They had with them an engineer, possessed of the talent of an
Archimedes and a Dædalus. He had invented light sickle-wagons, on each
of which stood a small mortar. These they pushed before them. The
French army was commanded by the _Grandmaitre_.[2] In front he placed
the Swabian _landsknechts_; behind these the Gascons, and a large body
of cavalry, on the wings. The most select of these, himself at their
head, formed the corps of observation. At the signal of battle, a
shower of red-hot balls was discharged by the Spanish army. The
_landsknechts_ were startled. 'Why do ye stand?'--the French marshal is
said to have cried out. 'Will ye wait to be shot down? O that I had the
brave Confederates with me yet!--they who at the sight of any enemy
roared like raging lions, fell on him, and pressed into him! Forwards!
Whip them, whom you have often whipped before! Set your swords and
halberds against the balls!' The _landsknechts_ begin to advance. And
now, the Spaniards put fire to the old wheeled-wagons, and, sheltered
by them, press on against the centre. A terrific _melee_ ensues. From
sheer fatigue they must often rest and repair their broken ranks. The
battle lasts from morning till evening. Already the greater part of the
_landknechts_ are killed, and the rest fly. The cavalry also, and the
Gascons waver. Eight thousand victims cover the field. The
_Grandmaitre_ looks toward heaven, gnashes his teeth, and cries out,
'The victory of the Spaniards shall not be bloodless, or I die this
day.' He puts spurs to his horse. His trusty followers come after.
Bravely fighting he falls. But the enemy, who expected no new attack,
are thrown into disorder. The French again press forward, conquer, and
take possession of the city. Night only ends the conflict. Hannibal,
after the victory at Cannæ, spread no greater terror over Rome and
Italy. The fear of the French rule produced universal lamentation.
Comfort and assistance were begged for on all sides. The Confederates,
in view of this state of things, think, what a dangerous example it
would be, if such a raging tyrant were allowed to make war on the
Common Mother of all faithful Christians. They quickly assemble and
resolve with zeal, to put the affairs of the Church and of Italy into a
better condition. A legate of the cardinal (Schinner) makes his
appearance, begging and imploring them by their treaty-obligations to
set out at once; yet he can offer no more than a gold-florin to the
man. It is scarcely credible; but in six days, notwithstanding, 20,000
chosen infantry are brought together, who immediately rush through
Graubunden, over the Adige, and down the narrow defiles to Verona, then
in the possession of the _landsknechts_ and the Gascons. On the
approach of the Confederates they evacuate the city. The Cardinal again
appears in the Swiss army and is received with many marks of honor.
Intelligence reaches us from the Venetians; who soon come up with 800
mail-clad troopers and 500 light-horse. Full of glad anticipation they
behold the imposing array of the Confederates. We advance to a river[3]
(whose name I have not learned) on the other side of which the powerful
French army stands strongly intrenched. The bridge, behind which
Valleggio lies, was defended by three massive towers. The artillery of
the Venetians compels the French to fall back. They take with them what
provision they can raise. The army advances to Pontevico, where the
enemy again makes a momentary stand. Here a castle is built in the
middle of the bridge,[4] up to which point it had been broken down. In
the presence of the foe, but under the protection of the Venetian
cannon, a number of volunteers swim over and fetch back the boats,
which had been carried to the other side. A bridge is quickly
constructed. But by the time the army crossed over, the Frenchmen are
in full flight. Only a few shots from the field-pieces are sent after
them. Conscious that the state of their affairs is desperate, deprived
of the support of the Germans, knowing the enemy with whom they have to
deal, believing themselves secure no where, they take refuge in Pavia
and await the result. The boldest of the Confederate youth had cut off
from them a considerable herd of cattle, on which the army could have
subsisted for a long time. Ulric von Sax, leader of the Confederates,
just as prudent as he was active, resolves to besiege Pavia for a
while, because he thinks it not yet advisable to take it by storm. The
French still endeavor to prevent a passage over the Po.[5] Here an
incident happens almost as incredible as it is amusing. In the French
camp were 800 _landsknechts_, survivors of the defeat at Ravenna. Some
of our men swim over the Po, in order to take measures for the
fastening of a bridge. The _landsknechts_ sally out to prevent this.
All the youth of the Confederate army, skilled in swimming, running,
jumping, cast off their clothes and, halberd in hand, leap into the Po,
to fight with enemies, of whom they say, 'Would that God had given us
such for a daily exercise in the art of war.' In fact, they raised a
warlike laugh as often as they caught a glimpse of the _landsknechts_,
not because they esteemed them cowardly and despicable antagonists, but
because they were found by them on the side of the enemy and beaten
oftener than they conquered. Although the _landsknechts_ saw the naked,
white bodies, they still fled, giving a free passage over the river.
The Confederates now marched on to Pavia, which was surrounded and
taken in a few days in the following manner. Some single combats had
preceded. Six Frenchmen had called out four confederates and were
killed. Two others challenged a chamois-hunter from the Canton of
Glarus. This pleased him. One he shot down with his gun; the other he
attacked with the sword. The French, trusting the walls as little as
their courage, meditate flight and wish to cover it by the
_landsknechts_, whom they address thus, 'You see, brave comrades, be it
chance or be it fate, the luck of war has forsaken France. We must
think of retreat, if we cannot count on victory. Our camp is full of
despair. Your former boldness must expect to-day the most illustrious
trial. Act up to your reputation! We, the heavy and the light armed,
will occupy that part of the city, which stretches along the Mincio,[6]
before the enemy presses in there and cuts off the way of escape. Thus
will we secure the safety of all. If we cannot conquer now, we must try
to keep our lives to do it hereafter, as Demosthenes says. So that no
one may suspect us of treachery we leave with you the artillery, the
pledge of our hope.' The credulous foot-soldiers (_landsknechts_),
trusting their fair speeches, permitted them to march out. But the
French have scarcely placed the Mincio (Ticino) behind them, when they
take to flight and leave the _landsknechts_ in the lurch. As soon as
the citizens of Pavia observe this, they promise, on condition that
they are exempted from pillage, a month's pay to each individual in the
Confederate and Venetian camps. The former thirsted for a contest with
the _landsknechts_, but this desire was yet to cost them much bitter
sweat. The clumsy artillery of the besieging army was drawn up in the
park, outside of the city, under the guard of a hundred picked men,
from different corps. It was not yet noon, when the women and the more
aged citizens, unsuspected by the foot-soldiers, appeared on the walls
and let down scaling ladders over them. The hundred, employed as a
watch in the park, with some others who joined them, hasten up, climb
the walls, and without the knowledge of the rest of the army, try to
penetrate into the heart of the city. But the _landsknechts_ have
artillery, and they only their short weapons and their fiery courage.
Had not the narrow streets checked the former, the Confederates would
all have been slain. They try to conceal themselves for the moment
behind projections and sheltering walls; but then they suddenly rush
out, make themselves masters of two pieces, and turn them against the
enemy, who were thus gradually driven back. And now one of the
combatants mounts the wall, and proclaims victory and the capture of
the city. It is not believed; a stratagem is feared, and it is
forbidden to approach the wall. At last, encouraged by the prolonged
stentorian cry, some venture to climb up. The _landsknechts_ resist in
vain. They become wearied out and are driven into the river. Of 800,
only 50 are taken alive. Meanwhile the Confederates march through the
gate. The Venetian horsemen pursue the fugitives, but can only overtake
a few. Anon, a shout resounds through the city, 'Julius, the Swiss are
conquerors.' On the third day, the garrison of the castle surrenders.
Eight battering-rams, ten culverins, and ten pieces of smaller
artillery are among the trophies. Several had previously belonged to
the Venetians. And now at sight of them they embrace and wet them with
tears and kiss the escutcheon of St. Mark. So much had the disgraceful
loss pained them. The remaining towns send embassies and give in their
adherence to the Cardinal and the Confederates. Even Genoa is conquered
by the Spaniards, and Asti acknowledges, begging for peace with tied
hands, the power of the Holy League. All Italy, the seacoasts of
Liguria, and the Lombards are made free by the Confederates. 'We owe to
them,' they confess, 'what liberated Greece once owed to Titus
Quinctius.' The sound of the trumpet re-echoes through cities, towns,
and villages; and bells ring. Scholars, clergy and preachers proclaim
from the pulpit; 'Ye are God's people. Ye have humbled the enemies of
the Bride of the Crucified.' The army, tarrying some days in Pavia,
suppresses a rebellion, which I pass over, because the matter was
brought to a happy issue. Then messengers hasten to all parts, in order
to bring about a settlement of the affairs of Milan. The Confederate
Diet is assembled in Baden, and the following embassies arrive there:
legates from his Holiness, Pope Julius II, from the Emperor, from the
Cardinal of St. Potentiana (Schinner), legates by proxy of the King of
Spain, from the King of France (these half by stealth), from the Duke
of Savoy, from the Duke of Lorraine, from the Venetians, from the
Milanese; all bent on furthering their own wishes and aims. Here the
foresight and craftiness of men must be studied, how they try to bring
each other into difficulty, in order to prosecute their own advantage
more securely amid the confusion; and how they pretend to desire one
thing, in order to gain the contrary. The Emperor in particular ties
the knot. He had resolved in secret to restore Maximilian, son of the
banished Duke, Ludovico Sforza, to the princely seat. To the
astonishment of all, he comes out with the assertion that Lombardy, as
a fief of the empire, durst receive its ruler from no one but the head
of the empire. This gave little satisfaction to the Confederates. 'The
Emperor,' say they, 'had promised to assist us with cavalry; but he
went no further than fair words. We, the Pope, and the Venetians have
borne the burden of the war. And now, he, who did nothing, comes to
carry off the prize.' Yet it does not break out into an open quarrel.
Another embassy arrives from the Holy Father, Julius, and the
cardinals. It brings to the Confederates the title of honor,
'Liberators of the Church.' Most welcome is this title to them, and
most welcome what is added, 'They may ask what they please, the most
sacred will be granted to them.' The greater part, yea, all ask for the
privilege of bearing the image of the Crucified on their banner; the
men of Glarus wish the risen Savior. In the end the resolution is
passed to bring back Maximilian, the son of Louis, to the throne of his
father. I would have written to you more fully, my dear Vadianus, for
this is not the hundredth part, had not a pressure of business
prevented me. Judge of this hasty letter with indulgence. It has been
the work of not more than three hours."
This, the earliest historical production of Zwingli, that has come down
to us, is translated as literally as possible, in order to show the
opinion then entertained by him, of political and ecclesiastical
relations, his strong youthful spirit, which delighted in the chances
of war, and his study of the military art and history of the warlike
Romans. The latter is seen in the occasional, mostly well chosen,
technical terms, the insertion of short speeches, and the concise,
graphic mode of representation. The defective knowledge of geography
displayed need not be wondered at, since maps, those indispensable
helps, were wholly wanting in that age. In his eyes the Romish church
is surrounded with the highest glory, and its sacred head, the Pope,
worthy of reverence almost divine. He regards the expedition to Pavia
as lawful, exults with national pride in the laurels won, and even the
sight of disorders among the haughty conquerors appears to make only a
transient impression upon him. But with keen glance he discovers the
moving spring of the diplomatic transactions, the elements of discord,
and the quarter, from which the most destructive inroads on the life of
the republic were to be feared.
For two years it had become plain to him, with what danger this impure
game of false statesmanship, this system of bribes, frauds, flatteries,
and intimidations threatened the Confederacy, exposed to it on all
sides. Two poems, written about the year 1510 or 1511, "The Labyrinth"
and "A poetic Fable concerning an Ox and several Beasts," are to be
received partly as pictures of the time, and partly as lessons of
warning. Vigorous, rich in thought, original in conception, but
somewhat rude in language, they exhibit a row of well-drawn single
figures, without light and shade, rather than a group disposed by art,
and owe more to the exercise of the understanding than to the impulses
of the imagination. They deserve to be handed down to posterity only as
the productions of an author, who has done greater things. The second
winds up in the following nervous style:
"Where Bribery can show its face,
There Freedom has no dwelling place.
And such a blessing Freedom is,
That boldly Sparta, as we wis,
Unto Hydarmes gave reply:
'Freedom must stand by Bravery
Sheltered and guarded evermore.'
Amid the bloody ranks of war,
Amid the fearful dance of death,
Let gleaming swords drawn from the sheath,
And sharp-edged spears and axes be
Thy guardians, golden liberty.
But, where a brutish heart is met
And by a tempting bribe beset,
There noble Freedom, glorious boon!
And name and blood of friends too soon
Are cheaply prized and rudely torn
The oaths in the holy covenant sworn."
In Italy, the honorable closing act of the year 1512 now took place. At
the gates of Milan, in presence of the imperial, papal and Spanish
deputies, the burgomaster Schmied of Zurich handed over to the young
duke Maximilian Sforza the keys of his conquered capital, and the
bailiff Schwarzmauer of Zug received him with a Latin oration. It were
well, if the intervention of the Confederates in Italian affairs had
ended here, and a strong national resolve, to keep what they had won,
and leave what is foreign to the care of foreigners, had gained the
ascendency. But already baits were again thrown out by the Pope, the
Emperor and France, and were soon followed by scenes, more stormy, more
disgraceful, more tragic, out of which the battles of Novara and
Marignano rise in bloody trappings.
For several years the eyes of Zwingli had been fully opened to the
destructive influence, which foreign mercenary service exerted on a
free state. Whether he accompanied the banner of Glarus twice, or only
once more into Italy cannot now be accurately determined. Bullinger
alone states that he was present at Novara, confounding probably this
expedition with one of an earlier date. It is certain, however, that he
took part in the campaign of 1515, for, six days previous to the battle
of Marignano, he preached in the square before the town-hall in Monza.
"Had we followed his counsel," says Werner Steiner, who at the side of
his father, the landamman of Zug, listened to the sermon,--"much less
blood would have been shed, and the Confederates saved from great harm."
But dissension reigned in their ranks, which were crippled by French
gold and promises, and they, who did remain faithful, lacked _one_
leader around whom to rally.
The terrific battle of Marignano had ended in a dreadful defeat. Voices
of lamentation, reproach, and repentance met those, who found their way
back to their native land and resounded here and there also from the
pulpit. Zwingli, who himself had been an eye-witness of the whole
calamity, believed it his duty, as teacher in the chief-town of the
little republic, not to keep silent.
Before men of rank and influence, who even in Glarus, though compelled
for the moment to remain quiet, soon gave themselves up again, at first
cautiously but afterwards without shame, to the seductions of renewed
bribery, sticking to that conqueror, who before had rewarded them so
gloriously, and began to further the interests of France, instead of
those of their own country, he unveiled, without fear or restraint, the
ruinous consequences of this scandalous trade, laid bare its secret
hiding places and tricks, and encouraged the better spirit of the
people to a wholesome resistance. But notwithstanding, the cunning
seducers knew how to restrain themselves, and in spite of all, they
gained firmer footing, and although the Perpetual Peace, lately
concluded with France, did not give them all they sought for, they
still received by it a more secure position for further intrigues.
But at length their hatred broke out into open flame against the bold,
troublesome speaker--the preacher, who dabbled in politics--the
fanner's son of a remote district, who had the presumption to attack
the great ones of the land, the old patrician families, and who, though
himself not pure, nevertheless cast blame on others. Full of avarice,
envy and hypocrisy, the proud, the fault-finders and the spiritual
dwarfs met together. They whispered, fanned their rage, shook their
heads, reviled, threatened; in a short time they had no rest, till he
wished himself away; and hence, at a later period, he thus wrote to
Vadianus, "Nothing else could have induced me to change my situation
but the intrigues of the French. I am now at Einsiedeln. I would tell
you what injury the French faction has done me, if I did not think that
you knew it already. I had to take part in affairs, and have suffered
and learned to suffer much evil."
We will now examine the charges, that were brought against Zwingli,
keeping steadily in view the position as to science, character, and
fitness for his calling, which he occupied, when he left Glarus. As the
indispensable fruits of a republican form of government we look for
freedom to be good and true, decision of character, and the
unrestricted development of every nobler feeling and of every kind of
profound knowledge. When it protects and fosters such tendencies, and
makes good its title to an honorable place among other forms. But when
it fails so to do, because of democratic, or aristocratic degeneracy,
it then writes its own condemnation. Zwingli began his labors as a
republican, in whom the citizen was not lost in the priest. And this we
must always bear in mind, so as not to do him injustice, when we see
him working as resolutely in the state as in the church. Whether this
course can be defended in our time does not concern us. It seemed well
in his age, and that it is our business now to describe. The republican
feeling of equality gave him, moreover courage to face every opponent
with boldness, yet always with argument. He honored the old families,
when they practised the old virtues. The man of rank, who sinned
against his country, was in his eyes more worthy of punishment than a
common person. Meanwhile these views found too much sympathy in the
free Canton of Glarus, to allow his enemies to attack him, except in an
indirect way. They harped, therefore, so much the more on the third
charge, that he even, the fault-finder himself, was not innocent.
"Why," say they, "does he rail out continually against French intrigue?
Only because he has sold himself to the Papal interest. Is he not in
close league with Cardinal Schinner? Is he not his spy, his minion,
commissioned by him to distribute the presents of the Pope? Does he not
receive letters, testimonials of honor, from the Nuncio? Yes, he--even
he who calls us takers of bribes, draws a yearly pension from the
Pope."
And certainly it was so, but with this difference--an honorable
intention on his part, and a base one on theirs. The scientific and
practical qualifications of Schinner and his clear insight into the
relations of life were highly esteemed by Zwingli, who looked on him as
a strong champion in the contest against French corruption. And in
truth this son of a poor shepherd in Valais was no common man. By
talent and industry he had raised himself to the bishopric of that
Canton. Defeated by an opposing party he had to flee, but was already
known to the Pope, from whom he received a Cardinal's hat. Of course he
now labored to advance the interests of Rome and the Empire among the
Confederates, but at the time when Zwingli became acquainted with him,
not by such disreputable means, as afterwards. Any separation from the
church was as yet far from the thoughts of the Reformer, although he
already desired the correction of existing abuses. What was more
natural for him than to seek to win over to his assistance those, who
could exert a direct influence in Rome, the Cardinal and the Nuncio?
And indeed, a few years later, when he came out manfully against the
politics of Rome, he yet distinguished between the person of the
Cardinal and his cause, and true to earlier feelings of friendship,
defended the former, as long as it was possible. "They,"--wrote he to
Myconius--"who blame me for yielding too much to the Cardinal, I
suspect are only friends and well-wishers in appearance, and censure me
for that which, though it were not altogether reasonable, ought to be
allowed on the score of friendship. Rather would I err in thinking well
of a bad man, if I did not know him to be bad, than in thinking ill of
a good one." The fifty florins, which he drew yearly on the order of
the Pope, were laid out only in books and scientific helps, needed for
the better exercise of his calling. This pension he gave up of his own
accord at a later day.
The main charge, however, was directed against his moral conduct. Not
merely gloomy hypocrites, habitual fault-finders, who took offence at
every joke, to which his gay humor may have prompted him, and condemned
his love of music and society, but unprejudiced, worthy men also
regretted that his attentions to the women were not always kept within
proper bounds. It were idle to deny, what he himself openly confessed,
when he bewailed the errors of his youth and strove to do them away by
redoubled zeal and faithfulness to duty. Some excuse may be found for
him in the customs of his age. The failings of superiors were then
treated with indulgence, and a transgression of this kind received but
a mild sentence at the bar of public opinion. His honorable dismissal
from Glarus, given to him only with reluctance, shows, also, that in
spite of occasional short-comings, his character was held in general
esteem. Certainly Catholic writers, since then and even in modern
times, have sought to cast a stain on his later work by laying undue
stress on this weakness of the Reformer's youth.[7] The simple question
may be put to them, 'Are not Augustine and Jerome counted among your
most distinguished saints? And yet you know, or ought to know, what
they have confessed--things that Zwingli had never to renounce.'
He was now past his thirty-first year, and in the full vigor of
manhood. His national sympathies, the extent of his knowledge, his
courage and ability were well known to the inhabitants of Glarus and to
many also beyond the limits of the little Canton. As to matters of
faith the struggle was yet going on in his own bosom. Here, on the one
hand, stood the Church, to whose priesthood he had been consecrated,
with her stiff, unbending dogmas, and her stale, lifeless forms, yet
esteemed holy, to touch which was regarded as an unpardonable crime in
the individual; and there, on the other, eternal truth, superior to the
narrow restrictions of human power, raised above decretals and the
decisions of Councils, drawing to herself all noble spirits with an
irresistible charm, of all objects the most worthy of pursuit and
untiring effort--and besides these a third, easily overlooked by the
inexperienced youth--by the thinker in his quiet chamber, but not by
the practical man, who must mingle directly with the people--the
necessity of a higher, a more infallible authority than his own, an
authority acceptable to all good men and acknowledged by all. It was
well for him that he knew how to connect this with the results of his
investigation. Not by ignoring the understanding, not by a cowardly
retreat, where others ventured freely to inquire, not by an assent,
that feared to ask for proof, lest one should cry out, "Wo to the
heretic!"--No! but by boldly examining for himself and using his
reason, he only arrived at the more settled conviction of the truth of
the Holy Scripture and of the divine power of the faith built thereon.
"Take good, strong wine," wrote he to the nuns in Oedenbach, at a later
period, "it tastes good to the healthy, makes him glad of heart,
strengthens him, warms his blood. But he, who lies sick of a distemper,
or fever, and cannot taste it, much less drink it, wonders how those
who are healthy can drink it. The fault is not in the wine, but in the
disease. So the Divine Word is altogether right in itself, and revealed
for the good of men. But he, who cannot bear it, nor understand it, and
will not receive it, is sick. Thus let them be answered, who wickedly
say, God would not have his Word _understood_," (we must subject reason
to faith) "as if God wished to expose us to danger."
In order to attain completely that firm ground, where settled
conviction is the result of the union of faith and knowledge, he could
scarcely have done a wiser thing, than to withdraw into the more quiet
retreat, which was opened for him in the neighboring Einsiedeln.