CHAPTER VI

Zurich—The College of Canons—Election to the Cathedral—Fable—Accusations—Confession of Zuinglius—The Designs of God Unfolded—Farewell to Einsidlen—Arrival at Zurich—Courageous Declaration of Zuinglius—First Sermons—Effects—Opposition—Character of Zuinglius—Taste for Music—Arrangement of the Day—Circulation by Hawkers.

Seven centuries had elapsed since Charlemagne had attached a college of canons to this cathedral, over whose school Oswald Myconius then presided. These canons having degenerated from their first institution, and desiring in their benefices to enjoy the sweets of indolence, elected a priest to preach and take the cure of souls. This situation having become vacant some time after Oswald’s arrival, he immediately thought of his friend. What a prize it would be for Zurich! Zuinglius’ appearance was prepossessing. He was a handsome man, of graceful address, and pleasing manners. His eloquence had already given him celebrity, while the lustre of his genius made him conspicuous among all the confederates. Myconius spoke of him to the provost of the chapter, Felix Frey, (who from the appearance and talents of Zuinglius was already prepossessed in his favour,)² to Utinger, an old man who was held in high respect, and to canon Hoffman, a man of an upright open disposition, who, having long preached against foreign service, was favourably inclined to Ulric. Other Zurichers had, on different occasions, heard Zuinglius at Einsidlen, and had returned full of admiration. The election of preacher to the cathedral soon set all the inhabitants of Zurich in motion. Different parties were formed. Several laboured night and day for the election of the eloquent preacher of Our Lady of the Eremites. Myconius having informed his friend—“Wednesday next,” replied Zuinglius, “I will come and dine at Zurich, and talk over matters.” He accordingly arrived. A canon to whom he was paying a visit said to him, “Could you come among us to preach the word of God?” “I could,” replied he; “but will not come unless I am called.” He then returned to his abbey. This visit spread alarm in the camp of his enemies. Several priests were urged to apply for the vacancy. A Suabian, named Laurent Fable, even preached as a candidate, and the rumour went that he was elected. “It is then quite true,” said Zuinglius, on learning it, “that a prophet has no honour in his own country, since a Suabian is preferred to a Swiss. I know what value to set on popular applause.” Zuinglius immediately after received a letter from the secretary of Cardinal Schinner, informing him, that the election had not taken place. But the false news which he had at first received nettled the curate of Einsidlen. Knowing that a person so unworthy as this Fable aspired to the place, he was more desirous to obtain it for himself, and wrote about it to Myconius, who next day replied, “Fable will always continue fable: my masters have learned that he is already the father of six boys, and possesses I know not how many benefices.”² The enemies of Zuinglius did not abandon their opposition. All, it is true, agreed in extolling his learning to the skies; but said some, “He is too fond of music;” others, “He loves the world and pleasure;” others again, “In early life he was too closely connected with giddy companions.” There was even one individual who charged him with an instance of seduction. Zuinglius was not without blemish. Though superior to the ecclesiastics of his time he more than once, in the first years of his ministry, gave way to youthful Propensities. It is difficult to estimate the influence of an impure atmosphere on those who live in it. There were in the papacy certain established irregularities, allowed and sanctioned as conformable to the laws of nature. A saying of Æncas Sylvius, afterwards pope under the name of Pius II, gives an idea of the sad state of public morals at this period. We give it in a note.⁴ Disorder had become the rule, order the exception.

Oswald displayed the greatest activity in favour of his friend. He exerted all his powers in defending him, and happily succeeded. He went to burgomaster Roust, to Hoffman, Frey, and Utinger. He praised Zuinglius for his probity, honesty, and purity, and confirmed the Zurichers in the favourable opinion which they had of the curate of Einsidlen. Little credit was given to the speeches of his adversaries. The most influential persons said, that Zuinglius should be preacher at Zurich. The canons said so also, but in a whisper. “Hope,” wrote Oswald to him with a full heart, “for I hope.” At the same time he told him of the accusations of his enemies. Although Zuinglius was not yet become altogether a new man, he belonged to the class of those whose conscience is awakened, and who may fall into sin, but never without a struggle, or without remorse. It had often been his resolution to stand alone in the midst of the world, and maintain a life of holiness. But when he saw himself accused, he did not pretend to boast that he was without sin. Writing to canon Utinger, he said. “Having nobody to go along with me in the resolutions which I had formed, several even of those about me, being offended at them, alas! I fell, and like the dog of whom St. Peter speaks, (2 Peter 2:22) returned to my vomit. Ah! God knows with what shame and anguish I have torn up these faults from the depths of my heart, and laid them before Almighty God, to whom, however, I would be less afraid to confess my misery than to mortal man.”² But while Zuinglius confessed himself to be a sinner, he, at the same time vindicated himself from the most offensive charges which were brought against him. He declared that he had ever abhorred the idea of invading the sanctity of married life, or seducing innocence,—vices at that time but too common. “or the truth of this,” says he, “I appeal to all with whom I have lived.”⁴ The election took place on the 11th December, and out of the twenty-four votes which were given, Zuinglius had seventeen. It was time that the Reformation should begin in Switzerland. The chosen instrument which Divine Providence had been preparing during three years in the retreat of Einsidlen, was ready and must now be translated elsewhere. God, who had chosen the new university of Wittemberg, situated in the heart of Germany, and under the protection of the wisest of princes, to call Luther thither, made choice in Switzerland of the city of Zurich, regarded as the head of the confederation, there to station Zuinglius, and to bring him into contact not only with one of the most intelligent, simple, resolute, and intrepid communities of Switzerland, but also with all the cantons which are grouped around this ancient and powerful state. The hand which had taken hold of a young shepherd of Sentis, and led him to the school of Wesen, now brought him forward, powerful in word and in deed, in the face of all, to regenerate his countrymen. Zurich was about to become a focus of light to Switzerland. The day which announced the election of Zuinglius was to Einsidlen a day at once of joy and grief. The circle which had been formed there was about to be broken up by the withdrawal of its most valuable member, and who could say whether superstition was not going again to take possession of this ancient place of pilgrimage?… The council of state in Schwitz conveyed the expression of its sentiments to Ulric by designating him as “reverend, learned, most gracious master, and good friend.” “At least do you yourself give us a successor worthy of you,” said Geroldsek in despair to Zuinglius. “I have got for you,” replied he, “a little lion, simple and wise; a man initiated in the mysteries of sacred science.” “Let me have him,” immediately rejoined the administrator. It was Leo Juda, at once the gentle and intrepid friend with whom Zuinglius had been so intimate at Bâle. Leo accepted the call which brought him near his dear Ulric. Ulric took farewell of his friends, quitted the solitude of Einsidlen, and arrived at that delightful spot where, smiling and instinct with life, rises the town of Zurich, surrounded by its amphitheatre of vine-clad hills, enamelled with meadows and orchards, crowned with forests, and overtopped by the lofty peaks of the Albis.

Zurich, the centre of the political interests of Switzerland, where the most influential persons in the nation frequently assembled, was the place best fitted to act upon the whole country, and shed the seeds of truth over all its cantons. Accordingly, the friends of letters and the Bible hailed the appointment of Zuinglius with acclamation. At Paris, in particular, the Swiss students, who were there in great numbers, were enraptured with the news. But if Zuinglius had the prospect of a great victory at Zurich, he had also the prospect of a severe contest. Glarean wrote him from Paris, “I foresee that your learning will stir up great enmity;³ but be of good courage, and you will, like Hercules, subdue monsters.” On the 27th December, 1518, Zuinglius arrived at Zurich, and took up his quarters at the hotel of Einsidlen. He received a cordial and honourable welcome. The chapter immediately met to receive him, and invited him to take his seat in the midst of them. Felix Frey presided; the canons, friendly or hostile to Zuinglius, sat indiscriminately around their provost. There was considerable excitement in the meeting; every one felt, perhaps without distinctly acknowledging it to himself, how serious the commencement of this ministry was likely to prove. Some apprehension being entertained of the innovating spirit of the young priest, it was agreed to set before him the most important duties of his office. “You will use your utmost endeavour,” he was gravely told, “to secure payment of the revenues of the chapter, without neglecting the least of them. You will exhort the faithful both from the pulpit and in the confessional, to pay the first fruits and tithes, and to show by their offerings that they love the Church. You will make it your business to increase the revenues which are derived from the sick, from sacrifices, and generally from every ecclesiastical act.” The chapter added, “As to the administration of the sacraments, preaching, and personal presence, amid the flock, these too are duties of the priest. However, in these different respects, and particularly in regard to preaching, you may supply your place by a vicar. You should administer the sacraments only to persons of distinction, and after being requested. You are expressly forbidden to do it to all persons indiscriminately.”

Strange rule to be given to Zuinglius! Money, money, still money!… Was it then for this that Christ established his ministry? Still prudence tempers his zeal; he knows that we cannot all at once deposit the seed in the ground, see the growth of the tree, and gather its fruit. Zuinglius, therefore, without explaining his views on what was enjoined him, humbly expressed his gratitude for the honourable appointment which he had received, and stated what he calculated on being able to do. “The life of Jesus,” said he, “has been too long hidden from the people. I will preach on the whole gospel of St. Matthew, chapter by chapter, following the mind of the Holy Spirit, drawing only at the wellsprings of Scripture, digging deep into it, and seeking the understanding of it by persevering fervent prayer.³ I will consecrate my ministry to the glory of God; the praise of His only Son; the real salvation of souls, and their instruction in the true faith.” This new language made a deep impression on the chapter. Some expressed joy, but the majority openly disapproved.⁵ “This mode of preaching is an innovation,” exclaimed they, “this innovation will soon lead to others, and where is it to stop?” Canon Hoffman in particular thought it his duty to prevent the fatal effects of a choice which he had himself patronised. “This exposition of Scripture,” said he, “will be more hurtful than useful to the people.” “It is not a new method,” replied Zuinglius, “it is the ancient method. Recollect the homilies of St. Chrysostom on St. Matthew, and of St. Augustine on St. John. Besides, I will use moderation, and give none any reason to complain.”

Thus Zuinglius abandoned the exclusive use of fragments of the gospel as practised since the days of Charlemagne; re-establishing the Scripture in its ancient rights, he, from the commencement of his ministry, united the Reformation to the primitive ages of Christianity, and prepared a more profound study of the Word of God for ages to come. But he did more. The strong and independent position which he took up in the face of the Church showed that the work in which he had engaged was new. The figure of the Reformer stood out in bold relief to the public eye, and the Reformation advanced.

Hoffman, having failed in the chapter, addressed a written request to the provost to prohibit Zuinglius from shaking the popular, belief. The provost sent for the new preacher, and spoke to him with great kindness. But no human power could close his lips. On the 31st December, he wrote to the council of Glaris, that he entirely resigned the cure of souls which had hitherto been reserved for him, and gave himself wholly to Zurich, and to the work which God was preparing for him in this town. On Saturday, being new-year’s-day, and also the birthday of Zuinglius, who had completed his thirty-fifth year, he mounted the pulpit of the cathedral. A great crowd, eager to see a man who had already acquired so much celebrity, and to hear this new gospel, of which every one began to speak, filled the church. “It is to Christ,” said Zuinglius, “that I wish to conduct you; to Christ, the true source of salvation. His divine word is the only nourishment which I would give to your heart and life.” Then he announced that to-morrow, the first Sunday of the year, he would begin to expound the gospel according to St. Matthew. Accordingly, the preacher, and a still larger audience than the day before, were at their posts. Zuinglius opened the gospel—the gospel which had so long been a sealed book—and read the first page, going over the history of the patriarchs and prophets mentioned in the-first chapter of St. Matthew, and expounding it in such a way that all were astonished and delighted, and exclaimed, “We never heard anything like this.”

He continued thus to expound St. Matthew, according to the original Greek. He showed how the whole Bible found at once its exposition and its application in the very nature of man. Delivering the loftiest truths of the gospel in simple language, his preaching reached all classes, the learned and the wise, as well as the ignorant and simple. He extolled the infinite mercies of God the Father, and implored all his hearers to put their confidence m Jesus Christ alone as the only Saviour.² At the same time, he earnestly called them to repentance; forcibly attacked the errors which prevailed among the people; fearlessly rebuked luxury, intemperance, extravagance in dress, the oppression of the poor, idleness, foreign service, and foreign pensions. “In the pulpit,” says one of his companions, “he spared no one, pope, emperor, kings, dukes, princes, lords, not even the confederates. All his energy, and all the joy of his heart were in God: accordingly he exhorted all the inhabitants of Zurich to put their confidence in Him only.” “Never was man heard to speak with so much authority,” says Oswald Myconius, who with joy and high hopes watched the labours of his friend. The gospel could not be preached in vain in Zurich. A continually increasing multitude of men of all classes, and more especially of the common people, flocked to hear him. Several Zurichers had ceased to attend on public worship. “I derive no benefit from the discourses of these priests,” often exclaimed Füsslin, a poet, historian, and counsellor of state; “they do not preach the things of salvation; for they do not comprehend them. I see nothing in them but covetousness and voluptuousness. Henry Räuschlin, treasurer of state, one who diligently read the Scriptures, was of the same opinion: “The priests,” said he, met in thousands at the Council of Constance … to burn the best man among them.” These distinguished men, led by curiosity, went to hear Zuinglius’ first sermon. Their countenances bespoke the emotion with which they followed the orator. “Glory to God!” said they, on coming out; “this is a preacher of the truth. He will be our Moses to deliver us from Egyptian darkness.”⁵ From this moment they became the Reformer’s intimate friends. “Powers of the world,” said Füsslin, “cease to proscribe the doctrine of Christ! After Christ the Son of God was put to death, sinners were raised up. And now, should you destroy the preachers of truth, you will see their places supplied by glaziers, carpenters, potters, founders, shoemakers, and tailors, who will teach with power.” In Zurich, at the outset, there was only one shout of admiration, but when the first moment of enthusiasm was over, the adversary resumed courage. Worthy persons alarmed at the idea of a Reformation, gradually drew off from Zuinglius. The violence of the monks which had been veiled for an instant, reappeared, and the college of canons resounded with complaints. Zuinglius stood immovable. His friends beholding his courage, felt in his presence as if a man of apostolic times had reappeared. Among his enemies, some scoffed and jeered; others uttered insulting menaces, but he endured all with Christian patience.² “Whoso,” he was wont to say, “would gain the wicked to Jesus Christ must wink at many things,”—an admirable saying which ought not to be lost sight of. His character and general bearing towards all contributed as much as his discourses to win their hearts. He was at once a true Christian and a true republican. The equality of mankind was not with him a mere watchword; it was written on his heart and manifested in his life. He had neither that pharisaical pride, nor that monastic gruffness, which are equally offensive to the simple and the wise of the world. Men were drawn towards him, and felt at case when conversing with him. Strong and mighty in the pulpit, he was affable to all whom he met in the streets, or in the public squares. At the places where the merchants or incorporations met he was often seen among the citizens expounding the leading points of Christian doctrine, or conversing familiarly with them. He gave the same cordial reception to peasant and patrician. “He invited country folks to dine with him,” says one of his bitterest enemies, “walked with them, spoke to them of God, made the devil enter into their hearts and his writings into their pockets. He even went so far that the leading persons in Zurich visited those peasants, entertained them, and walked over the town with them, showing them all sorts of attention.”

He continued to cultivate music “with moderation,” says Bullinger: nevertheless the enemies of the gospel took advantage of it, and called him “The evangelical flute and lute player.” Faber having one day reproached him with his fondness for music, Zuinglius, with noble candour, replied, “My dear Faber, you know not what music is. I have, it is true, learned to play on the lute, the violin, and other instruments, and am able by these means to pacify little Children; but you of course are too holy for music. Do you not know that David was a skilful player on the harp, and in this way drove the evil spirit out of Saul?… Ah! if you knew the sound of the heavenly lute, the evil spirit of ambition and avarice by which you are possessed would come out of you also.” Perhaps this was Zuinglius’ foible, though it was in a spirit of cheerfulness and Christian liberty that he cultivated this art, which religion has always associated with her sublimest flights. He set some of his Christian poems to music, and did not scruple sometimes to amuse the youngest of his flock with his lute. He showed the same good nature to the poor. “He ate and drank,” says one of his contemporaries, “with all who invited him,—he despised no one; he was most compassionate to the poor; always firm and always joyful in bad as in good fortune. No evil made him afraid; his words were at all times full of energy, and his heart full of consolation.”² Thus Zuinglius increased in popularity—after the example of his Master, seated alternately at the table of the common people and the banquet of the great, but still constantly intent on the work to which God had called him. At the same time he was an indefatigable student. In the morning, till ten, he read, wrote, and translated: Hebrew in particular engaged his attention. After dinner he attended to those who had any thing to tell him, or any advice to ask of him: took a walk with his friends and visited his hearers. At two he resumed his studies. He took a short walk after supper, and afterwards wrote letters which often occupied him till midnight. He always stood when he studied, and did not allow himself to be interrupted unless on important business. But the labours of a single individual were not sufficient. A person, named Lucian, one day came to him with the writings of the German Reformer. He had been sent by Rhenan, a learned man, then resident at Bâle, and indefatigable in circulating the Reformer’s writings throughout Switzerland. Rhenan had become aware that the hawking of books was an important means of diffusing evangelical doctrine. Lucian had travelled almost over the whole of Switzerland, and knew everybody. “See,” said Rhenan to Zuinglius, “whether this Lucian has the necessary prudence and ability; if he has, let him go from town to town, burgh to burgh, village to village, and even from house to house, among the Swiss, with Luther’s writings, especially his exposition on the Lord’s Prayer, written for the laity. The more he is known the more purchasers will he find. But care must be taken not to let him hawk other books. If he has none but Luther’s, his sale of them will be the greater.” Thus the humble roof of many a Swiss family was penetrated with some rays of light. There was one other book, however, which Zuinglius should have caused to be hawked with those of Luther—the Gospel of Jesus Christ.