vienna, Zwingli returned to his father’s house, but did not long remain there. The knowledge that he had already acquired was not sufficient for him; he was desirous both of adding to his store, and of applying what he already possessed: in a village it was impossible to do either. He therefore repaired a second time to Basil, and there began his career as an instructor. The situation of a teacher having become vacant, it was intrusted to Zwingli, a stranger, and scarcely eighteen years of age, and he laboured with success to facilitate and encourage the study of the ancient languages that study which prepared the revival of letters in the fifteenth century, and which will at all times afford the best basis for a liberal education. The duties of his situation by no means absorbed the whole active mind of Zwingli; he continued to learn as well as to teach. Among the authors which engaged his attention, we shall content ourselves with enumerating, Horace, Sallust, Pliny, Seneca, Aristotle, Plato, and Demosthenes. He professed for none of these writers that exclusive and servile admiration so common at a period when a blind submission to the decisions of his master was looked upon as the highest virtue of a disciple, and when the most learned men were content to comment upon the ideas of others, without permitting themselves to entertain any of their own. He studied them all with equal attention, and appropriated to himself what he found true and admirable in each. This labour gave him vigour to break the bands in which scholastic philosophy had, to a certain degree, fettered his understanding; it elevated him above his age, and preserved him from the narrowness of most of his contemporaries; it diffused a noble freedom through all his opinions, taught him to make use of his reason, and kindled in his soul a love of truth, and an ardent desire to promote its triumph over error.

In the meantime Zwingli did not neglect the studies peculiar to the profession for which he was designed by his father; and with the same zeal that distinguished him in all his pursuits, he applied himself to theology. This science no longer resembled what it had been in the time of those eloquent men who illustrated the first ages of Christianity by their virtues no less than their talents. Instead of taking the sacred code of Christians for the basis of their instructions, the theologians of the fifteenth century founded their systems on some propositions drawn from Scotus, Occam, or Albertus Magnus, whose now forgotten writings, enjoyed at that period an authority at least equal to that of scripture. These doctors, neglecting all that is really useful to man, were not ashamed to occupy the minds of their disciples with the dreams of their own fantastical imaginations. One entered into so exact a description of hell, that it might have been thought he had made a long abode there; another explained the formation of the universe, as if he had been present at its creation; a third discussed the question whether after the resurrection we should be allowed to eat and drink; a fourth inquired whether God could have caused his Son to appear in the form of a stone, and in this case, how a stone could have preached and worked miracles.

Such were the subjects on which the professors of theology discoursed to their auditors, in a barbarous language which they called latin. It was certainly necessary to invent new words to express a number of new distinctions at least, if not ideas, but the theologians even affected a style remote from that of the ancients, and contemptuously distinguished by the name of grammarians those who, in writing the language of Cicero, were desirous of making him their model; it was indeed prudent to awe the profane by an unintelligible phraseology, and to conceal under an obscurity of terms the absence of ideas. Besides, the very labour requisite to become familiar with this terminology, attached to the doctrine of the schools those who had at length, after painful efforts, succeeded. Who could believe that what had cost him so much pains to learn, was not the truth? If any man of an understanding superior to the rest, after having exhausted all their systems, perceived at length that the pretended results of so much meditation were nothing but words without meaning, he kept to himself the melancholy discovery, for fear of drawing upon himself the hatred of. the heads of schools, who were always ready to tax new opinions with heresy. Few however were the minds capable of resisting the operation of all these absurdities. A method of instruction which consisted in filling the memory with a mass of distinctions, conclusions, and syllogisms, must necessarily have paralysed the intellect, and deprived the scholar of the power of thinking, at the same time that an opinion of the infallibility of his masters robbed him of the will. Uncommon talents, assisted by fortunate circumstances, were requisite to prevent a man from being carried away by the general stream. Zwingli possessed the former, and profited by the latter: his frequent change of masters prevented him from following the uniform direction of any one; and the knowledge of classical authors acquired in his early youth, had so far opened his understanding, that he would no longer suffer it to be brought into blind subjection. He had also the good fortune to find, among the professors at Basil, a man who, without having had the courage entirely to renounce the ancient system of the schools, had sounder ideas on several points of doctrine than most of his contemporaries. Zwingli in his letters acknowledges great obligations to this theologian, named Thomas Wyttembach, whose lectures he had attended, and with whom he maintained a friendly correspondence till his death. When Zwingli attacked the opinions of the Romish church, Wyttembach took great interest in his efforts, though his advanced age did not allow him to enlist himself among the combatants. He more than once bitterly regretted to his old disciple, the precious years that he had caused his pupils to waste in vain disputes of words, and puerile discussions.

The historians of Zwingli give scarcely any particulars of his abode at Basil, either because they knew nothing of this period of his life, or because the circumstances that served to develop his genius, had not sufficiently excited their curiosity. They content themselves with remarking, that he there took the degree of Master of Arts. This title, honourable when it was only granted to merit, had ceased to be so in the eyes of enlightened men since the universities had made a traffic of it. But the multitude retained its old respect for these distinctions, and unless decorated by them, the most learned man enjoyed no authority. Zwingli conformed in this respect to the spirit of his age. It was not necessary for him to have recourse to the favour of his superiors; his talents, and the services that he had already rendered to the academy of Basil, were sufficient to procure him the rank he desired.

In the midst of the most assiduous application, and the most serious kinds of employment, Zwingli never lost his amiable gaiety; nor did he cease to cultivate a talent the elements of which he had acquired in his childhood—that of music. This art then formed an essential part of the education of young men destined to the ecclesiastical profession. Zwingli regarded it as an amusement calculated to refresh the mind after fatiguing exertion, and thus to give it new strength, while it softened a too great austerity of disposition; he therefore frequently recommended it to men devoted to a laborious and sedentary life.

Zwingli had resided four years at Basil, when the burghers of Glaris, the chief town of the canton of that name, chose him for their pastor. He accepted this situation, which brought him nearer to his family, and repaired thither after receiving holy orders, which were conferred upon him by the bishop of Constance, in whose diocese the canton of Glaris was situated. In order worthily to acquit himself of the ministry intrusted to him, Zwingli thought that he stood in need of deeper and more extensive learning than he already possessed. He accordingly resolved to recommence his theological studies after a plan that he had himself traced out, and which was very different from that followed in the universities. An assiduous perusal of the New Testament preceded his fresh researches. In order to render himself more familiar with St. Paul’s epistles, he copied the Greek text with his own hand, adding in the margin a multitude of notes extracted from the fathers of the church, as well as his own observations, and this interesting manuscript still exists in the public library of Zurich. The attention of Zwingli was from this time directed to the passages of scripture cited in the canon of the mass, and to those which serve as a basis to the dogmas and most essential precepts of the church. Their interpretation had long been fixed, but Zwingli thought it inexcusable in a man appointed to instruct his fellow Christians to rest upon the decision of others on points that he might himself examine. He therefore followed of an author, which consists in interpreting an obscure passage by a similar and clearer one; and an unusual word by one more familiar; regard being had to time, place, the intention of the writer, and a number of other circumstances which modify and often change the signification of words. After endeavouring to explain the text of the gospel by itself, Zwingli also made himself acquainted with the interpretations given by other theologians, especially by the fathers of the church, who, having lived nearer the times of the apostles, must have understood their language better than the modern doctors. It was in the writings of the fathers that he also studied the manners and customs of the first Christians; followed them through the persecutions of which they were the victims; observed the rapid progress of the rising church; and admired that astonishing revolution which by degrees elevated the new religion to the throne of the Caesars—an event prosperous in appearance, but which, in more than one instance, rendered Christianity subservient to the same passions which in its humbler state it had commanded with such complete authority. From the fathers, Zwingli went on to the obscure authors of the middle ages: their rude style and absurd opinions would soon have discouraged him, had he not wished to become minutely informed of the state of Christianity during these ages of ignorance. He did not limit himself to the writers approved by the church. “In the midst of a field covered with noxious weeds,” would he often say “salutary herbs may sometimes be found.” On this principle, he read without prejudice the works of several authors accused of heresy, particularly those of Ratramn, otherwise Bertram, a monk of the ninth century, whose opinions on the eucharist, though conformable to those of preceding ages, were condemned by the court of Rome; those of the Englishman Wickliff, a writer of the fourteenth century, who rejected the invocation of saints and monastic vows; and those of John Huss, condemned to the stake by the council of Constance, for attempting to diminish the excessive authority of the church, and set bounds to the temporal power of the clergy.

It was not from mere curiosity that Zwingli undertook these long and painful studies, but for the sake of fixing his faith on a solid and immoveable foundation. He did not refuse to conform to the decisions of the church, but he wished to know the grounds of these decisions, and to learn upon what proofs the doctrine rested which had been transmitted to him. The result of this examination was very different from what he expected. He found some among the dogmas to which the highest importance was attached by the doctors of his time, to be entirely contrary to the spirit of the gospel; others appeared to him to be founded on erroneous interpretations of certain passages of scripture, which owed their origin either to ignorance, or to a spirit of system still more fatal to truth. It appeared to him that the mode of worship had also undergone considerable changes. The nearer he traced Christianity to its source, the less he found it encumbered with the multitude of observances in which his contemporaries made the essence of religion to consist. According to the gospel, Christian worship ought only to be addressed to the Creator, and his heavenly messenger; and such had been the doctrine of the church during the early ages; afterwards other objects had been offered to the adoration of the people, venerable no doubt, but by no means worthy of the rank to which they had been raised. Zwingli did justice however to the intentions of those by whom most of these innovations had been introduced. He saw that some had been desirous of reviving the languid piety of the faithful by new ceremonies; that others, for fear of alienating the minds of rude nations lately converted to Christianity, had tolerated some relics of their ancient customs; and that others again, seeing the incapacity of the multitude to enter into abstract ideas, had chosen to address their senses rather than their reason. This condescension appeared to him laudable in its motives, but pernicious in its effects. It had become the source of a crowd of abuses; had brought back into Christian worship a great number of ceremonies the origin of which was to be found in paganism, and had insensibly impaired the purity of Christian morals.

In the eyes of Zwingli, the almost unbounded power of the priests appeared contrary to gospel principles. He was sufficiently aware that the clerical body now required a different organization from that of the first ages; but he thought that the servants of the altar, far from seeking to withdraw themselves from the jurisdiction of the temporal magistrate, ought to have afforded the example of constant submission to the established power. If anciently the warlike and unfeeling disposition of the laity had rendered desirable the more gentle and peaceful dominion of the clergy, this state of things had ceased. It was time to renounce an authority several functions of which were incompatible with the character of a minister of peace.

However justly these reflections appeared to Zwingli to be founded, he was in no haste to make them known. He was too deeply penetrated with the importance of the subjects that employed him, not to feel the necessity of meditating long before he gave any publicity to his ideas; and he only allowed himself to submit them to the examination of some learned men with whom he maintained an active correspondence. Zwingli followed this course during the ten years of his abode at Glaris. Without directly attacking the abuses authorised by the Romish church, he confined himself in his sermons to the doctrines which he found clearly laid down in the scriptures, and to the moral precepts to be deduced from them. He took every opportunity of repeating to his audience, that in matters of faith, we ought to refer ourselves to the word of God contained in the scriptures, to regard as superfluous all that was unknown, and as false, all that was contrary to them. The time was not yet come for unfolding the consequences of this maxim; it was necessary to prepare the minds of men to receive the new light, and Zwingli thought that this could not be done better than by insisting upon the practice of all the Christian virtues, while most of the preachers of his time recommended nothing to their flocks but the external exercises of devotion. With so much prudence and moderation, Zwingli ought to have been secure from the assaults of calumny; yet he could not entirely escape. The purity of his morals, the extent of his learning, and his assiduous application, formed too strong a contrast with the indolence, ignorance, and scandalous conduct of most of his colleagues, not to draw upon him their hatred.

The corruption of the clergy in the age immediately preceding the reformation, is sufficiently known from the complaints of several Popes, and of the councils assembled for the purpose of applying some remedy to the evil. The clergy of Switzerland were not exempt from the general contagion, in point of morals: as to their ignorance, it was extreme, at which we ought not to be astonished, since the country did not then possess sufficient establishments for public instruction. The convents, in which most of the young priests received their education, were filled with ignorant and narrow-minded men, who could not give their disciples what they did not themselves possess. It was impossible however to leave the flocks without shepherds, and in the deficiency of candidates well qualified to perform the functions of the priesthood, it was often necessary to confer the vacant cures on young men destitute of learning, or of any real vocation to the profession.

A contemporary author relates, that in a synod composed of the rural deans of Switzerland, only three were found who had read the Bible; the others confessed that they were scarcely acquainted even with the New Testament. What could be expected of such preachers? Their sermons were miserable amplifications of the legend, enlivened with buffooneries worthy the stage of a mountebank, or absurd declamations on the merit and utility of certain superstitious practices. Those who possessed some learning, more occupied with the purpose of displaying it, than of edifying their audience, mingled in a whimsical manner the metaphysics of Aristotle with the doctrine of Christ. Most of the secular priests were either incapable of composing a discourse, or would not give themselves the trouble. They contented themselves with learning sermons written by monks, which they retailed again without regard to time or place, to the circumstances or the wants of their flock.

In the other functions of their office they took no interest, except inasmuch as they tended to augment their revenues; and irregularity of morals was so frequent among them, that they did not even attempt to conceal their deviations. In the midst of a clergy so incapable of feeling the importance and holiness of his ministry, a man such as we have described Zwingli, must be an object of hatred and jealousy. In fact, though he never hazarded any proposition that could be accused of heresy, the silence that he maintained on several dogmas important in the eyes of his adversaries, was imputed to him as a crime; he was reproached for speaking more, in his panegyrics on saints, of their virtues, than their miracles: it was complained that he did not insist enough on the utility of fasts and pilgrimages, and that he appeared to attach little importance to images and relics. If these accusations were attended with no serious consequences, it must be attributed to the independent spirit prevalent in the mountaineers among whom he lived. With them, a priest did not cease to be a citizen; and any violent measure taken against Zwingli, without the concurrence of the civil authority, would have been regarded by them as an infraction of their liberty: add to this, that his scrupulous exactness in fulfilling all his duties, had conciliated to Zwingli the respect and attachment of his parishioners; that his merit had gained him the friendship of the best men of the canton, and their protection was sufficient to shelter him from all persecution.

During his abode at Claris, Zwingli was called to the exercise of functions which perpetually interrupted the course of his studies. He was twice ordered by his government to accompany the troops of the canton in the capacity of chaplain. It was the custom with the Swiss to cause their armies to be attended by ministers of the altar, both to celebrate divine service, and assist the dying, and that they might diminish by their presence and exhortations the disorders to which the warriors of those times were but too much inclined. This respectable ministry was well suited to the firm and humane disposition of Zwingli. It were to be wished that those who have described the campaigns in Italy, had preserved some traits of the reformer, which might give a picture of his conduct at this period of his life; but they scarcely name him, and furnish no materials to bis biographer. The observation of the fatal passions called forth in his countrymen by these expeditions, had, however, so marked an effect on the political principles of Zwingli, that I feel it incumbent upon me to enter into some particulars on this subject. A rapid sketch of the motives which induced the Helvetic confederacy to take part in the wars of Italy at the beginning of the fifteenth century, and of the effects produced by them, will give the reader an idea of the moral and political state of the Swiss on the eve of the reformation.

Louis XII from the time of his accession to the throne, began to advance his claims upon the duchy of Milan against Lodovico Sforza, surnamed the Moor. The house of Sforza had come into possession of this duchy by the usurpation of Francesco Sforza, who, from a private soldier, had become Duke of Milan, to the prejudice of the descendants of the daughter of the last Visconti. Lodovico reigned by a new, and still more odious usurpation. Being entrusted with the guardianship of his nephew, he kept him in close imprisonment, even after he became of age; and when at length this unfortunate prince sunk under the ill treatment to which he was subjected, Lodovico assumed the title of Duke, without regard to the lawful claims of the children of his nephew. The army marched against him by Louis XII in a short time possessed itself of the whole duchy. Lodovico did not however regard himself as conquered, and he succeeded in raising a body of volunteers in Switzerland, notwithstanding the express prohibition of the Cantons, who were bound by treaty to the king of France. With this corps and some German troops furnished him by the emperor Maximilian, he recovered his states almost as rapidly as he had lost them.

Louis sent another army into Italy under the orders of the bailiff of Dijon, which had no sooner arrived in the Milanese, than it obtained several decisive advantages, and obliged the duke to throw himself into Novara, where he was soon besieged by forces superior to his own. After bombarding the city during several days, the bailiff of Dijon offered an honourable capitulation to the Swiss and German troops, on condition that the duke, with his Italian soldiers, should surrender at discretion. Violent debates arose upon this offer; at length the majority resolved to accept it. They seized upon Lodovico, but just as he was going to be delivered into the hands of the French, some Swiss officers took possession of his person in order to save him. They disguised him, and concealing him in their own ranks, hoped to convey him out of the city without being known. The French general, provoked at this, encircled the Swiss, caused his artillery to be pointed against them, and threatened to slaughter them all if they would not give up the duke. His threats being ineffectual, he had recourse to promises, and offered two hundred crowns to any one who would discover Sforza. A soldier of the canton of Ury, named Rodolph Thurmann, could not resist the temptation; the duke was taken and carried into France, where he died after a captivity of ten years. Thurmann, on returning to his country, was brought before the tribunals and punished with death for having betrayed the prince whom he served; but this just chastisement was not equally public with the action which incurred it, and the whole nation was accused of the crime of an individual. In all the Cantons, the leaders of the troops who had engaged themselves of their own authority to the duke of Milan were severely punished, which did not prevent this irregularity from being several times repeated during the wars occasioned by the league of Cambray. This league, apparently so formidable, underwent the fate of all coalitions. Its principal author, Pope Julius II alarmed at the ascendency which the French began to assume in the affairs of Italy, was the first to abandon it. He also succeeded in detaching the emperor Maximilian I and both in concert resolved to strip Louis XII of his Italian conquests, and to place on the ducal seat of Milan, Maximilian Sforza, son of Lodovico the Moor. In order to execute this project, they required the assistance of the Swiss Cantons, and it was necessary to begin by separating them from France, with which country they had a treaty subsisting. Happily for the pope, Louis XII had offended the Swiss by contesting with them the sovereignty of the town of Bellinzona, and by refusing to augment the stipends which he granted to the magistrates of the Cantons. When at the expiration of the term of the alliance it was proposed to renew it, Louis haughtily rejected the conditions required by the Swiss, and thus completely alienated their minds. The pope’s legate, Matthew Schinner, knew how to make advantage of the discontent caused by the king's answer, and obtained from the diet whatever he desired. This legate, known in history under the name of the cardinal of Sion, acted a very important part in Switzerland during a number of years. Born of poor parents in a village of the Valais, he chose the ecclesiastical profession, as being the only one which could open the path of honour to men of every class. After studying successively at Sion, Zurich, and Como, he returned to his own country, where he obtained a small cure. He led a sober and laborious life, devoting to study the leisure allowed by his clerical functions. Chance brought him acquainted with Jost de Silenen, bishop of Sion, who having stopped at his house on one of his visitations, was greatly astonished to find in the dwelling of a poor parish priest, books of jurisprudence and canon law, and entering into conversation with him, was struck with the extent of his knowledge and his facility of expression. He assured him of his protection, and soon performed the promise, by conferring on him the first canonry vacant at Sion. Some years afterwards, Jost de Silenen had several contests with the people of the Valais, in consequence of which he was obliged to quit this country. Schinner, who happened to be at Rome upon some affairs of his chapter, took advantage of this circumstance, and obtained of the pope the bishopric of Sion for himself. This elevation would have satisfied an ordinary ambition, but Schinner carried his views further. He felt himself possessed of talents sufficient to distinguish him on a wider theatre, and the situation of his country furnished him with the opportunity. France had neglected to attach him, but pope Julius granted him his entire confidence; he made him a cardinal in 1511, and named him legate of the holy see in Switzerland, and from that time Schinner remained inviolably attached to Rome. We may imagine how great an ascendency was given him by his ecclesiastical dignities, joined to an artful and insinuating eloquence, and an austerity of manners rare among the prelates of his time. By his intrigues and his promises, he obtained permission of the cantons to levy troops for the assistance of the pope against Louis XII who had just been excommunicated. Twenty thousand men were assembled in the Grison country in order to penetrate into Italy; and it was on this expedition that Zwingli for the first time accompanied the contingent of Glaris. Having obtained of the emperor a free passage through Tyrol, the Swiss army arrived at Verona without encountering any obstacle. The Venetian troops joined the Swiss under the walls of this city. The united armies continued their march; they forced several passages guarded by the French; every thing gave way before them: Cremona, Pavia, Milan, successively opened their gates, and the enemy evacuated the whole duchy except the castle of Milan and that of Novara. The cardinal of Sion rejoined his countrymen at Milan, and brought them, as a pledge of the gratitude of Julius II a ducal hat, on which was embroidered in pearls a dove, representing the Holy Spirit; a consecrated sword, two banners with the arms of the Holy See, and a standard for each of the thirteen cantons. The pope added to these presents his permission to them to assume in future the title of Defenders of the Church; and at the same time the officers and soldiers received their pay, and some extraordinary gratifications. The cardinal, in order to afford Zwingli a proof of his esteem and confidence, charged him with the distribution of the gifts of the pope.

The Swiss returned to their country loaded with gold and glory, leaving in Milan a garrison of six thousand men. A short time after, an embassy composed of the deputies of the cantons, repaired to Milan to install duke Maximilian Sforza, son of Lodovico, to whom the Helvetic Confederacy guarantied the possession of his duchy. Never was the power of the Swiss at so high a pitch, and never was their alliance so eagerly sought after by the neighbouring princes. The fate of the Milanese was not however decided. The French, enfeebled but not overcome, received powerful reinforcements, and the next year they were in a condition to resume the offensive. The inhabitants of the country, with a versatility natural to their disposition, deserted their new sovereign to enlist under the standard of Louis. Their defection forced the Swiss, who had remained with the duke, to retire into the town of Novara, where they awaited the arrival of the fresh troops which the cantons had dispatched in haste as soon as they learned the danger of their countrymen. Scarcely had this succour arrived, when they resolved to attack the French under Louis de la Tremouille. On the 6th of June, 1614, was fought the battle of Novara, enumerated by contemporary historians, among the most glorious exploits of the Swiss nation. The artillery of the enemy made at first great ravages among the Swiss, but they marched on undismayed, and after an engagement of five hours, gained a complete victory. The baggage, the military chest, and a great part of the French artillery, fell into their hands, but the victory was purchased by the blood of some of their best troops. On this account the return of the conquerors to their country, instead of causing general joy, gave rise to bitter complaints. All those who, without having shared in the advantages of the campaign, lamented the death of a son or a father, testified their discontent, regardless of the glory with which the army was crowned; but by one of those caprices to which popular feeling is liable, the weight of their hatred fell less upon the real authors of the war, than upon those whom they reproached with adhering to the French party. In several cantons, troubles were excited which could only be appeased by making strict search after the chiefs suspected of holding intelligence with France. Some were so fortunate as to save themselves from the fury of the populace by flight, but several lost their heads on the scaffold. Instead of attacking the root of the evil, the spirit of party wreaked its vengeance on individuals; and the obstinacy of the Swiss in adhering to alliances that drew them into wars with which they had nothing to do, was not long in bringing upon them reverses equally humiliating and unexpected.

Francis I succeeded Louis XII in 1515: he was not disposed to leave Maximilian Sforza in peaceable possession of Milan, and made formidable preparations for reconquering that duchy. Maximilian, being too weak alone to defend himself, conjured the Swiss to support their own work. The ambassadors of the emperor, and the cardinal of Sion in the name of his master, Leo X the successor of Julius II supported with all their authority the request of the duke. The Swiss thought their honour engaged to defend Sforza, whom they had themselves established in his duchy; and they also confided in the promises of which Maximilian I and Leo X were never sparing. The cantons sent successively se­veral bodies of troops into the Milanese, amounting in all to eighteen thousand men, which advanced to meet the French. Soon after, the approach of Francis himself at the head of a numerous army, induced them to fall back upon Turin. This retreat was attributed to a secret intelligence; the chiefs however alleged as its motive the great superiority of the enemy, which forbade them to expose their soldiers to an unequal contest. They dispatched couriers to the cantons to request succours, and a fresh body of 12,000 was sent, which augmented the Swiss army to above 30,000 combatants. We have once already seen Zwingli accompany the contingent of Claris into Italy, and become the witness of a signal victory; he now returned to behold a great disaster.

 

Francis I had followed the Swiss without however molesting them in their retreat. Although he ardently desired to make himself master of Milan, he was anxious to avoid combats which by weakening his army might impede the execution of his plans upon Naples, he therefore entered into negotiations with some Swiss captains attached to France, with whom he found no difficulty in succeeding. It was agreed that the Swiss should not prevent the French from occupying the Milanese; and that the king, on his part, should grant Maximilian Sforza an indemnification in France, and marry him to a princess of his own blood. If a male heir should spring from this union, France engaged to restore to him the duchy of Milan. This convention, made at Galeran, was carried into the Swiss camp by Albert de Stein, a Bernese, and a zealous partizan of France. He represented to his countrymen, that by stipulating for an indemnification to Sforza, they would fulfil their engagements towards him, and that this peace would be more useful to their country than a perilous war with so formidable a power as France. These representations were so well received by the troops of several cantons, that they immediately accepted the conditions proposed, without waiting for the authority of their governments; and the contingents of Bern, Fribourg, and Soleure, regarding the campaign as finished, immediately set off for their own homes. Those of Zurich and Zug, with the exception of some volunteers, followed the example but the troops of Ury, Schweitz, Unterwalden, and Claris, would not consent to the treaty till its ratification by the cantons.

The Swiss army, weakened by these departures, now found itself unable to make head against the French in the open field, and retired to Monza near Milan. At this place Zwingli, in the middle of the camp, addressed to his countrymen a discourse upon their critical situation. The want of harmony among the leaders, the insubordination of the soldiers, and their disposition to follow alternately opposite impulses, made him apprehend for them some great reverse, from which he would gladly have preserved them, by his counsels. He approved of their refusal to accede to the treaty with the king of France before the will of their governments was known. He gave great praise to their courage, conjuring them not to give themselves up to a security doubly dangerous in the presence of an enemy superior in numbers. He entreated the chiefs to renounce their rivalries; he exhorted the soldiers to listen to none but their officers, and not to compromise, by an imprudent step, their own lives and the glory of their country. It was difficult for words like these to make any impression upon warriors intoxicated with their former victories, and persuaded that nothing could resist them; and they soon drew upon themselves the misfortunes foreseen by Zwingli.

The French had followed the Swiss, and were observing, without attacking them, hoping that the cantons would recall their troops as soon as they were informed of the treaty, and that they might then enter Milan without striking a blow. The duke, who had not been consulted in the negotiations, and the cardinal of Sion, who wished to prevent the aggrandisement of the French in Italy, endeavoured to bring the armies to battle. In this they succeeded; at their instigation the soldiers of the duke’s guard, and some Swiss volunteers, went and provoked the French outposts near Marignano. An action having ensued, they sent to their own camp to ask assistance, under pretext that they had been first attacked. The opinions of the officers were divided; some maintained that they ought not to allow themselves any act of hostility till the decision of the cantons was known; others would not desert their compatriots when in danger. During these deliberations, the soldiers issued from the camp in crowds; they flew to the relief of their comrades, and the officers, who could no longer make themselves obeyed, were obliged to put themselves at their head. The battle soon became general. The Swiss, notwithstanding the fire of the enemy’s artillery, crossed a deep foss; they advanced with impetuosity; the armies joined, and fought man to man with equal fierceness on both sides. The greatest French captains, the constable of Bourbon, la Tremouille, marshal Trevulci, and the chevalier Bayard, showed themselves worthy of their high reputation; but their efforts were vain; the French were obliged to give ground, and were pursued till night put an end to the carnage. The victors had lost a vast many men; the greater part of their soldiers were wounded and disabled, and they found themselves in face of an enemy who, far from being entirely defeated, still retained the advantage in numbers. Several of the Swiss leaders judged it necessary to retire behind the ramparts of Milan, in order to take that repose of which they stood in need; but their men would have thought the lustre of their victory tarnished by quitting the field on the day of the battle. The officers therefore gave way, and had reason to repent their compliance. Early the next morning the French, reinforced by the Venetian army, attacked the Swiss in their turn. These rallied in haste, and opposed an obstinate resistance; but the French, animated by the presence and example of their king, performed prodigies of valour, and forced the Swiss to retreat upon Milan, fighting as they retired. Never was victory better disputed, or contest more honourable to the victors and the vanquished. Marshal Trivulci, who had been present at eighteen battles, said that they were children’s play compared with Marignano, which was a battle of giants.

The Swiss having lost in this bloody day the flower of their troops, opened their eyes at length to the danger of their situation: they imputed their defeat to the cardinal of Sion, who had much difficulty in withdrawing himself from their resentment : the day after the battle the Swiss quitted Milan, leaving Sforza to the mercy of Francis I who, contented to see himself delivered from enemies so courageous, opposed no obstacles to their departure.

The news of the destruction of this army, the most numerous that Switzerland had ever sent out, caused violent dissentions to burst forth between individuals as well as between the cantons. The French party and the pope’s mutually reproached one another with all the misfortunes that had happened to their country, and neither would sec, that they ought to have accused the ambition and cupidity which were equal on both sides.

In reading the history of the Helvetic Confederacy during the first twenty years of the 16th century, we scarcely recognize the descendants of the Swiss of the 14th and 15th centuries. These, simple in their manners, poor, but content with their lot, limited their ambition to the defence of their liberty and independence. They had so little wish to aggrandize themselves, that in 1416, the repeated orders of the emperor Sigismond and the council of Constance, could scarcely determine them to take advantage of the situation of Frederic of Austria, who was excommunicated and put to the ban of the empire, in order to acquire some portions of territory, the possession of which was very important to them. The only end of their alliances at this remote period was peace. They desired nothing but to remain in tranquillity in the bosom of their mountains, without entering into the disputes of their neighbours. This system was the only one suitable to a country not fertile and of few resources. It was also the only one adapted to a state composed of several independent republics, united by a slight bond, which was drawn closer by danger, but relaxed by prosperity.

As long as the Swiss remained faithful to their neutrality, union among families, and harmony between the cantons, secured to them the enjoyments of the blessings that their valour had acquired. A total change took place during the latter half of the 15th century. Charles the Bold, by constraining the Swiss to defend themselves against his usurpations, taught them at his expense the secret of their own strength; but this knowledge became to them a source of misfortunes, since it inspired them with the ambition of taking a place among the powers of Europe. Permanent relations were established between the Helvetic diet and the neighbouring princes, which multiplied particularly during the wars of Italy in the times of Louis XII and Francis I.

At this period several courts maintained permanent embassies in Switzerland, which introduced there all the vices of great cities. Nothing was neglected by these envoys to excite in the lower classes a love of pleasure and of riches. Sometimes, to dazzle the eyes of an indigent nation, they made a public display of the sums destined by their masters to reward their partisans. Festivals rapidly succeeded one another in the towns where the diets assembled; and the people left their employments to give themselves up to the amusements abundantly provided for them. The ambassadors, and still more the persons in their train, gave the example of all kinds of excess. The tribunals were more than once called upon to punish crimes against which the laws of the country had enacted no penalties, and which the criminals affirmed that they had committed at the instigation of the strangers. The ancient union disappeared; some attached themselves to France, some to the pope, others to the emperor; thence enmities which often became hereditary. In their councils, corruption often dictated measures so contrary to the real interests of the nation, that even they who had proposed, did not dare to avow them. Emissaries travelled through the country to enrol men in secret; sons were seen enlisting themselves against the will of their fathers, subjects against that of their governments. The same factions which rent the interior of the country, reigned also in the armies, delayed their march, and paralyzed their operations, Torrents of blood were shed for interests foreign to those of Switzerland, and the warriors who escaped with life, brought back to their country bodies enfeebled by fatigue and sickness. At the same time the national character was injured, and the Swiss name was sullied by disgrace. Such was at this period the situation of the cantons. The only way to preserve the country from its intestine divisions and foreign wars, would have been to renounce all alliances; but if this resolution were sometimes taken in a moment of adversity, it was forgotten as soon as new hopes arose to revive the dormant passions. In vain did the upright and sagacious earnestly endeavour to enlighten their fellow countrymen; their prudent representations were not so well received as the artful and seductive insinuations of different party leaders. Zwingli was of the number of those who disapproved of all wars except for the defence of their country. Worthy himself of the first times of the Helvetic Confederacy, from his fidelity, frankness, and inaccessibility to corruption, he was desirous of reviving among his contemporaries the spirit which had animated their forefathers: if he attended the campaigns of Italy, it was solely in obedience to the orders of his superiors; and far from suffering himself to be gained by the general contagion, the distressing scenes of which he was a witness, only served to confirm him in his principles; but the time was not yet come when the language of true patriotism was to prevail over the suggestions of cupidity and ambition.

A short time after his return from Milan, Zwingli was summoned to Einsiedeln. This abbey is situated in a valley of the canton of Schweitz, of small extent, by no means fertile, surrounded with groves of willow, and commanded by lofty mountains. In the 9th century, this place was an almost inaccessible desert, called the Gloomy Forest. A monk named Meinrad, descended from the ancient house of Hohenzollen, finding himself too near the world in his monastery at Rapperschwyl, went and built a hermitage and chapel in the midst of this forest. He had lived there twenty-six years in the austerities of the highest devotion, when some robbers, hoping to find ornaments of value in his chapel, murdered him, and were afterwards discovered in a miraculous manner, if we believe the tradition. It is said that two crows which the hermit had brought up, and which were his only companions, pursued the murderers as far as Zurich, where the sinister notes of the birds exciting suspicions against the two strangers, they were examined, became confused, and at length confessed the crime. The tragical end of Meinrad did not prevent other hermits from establishing themselves in the same place; and towards the end of the 10th century, a canon of Strasburg who was desirous of fixing himself in this solitude, formed the plan of replacing the hermitage of the Gloomy Forest by a monastery. He enclosed the ancient chapel in the new church, which he dedicated to the Virgin and the martyrs of the Theban legion. The building being finished, the bishop of Constance, the abbot of St. Gall, and several other neighbouring prelates, repaired to Einsiedeln to perform the inauguration of the new convent. On the eve of the solemnity, in the middle of the night, the bishop of Constance thought he heard some sacred songs proceeding from the interior of the chapel. The next day he refused to consecrate it, and when, yielding at length to repeated entreaties, he would have begun the ceremony, he heard these words three times pronounced: “Cease, cease, God has already made it holy.” This tradition is very ancient, and a festival called the Consecration of the Angels, is observed every seven years in memory of the event. Several pontifical bulls authorise the church of Einsiedeln, on the day of the festival, to grant plenary indulgence for all sins, even those the absolution of which is reserved to the apostolical see; and this special grace still, even in our times, attracts thither a number of pilgrims from the catholic cantons, and from Swabia, Alsace, and Lorraine.

No sooner was the new monastery erected, than the nobility of Switzerland and Germany enriched it by their donations. The emperors and popes vied with each other in endowing it with spiritual and temporal privileges; and under Rudolf of Hapsburg, the abbot of Einsiedeln already enjoyed the title and rights of a prince of the empire. The most ancient families emulously sought for their sons the honour of admission into this retreat, which they never quitted but to fill an episcopal seat. When the donations diminished, new resources were sought to increase the revenues of the abbey. An image of the Virgin which, according to the monks, was never invoked in vain, became the motive of numerous pilgrimages which began in the fourteenth century. From that time, we are assured that the miracles have never been discontinued. What is certain is, that for five centuries, down to the present day, men of all ranks and ages have visited this scene of devotion; that they have enriched it with their offerings, and that this convent has surpassed in wealth all the neighbouring ones, whose domains did not furnish an inexhaustible mine, like the credulity of the people.

When Zwingli repaired to Einsiedeln, the direction of the abbey was confided to Theobald baron of Geroldseck, one of the monks, who bore the title of administrator. Born of a noble family of that country, he had received, according to the custom of the times, an education more adapted to form a warrior than an ecclesiastic; but he loved letters, and was desirous of gaining the knowledge in which he was deficient. Being persuaded also that monasteries had been founded to serve as asylums for men devoted to study, and schools to form a learned priesthood, he was desirous of restoring his abbey to its proper destination. With this intention, he collected around him men whose zeal and information fitted them to assist in accomplishing his object. He was anxious to associate Zwingli to his learned society, and therefore offered him the situation of preacher to the convent, which he accepted with pleasure. The duties of his new station would leave him much more leisure for study than he had enjoyed at Glaris; the power of communicating his ideas to enlightened men, of listening to their objections, and entering into discussions with them, was another advantage on which he set a high value; and he considered that under shadow of the protection of his friend the administrator, he might freely utter his opinions, and attack those doctrines, the evil tendency of which he thought he perceived.

The inhabitants of Glaris saw him de­part with regret; and they kept his situation vacant above two years, in hopes of his returning among them, which he perhaps would have done, had not Providence directed him to a theatre more favourable for the execution of the enterprise to which he was destined.

Zwingli found at Einsiedeln several men who afterwards assisted him to introduce the reformation into Switzerland. Of this number were Francis Zingg, chaplain of the apostolical see, a very learned man, but fitter for solitary study than for the offices of public instruction; John Oechslein, a native of Einsiedeln, whose zeal was not cooled by the violent persecutions he afterwards experienced; and Leo Jude, an Alsacian, author of a German translation of the bible, and a faithful companion of Zwingli. All these men felt an equal desire to increase their store of knowledge; and the conformity of their sentiments established among them an intimate connection. The library of Einsiedeln, considerably augmented by the care of Zwingli, was their favourite resort. Here they studied together the fathers of the church, whose works were just published by Erasmus at Basil. They added the perusal of the works of Erasmus himself, and those of Capnio, both restorers of letters in Germany. They discussed the new and bold ideas of these great men; traced them into their consequences, and subjected them to a severe examination. The new horizon which opened upon them as they advanced in their researches, produced different effects upon them, according to their different dispositions. One embraced with heat and enthusiasm all that appeared to him the truth; another, of a calmer temper, suspected the attraction of novelty; a third calculated the consequences to be expected from a change in received opinions. Each, in short, viewed the object in a different light: what escaped one, was perceived by another; and thus they were mutually enlightened and assisted. All were animated by that ardour which is only found at those periods when men awake from the slumber of ignorance and barbarism. When minds capable of beholding truth in all its splendour have caught some faint beams of it, they can no longer endure the night of superstition and prejudice; they burn to emerge completely; and the resistance they experience, the obstacles they encounter, by irritating them, do but augment their force and inflame their courage. It is not so in more enlightened ages; it seems as if truth loses its charms in proportion as it becomes more accessible. We creep languidly along a broad and smooth road which may be trod without effort, while we dart with impetuosity into the difficult path which leads us through brambles and thickets to its end.

During his abode at Einsiedeln, Zwingli did not confine the activity of his mind to speculative studies; he made use of his influence over the administrator to engage him to make several reforms. He had no difficulty in convincing him that the worship paid to the inanimate remains of saints and martyrs was contrary to the spirit of Christianity. He equally succeeded in making his patron sensible of the evils of the popular belief that the pardon of sins may be procured by external practices, or bought for money. The administrator, wishing to destroy as far as was in his power all that served to maintain superstition, caused the inscription placed over the entrance of the abbey—“Here plenary remission of all sins is obtained,” to be effaced, and gave orders that the relics, the objects of the supersti­tious devotion of the pilgrims, should be buried. He afterwards introduced some change in the administration of a convent of nuns under his direction; he established new rules, abolished several observances, and obliged the nuns to read the New Testament in German, instead of reciting the Hours. He required of them an irreproachable life, but he permitted such as did not feel in themselves a decided vocation to a religious life, to enter again into the world and contract a legal union. By degrees Zwingli endeavoured to diffuse his opinions beyond the circle of his intimate friends, and his double function of preacher and confessor furnished him with the means of so doing. Setting aside the exterior practices to which his colleagues attached so much importance, he required of his penitents a sincere repentance, newness of life, and reparation of injuries, as conditions indispensable to be fulfilled, if they wished to partake in the benefit of redemption, and without which all their genuflexions, prayers, and mortifications, could not reconcile them with God. In those exercises of piety designed for the instruction of his own parishioners and stranger pilgrims, he seized opportunities of establishing and explaining principles incompatible with received prejudices, but which he left it to his audience to apply. When he judged their minds sufficiently prepared, he resolved to strike a decisive blow; and for this purpose he selected the very day on which was celebrated the festival of the Angels’ consecration, which always attracted an immense crowd to Einsiedeln. In the midst of this numerous assembly, Zwingli mounted the pulpit to pronounce the customary discourse. By an exordium full of warmth and feeling he disposed the audience to collectedness and attention; then proceeding to the occasion which had brought them together in that church, he deplored their blindness in the choice of the means which they employed to please the deity. “Cease to believe,” cried he, “that God resides in this temple more than in every other place. Whatever region of the earth you may inhabit, he is near you, he surrounds you, he grants your prayers, if they deserve to be granted; but it is not by useless vows, by long pilgrimages, offerings destined to adorn senseless images, that you can obtain the divine favour: resist temptations, repress guilty desires, shun all injustice, relieve the unfortunate, console the afflicted; these are the works pleasing to the Lord. Alas! I know it; it is ourselves, ministers of the altar, we who ought to be the salt of the earth, who have led into a maze of error the ignorant and credulous multitude. In order to accumulate treasures sufficient to satisfy our avarice, we raised vain and useless practices to the rank of good works; and the Christians of these times, too docile to our instructions, neglect to fulfil the laws of God, and only think of making atonement for their crimes, instead of renouncing them. ‘Let us live according to our desires,’ say they, ‘let us enrich ourselves with the goods of our neighbour; let us not fear to stain our hands with blood and murder; we shall find easy expiations in the favour of the church.’ Senseless men! Do they think to obtain remission for their lies, their impurities, their adulteries, their homicides, their treacheries, by prayers recited in honour of the Queen of Heaven, as if she were the protectress of all evildoers. Undeceive yourselves, erring people! The God of justice suffers not himself to be moved by words which the tongue utters and the heart disowns. He forgives no one but him who himself forgives the enemy who has trespassed against him. Did these chosen of God at whose feet you come hither to prostrate yourselves, enter into heaven by relying on the merit of another. No, it was by walking in the path of the law, by fulfilling the will of the Most High, by facing death that they might remain faithful to their Redeemer. Imitate the holiness of their lives, walk in their footsteps, suffering yourselves to be turned aside neither by dangers nor seductions; this is the honour that you ought to pay them. But in the day of trouble put your trust in none but God, who created the heavens and the earth with a word: at the approach of death invoke only Christ Jesus, who has bought you with his blood, and is the sole Mediator between God and man'.”

Language so unexpected produced impressions difficult to describe: admiration and indignation were painted alternately on every face while Zwingli was speaking; and when at length the orator had concluded his discourse, a confused murmur betrayed the deep emotions he had excited. Their expression was restrained at first by the holiness of the place, but as soon as they could be freely vented, some, guided by prejudice or personal interest, declared themselves against this new doctrine; others, and those were the greater number, felt a new light breaking in upon them, and applauded what they had heard with transport. Some pilgrims were even seen to carry back their offerings, a circumstance which exasperated the monks against Zwingli, by making them apprehend the diminution of their revenues. The neighbouring convents shared in their animosity, and began to spread injurious reports of the reformer. It does not appear, however, that this discourse of Zwingli drew upon him the displeasure of his ecclesiastical superiors. On the contrary, we find at this period a proof of the favour he enjoyed, in a diploma sent him by Leo X which gave him the title of chaplain acolyte to the Holy See.  Zwingli had taken no steps to obtain this distinction, but owed it to his increasing reputation. The pope was desirous of attaching to his interest such men as possessed any interest in their own country; and his legate, Antonio Pucci, had mentioned Zwingli to him as an ecclesiastic, who might become useful in the court of Rome, both as a preacher, and from his connections in different Cantons. There was, besides, no reason to think him an enemy of the Holy See. The abuses that he attacked were rather tolerated than approved by the church: at all times the popes had shown themselves indulgent towards new opinions, provided they did not trench upon their authority; and the conduct of Zwingli did not as yet indicate any design to withdraw himself from its control. Before the discourse pronounced at Einsiedeln, Zwingli had written to Hugh of Landenberg, bishop of Constance, desiring him to put an end in his diocese to a number of puerile and dangerous practices, which might at length produce irremediable evils. He spoke to the same effect to the cardinal of Sion; and in the freedom of conversation un­folded to him his ideas of the necessity of a general reform.

“ The new lights,” said he, “which have been diffused since the revival of letters, have lessened the credulity of the people, are opening their eyes to a number of superstitions, and will prevent them from blindly adopting what is taught them by priests equally destitute of virtue and of talent. They begin loudly to blame the idleness of the monks, the ignorance of the priests, and the misconduct of the prelates, and will no longer give their confidence to people whom they cannot respect. If care be not taken, the multitude will soon lose the only curb capable of restraining its passions, and will go on from one disorder to another. The danger increases every day, and delay may be fatal. A reforma­tion ought to be begun immediately, but it ought to begin with superiors, and spread from them to their inferiors. If the princes of the church would give the example; if they would return to themselves and to  conduct more conformable to the gospel; if bishops were no longer seen to handle the sword instead of the crozier; prelates to put themselves at the head of their subjects, in order to wage inveterate wars against each other; ecclesiastics of all ranks to dissipate in scandalous debauchery the revenues of their benefices accumulated upon their heads; then, we might raise our voices against the vices of the laity without fearing their recriminations, and we might indulge some hopes of the amendment of the people. But a reform in manners is impossible, if you do not get rid of those swarms of pious idlers who feed at the expense of the industrious citizen, and if you do not abolish those superstitious ceremonies and absurd dogmas equally calculated to shock the understanding of reasonable men, and to alarm the piety of religious ones.”

Zwingli made these representations with a zeal proportioned to the importance of the subject: he conjured the cardinal of Sion to engage the pope to give his serious attention to the wounds of the church, and received his assurances, that on his return to Rome he would take every means to obtain from Leo X such a reformation as was generally desired. This promise, sincere perhaps at the time, produced no effect. As soon as Schinner plunged again into the vortex of political affairs, ambition resumed all her influence over him, and that passion he could not hope to gratify by adopting and forwarding the ideas of Zwingli: neither was Leo himself disposed to listen to any plan of reform. To confirm and augment the power of his family, to render his pontificate illustrious by splendid monuments, to grant a generous protection to the arts and sciences, and to maintain an important rank among the potentates of Europe, were the objects to which his views were directed. Absorbed by his ambitious projects, he had neither leisure nor inclination to occupy himself with the spiritual interests of the church. A pontiff accustomed to clothe himself in regal pomp, was not fitted for the stern duties of a reformer, and Leo had already proved, by rewarding frivolous talents with high ecclesiastical dignities, how far he had departed from the severe principles of the ancient church. The cardinal of Sion knew the pope too well to offer schemes of reform to him; and this step of Zwingli’s had no other effect than to give the cardinal a high idea of his zealous spirit, and enlightened understanding.

In the meantime, the reputation of Zwingli as a theologian and friend of letters went on increasing day by day. He kept up a regular correspondence with Erasmus, John Faber, grand vicar of the bishop of Constance, Henry Lorit, or Glareanus, Gaspar Hedio, Wolfgang Capito, Beatus Rhenanus, and others too numerous to mention. The letters of these learned men are filled with commendations of his knowledge, of the services rendered by him to the church, and the ardour with which he acquitted himself of his ministry; they contain unequivocal testimonies of the general esteem which he had been able to conciliate, and of the hopes entertained of him by his friends.

Among the Swiss with whom Zwingli contracted intimacies during his residence at Einsiedeln, Oswald Myconius, teacher of the dead languages in the school of Zurich, deserves to be first named. This learned Lucernese was endeavouring to spread the light lately diffused over Italy and Germany by the great men of those two countries; and being earnestly desirous of drawing Zwingli into his immediate circle, he profited of the first favourable opportunity, afforded by the vacancy of the situation of preacher in the cathedral, to offer to the chapter the services of his friend. Zwingli, in his former journeys to Zurich, had made himself advantageously known to the inhabitants of that city. Several of the clergy had learned how to appreciate his merit; they promised themselves some happy effects from the preaching of a man so courageous in openly attacking the vices of the age, and they hoped that a part of his reputation would overflow upon the church to which he should be attached. These considerations determined the choice of the chapter in favour of Zwingli, and he obtained the vacant place. His election was notified to him on the 11th of December 1518; and a few days after he repaired to his new post, severely regretted by the parishioners whom he quitted, by his faithful protector the baron of Geroldseck, and by the friends whose society had rendered so delightful to him the rustic solitude of Einsiedeln. The landammann and council of the Canton of Schweitz, in whose territory the abbey is situated, addressed a letter to him upon his nomination, conceived in the most touching and honourable terms. It was not without regret that Zwingli exchanged his calm retreat for an agitated life, in which he foresaw that he should have combats to maintain and rocks to avoid; but he flattered himself that at Zurich he might be more useful than in the narrow sphere of a monastery, and this prospect consoled him for the expected loss of his repose. During the three years of his abode at Einsiedeln, his ideas had acquired the maturity that they wanted; an intimate conviction had taken place of his doubts and uncertainties, and he felt an urgent call to diffuse the light which had illuminated his soul. A wide career was now open before him, and he arrived at Zurich full of hope and ardour.

Before we continue this narrative, it seems advisable to give an idea of the place which was henceforth to become the dwelling of the reformer, and the centre whence the reformation was to spread into every part of Switzerland.

The city of Zurich owes its origin to two pious foundations which go as far back as the time of Charlemagne. By an act dated 810, the emperor founded there a college of canons to serve the church already established, and endowed it with several Imperial fiefs. Forty years after, Louis the Germanic caused a convent for women to be built in the neighbourhood of the collegiate church, of which his daughters Hildegard and Bertha were the first abbesses. He ceded to the abbey the lands that he possessed in the vicinity, exempted it from all foreign jurisdiction, and entrusted the administration of its revenues to an advocate whose office was united with that of Imperial prefect. By degrees a town arose about the monasteries, inhabited by persons belonging to the collegiate church, or the revenue offices, by serfs who had purchased their freedom, and by some nobles of French or German origin, who filled various posts in the service of the abbey. The population rapidly increased under the shadow of ecclesiastical protection, and in the 12th century we already discover some traces of a council composed of the inhabitants of the new city, and named by the advocate of the abbey. The powers of this council were very narrow, being confined to the judgment of civil causes. The same administration subsisted till the period of the contests between pope Gregory IX and the emperor Frederic II. This emperor, long the object of the persecutions of the Holy See, heaped privileges on the cities of the empire at the expense of the clergy, in order by this means to lessen the power of the natural allies of his enemy. By way of recompensing the inviolable fidelity of the burghers of Zurich towards him, he freed them from their dependence on the abbey, ordered that in future they should only hold of the empire, and granted them the right of choosing their own magistrates. He left to the abbess only the nomination of the civil tribunal, but allowed her still to enjoy her rights and royalties throughout her own demesnes. In virtue of the decree of Frederic, a council was created to govern the rising republic, consisting of thirty-six members, divided into three sections, each of which remained in office four months. In 1336, the burghers, being discontented with the arbitrary conduct of the council, and the maladministration of the public money, abolished this form of government, and, in imitation of several towns in Germany, the inhabitants were divided into twelve tribes according to the arts and trades which they exercised; a thirteenth was added, composed of the nobles, the ecclesiastics, and those who lived on their fortunes. Each tribe furnished a given number of citizens to form a small council of fifty members, and a great one of two hundred. The executive power was entrusted to the former, the latter, invested with legislative power, was the representative of the sovereign, or general assembly, which, in ordinary times, was only convoked to take an oath of obedience to the councils. The authors of this constitution certainly did not think of balancing with accuracy the different powers of the state; but they appear to have divined very well, in their simplicity, what would suit the character of their descendants, since these preserved the work of their forefathers, almost without alteration, during a period of five centuries. The changes made in the internal government of Zurich had no influence upon its connection with the Germanic body, the heads of which continued to exercise their rights through the medium of an Imperial prefect. The privileges granted to the city by several emperors insensibly reduced the functions of this officer to the administration of criminal justice; and at length, in 1400, the emperor Wenceslas permitted the council to exercise the office of the prefect by one of its members. After this period, Zurich enjoyed all the rights of sovereignty, but its power did not yet extend beyond the circuit of its own walls. It was not till the 15th century that the city began little by little to form a territory, partly by purchase, partly by conquest, and partly by receiving into the number of its citizens several nobles who voluntarily ceded to it their seignorial rights; but till the reformation, the two monasteries above mentioned preserved their particular jurisdiction, and maintained their independence. When Charlemagne founded a college of canons at Zurich, it was certainly his object to form a centre of knowledge which might serve to enlighten this half barbarous country. It is well known that the advancement of learning was always a favourite object with this great prince, but unfortunately the impulse that he gave to his age, ceased with his life, and after his time the greater part of his foundations rapidly degenerated, and became asylums for idleness.

During more than four hundred years, the canons of Zurich failed to answer the intention of their founder. It is not till the middle of the 13th century that the documents of the chapter make mention of the creation of a rector, charged with the office of regulating all that concerned the schools, as he should think most suitable to the glory of God, and the utility of the church. At the same time, in 1259, the chapter elected a chanter, designed to preside over the choir, and teach church singing, which was then an important part of worship. Conrad de Mure was the first person invested with this office; he was an indefatigable writer, and composed a great number of works in prose and verse, of which only two remain. One is a dictionary of proper names, intended to facilitate the understanding of the ancient poets; in this work, history, sacred and profane, mythology, legend, all are heaped together without discernment; but if this compilation gives an idea little favourable to the taste and criticism of the author, it does honour at least to his erudition. His other work is a poem in praise of Rodolph of Habsburg; it has nothing of poetry but the meter, and does not rise above the productions of the monks of that time.

It does not appear that the example of this industrious man encouraged his, colleagues to employ themselves in literary labours; for after him, a century and a half elapsed without the appearance of any work composed by a member of the church of Zurich. This indolence is bitterly deplored by Felix Malleolus, who, in 1450, occupied one of the first places in the chapter, and strove to render his knowledge useful to his fellow citizens. Full of ardour as he was in the cause of science and literature, he could not witness without indignation the ignorance and laziness of his colleagues. The censures upon them in which he indulged himself, his declamation against the mendicant orders, and his satires upon the unfaithful depositories of justice, made him violent enemies. These succeeded in blackening him to the bishop of Constance, who caused him to be carried off from his own house and thrown into a dungeon, which he only left to be immured in a cloister during the rest of his life. Among the numerous works of Felix Malleolus on theology, jurisprudence, history and physics, we meet with some new and profound ideas, amid a farago of absurd and superstitious ones, which must be attributed rather to his age than himself. The unfortunate end of this learned man was calculated to deter from the same career such as might otherwise have distinguished themselves in it. Accordingly, the latter half of the 15th century proved as barren as the former had been; letters remained at Zurich in the same state of neglect, and the school of the collegiate church for elementary instruction in the learned languages, remained the only establishment for education. Towards the beginning of  the 16th century, some of the young men began to frequent foreign universities; and the knowledge which they brought home assisted the progress of the reformation. The cure of souls was committed to a clergy so ignorant that the pastors scarcely knew how to read and write; most of them contented themselves with administering the sacraments, and left preaching and teaching to the monks, who had the temporal interests of their convents much more at heart than the edification of their audience. The jealousies that divided these monks, their quarrels, their excesses, and their vices, scandalized the pious; and the puerilities with which they filled their sermons, rendered them ridiculous in the eyes of men of sense.

When the ministers of religion possess neither the virtues nor the talents necessary to fulfil their office with dignity, their degradation insensibly destroys the respect due to religion; for the thoughtless and the vicious are ever disposed to confound in the same sentence of contempt, him who teaches the doctrine, and the doctrine itself. Religion had become an object of derision to some, of indifference to others, and the vulgar were only acquainted with its outward practices; it had thus ceased to afford a support to morals, which had received but too many shocks from other causes. Connexions with other countries, and the contagion of bad examples, had caused the severity of ancient manners to disappear. The gold dispersed by the powers who were intriguing for the alliance of Switzerland, had made its inhabitants acquainted with new enjoyments; these enjoyments had in their turn excited new desires, to satisfy which, the most culpable means were resorted to without scruple. Envy, bad faith, and insubordination in the poor; pride, insolence and avarice in the rich, had taken place of the virtues of other times; and the venality of many of the magistrates, by depriving the government of all respect, threatened the state with approaching destruction. These particulars are sufficient to show how many changes were at this time required at Zurich. Letters wanted a restorer; both the governors and governed an intrepid censor, who should dare to recall them to their mutual duties; and fainting religion, an orator capable of rekindling its ardour, and restoring its influence upon manners. Providence appeared to have destined Zwingli to fulfil this task, and we shall endeavour to show in what manner he acquitted himself of it.

A few days after his arrival at Zurich, Zwingli was summoned before the chapter to be installed in his new employment. He gave notice that in his discourses he should desert the order of the dominical lessons, and that he should explain in uninterrupted series the books of the New Testament, in order to make his auditors acquainted with the whole contents of this divine book; and he promised to have nothing in view in his sermons but “the glory of God and the instruction and edification of the faithful.” The majority of the chapter approved of this plan; some however regarded it as an innovation likely to produce dangerous consequences. Zwingli replied to their objections “that he was only returning to the practice of the primitive church, which had been retained down to the time of Charlemagne; that he should observe the method made use of by the fathers of the church in their homilies, and that by divine assistance he hoped to preach in such a manner that no friend of gospel truth should find reason to complain.” On the 1st of January 1519, the day on which he entered his 35th year, Zwingli preached his first sermon, conformably to the plan that he had announced to his superiors, and which he constantly followed ever after. The novelty of this kind of preaching procured him a crowd of auditors: mere curiosity attracted some; the desire of instruction and edification inspired others. Zwingli took advantage of the first impression and did not suffer it to cool; he inveighed against superstition and hypocrisy; insisted on the necessity of amendment; thundered against idleness, intemperance, the excesses of luxury, and the passion for foreign service; he enjoined the magistrates to distribute impartial justice, and to protect widows and orphans; and he exhorted them to preserve Helvetic liberty inviolate, by shutting their ears to the seductive insinuations of ambition.

Notwithstanding the severity of his morality and the depravity of his audience, he found some disciples ready to listen to his voice. Truth, from the lips of a sincere and fervent orator, makes its way through all the obstacles raised by the passions. Magistrates, ecclesiastics, men of all classes, touched by his reproaches, felt themselves irresistibly attracted by that very circumstance to hear his sermons, and rendered thanks to God for having sent them this preacher of the truth. It may well be believed that this approbation was not general. Men attached to their private interests, to their opinions, to their vices, could not love so severe a censor, and they took pains to render him odious. Sometimes they depicted him as a knave, who, by his hypocritical preachings, was aiming to destroy the respect and submission of subjects for their magistrates; sometimes they represented him as a fanatic, whose unbounded pride led him to put his own reveries in the place of the decisions of the church; sometimes they treated him as a man destitute of religion and morals, who was sapping the foundations of piety and virtue, and would end by overturning the state, unless silence were imposed upon him. These clamours were not able either to intimidate Zwingli, or to diminish the authority he had acquired; an authority which made itself strongly felt on occasion of an event that we are about to relate.

In the year 151S, Leo X sent into Switzerland the Franciscan Bernardine Samson, to whom he had intrusted the power of absolving from all sin such Christians as should contribute by their pious gifts to the completion of St. Peter’s church. This was a commission difficult to execute. Every time that the popes had published extraordinary indulgencies they had experienced a strong opposition on the part of the bishops, parish priests, and confessors, who looked upon this step as an invasion of their rights. Samson therefore expected an obstinate resistance, but he possessed address sufficient to surmount the. obstacles that he might have to encounter. In the towns where he expected to make any considerable stay, he had the precaution previously to conciliate the favour of some persons of influence, and by this means he prepared men’s minds to receive him as the dispenser of the treasures of grace. The artifices of all kinds that he employed succeeded, in spite of the impudence with which he acquitted himself of his ministry, of which a single trait will give a sufficient idea. In order to disperse an importunate crowd of paupers who flocked around him whenever he appeared in public, he caused his attendants to cry out with a loud voice; “ Let the rich come near first, who can buy the pardon of their sins; after they are satisfied, the prayers of the poor shall  also be attended to”. At Bern all doors were at first closed against him; but by force of intrigues he contrived to procure admittance, and immediately men of all conditions began to purchase indulgences. Samson assured them that the power of the pope was unlimited both in heaven and on earth; that he had at his disposal the treasure of the blood of Jesus Christ and the martyrs; that he had the right of remitting both sin and penance, and that the sinner would participate in divine grace the moment his money was heard to chink in the boat. By virtue of these powers, the Franciscan granted plenary absolution both to individuals and communities ; he pardoned both past sins and those that were yet to be committed; he sold bulls which authorised their owners to choose a confessor who might release them from their vows, excuse them from the performance of their promises, and even absolve them from the guilt of perjury."

From Bern, Samson proceeded to Baden in Argovia; he there also met with many partizans, but it was there that a stop was put to the success of his mission. As soon as the bishop of Constance learned that an emissary from Rome had ventured to publish indulgences in his diocese unauthorized by him, he ordered all the parish priests under his jurisdiction to shut their churches against him, and he exhorted Zwingli in particular to support the rights of his spiritual superior. Zwingli had not waited for the exhortation of the bishop to begin enlightening the minds of his parishioners respecting indulgences. This disgraceful traffic shocked him less as an invasion of episcopal rights, than as an insult to good sense and sound reason; and it was principally under this view that he had combated it.

Since the arrival of Samson in Zurich, Zwingli had never ceased to declare how absurd and even impious it appeared to him to attempt, by establishing a ratio between crimes and money, to lull the consciences of men into a fatal security. His exhortations and arguments made a great impression on the people of Zurich, and induced them to stop their ears to the seductions of the wily Franciscan. He even succeeded in imparting his own sentiments to the deputies of the thirteen Cantons, who happened to be then assembled at Zurich. Samson however repaired to Bremgarten, a small town four leagues from Zurich, where he was received by the magistrates; but Henry Bullinger, the parish priest, represented to him that his powers not being backed by the sanction of the bishop, he could not allow him entrance into his church. In vain did Samson threaten him with the aimer of the pontiff and that of the Cantons, which, as he said, had loaded him with honours. Bullinger was neither to be shaken by his words, nor by an excommunication in form which was lanced against him; he persisted in his refusal, and Samson pursued his way to Zurich. Public opinion had already declared against him in the city; but as he affirmed that he was charged with a particular mission from the pope to the Cantons, he was allowed to appear before the diet. The falsehood of the pretext that he had employed being discovered, the diet ordered him to quit Zurich and the whole Swiss territory without delay, and required him to take off the excommunication laid upon the priest of Bremgarten. He consented, for fear they should make reprisals in case of his refusal, by detaining the money that he had amassed; after which he made a hasty retreat into Italy. The infatuation that lie had excited began to give way; men blushed to have been duped by his artifices, and the reputation of Zwingli received a fresh addition from the resistance of the inhabitants at Zurich.

Many writers have regarded the quarrel respecting indulgences as the principal cause of the reformation, because it gave occasion to Zwingli and Luther to set themselves openly in opposition to the will of the pope, but we have seen, that before the arrival of Samson in Switzerland, Zwingli had felt the necessity of a reform in the worship, doctrine, and discipline of the church; and when the whole of his history is viewed together, his resistance to Samson appears an insulated fact which exerted no direct influence over succeeding events.

Luther stood no more in need than Zwingli of any peculiar stimulus, and in order to find the origin of his opinions; we must trace him back beyond the moment when he first appeared before the public. The reading of the New Testament which fell casually into his hands at the age of eighteen, inspired him with doubts respecting several doctrines of the Romish Church; the works of Saint Augustine, which he diligently studied, led him to reject the opinion of his age respecting justification; and a journey that he made to Rome, by giving him a nearer view of the wickedness which prevailed around the pontifical chair, weakened his respect for the pope’s authority. The opinions of Luther altered by degrees, and the influence of the new system he had formed was perceptible long before the publication of his famous theses, in the lectures that he delivered before the university of Wittemberg. The sale of indulgences only furnished him with an opportunity of breaking forth; but the regular course of his ideas would have brought him, sooner or later, to a rupture with the partisans of the pope, even had Tetzel never excited his indignation.

A revolution like that of the 16th century can never depend on a single event, or a single man; it requires the concurrence of a multitude of causes which have long acted in silence, and prepared the minds of men for important changes. Several theologians before Luther and Zwingli had made attempts at a reformation, but none succeeded, because they endeavoured to cure the disease before it come to its crisis. All these paid for their attempts with their lives, their liberty, or at least their repose, but the ideas diffused by them were preserved. They were seeds which only awaited a favourable season to spring up; they were hidden fires that the first breath would kindle to a blaze. If Berenger, Arnold of Brescia, Wickliff, John Huss, and Jerome of Prague, sunk under the attempt to introduce some reforms into the church, it was because in their time ignorance was still too general, and men were accustomed blindly to follow in the general direction, and refused to listen to those who would have pointed out a new course; the clergy, whose interest it was to support the old system, enjoyed sufficient influence to put a stop in their beginnings to all enterprises which threatened their privileges, and the authority of the Holy See was still sufficiently powerful to crush all who dared to lift up a hand against her. But in the course of the 14th and 15th centuries, the obstacles which at an earlier period would have opposed a reformation, gradually became weaker.

The increasing prosperity of towns, augmented the number of citizens whose easy circumstances gave them leisure and ambition for its distinctions, and the establishment of several new universities multiplied the means of instruction. While the circle of knowledge was every day enlarging, the clergy, given up to indolence and licentiousness, were daily losing in general respect, and disabling themselves from repelling the attacks of their adversaries. The court of Rome, on which they leaned for support, did not itself possess the same authority as formerly, and the differences that occurred between the popes and the councils of Basil and Pisa, familiarized men’s minds with the idea that it was lawful, in certain cases, to resist the vicar of Christ.

Various circumstances therefore existed which were threatening to change the mass of opinion, but their action was slow and imperceptible. In the latter half of the 15th century, two great events, the taking of Constantinople by the Turks, and the discovery of America, suddenly accelerated  the general motion. The taking of Constantinople, by rendering that city subject to a people hostile to the sciences, compelled the learned Greeks to quit their country, and many of them found an asylum in Italy, where they exerted a great influence over literature. Before this period, the metaphysics of Aristotle, well or ill understood and explained, reigned almost without a rival in all the schools; and this kind of universal monarchy arrested the progress of knowledge. The Greek refugees introduced the metaphysics of Plato into Italy, and by thus raising altar against altar, they proved what had never yet been imagined, that it was possible to have an opinion different from the received one. They also carried into the West the knowledge and love of the Greek and Latin authors; and the independence of spirit stamped upon the works of the latter, communicated itself to those who studied them, prompted them to reflection, and disposed them to follow a course of their own; whence it may be affirmed, that all the men who distinguished themselves at that time by new and enlarged views, were formed in the school of the ancients.

The discovery of the New World likewise served to rouse the nations of Europe from their long torpor, by opening a vast field to the researches of geographers, naturalists, and philosophers. The execution of this enterprise, which had been regarded as impossible, gave a new spring to the human mind; and the discoveries made in the physical world led to a suspicion that others equally great remained to be made in the moral world. But the consequences of both these events would have been much less important had it not been for the invention of printing, which diffused so generally the desire of examining to the bottom of every subject. As long as education was confined to oral instruction, learned men were little known except to their own disciples; and those of a celebrated teacher treasured up with servile veneration every word that he uttered as an oracle, and thus the greatness of his reputa­tion prevented the development of their ideas. But when the art of typography had multiplied thoughts, and in a manner rendered them portable, the productions of men of genius were diffused from one extremity of Europe to the other. Every one was enabled to examine and judge of them at his leisure, unbiassed by the charms of elocution, or the presence of the author. Disputes certainly became more frequent and more vehement; but a multitude of fresh views resulted from the shock of so many different opinions. Thus did all things conspire to a renovation of ideas, and tend towards a new order of things.

A vague inquietude, a murmured discontent, announced the approach of a tempest: a change was inevitable, and if neither Luther nor Zwingli had undertaken the reformation, others would, though perhaps with less talent and less energy. These great men were only the spokesmen of their contemporaries, to whose silent wishes they gave utterance; they were the first to say what thousands had thought. This general disposition of men’s minds serves to explain the reformation and the rapidity of its progress: a solitary circumstance might hasten it, but is not to be considered as its real cause. At the time when Samson appeared at Zurich, the diet had been convoked there to deliberate on an affair of importance. After the death of Maximilian I his grandson Charles of Austria king of Spain, and Francis I king of France, both aspired to the imperial crown. Each addressed himself to the Helvetic Confederacy, as making part of the German Empire, and requested its influence with the electors. In the discussions which took place on this business, several members of the diet were of opinion that they ought to take part with neither of the candidates; and this was Zwingli’s idea. He was desirous that the Cantons should observe an exact neutrality, and refrain from taking a step which, without influencing the decision of the electors, might offend the disappointed prince; but his advice was not listened to; and whether the address of the cardinal of Sion, the emperor’s ambassador, was superior to that of the French envoys, or whether the remembrance of the defeat at Marignano had rendered the Swiss less favourable to Francis I, it was resolved to write to the electors that the Cantons had no predilection for the king of France, and that as faithful members of the Empire, they were desirous of seeing a prince of German origin on the Imperial throne. The king of Spain was not named in this letter, but he was designated in a manner not to be mistaken. The reasons that induced the electors to give the preference to Charles V are well known as also the long animosity springing from the favour which they thus showed him above his rival. It does not appear however that Francis was offended with the Swiss for taking this step in behalf of the king of Spain.

As soon as war broke out between these two princes, they both sent ambassadors to the Helvetic league. Charles required of them not to take part with the French; he offered to take 6000 Swiss into his pay, and to grant a subsidy to each Canton.

Francis, oh his side, endeavoured to alarm the Swiss respecting the views of Charles V, and he set forth the services that France had rendered and could still render them, by protecting them against the ambition of the house of Austria. To these reasons of state the ambassadors of the king added means of seduction, the effect of which appeared in the speedy conclusion of an alliance offensive and defensive with France, which was to subsist during the life of Francis I and for three years afterwards. The contracting parties reciprocally guaranteed the possessions of each other against all assailants, excepting only the powers with whom treaties were already existing on either side, unless these powers should be the aggressors, in which case the exception was to be null.

The Cantons engaged to furnish the king with 6000 troops to serve in his pay; and they authorized him, when he should be at war, to enlist all the volunteers who should offer, to name their officers, and to march them whithersoever he pleased. The Cantons even gave up the right of recalling their troops, except in case of their being themselves attacked by an enemy. The king on his part promised to furnish a train of artillery, or subsidies. He also increased those that he paid to each Canton. These conditions were all to the advantage of Francis, yet the confederacy agreed to them without hesitation. Zurich alone made objections against several articles of the treaty. This Canton reminded its allies of the loss suffered a few years before at Marignano, of the letter written to the electors on the choice of an emperor, and of the attachment that they had then testified to Charles V, as also of their recent refusal to ally themselves with this prince, of which he would have a right to complain if they immediately afterwards entered into a league with another sovereign. The Canton ended by proposing that a neutrality should be observed between the belligerent powers. These representations were fruitless; so far from listening to them, the other Cantons sent an embassy to Zurich exhorting her not to separate her interests from those of her allies. They even secretly engaged the dependencies of that city to present petitions to her to the same purport. In order to obviate the effect of these practices, the council of Zurich gave notice to all the municipalities in its territory of the treaty concluded by the Cantons with France; publishing at the same time a proclamation containing their reasons for not acceding to it. This proclamation thus concludes: “We have laid these matters before you, not because we are not agreed among ourselves, not because we are doubtful as to the best measures to be taken; but because we wish to know whether we can depend on your fidelity, whatever may happen. We therefore require you to assemble in your municipalities, and afterwards to inform us of your intentions. We desire that the old men and fathers of families will maturely weigh their answer; that the young men will listen to them with submission, and that no one will consult his own private interest in this matter; for it is one of great moment, and concerns not us alone, but our children, and all our posterity. As soon as we shall be informed of your opinions, we shall deliberate anew, and return such an answer to the king of France as is conformable to the honour of our city, your prosperity, and the repose of the Helvetic body.”

The spirit of the instructions to the deputies sent to the municipalities, and of the proclamation of the council, is so much in unison with the political principles openly professed by Zwingli, that we are tempted to attribute their composition to him. Whether this conjecture be just or not, it is evident that the preponderance suddenly obtained by the wisest and most disinterested part of the council, was owing to the eloquence of the reformer.

Almost all the municipalities of the Canton assured the council of their submission and fidelity, conjured her to persist in her refusal, and exhorted her to denounce severe penalties against such as should suffer themselves to be corrupted. As soon as the sentiments of the municipalities were known, the council acquainted the French ambassadors that they should adhere to the treaty of Freiburg, and would enter into no new alliance; they entreated the Cantons not to be offended with them for a resolution which they deemed salutary, and assured them that the Canton would nevertheless fulfil its engagement as a member of the Confederacy. At the same time the council exacted an. oath from all the citizens that they would accept no pension from any foreign prince. The promises of the French ambassador, and the remonstrances of the Cantons, having proved equally fruitless, the latter became very indignant, and accused the people of Zurich of inclining to the imperial party. Their hatred fell chiefly on Zwingli, whom they reproached with having disturbed the harmony of the Helvetic body, by preventing the Canton of Zurich from joining with them; and their animosity was increased by the sufferings that they underwent in the campaigns undertaken for Francis I.

At this period Zwingli lost several of his partisans, even at Zurich, who found an ardent zeal for their ancient faith reviving in their minds as soon as they had been deprived, at the instigation of the reformer, of the means of enriching themselves at the expense of their country.

A short time after the conclusion of the treaty of Lucern with France, Leo X in virtue of an alliance made with the Swiss in 1515, claimed some troops from them to defend the territories of the church. But far from having any thing to fear from his neighbours, Leo was himself forming plans against them. He had at first negotiated with Francis I that they might in concert expel the Spaniards from Naples; but soon after entered into a league with Charles V for the purpose of wresting the Milanese from France, and restoring Parma and Placentia to the Holy See. This latter convention remained secret, and the cardinal of Sion, who was charged with the pope’s demand to the Swiss, only pleaded the defence of the Pontifical State. He represented to the Cantons in several diets assembled successively at Zurich and at Lucern, that their engagements with the pope were prior to these that they had contracted with France, and ought therefore to be preferred. The ambassadors of France, on the other hand, insisted on the execution of the treaty lately concluded. In vain did they press Zurich to enter into the alliance of Lucern, or at least to permit her subjects to enlist under the French standard; they were unable to prevail. With the other Cantons they succeeded better; these, without entering into any discussion with the legate, gave him an answer in the negative, and granted to the king of France the promised succour of 6000 men. At Zurich opinions were divided; the partizans of Zwingli wished the alliance with the pope to be renounced; but the military men, who were displeased at the attempt to put a stop to their career, demanded the fulfilment of the engagement with the sovereign Pontiff. After much discussion, the council at length determined to send the pope 3000 men, who should only serve in defence of the territories of the church. Scarcely were these troops arrived in the country of the Grisons, when the other Cantons acquainted Zurich that it was the cardinal’s intention to attack the Milanese. This information caused the council to repeat to the soldiers their solemn orders to march neither against Milan, nor against the king of France, but to repair directly to the Roman territories. The troops of Zurich therefore continued their march; they forced the passage of the Adda, and effected a junction with the united armies of the pope and the emperor, commanded by cardinal Giuliano dei Medici, Prospero Colonna, and the marquis of Pescara. Offers, promises and gifts, were all employed to induce the officers and soldiers to advance upon the Milanese. Some yielded to the temptation, but the leader of the Zurichers replied: “Were your tents and all that they contain, of pure gold, we would refuse, if in order to gain them it were necessary to disobey our magistrates, and violate our oaths.” Not being able to overcome this noble resistance, the pope's generals directed the contingent of Zurich against Reggio, and it afterwards assisted in the recapture of Parma and Placentia.

During this time, the united armies were gaining great advantages over marshal Lautrec, who commanded the French and Swiss: obliging him to retreat, and possessing themselves of the whole Milanese. The soldiers of the twelve Cantons returned to their homes irritated by the reverses they had suffered, of which they accused Zurich as the cause. These reproaches occasioned so violent a fermentation, that this Canton thinking herself threatened with an attack from her allies, suddenly recalled her troops; who quitted Placentia a few weeks after the death of Leo X which took place in December 1521.

We may date from this campaign the animosity of the other Cantons against Zurich; of which Zwingli was the principal object, as being the head of the partisans of neutrality. His advice not to assist the Pope was forgotten; nothing was remembered but his constant opposition to the new alliance with France; and his political principles and religious opinions were confounded under the same note of reprobation.

In the beginning of the year 1522, marshal Lautrec again assembled an army for the recovery of the Milanese, and obtained fresh succours from the twelve Cantons. The emperor, and the cardinals who during the vacancy of the Holy See found themselves at the head of affairs, on the other hand, pressed the Canton of Zurich to furnish them with troops; but that Canton being set free from all her engagements by the death of Leo X refused to take part in the war, and persisted in the resolution of avoiding every thing which might irritate her allies.

The war became protracted; and the Swiss, discontented for want of pay, and impatient of the inactivity in which they were detained by marshal Lautrec, compelled him to attack the Imperialists who were intrenched near Bicocca, four miles from Pavia. Their accustomed courage now only served to increase their loss; with their utmost efforts they were unable to force the enemy’s intrenchments. The consequences of this battle obliged Lautrec entirely to evacuate the Milanese, and abandon whatever Francis possessed in Italy. The Swiss returned home still more humiliated, and having suffered more than in the former campaign. These fresh reverses produced the same effect upon another Canton as former ones had done upon that of Zurich. In the general assembly of Schweitz, it was proposed to give up all alliances, and Zwingli seized the opportunity of addressing an exhortation to the inhabitants, advising them to adopt this measure. He attributes the divisions which had for some time disturbed the Cantons to the decay of piety; and then adds: “Far from ascribing your victories to the Lord of hosts, as was the custom with your ancestors, you take pride in your successes, and believe yourselves in vincible. In the wars in which your vanity engages you, your soldiers are guilty of excesses which will one day draw down upon you the divine anger.

“Suppose yourselves a prey to the same calamities that you have more than once inflicted upon neighbouring nations. What would you say if a band of mercenaries, unprovoked by any offence, should make themselves masters of the frontiers of your country, lay waste your fields, destroy your harvests, and burn your dwellings. When you beheld them drive away your herds, plunder your houses, massacre your sons who had armed for your defence, outrage your daughters, spurn your wives who were kneeling at their feet, and slaughter your fathers without pity of their grey hairs, you would certainly expect that God by a sudden stroke would exterminate these barbarians; and if you saw them remain unpunished, you would perhaps blaspheme against the tardy justice of the Master of the universe. And yet, are not yourselves often guilty of all this, under pretence of certain rights of war. It is God, say you in your justification, it is God who sends the calamities of war on the nations who have deserved his anger. Yes, wars are indeed necessary to punish the vices of the world; but woe to those men by whom they come! God makes use of the wicked to chastise the wicked. Do not reply that rebels must be reduced to obedience: I know that arms must be employed against those who brave the laws; but what has the service of a mercenary who is’ paid to attack the innocent, to lay waste their fields, destroy their cities, and threaten their lives, in common with the incontestable rights of legal power.

“ In order to justify those alliances which you have successively contracted with several princes, it is affirmed that owing to the barrenness of our soil, the subsidies of our neighbours are necessary to us. It is true that the resources of our country are insufficient for the luxury which has found its way into the heart of our mountains; but if we had chosen to adhere to the simplicity of our forefathers, and contented ourselves with the lot that God had assigned us, we should have stood in no need either of subsidies, or of these vain excuses. Need I speak of the fatal effects which our wars daily produce among us? Of the perpetual violations of justice, the contempt of the laws, and insubordination carried to such a height that scarcely a single citizen can be found who respects his magistrates? Need I speak of the corruption of manners that our warriors bling back with them to their own firesides; of the jealousy and envy inseparable companions of the favours with which our neighbours pay for the blood of our children; and of the disorders resulting from these bad passions, which expose the independence of our common country to the utmost danger?

“O! if you still have any care of your ancient glory; if you yet remember your forefathers and the dangers that they braved for the defence of their liberty; if the welfare of your country is dear to you, reject the fatal gifts of aspiring princes, reject them before it is too late; suffer yourselves neither to be deceived by the promises of some, nor intimidated by the menaces of others. Imitate your allies of Zurich, who by severe and wholesome laws have restrained the excesses which ambition would have prompted. Should you unite with them, all Switzerland would soon follow your example, and return to the wise and moderate conduct of its ancestors.”

The courageous frankness of Zwingli did not displease the inhabitants of Schweitz; they commissioned their secretary of state to return him an answer full of expressions of regard, and a short time after, their general assembly passed a law to abolish all alliances and all subsidies, during a term of twenty-five years. During these political events, Zwingli continued the preaching of his doctrine; and without giving way to an inconsiderate zeal, he was gradually preparing men’s minds for the reforms which he was desirous of effecting. In one of his earliest works, he thus speaks of the method that he followed. “On my arrival at Zurich, I began to explain the gospel according to St. Matthew. I added an exposition of the Acts of the apostles, to show my audience in what manner the gospel had been diffused. I then went on to the first epistle of Paul to Timothy, which may be said to contain the rule of life of a true Christian. Perceiving that false teachers had introduced some errors with respect to the doctrine of faith, I interpreted the epistle to the Galatians; this I followed by an explanation of the two epistles of St. Peter, to prove to the detractors of St. Paul, that the same spirit had animated both these apostles. I came at length to the epistle to the Hebrews, which makes known in its full extent the benefits of the mission of Jesus Christ.” “In my sermons,” adds he, “I have employed neither indirect modes of speech, nor artful insinuations, nor captious exhortations; it is by the most simple language that I have endeavoured to open the eyes of every one to his own disease, according to the example of Jesus Christ himself.”

The new ideas suggested by Zwingli to his auditors, acted upon their minds so as to diminish insensibly their respect for certain rules of ecclesiastical discipline. In 1522, some persons allowed themselves to break the fast of lent without having procured a dispensation. The criminals were denounced to the magistrate, who sent them to prison, and refused to hear their justification. Zwingli undertook to defend the principle on which they had acted, and with this intention published a tract On the Observation of Lent, in which he quotes several passages from the New Testament to prove that the kind of meat is a thing indifferent in itself, and that all days are equally holy to a Christian. Without absolutely proscribing fasts, he would have every one left at liberty in that matter. He ridicules the opinion that there is a merit in abstaining from customary aliments, and substituting others in their place. “Real abstinence,” says he, “may have some advantage to the citizen living in the midst of pleasure and luxury, but it is useless to the artisan and the labourer, who find in the fatigues and hardships of their station, sufficient means of mortifying the flesh. The fathers of the church, whose authority is quoted, knew nothing of our laws respecting lent, and many Christian nations have not adopted them. They were invented at Rome to create a new branch of revenue for the Holy See.” Zwingli concludes by desiring the learned in the Scriptures, to refute him, if they judged that he had done violence to the sense of the Gospel.

This work, the first that Zwingli published, irritated his adversaries still more against him. They represented to the bishop of Constance the necessity of opposing a doctrine which, little by little, would undermine both episcopal and pontifical authority. They said that the rapid progress of the opinions of Luther in Germany, gave room to fear, that the flame might spread to Switzerland if a speedy remedy were not applied. This fear determined Hugh of Landenberg, the bishop, to address a charge to the clergy and laity of his diocese, in which he deplored in general terms the dissentions excited by some turbulent spirits, and exhorted his flock not to separate themselves from the church. He wrote at the same time to the council of Zurich, to engage them not to permit the ancient ordinances of the church to be infringed or publicly blamed. Without naming Zwingli, he pointed him out in a manner not to be mistaken; but his insinuations failed of their effect. The council only replied by begging the bishop to assemble the prelates and theologians of his diocese, and to examine with them into the real cause of the dissentions complained of. No other method, according to the council, would succeed in “putting a stop to the diversity of preaching, which threw the faithful into a painful and dangerous uncertainty. This answer did not satisfy the bishop: he dreaded all examination, and did not think himself a judge competent to decide the controversy: his only view had been to impose silence on Zwingli. Having failed of his object with the council, he made another attempt with the chapter, on which Zwingli more particularly depended, by complaining to it of certain innovators, who in the madness of their pride were pretending to reform the church. “Beware,” said he “of receiving as a remedy what is a detestable poison; beware of embracing perdition instead of salvation. Reject those dangerous opinions which are condemned by the heads of Christendom; do not allow them to be preached among you, nor discussed, publicly or privately; preserve yourselves in the doctrine and usages of the church, till those to whom it belongs shall regulate in these matters.”

Zwingli, who could not but perceive that this letter was directed against him, begged permission of the chapter to reply to it, and composed a tract in which he laid it down as a principle, that the Gospel alone is authority from which there is no appeal, and to which recourse should be had to terminate all doubts, and settle all disputes; and that the decisions of the church can only be binding inasmuch as they are founded on scripture.”

This principle ought never to have been forgotten, and yet it had been. The sublime simplicity of a doctrine which guides the mind by the feelings that it inspires, was not long sufficient for the disciples of Christ; they became desirous to explain all, and define all. Then arose that crowd of often very whimsical opinions, which from the earliest ages of Christianity have excited such violent disputes. In order to conciliate men’s minds and restore peace, it was usual for the heads of the different churches to meet in provincial and general councils; but instead of striking at the root of the evil, by declaring all metaphysical subtilties foreign to religion, these councils most commonly endeavoured to overthrow a heresy by some unintelligible definition, which became in its turn the parent of new heresies. It was usual to place the New Testament on a table in the midst of assemblies of the clergy, to indicate that the sacred code of Christians ought to serve as the rule of their judgments; but this custom degenerated into a vain ceremony, and the judges consulted their personal interests or passions, and not the gospel. When the bishops of Rome began to raise themselves above their brethren, and to lay the foundations of their temporal power, they felt that the gospel did not favour their pretensions, but that they might derive great advantages from the decisions pronounced by their predecessors. Consequently they collected these decisions into a body of doctrine, and they assigned to them dates much earlier than the true ones, in order to give them the varnish of antiquity. Hence proceeded a peculiar kind of legislation, known under the name of Canon Law, to which recourse was had to decide in the last resort upon all matters of religion. The scriptures, either unknown or ill interpreted, had lost their credit to such a degree, that the cry of innovation was raised when the reformers attempted to restore them to their importance. Perhaps these reformers might have obtained important concessions, if they would have granted to the church, or rather to the sovereign Pontiff, the right of interpreting the divine oracles at his pleasure; but they did not judge it allowable to temporize on a point of so much consequence; and the supreme authority, in every thing relating to the faith, appeared to them to belong solely to the writings of our Saviour’s first disciples. Zwingli thus expresses himself on this subject in the tract of which we have been speaking. “When, for your own justification, you elevate human traditions above the gospel, you appeal to a holy man who says: ‘if the church had not approved the gospel, I should not believe in it: but if you would be sincere, you would confess that there is some rashness, or at least imprudence, in these words of St. Augustine.

“The word of God has no need of the sanction of men: the fathers of the church themselves did nothing more than reject the apocryphal gospels; that is, those of feigned or unknown authors; neither do we desire any thing else than to purge Christianity of what is foreign to it; to deliver it from the captivity in which it is detained by its enemies, and to dig again those cisterns of living water that they have filled up.

“You defend human traditions by asserting that the writings of the first disciples of Christ do not contain all that is necessary to salvation, and in support of your opinion, you quote this text; ‘I have yet many things to say unto you, but ye cannot bear them now,’ (John xvi. v. 12;) but recollect, that Jesus here speaks to his apostles, and not to Aquinus, Scotus, Bartholus, or Baldus, whom you elevate to the rank of supreme legislators. When Jesus adds immediately after, ‘Howbeit, when he the spirit of truth is come, he will guide you into all truth;’ it is still the apostles whom he is addressing, and not men who should rather be called disciples of Aristotle than of Christ. If these famous doctors have added to scripture doctrine what was deficient, it must be confessed that our ancestors possessed it imperfect, that the apostles transmitted it to us imperfect; and that Jesus Christ, the son of God, taught it imperfect; What blasphemy! Yet do not they who make human traditions equal or superior to the law of God, or pretend that they are necessary to salvation, really say this? If men cannot be saved without certain decrees of councils, neither the apostles, nor the early Christians who' were ignorant of these decrees, can be saved. Observe whither you are tending! You defend all your ceremonies as if they were essential to religion; yet it exercised a much more extensive empire over the heart, when the reading of pious books, prayer, and mutual exhortation, formed the only worship of the faithful. You accuse me of overturning the state, because I openly censure the vices of the clergy: no one respects more than I do the ministers of religion, when they teach it in all its purity, and practise it with simplicity; but I cannot contain my indignation when I observe shepherds who, by their conduct, appear to say to their flocks: ‘We are the elect, you the profane; we are the enlightened, you the ignorant; it is permitted to us to live in idleness, you ought to eat your bread in the sweat of your brow; you must abstain from all sin, while we may give ourselves up with impunity to every kind of excess; you must defend the state at the risk of your lives, but religion forbids us to expose ours.’—I will now tell you what is the Christianity that I profess, and which you endeavour to render suspected. It commands men to obey the laws, and respect the magistrate; to pay tribute and impositions where they are due; to rival one another only in beneficence; to support and relieve the indigent; to share the griefs of their neighbour, and to regard all mankind as brethren. It further requires the Christian to expect salvation from God alone, and Jesus Christ his only Son, our master and Saviour, who giveth eternal life to them who believe on him. Such are the principles from which, in the exercise of my ministry, I have never departed.”

While Zwingli was composing this tract, the bishop of Constance required the Helvetic diet, assembled at Baden, to assist him in preserving his diocesans in obedience. The deputies acceded to his wish, and ordered the arrest of the pastor of a small village near Baden, accused of preaching the new doctrine, whom after examining they sent to Constance as convicted of heresy. This was the first example in Switzerland of violent measures exercised against the partisans of the reformation: the impulse being once given, the clergy were careful not to let it subside.

From this moment Zwingli foresaw the obstacles that the heads of the Cantons were likely to oppose to the reformation. In small states the governed are continually in presence of their governors, whose observation nothing can escape. It was necessary to success, to conciliate the favour of the Swiss governments; the reformer therefore addressed to them a summary of his doctrine, in his own name and that of his friends; to which he added an entreaty that they would leave free the preaching of the gospel. “Fear nothing,” says he, “from granting us this liberty; there are certain signs by which every one may know the truly evangelical preachers. He who, neglecting his private interest, spares neither pains nor labour to cause the will of God to be known and revered, to bring back sinners to repentance, and give consolation to the afflicted—is undoubtedly in unison with Christ. But when you see teachers daily offering new saints to the veneration of the people, whose favour must be gained by offerings; and when the same teachers continually hold forth the extent of sacerdotal power, and the authority of the pope, you may believe that they think much more of their own profit, than of the care of the souls entrusted to them.

“ If such men counsel you to put a stop to the preaching of the gospel by public decrees, shut your ears against their insinuations, and be certain that it is their aim to prevent any attacks from being made upon their benefices and honours: say that if this work cometh of men, it will perish of itself, but that if it cometh of God, in vain would all the powers of the earth league together against it.” Zwingli then adverts to the immorality that prevailed among the clergy, and attributes it chiefly to their celibacy. At the period of the reformation, marriage was forbidden to priests in all the countries that recognized the supremacy of the Roman See; but this prohibition was only regarded as a regulation of discipline, which the church might establish or revoke at its pleasure. In the second century of the Christian era, celibacy was already regarded as the highest degree of perfection, and as an abstinence meritorious in the eyes of the Deity. This idea took its rise in Egypt, in the ardent imaginations of the anchorites of that country and the institution of monasteries served to give it credit. It was however still permitted to the clergy to marry; but those who remained in celibacy enjoyed greater respect among the people, who believed them to be less subjected to the powers of hell.

At the council of Nice in 325, it was made a question whether priests should be ordered to observe perpetual celibacy; but several prelates opposed such a law. In succeeding ages the same question was often agitated, and every one decided it in the manner conformable to his own sentiments and character, the church having pronounced nothing positive in the matter. The reputation of sanctity obtained by the monks whose vow obliged them to celibacy, in a manner forced the secular priests to follow their example: many persons too embraced the ecclesiastical state at an advanced age : and many others imposed upon themselves a voluntary abstinence in expiation of their past life. Towards the XIth century, these united causes considerably diminished the number of married priests; but those who remained single, compensated the self-denial by forming connections which were not the less public for being illicit. Under Gregory VII, this abuse had reached its height; and that Pontiff, in remedying it, made the reformation of manners subservient to the aggrandisement of the Holy See. A council assembled by him, ordered the married ecclesiastics to separate themselves from their wives, and such as had concubines to dismiss them. The Pope, inexorable to prayers, complaints, and censure, declared such as should refuse to submit to the decree of the council, unworthy of the priesthood, and forbade the laity to hear mass from a married priest. The character and conduct of Gregory VII allow us to suppose that he foresaw the advantages which might be derived to the Holy See from the celibacy of the clergy. All the measures of this Pope, whose great talents cannot be disputed, tended to render the church independent of the secular power, and he hoped to succeed in this object, by breaking the ties which attached the clergy to their country, rendering the priests strangers to the domestic affections, and placing them, in a manner, out of the society in which they lived.

The decree respecting celibacy was executed in the different states of Europe with a rigour proportioned to the influence exercised in them by Gregory VII but the popes and councils would never have succeeded in abolishing the ancient customs, had they not deprived the children of priests of the right of inheritance, and declared them incapable of holding ecclesiastical benefices. The severity of these laws caused marriage gradually to fall into disuse among the clergy, and multiplied temporary connections, which were tolerated by the bishops in consideration of a fine, and authorised by the magistrates as a security against still worse disorders. Several councils made regulations to repress the abuses resulting from this culpable indulgence, but they possessed only a legislative power; the execution of their decrees belonged to the popes, and these were not likely to draw upon themselves the hatred of the clergy, by executing the will of a. tribunal of which they were jealous. After Gregory VII no Pontiff had the noble ambition to employ his power for the reformation of manners; and the men who disgraced the apostolical chair towards the end of the 16th and beginning of the 17th centuries, were far from punishing vices of which themselves gave the example. Laws that are not executed do but increase the evil; and thus it became intolerable. They who drew their morals from the sacred book, equally blamed the celibacy of the clergy, whether they considered the fatal consequences of this regulation to morals, or whether they examined by what right a numerous class of citizens were deprived of the blessings of the conjugal and parental relations; and the opinion that a priest sinned less by living in licentiousness than in marriage, appeared to them contrary both to morality and religion. Zwingli, being convinced of the mischief of a compelled celibacy, petitioned the chapter to authorise, or at least to tolerate, the marriage of priests. He alleged in his favour numerous passages of scripture, the constant practice of the early ages, the example of many saints justly revered, and the decisions of several councils.

“ Our vow of chastity,” says he, “ is objected against us. Judge yourselves whether this vow, in the form in which we have pronounced it, is contrary to our demand. At the ceremony of ordination, the bishop addresses various questions to those who speak for the young priest who is about to be consecrated; that referring to this matter, is as follows. ‘ Are they chaste whom you offer to the Lord?’ The answer is: ‘As much so as human frailty allows.’ Our vow therefore is reduced to this. Do not regard those who wish to disquiet you respecting the political consequences of this innovation. We ask no privilege contrary to your laws; we do not design to make the property of the church an inheritance for our children, and we will submit, like faithful subjects, to such measures as our magistrates shall judge proper to take? We do not fear a public discussion of our opinion, either by speaking or writing; and we can prove that we have in our favour the authority of the divine writings; but if all our reasons cannot move you, we at least beg of you to protect married priests against the tyranny of the Roman pontiffs and the bishops, and not to suffer citizens to be unjustly oppressed, who consider you as their fathers.”

About the same time, Zwingli addressed a petition to the bishop of Constance, in which he conjured him to put himself at the head of the partisans of reform, and to permit to be demolished with precaution and prudence, what had been built up with temerity.

Zwingli signed these two petitions in concert with nine of his friends. Some courage was certainly necessary to hazard such a step, when the reform could as yet reckon in Switzerland only a small number of timid protectors, and had found such powerful enemies without. At this juncture the situation of affairs was such as left little hope to their cause.

In the month of June 1520, Leo X had declared forty-one of Luther’s propositions heretical; condemned his writings to the flames, and summoned himself to retract, under pain of excommunication. In the following year, 1521, Luther was cited before the diet of Worms, and declared an enemy of the empire, as “a schismatic, a notorious and obstinate heretic, and a gangrened member of the church;” and all those who should support him, in conversation or by writing, were threatened with severe penalties. At Worms, Charles V showed so much zeal in defence of pontifical authority, that the elector Frederic of Saxony saw no other means of saving Luther than by causing him to be secretly conveyed away, and carried to one of his castles, where he remained concealed for several months. That the decree of the diet did not give occasion to violent measures against the partisans of the Saxon reformer, must be attributed to the war which broke out between Charles V and Francis I, which left Charles no leisure to attend to the ecclesiastical affairs of Germany; but the sword still remained suspended over the heads of the pretended heretics, and the avowed sentiments of Charles gave cause to believe that he would join with the pope to exterminate them, as soon as he should have no other enemies to fear. After the diet of Worms, the cause of Luther appeared to be judged without appeal; he and his followers were considered as sectaries, rebellious both to secular and ecclesiastical authority, and the name of Lutheran was become a kind of stigma. The enemies of Zwingli did not fail to bestow on him this appellation, against which he continued to protest; not that he disavowed the conformity of his opinions with those of Luther, but because he had derived his from the scriptures long before he was acquainted with the writings of the German reformer. His adversaries however wished to render him odious; and the best means of accomplishing it, was to assimilate him to a man already excommunicated by the Holy Father. They seized the advantage afforded them by his bold step above mentioned. The churches resounded with the names of Lutheran and heretic, and the monks especially employed all their eloquence in decrying the new doctrine, both in their confessionals and from the pulpits. Fresh controversies arose every day between the two parties; some persons went so far as to interrupt the preachers in the churches; and personal abuse envenomed the dispute.

General edification was gradually impaired; the essential doctrines of Christianity, and especially its moral precepts, were neglected; and attention was almost exclusively occupied with objects unworthy of the importance attached to them. Zwingli himself and his partisans, though persuaded of the in utility of these disputes, could not always avoid them. The multitude, incapable of judging of the foundation of the debate, were perpetually tossed about between different opinions, and could rest in none; and at the same time they were scandalised to witness such animosities among men who all called themselves ministers of the same religion, and disciples of the same master.

It was to be feared that the people would insensibly lose all confidence in their spiritual guides, and that their respect for religion itself would sustain a fatal blow. This consideration did not escape Zwingli, and it filled him with the keenest anxiety, but what remedy could be found that was not more dangerous than the evil itself? Ought he to be silent from a love of peace? Ought he to give way to his adver­saries and leave them time to fix again what he had succeeded in shaking? By acting thus, he would have thought that he was betraying the truth, and failing in the sacred duties of his ministry. But ought he not, in obedience to the exhortations of his bishop, to keep silence respecting every thing that might become a subject of quarrel, and quietly await the convocation of a general council. This part appeared the best to those who were persuaded that the Holy Spirit directs the resolutions of a general assembly of the clergy, or who believed, at least, that a meeting composed of the most illustrious and enlightened members of the church, would set truth in so clear a light as to confound the incredulous. Zwingli adopted neither of these opinions; he was too well versed in ecclesiastical history not to know that it was often the passions which dictated the decisions of councils; and that, still oftener, the science of theologians when united in a body, had embroiled what the simple good sense of each individual would have disentangled without difficulty. The recent conduct of the councils of Constance and Basil, likewise inspired him with a well-founded distrust. The first had laid it down as a principle, that faith was not necessary to be observed with heretics, and had condemned to the stake John Huss and Jerome of Prague, whose great crime had been declaiming against the vices of the clergy. The second, being continually divided and thwarted by the intrigues of the court of Rome, had fulfilled none of its promises, and employed itself during seventeen years in minute and useless regulations. The past gave an indication of what was to be expected from the future. It was indeed to be presumed that a council convoked by the pope, and in which his legates were to preside, would not suffer the slightest discussion of the prerogatives of the Holy See; that it would confine itself to pronouncing all new opinions heretical, without listening to their .justification; and that it would never admit the principle, that the scripture is the only absolute authority in matters of faith. These were no doubt the considerations which induced Zwingli to take other means to put an end to the violent disputes that were daily renewed in all the churches of Zurich, and to bring on the changes for which he had prepared the public mind.

In the beginning of the year 1523, Zwingli appeared before the great council, and solicited a public colloquy, in which he might render an account of bis doctrine in presence of the deputies of the bishop of Constance. He promised to retract if he were proved to be in an error; but he desired the special protection of the government in case he should succeed in reducing his adversaries to silence. In conformity with this request of the reformer, the council a few days afterwards addressed the following circular letter to the ecclesiastics of their Canton. “Great discord prevails among the ministers employed to announce the word of God to the people: some affirm that they teach the gospel in all its purity, and accuse their adversaries of bad faith and ignorance, while the others, in their turn, talk continually of false doctors, seducers, and heretics. In the meantime, the heads of the church, to which these matters belong, are either silent, or exhaust themselves in fruitless exhortations. It is therefore necessary that ourselves should take care of our subjects, and put an end to the disputes that divide them. For this purpose, we order all the members of our clerical body to appear at our town hall, the day after the festival of Charlemagne; and there we will that every one be free publicly to point out the doctrines which he considers as heretical, and to combat them with the Gospel in his hand. Ourselves will be present at this assembly, and give all our attention to what is said on both sides; and being thus enlightened by the knowledge of our principal theologians and preachers, with the assistance of God we will take measures which may put an end to this scandal. If afterwards, any one shall refuse to submit himself to the laws which a regard for public order may dictate to us, without supporting his refusal by the word of God, we shall find ourselves under the necessity of proceeding against him, from which we would gladly be excused. In conclusion, we hope that the Almighty will deign to guide us in our judgments, and assist us to discover the Truth.” Given in the month of January 1523. As soon as this decree was known, Zwingli published seventy-six articles, the discussion of which was to form the subject of the colloquy. We shall content ourselves with citing those that were most adverse to the prevailing opinions.

“ It is an error to assert that the gospel is nothing without the approbation of the church; it is also an error to esteem other instructions equally with those contained In the gospel.—The traditions by which the clergy justify their pomp, their riches, honours and dignities, are the cause of the divisions of the church.—The gospel teaches us that the observances enjoined by men do not avail to salvation.—The mass is not a sacrifice, out the commemoration of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ.—Excommunication ought only to take place for public scandals, and it ought to be pronounced by the church of which the sinner is a member.—The power arrogated to themselves by the pope and the bishops is not founded on scripture.—The jurisdiction possessed by the clergy belongs to the secular magistrates to whom all Christians ought to submit themselves.—God has not forbidden marriage to any class of Christians; therefore it is wrong to interdict it to priests, whose celibacy has become the cause of great licentiousness of manners.— Confession made to a priest ought to be considered as an examination of the conscience, and not as an act which can deserve absolution.—To give absolution for money, is to become guilty of simony.—Holy writ says nothing of purgatory; God alone knows the judgment that he reserves for the dead; since he has not been pleased to reveal it to us, we ought to refrain from all indiscreet conjectures.—No person ought to be molested for his opinions; it is for the magistrate to stop the progress of those which tend to disturb the public tranquillity.”

On the day fixed for the colloquy, the ecclesiastics of the Canton repaired to the town hall, where were assembled the council of two hundred, and a great number of spectators of every condition. The bishop of Constance was represented in the meeting by the chevalier d’Anweil, intendant of his household, and by Faber his grand vicar, accompanied by several theologians. The burgomaster of Zurich opened the sitting, by reciting the motives which had induced the council to convoke this assembly; he exhorted all those who believed themselves qualified to convict Zwingli of heresy, to unfold their sentiments without fear. After him, the bishop’s intendant, his grand vicar, and Zwingli, spoke in succession. The latter was urgent to have his opinions subjected to a severe examination; but the grand vicar avoided complying with his demand, and confined himself to general reflexions on the necessity of union in the church. The adversaries of Zwingli, so prompt to accuse and defame him in secret, preserved an obstinate silence, either because they did not feel in themselves the talent necessary to oppose him with advantage, or because they thought they perceived the dispositions of the audience to be too favourable to the reformer. The colloquy was likely to have concluded without the discussion of any important questions, when an incident at length brought on the debate. Some parish priests complained of the illegal arrest of one of their colleagues, who had been carried to Constance and detained in prison, on account of his opinions relative to the invocation of saints and of the Virgin. The grand vicar rose to justify the conduct of his bishop on this occasion; he then added, that he himself, after several conversations with the priest, had brought him to confess and retract his error. At these words Zwingli stopped him: this was one of the articles to which the reformer was desirous of drawing the attention of the synod; and he begged that the grand vicar would impart to him the reasons which he had employed to convince his prisoner.

The grand vicar perceived too late that he had committed an imprudence in advancing an assertion which he ought to have foreseen that Zwingli would not admit without proof; accordingly, instead of giving a direct answer, he eluded the question by a long discourse on the heresies of the early ages, on the efforts made by popes and councils to stifle them, and on the temerity of some turbulent men who sought to renew ancient disputes. “If it be allowable, ” said he, “to overturn doctrines established by councils which the Holy Spirit directed; and to accuse the fathers of the church and our ancestors, of having lived in error during a long succession of ages, what would be the consequences of such boldness. In matters of faith it is necessary that the whole church should agree, and that is the reason why things which concern the whole church, ought not to be treated of before a particular and not numerous synod, but referred to a general council which ought to be implicitly obeyed. As to those who refer to the scriptures in the three languages, I reply, that it is not sufficient to quote the sacred writings, it is also necessary thoroughly to understand them. Now, the gift of interpretation is a precious one, which God does not grant to all. I do not boast of possessing it; I am ignorant of Hebrew; I know little of Greek, and though I am sufficiently versed in Latin, I do not give myself out for an able orator. Far be from me the presumption of erecting myself into a judge in questions where salvation is concerned; these, I repeat it, only a general council can decide, I shall submit to its decisions without murmuring, and perhaps it would become all present to show the same submission.”

Zwingli was not satisfied with this evasive answer; he pressed the grand vicar to point out to him those passages of scripture by which he could pretend to support the invocation of saints and of the Virgin; but ill vain. He could obtain nothing of him and the theologians who accompanied him, but quotations from St. Jerome, the canon of the mass, St. Gregory’s litanies, and references to the miracles daily performed by the saints. These arguments were not of a nature to satisfy the reformer. “The fathers of the church,” said he, “cannot be regarded as unerring guides, since they are often not agreed among themselves; witness St. Jerome and St. Augustin, who had very different opinions on important points. The canon of the mass was composed by different popes and bishops who were not infallible; the litanies of St. Gregory prove that the saints were invoked in the time of that pontiff, but not that their invocation was founded on scripture. As to the miracles attributed to the intercession of the Virgin and the saints, if the facts quoted really took place, we cannot judge whether or not they were owing to that intercession”

“You would have me submit,” concluded Zwingli, “to the decisions of the church, because, as you say, it cannot err. If by the church you understand the popes with their cardinals, how dare you assert that it cannot err? Can you deny that in the number of the popes there have been several who have lived in licentiousness, and given themselves up to all the furies of ambition, hatred, and revenge; who, in order to aggrandize their temporal power, have not scrupled to stir up subjects against their lawful sovereigns. And how can I believe that the Holy Spirit could have enlightened men whose conduct appeared to brave the injunctions of Jesus Christ?

“If by the church you understand the councils, you forget how often these councils have accused each other of bad faith and of heresy. Certainly there is a church that cannot err, and which is directed by the Holy Spirit. It is composed of all true believers, united in the bonds of faith and charity: but this church is only visible to the eyes of its divine founder, who alone knoweth his own. It does not assemble with pomp, it docs not dictate its decrees in the manner of the kings of the earth; it has no temporal reign; it seeks neither honours nor domination: to fulfil the will of God is the only care by which it is occupied.”

This discourse of Zwingli gave rise to keen contests, and in the heat of dispute the main question was more than once lost sight of. The reformer persisted in refusing to admit any other proofs than such as were drawn from scripture; while his adversary wished to choose them from the decisions of councils. Neither party would yield to the other; but at length, the grand vicar and his colleagues, finding that arguments failed them, and discouraged by the signs of approbation bestowed on Zwingli by the assembly, became silent. The burgomaster dissolved the meeting, and the council alone remained assembled. This body thought itself sufficiently enlightened on the subject of the colloquy, and after a short deliberation ordered “that Zwingli, having neither been convicted of heresy, nor refuted, should continue to preach the gospel as he had done heretofore; that the pastors of Zurich and its territory should rest their discourses on the words of scripture alone, and that both parties should abstain from all personal reflections.”

On the evening of the same day, the clergy were again convoked, to hear the decree of the morning. After it had been read to them, Zwingli thanked the Council for its fatherly care for the good of the church. The grand vicar then rose, and complained that so important an affair had been decided with such precipitation; he asserted that his objections had not been answered, and offered to take for arbitrators the doctors of any university that it should please the council to mention. Zwingli rejected this offer, and would only refer the matter to scripture; but the grand vicar having represented to him that as the same passage was often susceptible of two interpretations, a judge was necessary to decide between them; “the scripture,” replied Zwingli, “explains itself, and has no need of an interpreter. If men understand it ill, it is because they read it amiss. It is always consistent with itself, and the Spirit of God acts by it so strongly, that all readers may find the truth there, provided they seek it with a sincere and humble heart. Thanks to the invention of printing, the sacred books are now within the reach of all Christians; and I exhort the ecclesiastics here assembled, to study them unremittingly. They will there learn to preach Christianity such as it was transmitted to us by the evangelists and apostles. As to the fathers of the church, I do not blame persons for reading and quoting them in the pulpit, provided it be where they are conformable to scripture, and provided they be not considered as infallible authority.” This answer of Zwingli’s only irritated the grand vicar, and gave rise to some altercations foreign from the real question, after which the assembly separated.

Thus ended the first colloquy, the effect of which was answerable to the wishes of Zwingli. He had not flattered himself with the idea of converting his adversaries in the space of a few hours; but had been desirous of procuring an opportunity of unfolding his opinions in presence of the clergy of Zurich, and he took advantage of the few objections brought against him to lay clown some important principles. His simplicity, firmness and gentleness, inspired his audience with great veneration; his eloquence and knowledge carried away those who were hesitating between the two parties; and the silence of his adversaries, being regarded as a tacit proof of their weakness, served his cause almost as much as his own arguments. From this time, the partisans of reform multiplied rapidly in all classes of society. Zwingli derived a further advantage from this colloquy. Hitherto he had had no support but himself; his reputation was his strength; but it could not alone have upheld him against the censures of his bishop, and the attacks of colleagues, invested as well as, himself with a sacred character. Now his government had taken him under its protection, and authorized him to complete the work that he had begun. What he was about to undertake, could no longer therefore be regarded as the illegal innovation of a mere private man, but as the preliminaries of a reform directed and authorized by the secular power. The relation between the clergy of Zurich and the bishop of Constance was destroyed; and at Zwingli’s instigation, the council had put itself in the place of the bishop.

The Swiss reformer has been more than once accused, not only, by Roman Catholics, but also by protestants, of having allowed too much authority to the secular power in ecclesiastical matters. But it does not appear from any of the works of Zwingli, that it was his intention to transfer to governments the absolute power over consciences which the popes had arrogated to themselves; he only thought that the depositaries of lawful power, being more interested than any one else in the preservation of the order and tranquillity of the state, ought to have a share in the direction of ecclesiastical affairs. The following are some of the ideas on this subject found scattered through his different works.

“No human power can command conviction; therefore neither popes nor councils have a right to prescribe to Christendom what ought to be believed: the scripture alone is the common law of all Christians. If any dispute arises about a doctrine or an object of worship, it is for each church in particular to examine on which side reason and the word of God are found, and to choose which it will embrace. In a well-organised society nothing ought to be done without the participation of government; it is therefore for it to direct the reforms that may be desired by the members of the church; to prevent any individual from endeavouring at changes on his own private authority, and to restrain those who, under pretext of reform, are desirous of disturbing the public peace. To avoid the inconveniences attached to the deliberations of a numerous assembly, it is prudent to intrust the government with the care of ascertaining the wish of the community on what concerns religion. But, in this case, the government is only the organ through which the church manifests its assent or opposition, and not a judge who may decide on what is true or false.— It is at once contrary to the gospel and to reason, to employ violent measures to extort a confession of faith contrary to conscience. Reason and persuasion are the arms that a Christian ought to employ; if they be insufficient, we must be content to expect the conversion of those who are still in error from time and the force of truth. When a religious sect professes opinions injurious to society, then, and then only, the magistrate may use his power to prevent or punish disorders."

Zwingli never departed from these principles in whatever situations lie found himself placed between the partisans of the ancient faith, and the zealots of his own party.

Notwithstanding the success of the reformer in the colloquy of the 29th of January, he was not in haste to promote alterations. No innovation was made in worship; mass continued to be said, and the churches remained in the same state, but more sermons were delivered for the instruction of the people. Zwingli devoted himself to preaching with indefatigable zeal, and he was assisted in the work by two of his colleagues, one of whom was Leo Jude, with whom he had contracted a great intimacy at Einsiedeln.

While Zwingli was enlightening his auditors peaceably and without precipitation, other partisans of the reformation, impatient of his slowness, were endeavouring to attain their end more speedily. They published a work at Zurich full of vehement declamation, entitled “ The Judgment of God against Images,” in which the worship paid to them was represented as real idolatry. This was enough to inspire several ardent spirits with the desire of purging the city of these pretended idols. Some of the lower class, having at their head an artisan named Nicholas Hottinger, assembled and pulled down a crucifix erected at the gate of the city. This arbitrary act excited a great commotion : as soon as the council had news of it, they caused the culprits to be arrested; but when sentence was to be pronounced upon them, opinions were divided. What some regarded as a crime worthy of death, appeared to others the error of an inconsiderate zeal which ought to be repressed by a slight correction. During the debates upon this sentence, Zwingli maintained in public, that the law of Moses expressly forbade images intended to be the objects of religious worship, and that the prohibition given to the Israelites was binding also upon Christians, since it had not been revoked by the gospel. He thence concluded, that those who had pulled down the crucifix could not be accused of sacrilege; but he pronounced them deserving of punishment for having allowed themselves to take such a step without the authority of the magistrate.

This language augmented the embarrassment of the council; they felt a great deference for the opinion of Zwingli; but they were fearful of irritating the Cantons their allies, who were carefully watching their conduct, and were but too much dis­posed to reproach Zurich with the protection that she granted to heresy. It was, besides, become impossible to hold the balance even between the two parties; it was necessary for the council either to punish the iconoclasts with severity, or publicly to declare themselves in their favour. Previously to pronouncing their decision, the council ordered another colloquy for the purpose of examining particularly, to whether the worship of images was authorised by the gospel, and whether the mass ought to be preserved or abolished.”

The senate in its decree, stated the motives and object of the second colloquy; they summoned to it the clergy of the territory of Zurich, as well as all persons, whether ecclesiastics or laymen, who should be desirous of discussing the questions proposed. They invited also the bishops of Constance, Coire, and Basil, the university of the latter city, and the other Cantons, to send their deputies; but the towns of Schaffhaussen and St. Gall were the only ones that accepted the invitation. The prelates, ecclesiastics, and theologians of the Canton, as well as many laity, assembled on the day appointed, October 28,1523, to the number of above 900. Two deputies of St. Gall, and one of Schaffhausen were named presidents, and charged by the council to take care that the prescribed conditions were observed. Zwingli and Leo Jude were to answer all who defended the worship of images and the mass as a sacrifice. We shall not enter into the particulars of this second colloquy; suffice it to say that the victory of the two reformers was not disputed, their real adversaries still remaining silent, though they had been addressed by name. The prior of the Augustines, a famous preacher and much attached to the ancient orthodoxy, confessed that he could not refute the theses of Zwingli unless he were allowed to have recourse to the canon law. The colloquy lasted three days; the reformers had time sufficient to explain their opinions, and succeeded in imparting them to the majority of the assembly; but notwithstanding the general approbation that they obtained, the council would come to no determinate resolution. They dismissed the clergy with thanks for the readiness they had shown in obeying their summons, and reserved it to themselves to ordain at a future time what they should judge proper."

Many persons profited by this delay to beg of the council the pardon of the culprits. Their long imprisonment appeared a sufficient punishment, and they were therefore set at liberty; but Hottinger, the principal instigator of the commotion, was banished for two years from the Canton of Zurich. This slight punishment became fatal to the unfortunate man. He repaired to the county of Baden, where he lived by the labour of his hands, neither seeking nor avoiding occasions of speaking of his religious opinions. He was soon denounced to the grand bailiff as having contravened an ordinance of the sovereign power, which forbade all discussions respecting religion. The grand bailiff, who was zealously orthodox, caused him to be immediately arrested, and diligently collected all the depositions against him. When questioned upon his religious faith, Hottinger did not conceal his thorough conviction, that the adoration of images and the invocation of saints was contrary to the word of God. This confession appeared sufficient in the eyes of his judges to justify a sentence of death; but the tribunal at Baden not daring to pronounce so severe a judgment, the grand bailiff sent his prisoner to Lucern, where the deputies of seven Cantons condemned him to be beheaded, notwithstanding the urgent intercession of the senate of Zurich.

The conduct of Hettinger reminds us of that of the ancient martyrs. The tranquillity and courage which he showed in prison, before his judges, and on his way to the scaffold, place him in the same rank with the first Christians. On the place of execution he addressed himself to the deputies of the Cantons; he conjured them to remain in unity with their brethren of Zurich, and not to oppose the reform that they were about to undertake, for which they saw him die rejoicing. He then implored the mercy of God in favour of his judges, and begged them to open their eyes to the truth. Afterwards he turned towards the people, and said: “If I have offended any one among you, let him forgive me as I have forgiven my enemies. Pray to God to support my faith to the last moment: when I shall have undergone my punishment, your prayers will be useless to me.”

Hottinger was the first in Switzerland who died for the cause of reformation; his resignation appeared to some the extreme of obduracy, to others a sublime firmness. The council of Zurich could not pardon its allies the irregularity of this proceeding, which had been completed without regard to its protest; and the partisans of the reformation deeply resented the condemnation of a man whose opinions were their own.

Although the issue of the second colloquy had been favourable to Zwingli, the council of Zurich adjourned its decision upon the changes to be introduced in worship, till the next year. During this interval, it addressed itself to the bishops of Constance, Coire, and Basil, to beg them to communicate to it the objections that their theologians might have to make against the opinions of Zwingli. The bishop of Constance alone sent to the council an apology for the mass and the use of images, in which he laboured to refute the accusation of idolatry brought by the reformers against the church of Rome. He made a distinction between idols which represent false Gods, and images of saints who have lived on earth, and who since their death have been received into heaven. He maintained that the homage paid to the latter has nothing criminal in it, but serves, on the contrary, to nourish devotion and piety.

This writing of the bishop’s made little impression on the council, who found in it no new arguments: they however commissioned Zwingli to reply to it, and we shall quote some passages from his answer.

“The law of Moses is express with regard to images, and has not been abolished by the gospel. It not only forbids the adoration of any other gods than the Eternal, it also forbids the making of any likeness of any thing which is in heaven above, or in earth beneath, or in the waters that are under the earth; and this prohibition is applicable to images of all kinds, which are used for worship. The absurd impieties of idolaters, and the abuses introduced among Christians, sufficiently prove the wisdom of this law. He who first placed the statue of a holy man in a temple, had certainly no other intention than to offer him as an object of imitation to the faithful; but men did not stop there. The saints were soon surrounded with a pomp which impressed the imagination of the people; they were transformed into divinities, and honoured as the pagans honoured their Gods. Their names are given to temples and altars, and chapels are consecrated to them in woods, in fields, and upon mountains. How many men in the hour of trouble, or at the approach of danger, in­stead of invoking the Omnipotent, call upon men who have been dead for ages, whose virtues have certainly placed them in the mansions of the blessed, but who can neither hear nor succour us! How many Christians, instead of having recourse to the mercy of the Redeemer, expect salvation from some saint, the object of their superstitious devotion! There are even some who attribute supernatural virtues to these images. In order to enhance the veneration for them, they are sometimes kept concealed, and sometimes brought forth in pompous processions. Men consult them to learn the future; and to such a degree is the credulity of the vulgar abused, that they arc made to believe that these inanimate statues have uttered words, shed tears, and given commands. Look at the votive tablets that cover the walls of our temples; is there one which testifies the gratitude of a Christian towards God, the dispenser of all good, or Jesus Christ the Saviour of the world? No, it is to men whose condition on earth was similar to our own, that they attribute the miraculous cure of a disease, or unexpected succour in the hour of danger, or a wise resolution taken in some important circumstance of life. Is this true piety? To persuade the credulous that offerings made to saints can excuse the Christian from the imitation of their virtues, and expiate sins, is this nourishing a salutary devotion? Ah no! believe me: such superstitious worship only serves to enrich those who patronise it; if you would honour the saints, honour them, not by addressing prayers to them which belong to God alone, not by lavishing upon them offerings of which they have no need, but by following their example, and by devoting, like them, your possessions to the poor.”

Though this question only related to worship, it appeared to Zwingli of great importance. He regarded the doctrine of the invocation of saints as a dangerous instrument in the hands of the least respectable part of the clergy, and he judged it impossible to overcome the false ideas of the people, unless the objects of their superstition were removed from their sight: he therefore laboured to procure their banishment, and succeeded.

The Reformed of our days still preserve the severe simplicity introduced by Zwingli into their worship. The only decoration of their churches consists of a few texts of scripture inscribed on the walls, which invite to serious meditation: nothing is there to strike the senses, or divert the soul from the contemplation of its maker. The Eternal alone fills these temples with his invisible majesty, and shares not his dominion with mortal man. Every thing announces a deity whose na­ture has nothing earthly. This simplicity has been often blamed, and has found detractors even in the bosom of the protectant church. Some great writers have taken pleasure in adorning the ceremonies of Roman Catholic worship with the charms of eloquence and poetry. They have painted in the most seductive colours, sometimes the magnificence of temples, decorated with the masterpieces of all the arts; sometimes the august spectacle of a venerable pontiff, surrounded with all the splendour of royalty, and by his prayers calling down the favour of heaven on an immense multitude prostrate at his feet; sometimes the interesting festival of the patron saint of a village, celebrated under the roof of a rustic church: and they have thus endeavoured to prove that in order to act powerful on the heart of man, religion must speak to the senses. But the advantages of such a medium may well be doubted. In minds naturally inclined to devotion, the pomp of worship heightens still more the sentiment of piety, because every thing recalls to them the feelings which occupy their lives, and because they discover in every ceremony a deep meaning; but an ordinary man docs not experience the same effect; his eyes only are struck with what he sees, his ears with what he hears; his heart is not touched, his mind is not enlightened, and he becomes accustomed to place all his religion in externals. Can it be said that it is necessary to present objects to the veneration of the people which may serve as steps to enable them to raise their thoughts to the deity? Surely the Christian religion, such as it was taught by its divine founder, sufficiently provides for the wants of our weakness by showing us a mediator between God and men, united to God by his eternal nature, and assimilated to men by the mortal form which he assumed among them. In him, the wise man contemplates the whole splendour of deity; while the weak is encouraged by a human appearance, and can comprehend and love a Saviour who has experienced the pains and endearments of life; who binds earth to heaven, and time to eternity.

The work of Zwingli on the mass and on images, at length determined the council to undertake the reformation of worship. In the beginning of the year 1524, it permitted persons to withdraw from the churches the pictures and statues consecrated by themselves or their ancestors, and some time after, a positive order was given for their removal. Two magistrates visited all the churches of the city to cause the remaining ornaments to be taken away, and in a few days they were entirely stripped of their ancient decorations, without any disturbance resulting from the measure. Some fanatics had indeed predicted that the statues would return of themselves to their former places; but this prediction not being accomplished, the images lost all their credit. The government at first caused all the ornaments removed from the churches to be collected and placed in one of its halls, intending to preserve them; but a blind zeal soon involved them all in the same proscription. The pictures were burned, and the statues broken, to prevent their ever becoming again the objects of superstitious worship; and a great number of monuments were thus destroyed, the loss of which the reformers themselves regretted. Without imposing it as a law on the municipalities of the Canton, the council authorised the removal of the images from the churches if it were the wish of the majority; and the example of the capital was generally followed.

This first innovation excited great discontent in the other Cantons. Facts were distorted; the people of Zurich were accused of having insulted the objects of the veneration of Christians; and Zwingli was treated by the monks as guilty of impiety. In several diets assembled unknown to the senate of Zurich, the deputies of the Cantons engaged never to permit the establishment of the new doctrine in Switzerland. The council demanded explanations on this subject from the confederates, but received only vague assurances of friendship which did not tranquillize it; and foreseeing that it might find itself under the necessity of defending the reformation by force of arms, it was desirous of knowing whether the fidelity of its subjects could be depended on. The council therefore informed them, by a proclamation, of the reasons of complaint given it by the allies; exhorting them not to desert a cause in which the salvation of their souls was concerned, and enjoining them to declare what the council might expect from them. The municipalities of the Canton replied, that they would never separate their interests from those of their government, in support of which they were ready to make any sacrifices. In the meantime affairs began daily to assume a more alarming aspect; and an events impossible to be foreseen, soon occurred to increase the misunderstanding among the confederates.

The village of Stammheim, situated upon the frontiers of Thurgaw, was dependent upon Zurich, its criminal jurisdiction alone being in the power of the bailiff of Thurgaw. For several years this village had possessed a chapel dedicated to St. Anne, and enriched by the gifts of a multitude of pilgrims. Notwithstanding the advantages that accrued from this concourse of strangers to the inhabitants, the latter showed themselves very much disposed to adopt the reform. They had been prepared for this step by the bailiff of the place, named Wirth, a zealous partisan of Zwingli, and by his two sons, both ecclesiastics. These men led their fellow citizens to regard the honours which were offered to the patroness of their village, as idolatrous, and persuaded them to burn the votive pictures that attested the miracles of St. Anne, and to destroy every vestige of the worship paid to that saint. Some individuals however beheld their destruction with pain, and though compelled to yield for the moment to the wish of the majority, they carried their complaints before the grand bailiff of Thurgaw, Joseph Amberg. This person had been himself inclined to the opinions of Zwingli; but when a candidate for the office of grand bailiff, in order to obtain the suffrages of his fellow citizens, all zealous catholics, he had promised to use his utmost power to suppress the new sect in Thurgaw. The limits of his jurisdiction would not allow him directly to oppose the alterations made at Stammheim; but he willingly received all depositions made against the bailiff Wirth, whom he regarded as the chief of the reformed party; and thenceforth vowed a violent hatred against him, which he took no pains to conceal. This hatred occasioned great uneasiness to Wirth, who was apprehensive that Amberg, abusing his power, should proceed to some extremity, and foresaw, from the animosity of the Cantons against the reformed, that any arbitrary act would remain unpunished. In this situation of things, Wirth engaged several municipalities of the Canton of Zurich and Thurgaw, to promise mutual assistance against such attempts as should menace their individual safety. Similar associations, however irregular they may justly appear at the present day, were then very customary in Switzerland, a reserve being made on either side for the obedience due to their lawful sovereign; and these sovereignties, which often were unable to furnish prompt and efficacious succour to their subjects, did not blame the means employed by them for their own defence.

The minds of men were in that state of fermentation which presages untoward events, when the grand bailiff of Thurgaw, either by order of the Cantons, or in hope of paying his court to them, caused Oechsli, pastor of the little town of Stein, to be carried off by force, in contempt of the privileges of that place. This priest, being an intimate friend of Zwingli, with whom he had become acquainted at Einsiedeln, was the principal apostle of his doctrine in Thurgaw, and the grand bailiff Amberg hoped to stop the progress of the reformation by depriving it of his support. Oechsli was roused in the middle of the night by soldiers breaking into his house; in vain did he call for assistance, and flight or re­sistance being equally vain, he was obliged to yield to force. As soon as the inhabitants of Stein and the adjacent villages, among which was Stammheim, were apprised of the arrest of their pastor, they sounded the tocsin. In an instant all the men able to bear arms assembled and set out in pursuit of the grand bailiff’s soldiers, who were carrying off Oechsli. They could not overtake them, being stopped in their march by a small river. While they were busied in finding means to cross, they learned that Amberg had caused the tocsin to be sounded on his side, and meant to oppose their passage. In order to avoid scenes of bloodshed, they sent a request that he would release his prisoner on bail, engaging that if there were any accusation against him, he should appear before the tribunals as soon as he was summoned in the legal forms. During the parley, the people of Stein and Stammheim retired into a neighbouring convent named Ittingen They were amicably received by the monks who furnished them with provisions, and they remained there peaceably during the whole day and the night following; but on the morrow, when they knew that the grand bailiff had refused to set the pastor of Stein at liberty, the most turbulent of the peasants giving themselves up to a fanatical rage, cried out that they ought to revenge themselves on the monks of Ittingen. In vain did the bailiff Wirth, who had hastened forth at the sound of the tocsin, endeavour to appease the fury of this ungovernable populace; from abuse they proceeded to actual violence against the monks, and intoxication was soon added to augment the disorder. At this moment a courier dispatched by the council of Zurich brought an order to the peasants of Stammheim, its immediate subjects, to quit the convent of Ittingen without delay, and retire to their own homes. They obeyed, but scarcely had they regained their dwellings when they saw a violent conflagration burst forth at Ittingen. Those who had remained behind, all men of Thurgaw, or inhabitants of Stein, had first pillaged the convent, and then set fire to it.

The grand bailiff, in giving an account to his government of this fatal event, misrepresented several circumstances, and made no mention of the step by which he had himself given occasion to it. He blamed the inhabitants of Stammheim, and above all, the bailiff Wirth and his sons, whom he accused of having caused the tocsin to be sounded; of being the authors of the excesses committed at Ittingen; of having broken the pyx, profaned the host, and burned the convent. The Cantons assembled a diet to deliberate upon the measures to be taken, and their indignation was such, that they would have marched instantly against the inhabitants of Stein and Stammheim, and wasted every thing with fire and sword. The deputies of Zurich represented to them that the grand bailiff had provoked this commotion by violating the privileges of the town of Stein, in the illegal arrest of its pastor. “We must ascertain by a formal procedure,” said they, “whether the persons accused are really worthy of punishment, and not have recourse to a violent measure which would strike at once the innocent and the guilty.” This opinion prevailed, and the council of Zurich in consequence sent one of its members with an escort of soldiers to Stammheim to seize the principal persons accused. These received an intimation in time, and several of them consulted their safety by flight; but the bailiff Wirth and his two sons, depending upon their own innocence and the justice of their government, refused to fly. “You have no need to use force in arresting us,” said Wirth to the deputy of the council; “if a child had brought us an order from our sovereign to appear before it, we should have obeyed without resistance.” As soon as they arrived at Zurich they were examined. They acknowledged that they had gone out at the sound of the tocsin, and that they had followed the crowd to Ittingen; but they proved, that far from exciting the peasants to disorder, they had endeavoured to dissuade them from it, and that they had retired as soon as they had been ordered so to do by their government.

These proceedings were communicated to the Cantons; but they were not satisfied, and required that the prisoners should be given up to them, in order to be judged by the diet assembled at Baden. In vain did the council of Zurich represent, that according to the laws and customs of the confederation, it was for that body, as the immediate judges of Stammheim, to examine whether the crime were capital or not; and that since it had decided in the negative, the diet had no right over the persons accused: the Cantons replied, that they would do themselves justice, and that they would carry off the prisoners by force of arms, if the council continued to refuse them. This threat shook the resolution of the senate; a civil war appeared to it inevitable if it persisted in its refusal; it therefore consented to deliver up the prisoners, on condition however that their religious opinions should not be objected against them as a crime, and that the only object of this new procedure should be the political offences of which they were accused. The resolution of the council was blamed by a great number of the citizens, at the head of whom was Zwingli. “To yield to threats,’’ said he, “to renounce your rights when the life of a subject is at stake, is a criminal weakness from which none but the most fatal consequences can be expected. If the persons accused were guilty, I should be far from wishing to save them from the sword of justice, but since they have been judged innocent, why deliver them up to a tribunal determined beforehand to make the whole weight of its hatred against the reformed fall upon their heads?” The representations of Zwingli were not regarded. The prisoners were conducted to Baden and thrown into a dungeon, and their ruin was determined on. The grand bailiff Amberg had repaired to the diet, and was adding fuel to the fury of the judges against the unfortunate Wirth and his sons, by representing them as enemies of the ca­tholic faith. In defect of proofs they were put to the torture, in hope of extorting from them the confessions necessary to condemn them with some appearance of justice. They resisted all the torments inflicted upon them; but their admirable constancy, instead of softening their judges, irritated them still more, and the expressions that escaped them, betrayed the real cause of that hatred of which this unhappy family were the victims. The senate of Zurich did not on this occasion exert the energy that it ought to have displayed; it contented itself with expostulations and entreaties. The wife of Wirth hastened to Baden to implore the mercy of the judges. She pleaded that even if there were some causes of complaint against her husband, he deserved the indulgence of the sovereign power in consideration of his past fidelity. “ It is true,” replied the deputy for Zug, who had been grand bailiff before Amberg, “I never knew a man more hospitable, sincere, and upright than Wirth. His house was open to all who stood in need of his assistance; he always showed himself a good and faithful subject, and I cannot conceive what demon can have drawn him into this revolt. If he had plundered, robbed, or even murdered, I would willingly speak in his favour; but since he has burned the image of the blessed St Anne, the mother of the Virgin, there can be no mercy shown him.”

The examination of the three prisoners lasted a long time; at length the deputies of the Cantons assembled to pronounce sentence: those of Zurich, regarding the procedure as illegal, refused to take their seats with their confederates. The diet, after hearing the report of the examining commissioners and the depositions of the witnesses, condemned Wirth and his eldest son to death; and in order to colour over with an appearance of mercy this cruel and fanatical sentence, it granted the pardon of the second son to the tears of his mother. The reasons assigned for the condemnation of Wirth were, the part that he had taken in the association of the municipalities; his intention of rescuing the pastor of Stein; the destruction of the images at Stammheim; and his not having given information of certain seditious words uttered by the peasantry. His son was sentenced for “having preached up the Lutheran and Zwinglian sect,” and neglected the exercise of his sacerdotal functions.

The sufferings of the prisoners from, their long detention in unwholesome dungeons, and from the torture, made them regard death as a benefit; and, strengthened by the consciousness of innocence, they heard their sentence with calmness and tranquillity. During the short interval between his condemnation and execution, Wirth exacted a promise from his second son that he would not revenge his death upon any who had contributed to it; he charged him to bear words of consolation and peace to his numerous family, and to represent to them that it was for no disgraceful crimes, but in the cause of religion, that he lost his life. After taking a last leave of each other, the two prisoners proceeded to the scaffold, with mutual exhortations to courage and resignation; and they received the fatal stroke with the same firmness that they had shown under the torture.

The sentence of death involved the confiscation of the property of Wirth’s widow and children: through the interference of the Cantons of Basil, Schaffhausen, and Appenzell, which had taken no part in the sentence, this part of it was remitted, but the widow was barbarously condemned to pay ten crowns to the executioner, who had beheaded her husband and son. Some hours after the execution, Wirth’s second son was set at liberty, with orders to make public acknowledgment of his crime at Einsiedeln; but he escaped to Zurich, where he found an asylum.

If we judge the bailiff Wirth according to the principles which ought to guide every subject in a well-organized state, we cannot regard him as entirely innocent. The kind of association in which he confessed himself an accomplice, would at this day be justly considered as an act of rebellion; but we ought to transport ourselves to the times when these events took place. There was then in Switzerland something indeterminate in the relation between the sovereign power and the subject; the limits of the different jurisdictions were very- uncertain; a number of rights had no other foundation than long possession, which it was necessary to prove by living witnesses; others only rested on documents little known; and it was not rare, at this period, for gentlemen, and even prelates, to commit acts of violence upon the subjects of their neighbours.

From these united causes, a thousand dangers resulted to the security of persons and property; and the subjects, without opposition from their legal sovereign, sought protection from coalitions and mutual promises of assistance among themselves. It is therefore probable that Wirth’s judges would not have imputed the confederacy of Stammheim to him as a crime, but for the hatred that they bore him as a partisan of Zwingli’s doctrine. They saw with alarm that his opinions were beginning to spread in the districts governed in common, and the surest way to stop their progress was to strike men’s minds by an execution calculated to inspire terror in all who were inclined to the reformation. The blood of these two victims was not however sufficient to appease the Cantons; they wanted to punish by an armed force the villages which had taken part in the burning of the convent of Ittingen; but the senate of Zurich would permit nothing but judicial proceedings, and the diet, after long debates, restricted itself to the imposition of a pecuniary fine upon the guilty. Thus ended this unfortunate affair; a melancholy example of the fury of fanaticism, and the fatal source of fresh animosities.

The heads of the Cantons, notwithstanding their hatred against Zwingli, could not conceal from themselves the conviction that the general corruption of manners, and the misconduct of the clergy, rendered a reform indispensable. They saw how much the negligence of the ecclesiastical authorities favoured the new sect, and observing that the chief shepherd was silent, and slept when he ought to have watched, they resolved themselves to provide for the wants of the church, and the tranquillity of their common country. A diet was convoked to this effect at Lucern, in which were assembled the deputies of the Cantons of Bern, Lucern, Uri, Schweitz, Unterwalden, Zug, Glaris, Fribourg, and Soleure. Without entering into theological discussions, or touching upon doctrine, they formed a plan of regulations particularly designed to correct the manners, to put a stop to the vexations exercised by the clergy, to reduce the power of that order to its just bounds, and to prevent it from trenching upon the rights of the secular power. They hoped by this means to put an end to those causes of discontent which disposed men to welcome the opinions of the reformers; but they did not perceive that most of the abuses generally complained of were the necessary consequence of the dogmas combated by Zwingli; and that while these were suffered to subsist, it was impossible to obviate their inconveniences.

The plan of the deputies, when carried before the governments of the Cantons, did not obtain their sanction. Those men whose interests it wounded, or whose passions it opposed, found specious reasons for rejecting it, and its projectors had neither energy nor authority sufficient for its support. At length it was resolved to suspend all deliberations on the state of the church, and to leave to the future council, so long demanded and promised, the care of pacifying Christendom.

While these events were passing at Lucern, they were proceeding at Zurich in the task of removing the monuments of the ancient superstition. The relics exposed in the different churches of the city were taken away and secretly interred. It was forbidden to toll the bells for the dead, and to conjure storms; and processions, and a number of other ceremonies, were abolished. So strong had been the impulse given by Zwingli, that these particular reforms met with no opposition ; but a more essential one remained—the abolition of the mass; that corner-stone of the catholic religion. Ever since the year 1523, the reformer had manifested an opinion on this subject contrary to that of the Romish Church. “Jesus Christ,” said he, “died on the cross to satisfy the divine justice: this signal sacrifice expiates the sins of all who believe in him; there is therefore no need of new sacrifices, and the Lord’s supper ought to be nothing but a commemoration of the beneficent death of our Saviour.” Conformably to these ideas, Zwingli was desirous of introducing some changes into the canon of the mass, still retaining the vestments of the priests, and various accessories which did not appear to him contrary to the spirit of the gospel; and he proposed these alterations to the senate, but they adjourned their decision till the following year. Zwingli employed the interval in the more complete investigation of this important subject; and he saw that if he preserved any part of the ancient rites, it would keep up the false ideas of the people, and soon bring them back to the point from which they set out. He therefore congratulated himself on the delay to which he had been forced to submit. “My first advice was not followed,” thus he writes some time afterwards to one of his friends, “and I am thankful to providence that it was not; this would only have been substituting one error to another, and the rite newly established would have been much more difficult to abolish than that of our ancestors.”

This confession is a proof of Zwingli’s candour, and would alone be sufficient to refute the accusation of fanaticism which has more than once been brought against him. A fanatic believes that he acts and speaks by an immediate inspiration; he attributes his illuminations to a kind of miracle in which his will had no share, and not to his own researches and meditations. He never retracts, and would rather die than confess himself to have been mistaken. Such obstinacy was foreign to the mind of Zwingli. He confesses more than once, in his noble simplicity, that his own reflections, or the observations of others, had suggested to him reasons for rejecting an opinion which he had before embraced; and never did self-conceit prevent him from listening to the ideas of his adversaries, and giving up his own when he was convinced of their falsehood. The mass then subsisted for some time longer, but no priest was compelled to say, nor any laymen to hear it. It was gradually neglected: at length, in the beginning of the year 1525, the reformer obtained its entire abolition, and on Easter Sunday, for the first time, the Lord’s supper was celebrated according to Zwingli’s ideas. A table covered with a white cloth, unleavened bread, and cups filled with wine, recalled the remembrance of the last repast of our Redeemer with his disciples. The first priest, who was Zwingli himself, announced to the faithful, that the religious act which they were about to celebrate would become to each of them the pledge of salvation, or the cause of perdition, according to the dispositions they might bring to it; and he endeavoured, by a fervent prayer, to excite in all their hearts repentance for past faults, and a resolution to live a new life. After this prayer, Zwingli and the two ministers who assisted him, presented mutually to each other the bread and the cup, pronouncing at the same time the words uttered by Jesus Christ at the institution of the last supper; they afterwards distributed the symbols of the body and blood of the Redeemer to all the Christians present, who listened with the most profound and reverent attention to the reading of the last words of our Lord, as they have been transmitted to us by his beloved disciple. A second prayer, and hymns full of the expression of love and gratitude towards him who had voluntarily endured a cruel and ignominious death to save repentant sinners, terminated this solemn and affecting ceremony. Zwingli was of opinion that to celebrate the Lord’s supper in this manner, was to bring it back to its ancient simplicity, and to unite all that could render it useful. The event proved that he was not mistaken; the churches could scarcely contain the immense crowd that came to participate in this religious solemnity, and the good works and numerous reconciliations which followed it, proved the sincerity of the devotion with which it was attended.

The reformation in worship had been accompanied with essential changes in the relations existing between the clergy and the government. We have said before, that the chapter of the cathedral was nowise dependent on the council; that it possessed fiefs, had its peculiar jurisdiction, and administered its own property without rendering an account to any one. Zwingli, who a short time after his arrival at Zurich had been admitted into the number of canons, was desirous of consecrating to establishments for instruction, the large revenues of the chapter, and at the same time of transferring its temporal power into the hands of the government; but he wished to obtain this concession by the free con­sent of the possessors, not to wrest it from them by authority. With this intention, he made his colleagues sensible that it was disgraceful to live by the altar without serving it, and that they ought to renounce functions incompatible with the ecclesiastical character: he also represented to them, that if they did not attend to the reforms which had now become necessary, it was to be feared that the magistrates themselves might undertake them.

The partisans of Zwingli in the chapter entered into his views; the enemies of his opinions yielded to the fear that they might be stripped of all their privileges unless they sacrificed some of them voluntarily; and the chapter in consequence made a convention with the senate, of which the following were the principal articles.

The chapter swears fidelity and obedience to the council of Zurich, as to its sole and lawful sovereign; to which it resigns its regal rights, as well as those of high and low justice in its fiefs; the chapter renounces the immunities, privileges and franchises which it had successively obtained from several popes; it charges itself with the payment of salaries to as many pastors as shall be requisite for the public worship of the town, and engages to devote to pastoral functions such of its members as may be capable of performing them. The canons who are old or infirm shall preserve their benefices, but shall not be replaced by successors; and the revenues of the said benefices, as they become vacant, shall be employed in founding professorships for lecturers whose instructions shall be gratuitous. The provost of the chapter shall preserve the administration of its revenues, of which he shall render an account to the senate, which engages on its part to maintain the chapter in possession of all its property, and to protect it, should it be molested on account of this cession. Several of the canons protested against this convention, alleging that the chapter had no right to make such important changes without the authority of the bishop or the pope; but the opposition of a feeble minority was disregarded. Some members of the chapter made themselves useful as preachers and pastors; the others, who were too old or too ignorant for these employments, enjoyed their benefices till their death. Five canons only, not choosing to depend on the secular authority, which they had more than once braved, quitted the city and retired into the catholic Cantons. .

The example of the chapter of the cathedral was immediately followed by the abbey of Fraumunster; the abbess, only reserving pensions for herself and her nuns, resigned to the senate all her property and privileges, with the right of naming the civil tribunal and of coining money. As soon as the disposable revenues of the abbey would permit, the senate established in it a seminary where a certain number of young men, destined to the clerical profession, were clothed, fed, lodged and instructed, gratis.

There still remained in the town several mendicant orders, and the monks were not disposed to renounce the useless and indolent life that they had been accustomed to lead. They had already lost a great part of their influence, and they felt it diminish every day; but the opposition of the other Cantons to all reform, led them to hope that Zurich would be obliged to yield either to the remonstrances of her allies, or to open force, and that then their authority would be reestablished. The council annihilated this hope by deciding upon the suppression of the mendicant orders. Such monks as were young and robust were commanded to learn trades, in order to render themselves useful to society. They who had taste and inclination for study, were furnished with the means of knowledge. To those who were aged, the council granted annuities for their support, and a common habitation in the convent of the Franciscans: that of the Dominicans was transferred into a hospital, and its revenues were devoted to the maintenance and cure of the sick of the town and Canton; the revenues of the convent of Augustins were appropriated to relieve the more decent poor, and to afford some assistance to such destitute strangers as should be travelling through Zurich. The other religious houses insensibly received a similar destination. Their older occupants were every where permitted to die in peace, retaining their benefices and their habitation; and those who still possessed the means of being useful, were restored to society. Cupidity had no part in this secularization; the property of the clergy was neither embezzled by individuals, nor swallowed up by the treasury; it only received a more enlightened and more truly pious destination. In order to prevent its being at an after period diverted to other purposes than those above enumerated, it was agreed that the property of the convents should not be alienated, but should remain united under the management of a single administrator. The disinterestedness and moderation that presided over these arrangements, do honour to Zwingli. On this occasion he had to struggle with a number of unprincipled men, who saw in the suppression of the monasteries an easy method of enriching themselves, of which they would certainly have availed themselves, to the detriment of the public, had not the vigilance and firmness of the reformer disconcerted their projects.

Sometime after the conclusion of these arrangements between the council and the chapter, Zwingli was commissioned to organise a system of public instruction. He knew that it is impossible to banish ignorance and superstition, without the assistance of a permanent centre of information; and it was his most ardent desire to create establishments in his adopted country, which might propagate in it a taste for literature, and furnish the means of proficiency. He thus hoped to become the benefactor of future generations, and deserve the benedictions of his countrymen. If the shortness of his life did not allow him to complete the edifice of which he had conceived the plan, he at least laid its foundations, and his successors, had only to follow up his ideas.

Zurich already possessed a school for elementary instruction in the learned languages, but it was ill organized, and could number but few scholars. Zwingli introduced several changes into it; he encouraged the masters by being present at their lessons, and excited the emulation of the scholars by proposing to them, as a recompense, the honour of being educated at the expense of the state. He was desirous that the youths, on leaving this school, should go through a complete course of Greek and Latin literature; and two professors were named for these departments. They were not to confine themselves to the grammatical interpretation of ancient writings; but were to unfold to their pupils the laws of composition, and lead them to remark the beauties of authors. When the young men were sufficiently prepared, they were to proceed to the study of theology, the principal object of Zwingli’s solicitude, and the chief end of all his establishments.

In order to form ministers well instructed in all that they were to teach, it was not sufficient to adopt the method then in use at most universities; a method which indeed rendered its pupils able in discussing unintelligible questions, but did not instruct them how to deliver to the people the truths of religion. Zwingli banished those subtile writers who had ruled so long in the schools of theology, and took the Old and New Testament for the basis of the new course of instruction. He required of the professors intrusted with the interpretation of the Greek and Hebrew text, to compare the originals of the' sacred writers with the most esteemed versions, such as the Vulgate and the Septuagint; to cite the commentaries of the Jewish doctors on the Old Testament; and those of the fathers on the New; to apply a knowledge of the manners and customs of the Jews to the clearing up of obscure passages, to establish the true sense of each, to show its connection with the other truths of religion, and finally to point out the application to be made of them to morals and the instruction of the people. These lectures were given in the cathedral; and the ecclesiastics of the town, as well as the students of divinity, were obliged to attend them. Zwingli even endeavoured to attract thither all who had leisure and inclination for study; and in this he succeeded; for at that period the interest in every thing which concerned religion was such, that numerous auditors of all classes assiduously attended the theological lectures; and a taste for the ancient languages was so thoroughly diffused, that twenty years afterwards, it was not uncommon to meet with magistrates and merchants who could read the Old and New Testament in the originals.

When it was first proposed to found the new academy, there were not persons to be found in Zurich capable of filling all the professorships that Zwingli was desirous of establishing, and he was therefore obliged to have recourse to learned foreigners. The first to whom he applied was Conrad Pellican, an Alsatian, well versed in the Hebrew language, which he had studied under Capnio. He had entered young into the order of Franciscans; but his love for study had always preserved him from the vices with which the monks of his time were chargeable. He acquitted himself to the satisfaction of his superiors in several missions relating to the affairs of his order; and being afterwards appointed to the office of instruction, he introduced the young religious intrusted to his care, to a knowledge of the writings of Erasmus and Luther, and principally of the German bible of the latter. Before Luther and Zwingli had published their opinions, Pellican had begun to entertain doubts respecting several dogmas then received; his natural timidity however, and the blind respect for the authority of the church in which he had been brought up from his infancy, had led him to confine these doubts within his own bosom, but the reading of the works of the two reformers broke the bonds which had fettered his spirit. Pellican was a professor at the university of Basil when, in 1526, Zwingli proposed to him to come and occupy the chair of theology at Zurich: to this he consented the more readily as his religious opinions had drawn upon him some inconveniences at Basil, where the reformation was not yet introduced. During thirty years he rendered great services to the church of Zurich by his lectures and writings. He died at a very advanced age, leaving behind him a great reputation for piety, modesty, and erudition.

The second stranger introduced by Zwingli was Rodolph Collinus, son of a peasant in the neighbourhood of Lucern. A canon of that city had given him his first lessons in Latin, and explained to him some books of the Aeneid; and being after­wards left to his own efforts, he studied the other latin poets with indefatigable ardour. He successively frequented the universities of Basil and Vienna, and returning to Lucern, though still very young, he obtained a canonry. His acquaintance with Zwingli and some other reformers, gained him enemies who accused him of heresy, and elicited from the senate of Lucern an order to search his library and his papers. The commissioners appointed for this examination having found in his library the works of Aristotle, Plato, and some of the Greek poets, judged that books printed in a language that they did not understand, must be infected with Lutheranism, and confiscated them. From this first attack Collinus foreseeing many others to which he did not choose to expose himself, under pretext of going to Constance to take holy orders, he quitted Lucern, and arriving at Zurich, he remained there and sent back his canon’s diploma to the chapter. This step depriving him of all pecuniary resources, in order that he might not be a burden upon his friends he resolved to learn a trade, and after labouring in the day to gain a livelihood, he recreated himself in the evenings by reading Homer and Pindar. A mechanical occupation could not however long detain one of his lively and impetuous disposition, and he relinquished it to enter into the service of Duke Ulric of Wirtemberg, who was then endeavouring to reconquer his states which had been seized upon by the Swabian league; but this prince having been compelled to disband his troops, Collinus returned to Zurich, where Z wangle, who had never lost sight of him, was at length enabled to offer him a Greek professorship. Collinus accepted it with delight; thenceforward he consecrated himself entirely to letters, and his efforts were crowned with the happiest success.

Two chairs of theology, and two of ancient languages, were the foundation of the academy of Zurich. In proportion as benefices became vacant, professors of other sciences were named, but the academy always retained strong traces of its original destination; that of forming ministers of religion. The interpretation of scripture always occupied the first place in it. If the preference given by Zwingli to this object may have been injurious to some other studies, it has at least had the advantage of producing, from the reformation down to our own days, a great number of enlightened ecclesiastics, by whose care religious instruction has been diffused through all classes of society, and by whose active vigilance the germs of vice have been crushed before they had time to expand.

 

 

 

 

PART. II.

 

When men of superior genius have given a new direction to thought, it often happens that persons of heated imaginations and unsound judgment seize their ideas, and in commenting upon them, deduce dangerous consequences. The reformers did not escape this fatality; they could not prevent their opinions from being strangely disfigured. They had said that it was necessary to banish from the schools an abstract and subtile science which filled the memory with nothing but words; and immediately some ignorant people proscribed all the sciences, and acknowledged no other source of illumination than a supernatural inspiration, shared by none but the elect. When they had modestly offered the dictates of truth to the ears of the great, in order to recall them to a sense of their duties, the enemies of all subordination, abusing their example, and mistaking licentiousness for sincerity, began to treat the respect due to rank, to power, and to birth, as meanness and cowardice, and sought to establish a chimerical equality. When they had insisted upon the necessity of lessening the magnificence of religious ceremonies, certain extravagant minds instantly rejected all public worship, as contrary to evangelical simplicity: and when they sought to emancipate Christians from the yoke of a few minute observances, some pretenders to inspiration immediately proclaimed that a regenerated soul need follow no other rule than its own will and desires.

Many writers have made the reformers accountable for the dreams of the fanatics of their times, and the disturbances that they occasioned; as if it were just to confound the parasite plant and the tree which unwillingly serves it for a support. The reformation certainly brought forth a great number of sects; but if wild ideas then spread rapidly through all classes of society, and excited violent disputes, it was because the reformers had roused their contemporaries from their torpor respecting; matters of religion. There are times when extravagant systems are not welcomed in the world; but we should be mistaken in ascribing; to enlightened reason, or a general diffusion of knowledge, a tranquillity, which is often only the effect or the indication of absolute indifference. When, on the contrary, subjects connected with religion inspire a general interest; when particular circumstances direct men’s minds towards serious thoughts, a crowd of opinions will arise, both true and false, rational and absurd. They are embraced with warmth, because they gratify a long-fostered wish; they are defended with obstinacy, because they are connected with what is most dearly cherished. This was what took place in the 16th century, and as the refinements of civilization had not yet mollified the passions, the disputes of that time assumed a character of violence which astonishes at the present day.

It was in Saxony, in the year 1521, that the first indications appeared of a sect which had nearly become fatal to the progress of the reformation. Luther, in a work on “Christian liberty,” had said, that “a Christian is master of all things, and is subservient to no one.” In another passage of the same work, he calls the Christian “the slave of all men.” The first of these propositions found more partisans than the second. Nicholas Storch, and Thomas Müntzer, both born in Thuringia, took literally this lax expression of the Saxon reformer, and made it the basis of their religious system. “The true Christian,” said they, “has no need either of spiritual superiors, or temporal magistrates.—The written word of God is not the true one; for this proceeds immediately from the mouth of God, and reaches the heart of the believer without any thing intermediate.—The whole world wants regenerating, and the impious must be extirpated from the face of the earth, to give place to a new church in which justice shall reign.” They spoke with disdain of all human learning, declaring that God manifested his will to them by immediate revelations and celestial visions. Their morality was rigid, their exterior simple; they disdained riches, or affected to do so; and their austere demeanour impressed the multitude with reverence, at the same time that their doctrine seduced them. They attached little importance to religious practices; but they especially rejected the baptism of infants as an impious ceremony, an invention of the devil. This sacrament, according to them, ought only to be administered to adults, who, being enlightened by divine grace respecting their past faults, must deeply repent them, and fervently desire the pledge of heavenly forgiveness. The custom of rebaptising new converts, gained for this sect the name of anabaptists, which became common to all those who reject infant baptism. It must not however be supposed that all whom theologians and historians call by this name were similar in doctrine or in morals. Their distinctive character consisted in recognising no authority in matters of religion, not even that of scripture, which they explained at their pleasure. They pleaded that the letter kills, and the spirit quickeneth, and they gave themselves up without reserve to the suggestions of an imagination more or less unruly. None of their leaders possessing the requisite qualities to gain a decided influence over them, the sect quickly divided into a multitude of small separate societies. Without entering into a long detail of all the dogmas which have been attributed to them, either truly or falsely, we shall mention those that were equally adopted by the different parties among them.

“Neither the Romish church, nor that of the pretended Reformed, is the real church of Christ. The Reformed indeed follow the gospel, at least in part, but they manifest no signs of amendment. We must therefore separate ourselves from them, that we may not participate in their sins, and their condemnation.—The preachers among the Reformed have not the true calling; they do not themselves practise what they teach; they receive a salary, and, in short, they do not possess the qualities that spiritual guides ought to possess. Every believer, who feels himself impelled by the Holy Spirit, has a right to preach in assemblies, without belonging to a particular order. Charity requires an entire community of goods, and it is not lawful for a Christian to possess any thing of his own.—To exercise the functions of magistracy, to bear the sword of justice, to resist violence, to make war, and to take an oath under any pretext whatsoever, are all actions forbidden by the gospel: it follows, that in the new church there can be no need either of magistrates, of tribunals, or of governments. Evil doers ought to be punished only by excluding them from the communion of the elect.—True Christians ought to separate themselves from such as do not admit our doctrines, to break off all communication with them, and to bear with patience the persecutions that this conduct may draw upon them.”

It appears by this short abstract, that the opinions of the anabaptists were founded upon their false interpretations of scripture. They were not aware, that in the Christian religion there are some things immutable, and others which may be modified by times and circumstances. Incapable of rising to general views, they were desirous of renewing the manner of life of the first Christians, the contemporaries of the apostles; not considering that the rules and practices which suited the disciples of Jesus, when they were dispersed in small numbers in the midst of Jews and idolaters, ceased to be applicable the moment that whole nations embraced Christianity. Some men were found among the anabaptists, whose intentions were pure, and whose conduct was irreproachable; but their enthusiasm often laid them at the mercy of such impostors as sought to gain an influence over them, and unprincipled and ambitious leaders more than once led them into revolt by abusing their credulity. Thomas Müntzer, one of the heads of the anabaptists, in travelling through Germany, arrived on the borders of Switzerland, where he had an interview with two natives of Zurich, named Grebel and Mantz, whose gloomy and restless disposition rendered them very accessible to extravagant ideas. They were both of them possessed of sufficient learning to be employed by Zwingli in the projected academy; and they wished two canons to be deprived of their benefices, in order to endow the chairs which were the objects of their ambition. The reformer refused their request, alleging against it, the engagement entered into to allow the titular dignitaries the enjoyment of their benefices for life. The discontent that they conceived at this refusal, and, perhaps some jealousy of the influence of Zwingli, inclined these two men against him, and disposed them to listen to the insinuations of Müntzer. They endeavoured however, after their interview with this fanatic, to draw Zwingli himself into their party. To this end, they represented to him, that his reformation would be attended with no success, unless he required his followers to break off all communication with false Christians. They exhorted him to proclaim the necessity of this separation, and to put himself at the head of the new church, which was destined to admit into its bosom none but the true elect.

Had the reformer been guided by the desire of becoming the head of a party, he would certainly have yielded to this temptation; but ambition never blinded him, and his clear understanding easily discerned the falsehood of the arguments employed to persuade him. “ In the number of those who embrace the Christian faith,” replied he to Grebel and Mantz, “some enemies of innocence and piety will always be found, who betray by their conduct the perverse dispositions of their hearts; but it is not for us to judge them. Christ commands that the tares should be allowed to grow with the wheat till the harvest; and it does not become us to make a separation which he did not judge necessary. We should never give up the hope of bringing back into the right path those who have gone astray, and we ought to labour at the advancement of the kingdom of heaven by preaching his word, and not by fomenting schisms which bring with them so much disorder and intolerance. There is nothing to prevent the believer from leading a pious life, even though he should preserve an exterior intercourse with the impious.

Grebel and Mantz did not content themselves with this first attempt; knowing that Zwingli had formerly blamed infant baptism, they proposed to him the doctrine of Müntzer as conformable to his own ideas; but their efforts were again unsuccessful. Zwingli replied, that a more mature examination had led him to abandon his former opinion; and in several succeeding interviews, he fully acquainted them with his doctrine respecting baptism; of which the following is a summary.

“Jesus Christ instituted baptism, but neither he nor his apostles have expressly directed the age at which it ought to be administered. It is therefore permitted to each church to order in this respect what it shall think most adapted to general edification. Judging from the Jewish ceremonies, which certainly had a great influence upon those of the early Christians, we may conjecture, that in the primitive church children were baptized at the moment of their birth. That some sectaries of our days have rejected this custom, is owing to their having formed too high an idea of the efficacy of the rite. If indeed, the water of baptism had the power of effacing sins, it would be absurd to baptize children who have as yet committed none; but how can it be believed that an exterior ablution can purify the soul? Baptism is a ceremony by which a man engages to become a disciple of Christ, and to observe all his precepts.

“Under this view of it, it would seem that the rite ought to be deferred till the young Christian is of a fit age to contract an engagement; but important reasons oppose this delay. If the custom of baptising none but adults were to be introduced, negligent parents would omit giving religious instruction to their children, and would think themselves justified by alleging that they did not know whether, when their children were arrived at years of discretion, they would embrace Christianity or not. The young people themselves would reject all exhortations founded on religion, under pretext that it is still at their own choice whether to become Christians. Baptism ought to be considered as a promise made by parents to educate their children in the Christian faith, and to instruct them in the truths of the gospel. By thus possessing itself of children from their cradles, the church binds them by a number of invisible threads, and prevents them from ever afterwards deserting her bosom. On the whole, this question is not of great importance, and those are not to be justified who make it a source of divisions in society”

Opinions so moderate must necessarily have displeased the anabaptists; and accordingly the conferences between the reformer and their leaders broke off without having produced any approach to an union. The latter however promised Zwingli to take, no step which might trouble the church, and he engaged, on his side, not to attack their doctrine in public. Notwithstanding this mutual promise, it appeared soon after that the Brethren, (so the anabaptists called themselves) had been baptizing several adults both in the town and neighbourhood, Zwingli being thus released from his engagement, broke silence, and publicly censured their conduct. The Brethren had already gained many friends, and when they learned that Zwingli had declared against them, they entered the town in crowds, girded with ropes and branches of willow, and fantastically arrayed; and in this state they ran through the streets, casting out reproaches against the Old Dragon, by which name they designated the reformer, exhorting the people to repentance, and threatening the town with approaching destruction if it were not quickly converted.

The sudden appearance and the cries of these fanatics caused a general alarm, and Zwingli had great trouble to appease the commotion that they had excited. In order to prevent such scenes in future, the council recurred to its ordinary resource: it ordered a public colloquy between Zwingli and the heads of the anabaptists; but what could a colloquy effect upon men inaccessible to reason, who gave themselves out for persons inspired. Their opinions spread daily more and more. At Zurich the authority of Zwingli restrained the sectaries; but in the country, where few of the pastors were able to make head against them, their partisans multiplied rapidly. The chiefs of the sect went into all the villages; they sometimes preached in the houses of the brethren, sometimes in woods and solitary places. The mysteriousness of these assemblies prepared the imagination to be affected; and the vehement discourses of the new missionaries completed the derangement of men’s understandings. Scarcely had they ceased to speak, when all present with loud cries demanded the true baptism, as a pledge of their admission into the spotless Church; and they declared that this ceremony filled them with an ineffable feeling of beatitude. Fathers of families quitted their wives and children to go and preach the doctrines of the anabaptists; wives separated themselves from their husbands, under pretext that they should endanger their eternal welfare by continuing to live with infidels. They sometimes fell into convulsions, and would prophesy on waking from an ecstatic slumber. These scenes were most commonly only ridiculous, but they sometimes terminated in a tragical catastrophe. One example will suffice to show how far the blindness of these unhappy men proceeded. In the neighbourhood of St. Gall, where the sect was very numerous, a rich peasant assembled the brethren on Shrove-Tuesday, and gave them an entertainment. At the end of the repast, one of his sons fell into an ecstasy, and remained a long time stretched upon the ground with convulsive motions; suddenly he arose, and ordered some ox-gall to be brought him, which he obliged his brother to drink, saying to him in a solemn tone; “Think that the death thou art to suffer is bitter!” He then commanded him to kneel, seized a knife, and plunged it into his bosom, without any attempt on the part of those present to prevent him. He then rushed out of the house, crying out that the day of the Lord was come. The fanatical assassin was arrested, and suffered the punishment due to his crime; but the brethren regarded him as a martyr who had only accomplished the will of God.

Opinions capable of leading to such excesses, demanded coercive measures on the part of government, which were become the more necessary, as, inconsequence of these fanatical ideas, symptoms of revolt began to manifest themselves among the peasantry. The sectaries, when summoned to give evidence in civil or criminal cases, refused to take the customary oath; they respected neither the judgments of tribunals, nor the orders of government; and to all the decrees of the sovereign, and all the exhortations of the pastors, they replied, that God was to be obeyed rather than men. The senate would thenceforth have treated them with the rigour they deserved, as rebels to lawful authority, had not Zwingli desired that gentle means should be employed before recourse was had to severity. He persisted in regarding them as misguided men, who did not foresee the fatal consequences of their false systems; and he was loath to renounce the hope of bringing them back by reason. The senate, at his entreaty, ordered a second public conference with the anabaptists. Some of them yielded to the representations of Zwingli; but by retracting, they lost all credit with their party, and all power of repressing its extravagances. The senate then forbade them to baptise adults under the penalty of a mark of silver; but they paid no regard to this prohibition. Twenty of the brethren were arrested and committed to close confinement; they found means to escape, and circulated the report that an angel had opened the doors of their prison. This imposture produced the effect that was expected: the marvellous possesses a secret charm, and ignorance and credulity always attach themselves to the most absurd reports. It was besides extremely difficult to open the eyes of the deluded peasantry, because the brethren recommended it to their disciples never to attend the discourses of the reformed ministers, and even to avoid all communication with those without. By these precautions they rendered themselves masters of the minds of their proselytes, and prevented any possibility of undeceiving them; and thus the evil augmented day by day. The fines imposed on the anabaptists were eluded under various pretexts, or occasioned violent complaints.

The brethren exclaimed against the punishment of men whose only crime con­sisted in obeying the voice of God. Most of their leaders had been imprisoned more than once, and had recovered their liberty by promising never more to rebaptise; but no sooner were they delivered from their bonds, than they violated their promises, pretending to be urged by the Spirit. Their obstinacy at length wearied out the patience of the senate; and it forbade them, under pain of death, to rebaptise their proselytes, hoping that so severe a menace would at length put a stop to their disorders. This, hope was again deceived. Either from confidence in supernatural protection, or a fanatical contempt of death, the anabaptist preachers continued to act just as before. Mantz, being discharged from confinement a few days after this last decree, no sooner saw himself at liberty than he forgot all his engagements. He was informed against, and again arrested. When brought before his judges he boldly confessed his crime; protested that he would act in the same manner in future without regard to the orders of the magistrates, and declared his resolution to found a separate church. This formal disobedience, which indicated the intention of exciting a general rising, appeared to the senate deserving of capital punishment, and Mantz was condemned to be drowned. He underwent his sentence with a courage which gained him a place in the anabaptist martyrology. The execution of Mantz, the death of Grebel, which took place about the same time, and the banishment of several other brethren, cooled the fervour of the sect. The preaching and writing of Zwingli calmed the fermentation produced by the conduct of these fanatics, and converted a great number of their partisans: the rest, being deprived of their leaders, gave up the idea of forming a separate church; they ceased to make proselytes, and were content with giving themselves up in secret to the practices of an extravagant devotion, in which no one attempted to disturb them. Their opinions too became mitigated by degrees, and lost their antisocial and seditious tendencies.

Should these sectaries be considered only in the light of men whose system was condemned by the established church, the sentence pronounced against them would appear dictated by an intolerance so much the more odious, as the reformed were continually claiming liberty of conscience for themselves. Fanaticism alone employs imprisonment and legal penalties to convince its adversaries; true piety is a stranger to violence; it compassionates him who is in error; endeavours to enlighten him, and if it does not succeed, leaves to time the care of bringing him back from his wanderings. There are however circumstances in which indulgence is no longer allowable. When a sect professes doctrines that endanger the tranquillity of the state, government ought to employ the most efficacious means to arrest its progress; and this was what the council of Zurich found itself under the necessity of doing. The anabaptists dis­played on all occasions an insulting contempt for its orders; they preached the community of goods; they publicly taught that there was no need either of laws or of magistrates; that a Christian ought never to take arms for the defence of his country, and ought to pay neither tax nor impost: opinions tending to stir up subjects against their lawful sovereign, and to dissolve all social ties. Ever since this sect had arisen, a spirit of insubordination and revolt had every where manifested itself. Measures of gentleness were exhausted, and it was necessary to treat the anabaptists with rigour, in order to prevent them from precipitating the state into all the horrors of anarchy. As for Zwingli, neither the invectives nor the calumnies of these sectaries rendered him unfaithful to his principles of tolerance: he never incited any act of persecution, or took part in the judgments pronounced against them, though he could not but feel that the preservation of public tranquillity had rendered some degree of severity necessary. 

During the time that these troubles were excited by the anabaptists, a project which threatened the safety of the Swiss reformer was silently concerted.

Ever since the first colloquy held at Zurich, the bishop of Constance, or rather Faber, his grand vicar, had been constantly meditating the means of putting a stop to the progress made by the opinions of Zwingli, at Zurich, Bern, Basil, Schaffhaussen, Appenzel, and St. Gall. Experience had already proved, that bishops’ charges were far too feeble a weapon; and it was feared, that to oppose the writings of Zwingli by others in favour of the Romish church, would be to embark in a contest the more dangerous, as the reformers surpassed their adversaries in learning and talents. No success could be hoped either from persuasion or threats, as long as it was Zwingli upon whom they were to be exerted, for his firmness was well known. In order to crush the reformed party, it was therefore necessary to deprive it of this head, who alone gave it vigour, and it was to this expedient that Faber had recourse. The point was to induce Zwingli to leave Zurich; once out of the territory of that state, it would be easy to seize his person, and make him undergo the same fate which had already been experienced by several of his partisans. It was hoped that his condemnation and death would strike terror into all his adherents, and dispose them to return within the pale of the church. The expedient employed by Faber to attain this end, was to induce the catholic cantons to order a public conference in some town of Switzerland, between their theologians and the reformer. He imparted his plan to Doctor Eckius, chancellor of the university of Ingolstadt, who had acquired great reputation by combating the opinions of Luther, and it was agreed that Eckius should take the first steps. Consequently, in the month of August, 1524, this theologian addressed a letter to the cantons, filled with invectives against Zwingli, to whom he gave the names of “a rebel, a heretic, and a perverter of scripture.” He offered to convince him publicly of his errors, if the Cantons would furnish him with the opportunity, and to submit himself to the decision of the judges named by them. The Cantons showed a great repugnance to accede to this request; the event of the two conferences at Zurich had proved to them that these assemblies only served to spread still further the poison of the new doctrine, and theological disputes appeared to them good for nothing but to puzzle men’s heads. “It belonged,” they said, “to councils or Popes to legislate in these matters, and not to people accustomed to handle the sword or the plough.” Eckius and Faber however, who had the clergy on their side, were so persevering in their solicitations, that at length, in the month of April, 1526, in a diet assembled at Einsiedeln, the Cantons, with the exception of Zurich, fixed upon the town of Baden in Argovia, as the place for an interview between Eckius and Zwingli. That no doubt might remain as to their intentions, the Cantons, in a public manisfesto, protested their inviolable attachment to the Apostolic and Romish Church, and their horror of all innovation. They declared that they did not arrogate to themselves the right of deciding in matters of religion, and that if they consented to the conference proposed by the chancellor Eckius, it was merely to impose silence on Zwingli and his partisans, and to bring back into the fold, the sheep which had been led astray by the teaching and writings of Luther and Zwingli.

In consequence of this decision, the diet demanded of the senate of Zurich, to send Zwingli to Baden; but this body refused compliance. A resolution so opposite to the conduct that its allies had hitherto observed, and the principles which they had manifested on all occasions, appeared to the senate to conceal some snare.

The appellation of heretic given to Zwingli in the manifesto of the Cantons, proved that they regarded the question as already decided; the town of Baden, appointed as the place of meeting, could not guarantee the personal safety of Zwingli, since it depended on the Cantons which had caused his books and his effigy to be burned, and ordered him to be arrested if ever he entered their territory; the safe conduct even, which was sent to the reformer, was conceived in terms too equivocal not to excite uneasiness. All these reasons determined the senate to declare to the Cantons that it would not permit Zwingli to leave Zurich. It protested, at the same time, against the resolutions that might be taken at Baden, but offered Eckius full security, if he would come and confer with the reformer at Zurich. This offer was rejected, and the conference of Baden took place without the presence of Zwingli. The Cantons invited the famous Erasmus of Rotterdam, but he refused to attend. This celebrated man had greatly contributed to diffuse among his contemporaries, just and sound notions of religion. Being endowed with a keen, penetrating, and satirical genius, he employed the weapon of ridicule to combat ignorance, superstition, and hypocrisy; and never did they encounter a more formidable foe. He possessed vast erudition, but he wanted that generous enthusiasm which makes a man prefer the interests of truth to all the comforts of life. His writings contain the germs of the doctrine of Luther and Zwingli; and before they appeared, he had insisted on the necessity of a reform. He afterwards maintained a friendly connection with the reformers, and often bestowed great praises upon them; but the first contests that arose between Luther and the pope, caused him to change his language. He then foresaw the dangers to which the reformers were about to expose themselves, and wished to break off all connection with them, that he might not be involved in the same proscription. “I have never felt in myself the courage to die for the truth,” says he in a letter to a friend; “the fortitude to suffer martyrdom is not given to all men; and if I had been put to the trial, I am afraid I should have done like St. Peter.”  But, whether he did not choose to act against his own conviction, or whether he expected to find in Luther and Zwingli antagonists too formidable, he avoided writing against them as much as he possibly could; still less would he compromise his reputation and his peace, in a personal contest, in which, the habit of speaking in public would give advantages to his adversaries, that were wanting to him.

The cause of the reformers was defended at Baden principally by John Oecolampadius and Berchtold Haller; one a preacher at Basil, the other at Bern. Haller had early embraced the opinions of Zwingli, and endeavoured to procure their adoption at Bern. The opposition that he met with, obliged him to act with circumspection, and not to declare himself too openly in favour of the reformer of Zurich. He therefore only appeared at Baden to submit to the assembly his doubts and objections, and avoided committing himself. Oecolampadius was superior to Haller in erudition, and was one of the principal supports of the reformation. He was born in the duchy of Wirtemberg, and being destined to letters from his childhood, had studied law at Bologna, and theology at Heidelberg. The reputation that he had acquired by his talents and learning, induced the Elector Palatine to intrust him with the education of his son; but Oecolampadius being soon disgusted with the court, where he could not devote himself to his passion for study, left it, and entered into a convent at Augsburg. A work which he composed to demonstrate the ill effects of auricular confession, made him many enemies, and being compelled to quit his convent, he retired to Basil, where he became intimate with Erasmus. It was at this period of his life, that he was acquainted with Zwingli: their conformity of opinions and disposition, soon united them in the most intimate friendship. They reciprocally communicated all their plans, and encouraged and consoled each other when their intentions were mistaken or calumniated, and death alone dissolved the bond by which they were connected. Oecolampadius had less vivacity and warmth than Zwingli, but was inferior to him neither in courage nor in firmness. His learned works rendered great service to the reformation; and it was he who by force of perseverance and moderation rendered it triumphant at Basil.

Oecolampadius, being less an object of hatred to the catholic Cantons than Zwingli, repaired to the conference at Baden; he even blamed his friend for not following his example; but as soon as he arrived, he changed his opinion, perceiving that the life of Zwingli would there have been exposed without any advantage to his cause. “I thank God,” he writes, that you are not here. The turn that matters take, makes me clearly perceive that had you been here, we should neither of us have escaped the stake.”

The absence of Zwingli disconcerted, the projects of his enemies: they proceeded however to the discussion of the theses proposed. Oecolampadius distinguished himself by his mildness, his intrepidity, and his erudition; but he was unable to influence the decision previously taken. The assembly, being entirely governed by Eckius, pronounced an excommunication against Zwingli and his adherents, and particularly required of the town of Basil to deprive Oecolampadius of his office of pastor, and to banish him. It also strictly prohibited the sale of the books of Zwingli and Luther, and forbade all change in worship or doctrine.

These decisions, however, were not adopted throughout all Switzerland: the Cantons of Bern, Glaris, Basil, Schaffhaussen and Appenzel, refused to admit them. Oecolampadius on his return to Basil was received with open arms, and the council continued him in his office. At Bern, Haller also continued the exercise of his functions, notwithstanding the excommunication lanced against him. Thus, the efforts of the assembly of Baden, far from weakening the party of the reformer, rather crave it fresh strength.

It was in Bern especially that the reformation obtained numerous partisans at this period. Towards the end of the year 1527, several municipalities of this Canton addressed the senate for the abolition of the mass, and the introduction of the worship established at Zurich. Their demand was variously received, for the reformation had both friends and foes in that body. The first prevailed: but before it decided, the senate was desirous of knowing the opinions of the ecclesiastics of Bern, and inquiring whether the doctrine of Zwingli appeared to them consonant with scripture. The clergy of that Canton were therefore convened, as well as those of all the other states of the Helvetic League, and the bishops of Lausanne, Basil, Constance, and Sion in the Valais. This convocation, and especially the contents of the theses to be proposed to the examination of the meeting, was displeasing to the Cantons of Lucern, Uri, Schweitz, and Unterwalden. They presented remonstrances to the senate of Bern, for the purpose of diverting them from their design; but the tone of menace which was distinguishable amid their friendly expressions, offended the Bernese, and confirmed them in their resolution. The Cantons were not prepared for so much firmness; and not being able to prevent the convocation from taking place, they at last refused to all who wished to attend it a passage through their territory. Such manifest ill-will excited great displeasure among the reformed, which was augmented by the pamphlets daily published by the catholics for the purpose of defaming the reformers.

In the meantime, preparations were making at Bern to give the assembly the greatest possible solemnity. Haller was earnestly desirous of the presence of Zwingli: he thus writes to him—“All pious minds hope that you will come to support us. You are aware how much the cause of the reformation would gain in Switzerland should our canton embrace it, and how much it would lose by our failure. But I know that you have too warmly at heart the glory of God, the welfare of the republic of Bern, and that of all Switzerland, to neglect any thing that may be of service to them; and I do not doubt that you will come and confound our enemies. I am too weak for so great a burden; show me how to acquit myself of the task imposed upon me, or rather fulfil it yourself. —Hasten to give me a favourable answer, for all our trust is in you.”

Zwingli was by no means disposed to let slip an opportunity of unfolding his doctrine before a numerous auditory which appeared to be disposed in his favour. It was besides very important for consolidating the reform in Switzerland to gain over the Bernese. Several Cantons appeared desirous of reestablishing the catholic religion by force of arms, and the town of Zurich was not in a condition by herself to resist them; but if Bern united with her, she would have no cause to fear that the catholic Swiss should prescribe terms to their protestant fellow citizens. Zwingli therefore repaired to Bern, accompanied by several Swiss and German theologians, who all assembled at Zurich towards the end of the year 1527. An escort, which was judged necessary to protect them from insult, conducted them to the place of their destination. Zwingli, Oecolampadius, Pellican, Collinus, and Bullinger, were the principal Swiss theologians who attended the meeting: of the strangers, we shall only name, Wolfgang Capito, and Martin Bucer, both preachers at Strasbourg. Capito had early acquired a distinguished reputation by his talents, and the extent of his knowledge. The archbishop of Mentz, having heard of his merit, named him his chancellor in 1520, and employed him in several important embassies. Before he entered the service of this prince, Capito was already connected with Zwingli and Luther, whose opinions he shared. He had only accepted the office of chancellor with the design of inspiring the chief of the German clergy with the desire of himself directing the reform and bringing it about without disturbance. As long as he retained any hope of success, he prevailed with Luther not to exasperate the princes of the church by his vehemence, who might perhaps be gained over by more moderate language; but when he saw that interest and ambition prevailed with the Archbishop over more noble motives, he renounced the honours which he already possessed, and those that he might in future expect; and quitting the court, he retired to Strasbourg, where he exercised till the end of his life the humble functions of a pastor

Martin Bucer was the most pacific of all the reformers; he was full of modera­tion in discussion, listened with patience to the objections of his adversaries, and refuted them with mildness. His conciliating disposition contributed greatly to procure the adoption of the reformation at Strasbourg, and its diffusion in France.

As soon as Zwingli arrived at Bern, the convocation began its sittings, at which the great council assisted in a body. The ten theses composed by Haller, containing the essential points of Zwingli’s doctrine, were successively discussed. Zwingli, Oecolampadius, Capito, Bucer, and Haller defended them alternately with so much success, that after eighteen sittings, a great majority of the clergy of Bern signed the theses, declaring that they judged them consonant with the sacred books. The presidents of the assembly then exhorted the senate to take such measures for the interest of religion as it should deem most useful. During the time of the conference, the reformed clergy preached by turns in the cathedral of Bern; and from the same pulpit whence ten years before Samson the Franciscan had abused the credulity of the people, Zwingli worked a conversion which produced a great effect. Just as he was mounting the pulpit, a priest was preparing to say mass at the neighbouring altar. The desire of hearing the famous heretic led him to suspend the celebration of the office and to mingle with the throng of auditors. Zwingli in his sermon unfolded his opinion on the eucharist with so much eloquence, that he subverted and changed all the ideas of the priest, who instantly, in sight of the assembled people, laid down his sacerdotal ornaments on the altar at which he was to have officiated, and embraced the reformation.

The conference at Bern was very serviceable to the cause of reform, from the splendour reflected on it by the union of so many celebrated men. It served at the same time to form a more intimate connection between the reformers dispersed in different parts of Switzerland; they all regarded Zwingli as their head, and chief support; and the authority that they granted to him silently contributed to maintain harmony among themselves.

As soon as the foreign theologians had quitted Bern, the grand council began to deliberate on the part to be taken. A few days after, it declared the bishops of Lausanne, Basil, Sion, and Constance, to be divested of their spiritual rights throughout its territory; it ordered the preachers of the Canton to teach nothing contrary to the theses approved by the assembly of the clergy; permitted priests to marry, and religious to leave their convents; and disposed respecting the employment of pious foundations and the revenues of monasteries. The town adopted the reformed worship, and in the space of four months all the municipalities of the Canton followed the example.

The introduction of the reformation at Bern rendered the catholics apprehensive that it would overspread all the rest of Switzerland. To arrest its progress, the Cantons most attached to the faith of their fathers, Lucern, Uri, Schweitz, Unterwalden and Zug, which we shall henceforth call the five Cantons, engaged themselves by oath to prohibit, under severe penalties, the preaching of the doctrine of Luther and Zwingli. This resolution in no respect trenched upon the rights of their allies; but the hatred that it announced towards the reformation, alarmed Zurich and Bern. These two towns thought it necessary to unite themselves more closely than ever; and they concluded an alliance of which these were the principal articles. The two towns guarantee each others’ possessions, and promise mutual assistance against all who would compel them to restore the Romish religion. They agree to maintain liberty of conscience in the bailliages governed in common, and not to suffer the reformed preachers in them to be imprisoned or their partisans persecuted. The other Cantons who shall admit the reformation may be admitted to this alliance, by which Zurich and Bern do not design to derogate from the stipulations of their former treaties; their intention not being to act on the offensive, or to injure the rights of their allies, but only to protect themselves from violence.

The distrust indicated by this treaty augmented the misunderstanding already existing, and every day brought some new grievance. When suspicion once takes place between confederate states, the very relations which connect them become a source of discord; and thus the joint sovereignty exercised by the Cantons over several small provinces, produced at this time continual subjects of contest. Whole municipalities dependant on these provinces, desired the abolition of the catholic ceremonies and the establishment of reformed preachers; in others, opinions were divided. This difference of sentiment gave rise to disputes, to insults, often even to acts of violence. The two parties pleaded their cause before the tribunal of the bailiffs, who administered justice in the name of the Confederacy, and who, being zealous defenders of the faith of their fathers, favoured the catholics, and allowed themselves to exercise several vexatious acts against the reformed. In this situation, the senate, of Zurich thought itself obliged to undertake the defence of the oppressed party. At the diet of Baden, in 1528, the deputies of Zurich communicated to their colleagues the complaints they had received from the reformed, and desired that orders should be given to the bailiffs to constrain no one in respect to religion, and to leave to the municipalities the liberty of adopting or rejecting the reformation, according to the wish of the majority; but they were not listened to, and the persecution continued. In one of the common bailliages, a protestant preacher was arrested while performing his pastoral duties, and conducted to Schweitz, where, notwithstanding the intercession of several Cantons, he was condemned to the stake and executed, for no other crime than having preached the doctrine of Zwingli.

This event spread great alarm among the reformed in Switzerland, and what augmented their uneasiness was a new step of the five Cantons:—a negotiation into which they entered with the brother of Charles V, Ferdinand king of Bohemia and archduke of Austria, a prince distinguished by his hatred of the protestants. He received favourably the propositions of the five Cantons, and concluded an alliance with them, the object of which was the maintenance of the catholic religion. The contracting parties agreed that, in case of war, king Ferdinand should be put in possession of the conquests that should be made beyond the Rhine, and that the five Cantons should retain those made in Switzerland. The projects this treaty appeared to indicate, filled the other members of the confederacy with indignation. In consequence, they sent a deputation to the five Cantons, commissioned to represent to them, that by leaguing themselves thus closely with a foreign power, they were compromising the independence of Switzerland, and instead of an ally, would give themselves a master: the deputation was to offer at the same time, the mediation of the neutral Cantons, to terminate in an amicable manner the differences which had arisen on the subject of religion. This deputation was every where ill received; even the customary honours were not shown to it, and it obtained nothing but vague and evasive answers, which destroyed all hope of accommodation.

Injurious language, pamphlets filled with invectives, acts of violence com­mitted by private persons, and unrepressed by their governments, daily increased the animosity between the catholics and the reformed. They mutually accused each other of ambitious views; the alliance of the five Cantons with king Ferdinand, on one hand, and the protection granted by Zurich to all the reformed, on the other, gave probability to these accusations. A civil war appeared inevitable, and each party accused its adversary of being the author of it. At Zurich, the troubles of Switzerland were attributed to the personal enemies of the reformer, who, it was said, hated him much less on account of his religious opinions, than because he opposed their ambition and cupidity; while the five Cantons believed that Zurich protected the reformed throughout Switzerland, for no other purpose than to increase its own power at the expense of the confederacy. These regarded Zwingli as the principal instigator of the war. It is certain that he made use of all his influence to engage the senate of Zurich, not to abandon the reformers to the rage of their persecutors, conceiving that humanity and justice made it his duty to undertake the defence of men who, by following his instructions, were daily exposed to the loss of property, liberty, and life itself. Much as he blamed all wars undertaken from ambitious motives, he was equally persuaded of the lawfulness of one, which should have for its end the maintenance of right, and the protection of the oppressed.

A dispute between the Cantons of Bern and Unterwalden at length caused the storm to burst forth which had so long been impending over Switzerland. In the valley of Hasli, situated on the confines of these two Cantons, the change of worship occasioned some disturbance. The inhabitants refused to submit to the decrees of the senate of Bern, and remained deaf to the voice of their magistrates. Their neighbours of Unterwalden joined them, with the intention of defending them against the force which was marching to reduce the mutineers. At the approach of the troops of Bern, however, the inhabitants of the valley, finding themselves too inferior in numbers, returned to their duty, and those of Unterwalden retired homewards in haste. Notwithstanding this prompt retreat, the senate of Bern complained of the assistance given by the men of Unterwalden to their rebellious subjects; but the government of that Canton thought itself sufficiently inculpated, by declaring that it had had no share in what had taken place; and refused the satisfaction that was demanded. In vain did the neutral Cantons attempt to appease both parties; the town of Bern protested that its deputies should never again assist at a diet where those of Unterwalden were present, and that it would not permit the new bailiff named by Unterwalden for the county of Baden, to take possession of his bailiage. The Unterwalders on their part, supported by Lucern, Uri, Schweitz, and Zug, prepared to settle the grand bailiff in his residence, by force of arms. At the first news of this design, Zurich, which had made common cause with Bern in the whole of this dispute, seized all the passes by which the troops of the five Cantons could enter Baden, and ordered its own to advance towards the borders. At the same time, the senate issued a manifesto, setting forth all the grievances of Zurich and Bern, and declaring that these Cantons were laid under the necessity of doing themselves justice by open force; that it was not however their intention to shed the blood of the innocent, but to make the real authors of all these troubles responsible. The senate accompanied this manifesto with a declaration of war, which was conveyed to Zug, where the troops of the five Cantons were assembled. Those of Zurich received orders to attack the next day; and hostilities were about to begin, when a deputation from the neutral Cantons arrived in haste, to prevent, if possible, the effusion of blood. At their entreaty, the leaders of the Zurichers consented to a suspension of arms, during which, the deputies repaired to Zurich, where they prevailed on the senate to accept their mediation. The Canton of Zurich at first demanded entire liberty of conscience, even in the five Cantons, and required that these latter should renounce for ever all foreign alliances, as well as their capitulations with France and with the Pope; but the mediators represented to the council, that this would be giving the law to their allies, and endeavouring to deprive them of a right which the members of the confederacy had at all times possessed. The reproaches of the Canton of Bern against the senate of Zurich for its precipitation in commencing hostilities, disposed it to moderate its claims; and the five Cantons equally desired a momentary reconciliation, either because they were not yet sufficiently prepared for war, or because their ally, the king of Bohemia, being attacked by the Turks, could not furnish them with the troops that he had promised. They therefore soon came to an agreement which secured to each Canton the power of making what ordinances it pleased relative to religion, in its own immediate territory. Liberty of conscience was granted to the inhabitants of the common bailiages, and they were authorised to reject or adopt the reformation at the will of the majority. It was agreed that the five Cantons should renounce their alliance with king Ferdinand; and not to retard the conclusion of the peace, the discussion of less important articles was referred to the approaching diet, at which the neutral Cantons were to arrange them in an amicable manner. This treaty was signed June 25, 1529, at Cappel, a village on the frontiers of Zurich and Zug, and the next day both armies returned to their own homes. During this short campaign, the soldiers, who did not yet partake in the animosity of their leaders, resembled brothers disunited by some transient quarrel, but whose former affection is by no means extinguished. The advanced posts lived in harmony, and often made their meals together. Sometimes the soldiers of the five Cantons, whose camp was ill provided with food, ventured beyond their limits, and allowed themselves to be taken prisoners; they were received as friends, and sent back loaded with provisions. This affecting union, still subsisting while every thing seemed to indicate a war, inspired the hope that Switzerland had no serious divisions to apprehend; but unfortunately this hope was of no long duration. The catholics were provoked to see the reformation protected by the treaty of peace, and only awaited a favourable moment to resume their former designs; while the reformed, abusing their temporary supe­riority, excited new discontents, which, two years afterwards, brought on a second rupture more serious than the first.

The thread of events now requires us to speak of the dispute that arose respecting the eucharist, between the Swiss and the Saxon reformer. To relate their misunderstanding, may awaken unpleasant ideas in the minds of their admirers; but this consideration ought not to restrain the biographer of Zwingli. Something would be wanting to the portrait of the reformer, did we not describe his conduct in this difficult situation, when it was his lot to oppose a man whom he respected and ad­mired, and wished to have for his friend. We have already seen that Zwingli’s first attempts at reform preceded those of Luther, or at least took place at the same time. Without personal acquaintance, or mutual communication, these two men had met in their ideas. It was towards the end of the year 1519, that one of the first works of Luther, his paraphrase on the Lord’s prayer, reached Switzerland, when it was found so similar to the explanation of the same prayer given by Zwingli, some months before, that many persons attributed it to him, and thought he had chosen to conceal his own name under that of Luther. Zwingli rejoiced to see this celebrated theologian directing his efforts towards the same end to which all his own were tending: he recommended to his hearers the reading of the works of Luther; but he forbade it to himself, thinking that their opinions would have more weight, if they both arrived at the same result without having communicated their ideas. During some years, the two reformers had no direct intercourse; but they spoke of each other in the most honourable terms. When Luther was excommunicated and put to the ban of the empire, Zwingli continued to testify the highest admiration of him; and at the time when his situation appeared completely desperate, he caused an asylum to be offered him in Switzerland, and engaged to procure for him the protection of his government. The friendly connection of the two reformers subsisted till Zwingli began to manifest his opinion on the eucharist. He had long regarded the doctrine of transubstantiation as contrary to the general tenour of evangelical doctrine; he also conceived it to be the source of a multitude of false ideas and superstitious practices; but the dogma was deeply rooted in the minds of men, and served as a basis to the authority en­joyed by the clergy; a strong resistance was therefore to be expected by any one who should dare to attack it. These reasons prevailed with Zwingli to remain silent on this important subject till no doubt whatever remained upon his own mind, and till he felt himself enabled to reply to all objections.

The defenders of transubstantiation quoted in their favour the tradition of several centuries, and the very words of the institution of the last supper. The first argument had not great weight with Zwingli, who allowed no other authority to tradition than what it derived from the sacred writings; it was not so with the second, since it was the invariable principle of our reformer to refer himself to the decisions of the gospel. The words of the institution of the Lord’s supper appeared, indeed, when taken separately, to favour the doctrine in question; but Zwingli was of opinion that this was a case for the application of the rule, that scripture must be interpreted by itself; that the general tenour of the gospel is to be regarded, and that a dogma is not to be founded on an insulated text. The dogma in question was repugnant to the testimony of the senses, if literally taken; whereas, if taken metaphorically, the text would be found to agree with all the rest relative to the same subject. Zwingli, when he had once fixed his opinion, began to declare it in his sermons, and in 1525, he published it with all the necessary illustrations, in a work entitled. “A commentary on true and false religion.” He there established, that the outward symbols of the body and blood of Jesus Christ undergo no supernatural change in the eucharist. Immediately afterwards, Oecolampadius published at Basil, “An explanation of the words of the Lord’s supper, according to ancient authors.” His principal object was to prove that the fathers of the church favoured the doctrine of transubstantiation much less than many would wish us to believe. This work was written with so much erudition, and such persuasive eloquence, that it “was sufficient,” said Erasmus, “if it were possible, and God would permit, to seduce the elect themselves.” As soon as Luther became acquainted with this doctrine, he rose up against it. He had himself renounced the doctrine of transubstantiation, and substituted for it an obscure and subtile explanation, which held a middle way between the doctrine of the Romish Church and that of Zwingli. The impetuous disposition of the Saxon reformer rendered him incapable of a calm discussion; and when he had once adopted an idea, the truth of it appeared to him so apparent, that he accused those who refused to adopt it of bad faith. He would not read the works of Zwingli and Oecolampadius, but declared their opinion dangerous and sacrilegious. In order to arrest in its commencement a dispute which might become fatal to the reformation, Zwingli addressed himself directly to Luther, and explained his doctrine to him in the mildest language. His frankness only served to provoke a vehement reply, which completed the exasperation of both parties, and decided their rupture. The Saxons, and the greater part of the princes and towns of the north of Germany, embraced the opinion of Luther; the Swiss and several imperial cities followed that of Zwingli. Numerous works appeared on each side, and kindled animosities, the violence of which, even at the present day, is astonishing.

The catholic party in Germany knew how to take advantage of the discord which was rising in the very bosom of Protestantism. The diet of the empire affected to make a distinction between the Lutherans and the partizans of Zwingli; hoping thus to augment their misunderstanding, and afterwards to suppress them more easily one after the other. The theologians, who were too much strangers to political considerations, did not perceive the snare; but it could not escape the penetration of the Landgrave of Hesse, one of the most enlightened princes of his time, and a zealous protector of the reformed. Being persuaded that the safety of the protestants depended on their union, he laboured incessantly for the reconciliation of their different parties. His endeavours not having succeeded, it occurred to him that an interview between Luther and Zwingli would be the surest road to a solid peace. He therefore invited them both, in the year 1529, to repair with some friends of their own choice, to his town of Marpurg. Zwingli consented without hesitation, and set out in the month of September, accompanied by Rodolph Collinus, Bucer, Hedio, and Oecolampadius. Luther brought on his part Melancthon, Justus Jonas, Agricola, and Brentius.

Luther and Zwingli had at first private conversations, one with Oecolampadius, the other with Melancthon, and the four theologians agreed on all points except that of the eucharist. They afterwards discussed this subject in presence of several protestant princes, and the professors of the academy of Marpurg, but could arrive at no satisfactory conclusion. Luther would listen to no reasoning, but continued to repeat, that he should remain in his own opinion, and would adhere to the literal meaning of scripture. His adversaries were not discouraged; they entered into a particular justification of their doctrine, and made a great impression on their audience. Perhaps some means of conciliation might have been found, if it had been possible to prolong these conferences; but the Landgrave was obliged to put an end to them on account of a contagious disorder which broke out at Marpurg. Before they parted, the Swiss and German theologians drew up in haste fourteen articles containing the essential doctrines of Christianity, which they signed by common consent. As to the real presence in the eucharist, it was said, that the difference between the Swiss and Germans ought not to interrupt their harmony, nor prevent them from exercising Christian charity towards each other, as much as the conscience of each would permit. In order to seal the reconciliation of the two parties, the Landgrave required from Luther and Zwingli a declaration that they regarded each other as brothers. Zwingli readily consented; but all that could be obtained from Luther was a promise that he would moderate his expressions for the future, in speaking of the Swiss.

Zwingli, a faithful observer of his engagements, restrained his friends by his authority, and disarmed his enemies by his mildness: after his death, the unhappy dispute that he had succeeded in composing, revived with fresh violence.

The earnestness shown by Zwingli for an union with the Lutherans, does equal honour to his heart and his head. He was not one of those despotical men who are irritated by contradiction, and would prescribe laws to thought. Provided a small number of principles were agreed upon, he thought every one ought to be left to his own individual manner of thinking. To exact a perfect conformity even in the smallest particulars was, he said, giving rise to perpetual disputes. He never wished to erect his own ideas into articles of faith; and knowing of what contention creeds had often been the cause, he was desirous that nothing more should be required of the ministers of the word of God, than a promise to conform in their teaching to the clear and precise precepts of the gospel. If the partisans of the reformation had afterwards followed the same principle, they would not have drawn upon themselves the just reproach of having more than once substituted the authority of a synod, or that of the reformers, to the authority of the see of Rome and the councils. Unfortunately the pride of man disposes him to deliver his own opinions as infallible truths; and there have been some protestants who have not escaped this snare; though nothing is more contrary to the true spirit of Protestantism, than to check the career of the human faculties, to fetter men’s consciences, and to establish judges in matters of religion.

The cares required in the defence of the reformation against the dangers that threatened it from without, did not prevent Zwingli from labouring to strengthen it in his own country. He instructed his flock daily from the pulpit; and possessing in, the highest degree the art of speaking to the comprehension of every one, he was able to give to his sermons an ever new attraction. Full of force and vehemence when he attacked vice, of gentleness and persuasion when he endeavoured to reclaim men to virtue, he disdained that kind of eloquence which merely serves to set off the orator, and dwelt only upon arguments adapted to convince and move. He was still more admirable in his private conversations. With affecting condescension he brought himself down to a level with the most humble capacities, and tranquillized such as came to confide to him their doubts, and disclose the agitation of their minds. He diverted such persons from speculative subjects above their reach, and succeeded in restoring them to serenity; but when he had to do with an inquirer capable of thoroughly investigating a question, he followed him step by step in his reasonings; showed him where he had quitted the right road, and pointed out the beacons which might direct him in future. What particularly inclined all hearts to open themselves to him, and gave weight to his words, was the sweetness of his disposition, his active benevolence, and the irreproachable purity of his morals. His house was the asylum of all the unfortunate, and he employed his small income, his credit, his connections, his ascendency, in rendering service to those who had need of him. His friends sometimes reproached him with giving way too much to his natural benevolence, but they could never persuade him to exercise it with more circumspection.

They who witnessed the patience with which Zwingli listened to all those who came to him in search of instruction, assistance, or consolation, might have thought that he had no other functions to fulfil than those of his pastoral office; but occupations of a very different nature claimed an equal portion of his time. In all difficult conjunctures the council summoned him to its sittings; and such was the opinion entertained of his wisdom, his penetration, and his knowledge, that magistrates and statesmen, who had grown old in office, came to ask advice of a simple theologian, whom his occupations and habitual studies seemed to render a stranger to politics. He was also the person employed by the government to draw up several new laws, which had been rendered necessary by the reformation. Of this number, were such as related to ecclesiastical discipline, those which regulated the course to be followed in causes which were formerly within the cognizance of the episcopal chambers, and sumptuary laws. In the midst of these different occupations, Zwingli also kept up an extensive correspondence with the celebrated men of his time, and composed a great number of works, in which he treated on the most important questions of morals and theology. We have had occasion to speak of several of his works: but there is one which we have not yet mentioned, and which deserves to be noticed. It is an abstract of his doctrine, which he addressed to Francis I, in order to render him favourable to the reformation, and in reply to the accusations which had injured the reformers in the opinion of that prince. It contains a curious passage respecting his idea of the fate reserved for pagans in a future life. The theologians of that time were of opinion, that the virtues of the pagans were nothing but splendid vices, and that, consequently, they would be excluded from heaven. This notion, though generally adopted, was repugnant to the heart of Zwingli, who could not reconcile it to the goodness of God. “When St. Paul (says he) affirms that it is impossible to please God without faith, he speaks of the unbelievers who have known the gospel, and have not put faith in it. I cannot believe that God will involve in the same condemnation, him who shuts his eyes to the light, and him who unavoidably lives in darkness. I cannot believe that the Lord will cast away from him nations whose only crime it is never to have heard of the gospel. No, let us abjure the rashness of setting bounds to the divine mercy. I am persuaded that in the heavenly assemblage of all the creatures admitted to contemplate the glory of the Most High, we shall see not only the holy men of the old and new covenant, but also Socrates, Aristides, Camillus, and Cato; in a word, I am persuaded that all good men, who have fulfilled the laws engraven on their consciences, whatever were the age or country in which they lived, will enter into eternal felicity.”

This work breathes religion of the most indulgent and enlightened kind, and proves in its author an elevated soul, and a mind superior to prejudice. It was the last that proceeded from the pen of Zwingli: a few weeks after, a fatal stroke deprived his country of his services, and terminated his laborious career. When we think of all that he performed during his abode at Zurich, it seems as if a whole life would scarcely suffice for so many labours; yet it was in the short space of twelve years, that he succeeded in changing the manners, the religious ideas, and the political principles of his adopted country, and in founding establishments, many of which have endured for three centuries. Such is the power of a man who is governed by a single purpose; who pursues one only end, from which he suffers himself to be diverted neither by fear, nor by seduction! The frivolous pleasures and amusements of the world occupied no place in the life of Zwingli; his only passion was to propagate truth, his only interest to promote its triumph; this was the secret of his means, and his success.

If Zwingli disdained those pleasures which can neither enlarge the faculties of the mind, nor procure real enjoyment, he at least knew how to appreciate the enjoyments of intimate society. It was in the midst of his friends that he sought relaxation from labour. His serenity and cheerfulness gave a great charm to his conversation; his temper was naturally hasty, and he sometimes gave way too much to his first feelings; but he knew how to efface the painful impression that he had produced, by a prompt and sincere return of kindness. Incapable of retaining the smallest degree of rancour from the recollection of his own faults or those of others, he was equally inaccessible to the sentiments of hatred, jealousy, and envy. The amiable qualities of his disposition gained him the attachment of his colleagues, who united around him as a common centre; and it is worthy of remark, that at this period, when all the passions were in motion, nothing ever troubled the harmony that prevailed among them: yet they were neither united by family connections, nor by early acquaintance; they were strangers attracted to Zurich by the protection afforded to the reformed, or sent for by Zwingli, to take part in the labour of public instruction. They came with habits already formed, with ideas already fixed, and of an age when the ardour of youth, so favourable to the formation of friendships, was past; but a stronger tie than any other united them—their common interest in the new light that began to dawn over Europe. These learned men communicated to each other all their ideas without reserve: they consulted upon the works that they meditated, and sometimes united their talents and their knowledge in undertakings which would have exceeded the powers of any one singly. The dangers that they had to fear for themselves, the persecutions to which they saw their partisans exposed in the neighbouring countries, served to draw the bonds of their friendship still closer. In our days each individual seems to be connected by a thousand threads with all the members of a society; but these apparent ties have no real strength, and are broken by the first shock. The men of the 16th century had something more masculine and more profound in their affections; they were capable of a forgetfulness of self which we find it difficult to conceive. The friends with whom Zwingli had encircled himself, loved him with that entire devotedness which only belongs to strong minds: without base adulation or servile deference, they did homage to the superiority of his genius, while the reformer was far from abusing his ascendency over them so as to make it the means of erecting a new spi­ritual dictatorship on the ruins of the old one.

There is nothing exaggerated in the morality of Zwingli. It announces a man who is a zealous friend of virtue, but who knows the world and its temptations; who requires from no one a chimerical perfection, and who, notwithstanding the severity of his own morals, preserves his indulgence for the weakness of others.

The more we examine the writings of Zwingli, and reflect on the whole tenour of his life, the more shall we be persuaded that the love of virtue and the desire of rendering himself useful, were the sole springs of his actions, “generous mind,” would he often say, “does not consider itself as belonging to itself alone, but to the whole human race. We are born to serve our fellow creatures, and by labouring for their happiness, even at the hazard of our repose or our life, we approach most nearly to the Deity.”

His whole conduct proves that these words were the genuine expression of his sentiments. If interest had swayed him, he would not have been contented with a small income, when it would have been easy for him to dispose of all the property of the church. If he had been ambitious of rule, he would have exacted a blind submission from his disciples, and would have preserved to the clergy their former power; if the love of fame had moved him, he would have attached his name to his institutions; but he had nothing in view but the public good. A stranger to all personal considerations, he was wholly occupied in establishing the reformation, and appeared indifferent to his own glory.

The purity of Zwingli’s intentions was often disputed during his lifetime; at which we ought not to be astonished. The contemporaries of a great man judge him according to their passions; and the reformer who dares to lay his bold hand upon long revered idols, cannot escape hatred and calumny. When Zwingli in his sermons thundered against the ambitious, when he threatened unjust judges with the divine anger; when he called forth severe measures against moral irregularities, no one dared to oppose to him an open resistance. He had reason, religion, and justice on his side, and strengthened by these auxiliaries, he convinced the virtuous, led the weak, and imposed silence on the corrupted; but these latter, though compelled to be silent in public, made themselves amends in private. They attributed to the reformer violent language which he had never uttered, and represented his actions under the most odious aspect. It was in great part the intrigues of the enemies of Zwingli, at Zurich, which occasioned a second rupture between the catholics and protestants, of which we shall rapidly relate the circumstances.

The treaty of peace concluded at Cappel, in September, 1529, had put a stop to hostilities, but had not pacified men’s minds. The prevailing party in the five Cantons remained determined to oppose the progress of the reformation. They had only subscribed the conditions proposed by the mediators, because they then found themselves in no condition to con tend with advantage against enemies superior in numbers, prepared for war, full of ardour, and perfectly united. The combat would have been the more unequal, as the reformation was not without partisans in the five Cantons, and as the people in general disapproved of a war in which there was nothing to be gained, and much to be lost. Neither were the catholics animated by the feeling of oppression or persecution; no one among them had been disquieted for his opinions; they might live in the midst of the protestants without fear of molestation. The reformed, on the contrary, incurred a thousand dangers, when they risked themselves on the territories of the catholic Cantons; and some, on a simple accusation of heresy, had been imprisoned, tortured, and delivered to the executioner. They considered themselves as the persecuted party, and it is well known how much this idea exalts the courage of men. The treaty of Cappel changed the situation of the two parties: it openly favoured the progress of Protestantism, as was soon perceived. The towns of Basil and Schaffhausen abolished the remains of popery, and united themselves to Zurich and Basil. At Glaris and Appenzel, the number of protestants multiplied so much, as to hold the balance even between the two faiths. In the common bailiages especially, the reformation daily gained partisans. When they thought themselves sufficiently numerous, they assembled all the inhabitants of the place, and in virtue of the treaty, the majority was to decide whether they should preserve the mass, or adopt the reformation. The latter proposal had almost always carried it, and this general disposition may be easily explained. The reformed preachers displayed more zeal and talent in attack, than their adversaries in defence; and the protestant Cantons, from their geographical position, and their multiplied connections with the common subjects, had great influence over them, which they frequently employed to draw over to their own party those who were still floating in uncertainty. The steps that they took for this purpose, displeased the five Cantons, and rendered them uneasy respecting the future, from an apprehension that they should find neither respect nor submission in sectaries of a different faith from their own. In fact, it was easy to foresee, that in all contests the common subjects, when become protestants, would take part with Zurich and Bern; and that if ever these two towns should wish to aggrandize themselves at the expense of their confederates, they might reckon upon the assistance of those whom a conformity of religion attached to their interests. The senate of Zurich justified these fears by indulging itself in several arbitrary acts in the common bailiages. By its own authority it disposed of the ecclesiastical property to furnish salaries for the reformed preachers; and when the catholic Cantons complained that they had not been consulted, the senate replied, that wherever the reformation had been adopted, the protestant Cantons alone had the right of regulating matters relative to worship.

A still more serious contest soon arose respecting the abbey of St. Gall, which belonged to the Helvetic Confederacy, by its alliance with the Cantons of Zurich, Lucern, Schweitz, and Claris. The abbot having died in 1529, the senate of Zurich wanted to take advantage of this event, to secularise the abbey; but the monks, supported by Lucern and Glaris, hastened to choose a new abbot, and immediately put him in possession of all his rights. It may be imagined that the abbot exerted himself to put a stop to the progress of Protestantism among his subjects, but in this he could not succeed; and finding himself surrounded on all sides by the reformed, he did not think himself in safety at St. Gall, and retired into Swabia: His flight appeared to the protestant party a confession of the illegality of his election, and a voluntary renunciation of his dignity: the senate of Zurich therefore resumed the design of secularizing the abbey; but it met with a strong resistance not only from catholics, but also from protestants. These latter were all agreed upon the principle that monks consecrated to retirement and the divine service, were not fitted for the exercise of sovereignty: in virtue of this principle, they had deprived of their secular power all the convents situated on their territory; but as to the abbot of St. Gall, they regarded him as an allied prince, not as a subject of the Cantons. They also dreaded the anger of the emperor, who had confirmed the election of the abbot, and given him investiture as a prince of the empire. After long debates, occasioned by this conflict of opposite opinions, the following decree was at length agreed upon as a middle measure; that on account of the absence of the abbot, the Cantons of Zurich, Lucern, Schweitz, and Glaris, should alternately name a governor for a year, commissioned to manage the abbey in their name. This provisionary measure was in no manner to derogate from the rights of the abbot, the final determination upon which was reserved till another occasion. Both parties adopted this arrangement in order to gain time, and each flattered itself with the hope of becoming strong enough in the interval to give laws to its antagonist. According to the decree of the four Cantons, the town of Zurich was the first that named to the place of governor, and commissioners sent by it to St. Gall consulted with the deputies of the municipalities on the organisation of the new government, and formed a constitution which secured liberty of conscience. It was agreed that every governor, before entering upon his office, should take an oath to maintain and observe all the articles of this constitution.

The Cantons of Lucern and Schweitz would not concur in these arrangements, but they made no protest against them till the period when the governor named by Lucern came to replace the one sent by Zurich, the former year. He refused to take the oath required by the subjects of the abbey, and these refused to recognise him till he observed this form: he therefore returned to Lucern, and his predecessor resumed the exercise of his functions.

Upon the news of this circumstance, the long suppressed indignation of the five Cantons burst forth. They complained that after having acted arbitrarily in the common bailiages and in the states of the abbot of St. Gall, Zurich sought also to force them to approve a convention made without their participation, or in case of refusal, to exclude them from, an administration to which they had a legal right. They said that Zurich had violated several articles of the treaty of 1529, and required the Cantons of Glaris, Friburg, Soleure, Schaffhaussen, and Appenzell, to join with them to compel Zurich to submit to a judgment by arbitration. The senate of Zurich answered to the complainants, that it had never contested with its confederates any of their temporal rights; but that it thought itself obliged to prevent any infraction of the liberty of conscience granted to the common subjects; that the steps with which it was reproached had no other end than the maintenance of this liberty, and that it would not suffer matters which had been sufficiently discussed at the time of the treaty of Cappel, to be brought again into deliberation. All attempts to reconcile the two parties were vain; the irritation increased daily, and the event that we are about to relate showed to what a degree the catholics were incensed.

John James Medicis, a partisan, no­wise connected with the illustrious house of that name, had obtained of Charles V, in recompense of his military services, a small sovereignty on the banks of the lake of Como. He soon felt himself straightened in his territory, which was bounded on one side by the duchy of Milan, and on the other by the Grison leagues. The latter neighbour appeared to him the weaker, and consequently that at whose expense it would be most easy to aggrandise himself. He took into his pay some Spanish troops who were out of employment; and without seeking any pretext to cover his aggression, seized upon the Valteline, small province belonging to the Grisons. These, in virtue of their treaties, claimed the assistance of the Swiss, whom they found for the most part inclined to grant their demands: the five Cantons alone refused, alleging as a reason, the danger with which they were threatened by the protestant Cantons. Their refusal did not slacken the zeal of Zurich, Bern, Glaris, Basil, Friburg, Soleure, Schaffhaussen and Appenzell, who marched their troops into the country of the Grisons; the Valteline was quickly recovered; the expedition was crowned with complete success, and the campaign terminated in a few months.

It may easily be imagined how great was the indignation excited among all the confederates by the conduct of the five Cantons. If the catholics acted thus towards an ally against whom they had no cause of complaint, what were the protestant cantons to expect in case of being attacked? Had they not reason to believe that designs were meditated against them? Other circumstances corroborated these fears.

The persecutions of the protestants recommenced with more fury than ever; it seemed as if the catholics, assured of some powerful support, thought themselves excused from keeping any measures. The victims of their intolerance loudly implored the protection of Zurich, and they found in Zwingli an advocate equally zealous and eloquent. “These are Swiss,” said he, “whom a friction is attempting to deprive of a portion of the liberty transmitted to them by their ancestors. If it would be unjust to attempt to force our adversaries to abolish the catholic religion from among them; it is no less so to imprison, to banish, and to deprive citizens of their property, because their consciences have urged them to embrace opinions which they think true.” The representations of Zwingli were not fruitless. The senate did not content itself with giving an asylum to persecuted protestants, it interceded for them with different Cantons, and claimed the observation of the treaty of Cappel, which expressly forbade all constraint in matters of religion. Unfortunately, the article on which the protestants founded their claims was conceived in equivocal terms, which each might interpret to his own advantage. One party wanted unlimited liberty of conscience; the other regarded themselves as no longer independent the moment toleration was exacted from them. It was impossible to reconcile claims so opposite, and the diets assembled to appease men’s minds, only served to inflame them the more. At Zurich the people were persuaded that the greater part of the inhabitants would consent to terms if they were not led astray by the adversaries of Zwingli, who took advantage of the delay in the negotiations to augment the number of their partisans. On this supposition, the zealous friends of the reformation desired that a frank exposure of their intentions respecting liberty of conscience should be required of the catholics; and they also wished to know whether, on occasion of an attack from a foreign power, the reformed might depend on the assistance of their allies. In case of an evasive answer, they thought it would be better to declare war immediately, than to prolong the painful distrust in which they lived, and give the enemy time to augment their forces. This opinion, which was approved by Zurich, was blamed by the other Cantons. They did not judge the danger pressing, and wished to make one further trial before hostilities were commenced. This trial consisted in stopping the provisions of the five Cantons, and breaking off all communication with them, that the catholics might feel how much need they had of their reformed neighbours, and thus become disposed to a speedy accommodation. In vain did the senate of Zurich combat this proposal; in vain did the reformer himself represent, that it would be cruel to reduce a whole population to famine, and that by such means the catholics would be irritated and not softened; his representations were neglected, and the senate of Zurich found itself at length obliged to assent to the proposal of its allies. The protestants therefore addressed to the catholics a manifesto containing a long enumeration of their grievances, and ending with these words: “Since you observe neither your ancient engagements nor your recent promises, and since you daily give us new subjects of complaint, we should be justified in doing ourselves right by force of arms. We will not however yet proceed to this extremity; but from this time we forbid you to frequent our public markets, we refuse you the passage of provisions through our territory, and we interdict our subjects from all communication with you. We shall continue these measures until you shall have given us satisfaction, and until we shall know whether it is your intention to acquit yourselves for the future, of the obligations imposed upon you by our ancient alliances.”

This menace was soon followed by its execution, and the five Cantons suddenly saw themselves blockaded on all sides. In order to understand the odious nature of the measure announced by the manifesto, it should be known, that the inhabitants of this part of Switzerland, having no other resource than their flocks, were obliged to import provisions of the first necessity, and a number of other indispensable articles. It was principally Zurich and Bern that furnished them with these commodities, or at least it was in the markets of these towns that they supplied themselves; and the situation of their country rendered any other communication difficult to them, if not impracticable. The effects of this blockade were quickly felt, and they affected the poor still more than the rich. What Zwingli had predicted took place. One general cry of indignation arose among all the inhabitants of the five Cantons. Even those who had laboured to restore peace, now renounced their pacific intentions; all persuaded themselves that the protestants had designs against their independence; and this suspicion determined them to submit to the most painful privations, rather than subscribe the conditions attempted to be imposed upon them.

War would immediately have broken out, had not the catholic leaders found their advantage in delay. They knew that their adversaries were not agreed among themselves, and by retarding the moment of attack, they hoped to augment their divisions. The protestants had flattered themselves that the mere threat of interrupting their communications would render their enemies more tractable; but the resolute countenance of the catholics, which they were far from expecting, disconcerted them. They began to load each other with reproaches; some complained that, instead of striking a decisive stroke, measures had been taken which gave new strength to the enemy; others accused Zwingli of kindling a civil war by his zeal in defending all the persecuted; and the catholics attempted to stir up discontents against the reformer, by repeating that he alone, and his declamations, had been the cause of all the dissensions that troubled Switzerland, and that, but for this apostle of discord, all the points in dispute might easily be settled. It was their intention to deprive him of the confidence of his fellow-citizens, and destroy the effect of his wise and energetic councils, and they in part succeeded. So many interests thwarted by the reformation, so many passions repressed by severe laws, so many vices censured without reserve, had indisposed many persons against Zwingli. All who regretted their former resources, their former pleasures, their former enjoyments, eagerly welcomed the calumnies circulated respecting him, and attributed to him the ill-success of the measures taken by the government, even though he had disapproved of them. Zwingli perceived the efforts made to bring him into disesteem, but he could not defend himself, because this malevolence was concealed, and only acted in secret. Fearing that he could no longer usefully exercise the duties of his office, he took the resolution of quitting Zurich. In the month of July he appeared before the senate, and thus addressed them. “For eleven years I have announced to you the Gospel in all its purity: as became a faithful pastor, I have spared neither exhortations, nor reprimands, nor warnings; I have represented to you on many occasions how great a misfortune it would be to all Switzerland that you should again allow your­selves to be guided by those whose ambition is their God. You have made no account of my remonstrances; I see introduced into the council, men destitute of morality and religion, who have nothing hi view but their own interest; who are enemies of evangelical doctrine, and zealous partisans of our adversaries. These are the men who are now listened to, and who have the sole direction of affairs. As long as you act in this manner, no good is to be hoped for; and since it is to me that all our misfortunes are attributed, though none of my counsels are followed, I de­mand my dismission, and will go and seek an asylum elsewhere.”

This unexpected address confounded almost equally the friends and the enemies of Zwingli. Before the latter had recovered from their astonishment, the senate named a deputation, which was commissioned to wait upon the reformer, and entreat him not to desert his flock. All the tenderness of friendship, and all the ardour of patriotism, were employed in vain by the deputies. Seeing Zwingli inexorable, they then forcibly represented the blow that the reformation would sustain from his quitting Zurich, the principal scat of Protestantism in Switzerland. This consideration overbalanced all his objections; he yielded to their entreaties, and three days after, he again appeared before the grand council, thanked them for the testimonies of attachment that he had received from them, and promised that to his latest hour, he would devote himself entirely to the good of their country.

The entreaties employed by the senate to retain Zwingli at Zurich, prove the high opinion generally entertained of his merit; they prove at the same time, that the reformer had given the senate no cause of complaint. In fact, his conduct always bore the strongest stamp of fidelity towards his sovereign, and his measures all tended to fortify the authority of government, it will be remembered, that it was he who prevailed upon the religious communities of Zurich to renounce their secular rights; it was he also who desired the abolition of those privileges which made the clergy a state within a state. He never introduced any change in public worship, without first submitting it to the deliberation of the council; and he was never known to take advantage of his ascendency to extort a consent which he could not obtain by persuasion. When the extravagancies of the anabaptists caused a dangerous fermentation, and threatened the dissolution of society, Zwingli had the greatest share in the reestablishment of order. The same spirit which directed his actions, is found in his writings, where it would be in vain to search for a single word favourable to anarchy. In his private letters, where he expresses himself with the unreserve of the most perfect intimacy, he recommends to his friends a submission to established government, whatever may be its form; and he continually reminds them, that the Christian religion, far from weakening the bonds which unite subjects to their sovereign, gives them an additional sanction. The whole life of Zwingli proves, that he never attempted to excite the multitude to revolt, or to propagate seditious doctrines—a reproach often brought against reformers. It would be easy in the same respect to justify Luther, Melancthon, Oecolampadius, Calvin, and many other celebrated theologians of the 16th century. No doubt some turbulent men have been found among those who called themselves partisans of the reformation, whose conduct and principles were blameable; but they have always been disavowed by the reformers; and the liberty of conscience claimed by the latter, has nothing in common either with a licentiousness which would banish all laws, or with chimerical theories which tend to the overthrow of empires.

Zwingli then remained at Zurich, and laboured without ceasing to reconcile animosities; but he was unable to restore the ancient harmony. The council was divided into two parties, which continually thwarted each other: when one proposed a vigorous measure, the other represented it as a declaration of war, and caused it to be rejected. The irresolution of the council filled the citizens with uneasiness, and lessened their submission; for the vacillation of a government destroys all confidence, and orders given with hesitation are ill obeyed. Uncertain whether it would be better to purchase peace by concessions, or to conquer it by arms, the magistrates settled in nothing. Zwingli conceived from this uncertainty a sinister presage as well for the public cause, as for himself in particular; but neither his own fears for the future, nor those of his friends for his person, could abate his courage. “In vain,” he writes to one of them, “do you attempt to divert me from my career, by reminding me of the tragical end of those who have preceded me; your predictions cannot inspire me with dismay; I will not deny my Saviour before men, that he may not deny me before my Heavenly Father and the Angels, He also died for the truth who was truth itself. Shall I remind you of the apostles, the crowd of martyrs among the first Christians? They all fell under the strokes of their enemies, but what they taught will nevertheless remain eternally true. Whatever may be my fate, I know that truth will triumph, even when my bones shall long have been reduced to dust.”

His courage increased with the danger; if he felt inquietude, it was not for himself, but for the fate of Protestantism; and here a deep conviction of the goodness of his cause supported him. “We ought to regard ourselves,” would he often say, “as instruments in the hand of the Most High. We may be broken, but his will shall nevertheless be accomplished. Let us shun neither the dangers nor the sufferings necessary to reestablish Christianity in its ancient purity, even though we ourselves should never enjoy its restoration, but should resemble those warriors whose eyes have closed for ever before they have beheld the victory purchased by their blood. There is a God in heaven who beholds and judges the combatants; there are men on earth who will reap the fruit of our labours, when we shall have obtained their recompense in a better world.”

The friends of Zwingli shared his sentiments, but they were unable to inspire them into their fellow-citizens. Yielding and resisting by turns, and both unopportunely, the reformed continued to commit fault upon fault. They depended upon the mediation of the neutral Cantons, and consented to all propositions of peace, in order to avoid the reproach of having provoked the war; but the more they demonstrated their anxiety for peace, the more exacting did their adversaries become. By dint of concessions on the part of the protestants, they came to an agreement upon all points, except that of liberty of conscience, which the senate of Zurich would not give up. While only temporal interests are in question,” said they, “we may make sacrifices to the love of peace; but to permit error to recover by violence the ground that it has been obliged to yield to truth—to suffer men to perish to whom we have promised succour and protection, would be to fail in the duties of religion and of honour.” Nothing could shake the resolution of the senate on this head; the five Cantons equally persisted in their opposition, and they prepared to open by force the communication which had been interrupted. By keeping a strict watch over the persons suspected of intelligence with the reformed, they concealed their preparations from the enemy, while themselves were informed by their spies of the hesitation of the protestants, and of the disunion that prevailed among them.

The mediators made a last effort to reconcile the two parties, and proposed to them to submit their grievances to the decision of arbitrators named by the neutral Cantons, with the addition of the cities of Strasburg and Constance. The two protestant cities consented, though with reluctance, but the catholics refused to listen to any proposition that was not preceded by raising the blockade. The terms employed by them in their answer were so threatening, that the mediators regarded them as a declaration of war, and on transmitting them to the reformed, advised them to be on their guard. The five Cantons having finished their preparations and united their troops, published their manifesto on the 6th of October, 1531, and took the field. Fifteen hundred of the troops of Lucern marched the same day for Bremgarten, to prevent the junction of the forces of Zurich and those of Bern, and their chief strength took the direction of Cappel. The news of these movements reached Zurich in the beginning of the night: the senate immediately assembled, but such was their blindness, that they still doubted of the hostile intention of the catholics, and instead of calling the inhabitants to arms, contented themselves with sending two commissioners to Cappel and Bremgarten to reconnoitre. The assembling of the council at an unaccustomed hour produced however a great agitation in the town, and it was increased the next day by the multiplied messages of peasants who had taken arms to defend the frontiers, and seeing no succours arrive, inquired whether their government wished to expose them to certain death.

The council, for fear of being accused a second time of tod much precipitation, would take no resolution before the return of their commissioners. These, judging their presence necessary at Cappel, remained there, and dispatched a courier to Zurich to announce the approach of the enemy. This information filled those with terror who had refused to believe in the possibility of a war, and who always expected proposals of peace from the five Cantons. The veil which had concealed their danger fell off at once, and consternation succeeded to security. The few troops quartered in the town were hastily dispatched for Cappel and Bremgarten, and orders were given to sound the tocsin and assemble the militia of the Canton. This measure did not produce the effect that was expected. Some ill-intentioned people raised a report that the danger was not so pressing as was pretended, and that the council itself was not agreed upon what was to be done; and they thus slackened the zeal of the peasantry, and augmented the uncertainty and distrust.

According to a decree of the council, a body of four thousand men was to repair to Cappel on the 10th of October; but no dispositions were made ; nothing had been foreseen; there were no horses for the conveyance of artillery; and stores, and above all, men, were deficient. At noon, instead of four thousand soldiers, only seven hundred were under their colours; and at the same time advice was received that the division posted at Cappel was v weakened every hour by skirmishes, and could not resist the general attack with which it was threatened. In this critical situation, the commander named by the senate thought it better to march with only a handful of men, than to await the uncertain arrival of the militia. Zwingli received orders to accompany him. He had been designated for this office by common consent; those who were attached to him thought that his presence would electrify the troops; his secret enemies, knowing his courage, hoped that he would not escape the dangers to which he would be exposed. Zwingli himself dared not expect a happy issue to this expedition; but he thought it his duty to obey the orders of his superiors, without urging any objections. Calm himself in the midst of friends who trembled for his life, he endeavoured to arm them with resignation. “Our cause is good,” said he, “but it is ill-defended. It will cost my life, and that of a number of excellent men who would wish to restore religion to its primitive simplicity, and our country to its ancient manners. No matter! God will not abandon his servants; he will come to their assistance when you think all lost. My confidence rests upon him alone, and not upon men; I submit myself to his will.’’

Such was the farewell of Zwingli to his friends: he pressed their hands for the last time, and advanced to meet the stroke destined to end his career. Cappel is only three leagues from Zurich; but the road crosses Mount Albis, and its rapid descent impeded the march of the infantry, who were burdened with heavy armour. In the meantime the roaring of distant cannon announced that the battle was begun. Zwingli, impatient to fly to the assistance of his fellow-citizens, proposed to the officers to increase the speed of their horses. “Let us hasten our march,” said he, “or we shall perhaps arrive too late. As for me, I will go and join my brethren—I will assist in saving them, or we will die together.” The words of Zwingli prevailed with the leaders, and filled them with a noble enthusiasm. They ordered their soldiers to follow them, and pushed forward. About three in the afternoon, they reached the field of battle. The catholics, to the number of about eight thousand, seeing the enemy advantageously posted, and ignorant of their force, would not hazard a general engagement, but contented themselves with keeping up a continual fire of artillery. At the moment Zwingli reached bis country­men, an officer of the Canton of Uri, at the head of three hundred volunteers, approached to reconnoitre. He perceived the weakness of the Zurichers, and the insufficiency of the reinforcement they had received, and immediately resolved to attack them. As soon as the catholics saw that battle was joined, their whole army put itself in motion. The Zurichers, scarcely 1500 in number, animated by the exhortations of Zwingli, defended themselves at first with success, and were even able to repulse the enemy; but the removal of a battery disturbed their arrangements. Of this the catholics took advantage; they penetrated through a small wood which the Zurichers had neglected to cut down or to occupy, and turned their position. A part of the rear guard, fearing to be cut off, took to flight; some of the enemy’s spies joined this body, and increased the confusion by raising a cry of treachery. The officers vainly endeavoured to restore order; they were unable to procure obedience, and the rout soon became general. Those who fought in the first ranks all died at their posts, and the rest dispersed.

In the beginning of the battle, while Zwingli was encouraging the troops by his exhortations, he received a mortal wound, fell in the press, and remained senseless on the field of battle while the enemy were pursuing their victory. On recovering his consciousness, he raised himself with difficulty, crossed his feeble hands upon his breast, and lifted his dying eyes to heaven. Some catholic soldiers who had remained behind, found him in this attitude. Without knowing him, they offered him a confessor: Zwingli would have replied, but was unable to articulate; he refused by a motion of the head. The soldiers then exhorted him to recommend his soul to the Holy Virgin. A second sign of refusal enraged them. “Die then, obstinate heretic!” cried one, and pierced him with his sword.

It was not till the next day that the body of the reformer was found, and exposed to the view of the army. Among those whom curiosity attracted, several had known him, and without sharing his religious opinions, had admired his eloquence, and done justice to the uprightness of his intentions: these were unable to view his features, which death had not changed, without emotion. A former colleague of Zwingli’s, who had left Zurich on account of the reformation, was among the crowd. He gazed a long time upon him who had been his adversary, and at length said with emotion, “Whatever may have been thy faith, I am sure that thou was always sincere, and that thou loved thy country. May God take thy soul to his mercy!”

Far from sharing in this sentiment of compassion, the soldiers rejoiced in the death of a man whom they considered as the principal support of heresy; and they tumultuously surrounded the bloody corpse of the reformer. Amid the ebullitions of their fanatical joy, some voices were heard to pronounce the words, “Let us burn the remains of the heresiarch.” All applauded the proposal: in vain did their leaders remind the furious soldiery of the respect due to the dead; in vain did they exhort them not to irritate the protestants, who might one day avenge the insult; all was useless. They seized the body; a tribunal, named by acclamation, ordered that it should be burned, and the ashes scattered to the winds; and the sentence was executed the same instant.

Thus did Zwingli terminate his career, at the age of forty-seven years. The news of his death filled his friends with the utmost consternation. The secret partisans of the Romish Church at Zurich began again to raise their heads, and to attribute the misfortunes of their country to the changes introduced by the reformer. Confusion arrived at its height, and military operations were conducted accordingly. The fluctuations of the council, the want of harmony between the leaders and their soldiers, and the tardiness and insufficiency of the measures taken for the continuance of the war, occasioned several other reverses; and two months after the affair of Cappel, the towns of Zurich and Bern both found themselves obliged to make a separate peace. These new treaties annulled those of 1529, and gave a decided superiority to the enemies of the reformation.

It then appeared as if all Switzerland was about to relapse into popery; but the predictions by which Zwingli had endeavoured to keep up the courage of his friends at parting, soon began to be realised. When the first emotion of terror was past, they blushed to have believed that the fate of their cause was attached to the life of a single man. Animated by his spirit, they laboured to revive hope, and to appease animosities, and they succeeded in restoring tranquillity.

The establishments founded by the reformer became the source of new prosperity. The love of peace, order, and justice, succeeded to ambition, covetousness, and vengeance, which had so often disturbed their internal concord. An active charity, a patriarchal simplicity, wise laws, and manners still more powerful than laws, formed the the noble legacy bequeathed by Zwingli to his country.