CHAPTER VII

Indulgences—Samson at Berne—Samson at Baden—The Dean of Bremgarten—Young Henry Bullinger—Samson and the Dean—Internal struggles of Zuinglius—Zuinglius against Indulgences—Samson dismissed.

Zuinglius had not long to wait for an opportunity of displaying his zeal in a new vocation. Samson, the famous indulgence merchant, was slowly approaching Zurich. This miserable trafficker had come from Schwitz to Zug, 20th September, 1518, and had remained there three days. An immense crowd had gathered round him. The poorest were the most eager, so that they prevented the rich from coming forward. This did not suit the monk; accordingly, one of his attendants began to bawl out to the populace, “Good people, do not throng so! Let those come who have money. We will afterwards try to content those who have none.” From Zug Samson and his band repaired to Lucerne; from Lucerne to Underwald; then crossing the fertile Alps with their rich valleys, passing beneath the eternal ice of Oberland, and in these spots, the grandest in Switzerland, exposing their Roman merchandise, they arrived near Berne. The monk was at first prohibited to enter the town, but succeeded at last in obtaining an introduction by means of persons whom he had in his pay. Exhibiting his wares in the church of St. Vincent he began to cry louder than ever. “Here,” said he to the rich, “are indulgences on parchment for a crown.” “There,” said he to the poor, “are indulgences on ordinary paper for two farthings!” One day, a celebrated knight, James de Stein, came up prancing on a dapple grey horse; the monk greatly admired the horse. “Give me,” says the knight, “an indulgence for myself, for my troop of five hundred strong, for all my vassals of Belp, and all my ancestors; I will give you my dapple grey horse in exchange.” It was a high price for the horse, but the courser pleased the Franciscan, and the bargain was struck. The horse went to the monk’s stable, and all these souls were declared for ever exempted from hell. Another day, he give a burgher, for thirteen florins, an indulgence, in virtue of which his confessor was authorised to absolve him from any species of perjury.² So much was Samson in repute, that Counsellor May, an enlightened old man, having said something against him, was obliged to go down on his knees, and ask pardon of the arrogant monk. This was the monk’s last day, and a loud ringing of bells announced his immediate departure from Berne. Samson was in the church standing on the steps of the high altar. Canon Henry Lupulus, formerly Zuinglius’s master, was acting as his interpreter. “When the wolf and the fox rendezvous together in the field,” said canon Anselm, turning to the Schulthess of Walleville, “the best thing for you, worthy Sir, is to put your sheep and geese in safety.” But the monk cared little for these sarcasms, which, besides, did not reach his ear. “Kneel,” said he to the superstitious crowd, “repeat three Paters, three Ave Marias, and your souls will forthwith be as pure as at the moment of baptism.” Then all the people fell upon their knees. Samson wishing even to outdo himself, exclaimed, “I deliver from the torments of purgatory and hell all the spirits of the departed Bernese, whatever may have been the manner and place of their death.” These jugglers, like those at fairs, kept their finest feat for the last.

Samson set out with a heavy purse towards Zurich, crossing Argovia and Baden. The farther on he got, the monk, whose appearance on passing the Alps was so shabby, proceeded with more pride and splendour. The Bishop of Constance, irritated that Samson had not employed him to legalise his bulls, had forbidden all the curates of his diocese to open their churches to him. At Baden, nevertheless, the curate durst not long oppose his traffic. This redoubled the monk’s effrontery. Making the round of the burying ground at the head of a procession, he seemed to fix his eyes on some object in the air, while his acolytes sung the hymn for the dead, and pretending to see souls flying from the burying ground to heaven, he exclaimed—“Ecce volant! See how they fly.” One day, an inhabitant of the place getting up into the church steeple, a great number of feathers were soon seen in the air falling down on the astonished procession; “See how they fly,” exclaimed the wag of Baden, shaking a feather cushion from the steeple. Many began to laugh. Samson fell into a rage, and could not be appeased till he learned that the individual was subject to fits of derangement: he left Baden in a huff.

Continuing his journey, he arrived, towards the end of February, 1519, at Bremgarten, at the solicitation of the Schulthess and second curate, who had seen him at Baden. No individual in that district had a higher reputation than dean Bullinger of Bremgarten. Though far from enlightened as to the errors of the Church and the Word of God, being open, zealous, eloquent, kind to the poor, and ready to do a service to the humblest, he was loved by every body. He had in his youth formed a connection with the daughter of a counsellor of the place. This was the usual expedient of such of the priests as were unwilling to live in general licentiousness. Anna had borne him five sons, but this had in no way lessened the respect which the dean enjoyed. There was not in Switzerland a more hospitable house than his. A great lover of the chace, he was seen surrounded with ten or twelve dogs, and accompanied by the barons of Hallwyll, the abbot Mury, and the gentry of Zurich, scouring the fields and forests around. He kept open table, and none of his guests was more jovial than himself. When the deputies to the Diet were on their way to Baden, on passing through Bremgarten they failed not to take their seats at the dean’s table. “Bullinger,” said they, “keeps court like the most powerful baron.” In this house strangers remarked a child of an intelligent countenance. Henry, one of the dean’s sons, from his earliest years, had many narrow escapes. Having been seized with the plague, preparations were making for his funeral when he showed some signs of life, and was restored to his delighted parents. On another occasion, a wandering beggar, having won him by caresses, was carrying him off from his family, when some persons in passing recognised and rescued him. At three years of age he could repeat the Lord’s prayer and the apostles’ creed. One day having slipt into the church, he got into his father’s pulpit, stood up gravely, and at the full stretch of his voice, cried out, “I believe in God the Father,” and so on. At twelve, he was sent to the Latin school of Emmeric, his heart overwhelmed with fear; for those times were dangerous for a young boy without experience. When the students of an university thought its discipline too severe, they not unfrequently left it in troops, carrying the children with them, and encamped in the woods, from which they sent the youngest of their number to beg, or sometimes with arms in their hands they rushed forth on the passing traveller, robbed him, and then consumed their booty in debauchery. Henry was happily kept from evil in this distant abode. Like Luther, he gained his livelihood by singing before the houses, for his father wished to teach him to live by his own shifts. He was sixteen when he opened a New Testament. “I found in it,” says he, “every thing necessary for man’s salvation, and thenceforth I laid it down as a principle to follow the Holy Scriptures alone, and reject all human additions. I believe neither the fathers nor myself, but explain Scripture by Scripture, without adding any thing or taking any thing away.” God was thus preparing this young man who was one day to succeed Zuinglius. He is the author of the manuscript journal which we often quote.

About this time Samson arrived at Bremgarten with all his train. The bold dean undismayed by this petty Italian army, prohibited the monk from vending his wares in his neighbourhood. The Schulthess, town clerk, and second pastor, Samson’s friends, had met in a room of the inn at which he had alighted, and were standing quite disconcerted around the impatient monk. The dean arrived—“Here are the papal bulls,” said the monk to him, “open your church.” The Dean.—“I will not allow the purses of my parishioners to be emptied by means of letters not authenticated, for the bishop has not legalised them;” The Monk (in a solemn tone).—“The pope is above the bishop. I enjoin you not to deprive your flock of this distinguished grace.” The Dean.—“Should it cost me my life, I wont open my church.” The Monk (with indignation).—“Rebellious priest! in the name of our most holy lord the pope, I pronounce against you the greater excommunication, and will not absolve you till you ransom your unheard-of audacity at the price of three hundred ducats.” … The Dean (turning on his heel and retiring).—“I will know how to answer before my lawful judges: as for you and your excommunication I have nothing to do with them.” The Monk (transported with rage).—“Impudent brute! I am on my way to Zurich, and will there lay my complaint before the deputies of the Confederation.” The Dean.—“I can appear there as well as you, and this instant I set out.”

While these things were taking place at Bremgarten, Zuinglius, who saw the enemy gradually approaching, kept preaching vigorously against indulgences. Vicar Faber of Constance encouraged him, promising him the bishop’s support.⁴ “I know,” said Samson, while proceeding towards Zurich, “that Zuinglius will attack me, but I will stop his mouth.” Zuinglius was in truth too much alive to the value of pardon by Christ not to attack the paper indulgences of these men. Often, like Luther, he trembled because of sin; but in the Saviour found deliverance from his fears. This modest but brave man was advancing in the knowledge of God. “When Satan frightens me,” said he, “by crying to me: You do not this, and you do not that, and yet God commands them!—immediately the soft voice of the gospel consoles me, saying: What thou canst not do (and assuredly thou canst do nothing,) Christ does for thee.” “Yes,” continues the pious evangelist, “when my heart is agonised because of my powerlessness, and the feebleness of my flesh, my spirit revives at the sound of this glad news: Christ is thy innocence! Christ is thy righteousness! Christ is thy salvation! Thou art nothing, thou canst do nothing! Christ is the Alpha and the Omega! Christ is all, and can do all. All created things will forsake and deceive thee, but Christ, the Holy and Righteous One, will receive and justify thee … “Yes,” exclaims Zuinglius, “He is our righteousness, and the righteousness of all who shall ever appear as righteous before the judgment seat of God!…”

Indulgences could not stand a moment when confronted with such truths; and hence Zuinglius never hesitated to attack them. “No man,” said he, “is able to forgive sins. Christ alone, very God and very man, is able to do it. Go, buy indulgences … but rest assured you are not at all forgiven. Those who vend forgiveness of sins for money are the companions of Simon Magus, the friends of Balaam and the ambassadors of Satan.”

Dean Bullinger, still warm from his conference with the monk, arrived at Zurich before him. He came to complain to the Diet against this shameless dealer and his traffic. Envoys from the bishop had arrived for the same purpose. They made common cause, and promised to support each other. The spirit which animated Zuinglius breathed upon this town, and the council of State resolved to oppose the monk’s entry into Zurich.

Samson had arrived in the suburbs, and alighted at an inn. One foot was already on the stirrup preparatory to his entry, when deputies from the council arrived, and while making the customary offer of wine to him as a papal envoy, intimated to him that he might dispense with appearing in Zurich. “I have something to communicate to the Diet in the name of his holiness,” replied the monk. It was a trick. However, it was resolved to admit him; but as he spoke only of his bulls he was dismissed, after being compelled to retract the excommunication which he had pronounced against the dean of Bremgarton. He went off in a rage, and the pope shortly after recalled him to Italy. A car drawn by three horses, and loaded with the money of which his lies had robbed the poor, preceded him on the steep tracts of St. Gothard, which eight months before he had crossed in poverty, without style, merely the bearer of a few papers. On this occasion the Helvetic showed more firmness than the Germanic Diet. The reason was, because no cardinals and bishops sat in it. Hence the pope deprived of these supports dealt more gently with Switzerland than Germany. In other respects, the affair of indulgences, which played so important a part in the Reformation of Germany, is only an episode in that of Switzerland.