10. End
TEN END
Zwingli’s life did not come to a tidy conclusion. His was not the expected death following ill health that Luther and Calvin experienced. Zwingli died suddenly and without preparation. He had no obvious successor in Zurich coached to receive the baton. He was a casualty of his own willingness to use force to religious ends. At Marignano in 1515 he had seen his fellow Swiss die for a cause that was not their own. In 1531, he died in a battle that he had championed, a conflict that moderate voices had insisted could be avoided.
PREACHER AND POLITICIAN
Zwingli’s role in the events of his last years is difficult to construct with confidence.1 His Catholic opponents declared that he was the ‘colonel’, but their polemic flattered the reformer.2 Although he played a significant role in the disaster of Zurich’s defeat in the Second Kappel War, through his advocacy of war, Zwingli neither acted alone nor enjoyed the unfettered support of the Council and military leaders. His fluctuating fortunes with the magistrates before the First Kappel War, and his anger at the peace they had settled for, underscored his limitations – even his vulnerability. Although he himself was clear that military action was necessary, he faced a divided Council that continued to change its mind. His convictions never wavered: the gospel should be delivered to all the Swiss, and it was the duty of political rulers to bring the divine will to fruition. Their justice must mirror God’s justice. Zwingli never doubted that the power of God’s Word would convert the people, even if it had to be delivered at sword point.
We can follow Zwingli as preacher and author, but the politician is harder to locate. He wrote a stream of memoranda offering his opinions on virtually every subject, but these documents could suggest that his influence was greater than it was. He was an adviser to the Council, not a decision maker.3 He did, however, have the ear of influential figures. From 1529, the Large and Small Councils were overwhelmingly occupied by supporters of the Reformation, and although opponents remained within the city, those who resisted the new order lacked strong leadership. Zwingli often met members of the so-called ‘Secret Council’, an inner circle of magistrates that met on an ad hoc basis to determine foreign policy and war.4 The political culture in which he was operating was characterized by a mutual dependence. Realization of his ideas required the support of Bürgermeister Diethelm Röist and other sympathetic leaders, but the magistrates for their part also needed the preacher, who commanded a great following within the city, was the most prominent voice from the pulpit, and belonged to an international network of religious and lay figures.5
Zwingli controlled virtually every aspect of the Church in the city and its rural territory, including the appointment of preachers sent out to evangelize the Swiss lands and the Mandated Territories. Through his work on commissions, his preaching and personal contacts, his influence in the city was considerable. His authority arose from charisma, trust and connections. Yet his step was not always sure. Zwingli was inclined to overestimate his influence and fail to understand the concerns of others. So certain was he of God’s ultimate triumph that he could fail to fathom the ways of humans.
Zwingli gave himself over to spreading the evangelical message in the eastern parts of the Confederation, notably Thurgau, which was under joint Catholic and Reformed authority. Together with his colleagues, he addressed gatherings of clergy and pushed for communities to adopt the new faith.6 He went on preaching tours through the region and debated with the considerable number of Anabaptists who had also sprung up in the rural areas. Against the protests of the Catholic authorities, Zwingli continued to insist that religious houses be dissolved and that gospel preaching be introduced – and, indeed, this was taking place.
Although deeply disappointed by the First Kappel Treaty, Zwingli continued to hold the trust of most magistrates, and his voice was heard throughout the city. The Council depended on his assessment of religious affairs, and their theological statements were prepared by the reformer’s hand.7 His impressive contacts extended even beyond church circles: he was the connection to Philipp of Hesse, to the political leaders of Milan and to agents of the French king. And yet there was always a fragility about his relations with the civic rulers, largely because his perspective was almost exclusively religious. On the whole, the Zurich magistrates were not persuaded by Zwingli’s plans for grand alliances. Dramatically, in the summer of 1531, he declared once more to the Large Council a willingness to resign, on the grounds that Zurich was not sufficiently tough on the Catholic states.8 After three days of negotiations, he withdrew his resignation. In his eyes, his calling was ultimately not to Zurich, but to his Swiss fatherland.
FINAL CONFESSION
Actively seeking a resolution to the question of the Lord’s Supper, during the autumn of 1530 Martin Bucer, reformer in Strasbourg, had met Luther in Coburg.9 Their relationship was deeply strained as Luther believed Bucer sympathized with the Swiss. The Strasbourger then appeared in Zurich in October to provide the magistrates with a report, and to propose a reconciling confession directed towards the Lutherans, as well as Zwingli and Oecolampadius. The Basel Church was fairly receptive, but not Zwingli, who informed the Council that ‘this letter will bring nothing but conflict’. He insisted that Bucer had ‘fallen for Lutheran tricks and errors’:
We will maintain the opinion we agreed upon, which holds that the body of Christ is present in the Supper, neither bodily nor substantially, but sacramentally to the clear and pure mind. For you will see that any concession will be to the detriment of the truth, and that this evil cover-up will empower darkness more than light.10
As Bucer persisted, Zwingli denounced his efforts to mediate as worthless.11 No hope was to be placed in the mendacious Lutherans. Compromise led to superficial statements, and Zwingli warned that further disputes might erupt at any time. The Lutherans, he claimed, held to a form of the mass more papist than that of the papists.12 On that point, he was resolved and would never change his mind, even if the rest of the world disagreed with him.
Despite all the theological wrangling, Zurich’s close relations with Strasbourg and Philipp of Hesse held out the possibility of Swiss involvement with the Protestant Schmalkaldic League, formed in February 1531, and its members, who included five electors of the Empire, eight cities from the southwest and three from the Hanseatic League.13 Indeed, in January 1531, Zurich, Basel, Bern and Strasbourg had formed an alliance with Philipp of Hesse. The elector of Saxony declared himself prepared to receive the Swiss cities into the League, provided they accepted the Lutheran position on the sacraments. That condition was as good as dead. Zwingli was able to win over Zurich and Bern against Bucer, and the Swiss decided that the price of entering the Schmalkaldic League was too high. The isolation of Zwingli and the other Swiss from their sympathizers from the German lands was now almost complete.14 The Schmalkaldic League would be Lutheran, not Reformed.
The vulnerability of the Swiss led Zwingli and Zurich to turn to France. That contact did not come out of thin air: the French had been active in the Confederation since 1529, seeking an alliance against the Habsburgs. A delegation led by Louis Dangerant and Lambert Maigret had had two issues in mind: the ongoing need for Swiss mercenaries for French armies and, more intriguingly, resolution of the differences between the Reformed and Catholic Confederates. In January 1530, two Swiss mercenary leaders in French service, Hans Kaltschmid and Hans Junker, came to Zwingli offering the possibility of an alliance of Zurich and other Confederates with the kingdom.15 Those negotiations went nowhere, but in early 1531 the subject was raised once more. Out of both political and religious concerns, the Zurich Council sent the churchman and theologian Rudolf Collin to Solothurn to meet the French. Collin had led Zurich’s unsuccessful mission to the doge in Venice to seek support against the Habsburgs. He had been received with kind words – and sent away empty handed. With the French, however, an alluring prospect emerged, although in the end it never materialized: the French were prepared to provide the Swiss with financial aid in the event of war with Charles V, while Zwingli was to send Francis I a confession of faith on behalf of the Christian Civic Union, the alliance of the Swiss Reformed cities.
The French, traditional allies of the Swiss, could not afford to watch the Confederation, a crucial source of mercenaries, being torn apart by civil war. They negotiated with both sides and were in frequent contact with Zwingli through a series of letters and personal meetings.16 Writing to the Zurich Council, they urged relief from the blockade of the Catholics and a continuation of the search for peace. To Zwingli, they made clear the dire consequences of conflict:
[We trust] that you might consider this writing and receive it with the best will and that you will let us know how we should prepare with regard to this agreement and peaceful operation . . . For if [peace] does not occur in the Confederation, in which there should be no revolt or war, [the Swiss lands] will pass away.17
In late May 1531, French agents arrived in Zurich to meet the Council and Zwingli, who optimistically reported to Oecolampadius that the visitors had accepted his demand for the free preaching of the gospel in Catholic lands.18 The reformer, who held the Habsburgs to be the great nemesis of true religion, had long believed that deliverance might come from the French. His dedication of his 1525 Commentary on True and False Religion signalled his hopes for the kingdom, and even for Francis I as a patron of religious reform. In June 1531, he wrote a draft for an alliance between the Christian Civic Union and France.19 He opened by praising the French as the most heroic opponents of imperial tyranny. An alliance with the kingdom would preserve the freedom of the Swiss. Although Zwingli primarily looked for financial rather than military support, in the event of attack the French should send soldiers. Zwingli was clear that support would come from Strasbourg, and that Constance was the key to the Empire. He showered unbridled praise on Philipp of Hesse: he was young but wise beyond his years, a true friend and defender of the faith. The landgrave was to be trusted in the event of an attack by the emperor. Even the exiled duke of Württemberg was a crucial ally. In addition, Zwingli expressed the hope that Milan might also be drawn into an alliance against the emperor.20
During this period of optimism, Zwingli composed what would prove to be his last significant theological work. His ‘Exposition of Faith’ was prepared for Francis I. Encouragement for the dedication to the king came in part from the Frenchman Maigret, who held pronounced evangelical sympathies and was familiar with Zwingli’s writings. French connections in Strasbourg and Basel had led to repeated requests for Zwingli to provide material for evangelicals in the kingdom.21 Despite Zwingli’s hopes of aid from France, there was considerable distress among his compatriots during the early months of 1531 that a possible alliance between Francis I and Charles V might lead to war against the Reformed states. The Swiss were extremely vulnerable. Excluded from Augsburg and the Schmalkaldic League on account of their theology, they were locked in battle with the Lutherans over the sacraments, and now faced the real possibility of attack from the emperor. Furthermore, war among the Swiss Confederates remained starkly possible. All of these conditions combined to make it essential for some form of protective alliance to be found, even with a Catholic king.
The ‘Exposition of Faith’ was completed in time for Rudolf Collin to deliver a fair copy in Paris at the end of August 1531. As with his 1530 confession for Augsburg, Zwingli framed his confession around the Apostles’ Creed, following the articles while providing extensive digressions on key theological points such as the sacraments. The text, written in Latin, would not be published until after Zwingli’s death, edited in 1536 by Heinrich Bullinger. It is highly unlikely that Francis ever laid eyes on it.
The ‘Exposition’ was one of Zwingli’s most carefully crafted works, skilfully prepared for the French context. On the whole, there was little new: Zwingli offered a vindication of his orthodoxy, defending the key points of credal Christianity on topics such as the Trinity and the two natures of Christ. At every point, he was at pains to remind Francis that scripture alone was the source of his teaching, and that he did not rely on church traditions. He rejected the pope and institutions of the Roman Church, reiterating that the true Church was made up of the elect who possess the gift of faith.
No longer worrying about agreement with the Lutherans on the Lord’s Supper, Zwingli shaped his treatment of the sacrament in terms that addressed Catholics. As he had done in the ‘Account of the Faith’ for Augsburg, he emphasized that the bread and wine are aids to the contemplation of Christ’s sacrifice that point the faithful to what is real. The material elements do not generate faith, but are the means by which an almost mystical union with Christ is achieved. Some have found in his late language a shift towards an emphasis on the efficacy of the sacraments on the inner person, and certainly his language is notable for its implications of spiritual interiority. On the whole, however, his last statements on the sacrament remained faithful to his central convictions.
As an appendix to his confession, Zwingli sent Francis a copy of the 1525 liturgy for the Lord’s Supper, with an extended commentary. The Zurich reformer offered a passionate defence for the presence of Christ at the meal. ‘It is no true meal,’ he argued, ‘if Christ is not present.’22 Indeed, as the Gospel of Matthew witnesses, Christ assured his followers that, where two or three are gathered, He is present. When the community gathers, Christ is with the people, but not in the flesh. His presence has nothing to do with the eating of the bread or the drinking of wine. The body of Christ is received ‘sacramentally’ and ‘spiritually’ by pious, faithful and holy nature, as Chrysostom had said.23 Francis was provided with a Latin translation of the liturgy, with the assurance that ‘the words of Christ have not been altered, falsified and corrupted by false meaning’.24
In his dedication, Zwingli urged the king to rule well, that he might join the heavenly company of exalted monarchs:
Then you may hope to see the whole company and assemblage of all the saints, the wise, the faithful, brave, and good who have lived since the world began. Here you will see the two Adams, the redeemed and the redeemer, Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Judah, Moses, Joshua, Gideon, Samuel, Phineas, Elijah, Elisha, Isaiah, and the Virgin Mother of God of whom he prophesied, David, Hezekiah, Josiah, the Baptist, Peter, Paul; here too, Hercules, Theseus, Socrates, Aristides, Antigonus, Numa, Camillus, the Catos and Scipios, here Louis the Pious, and your predecessors, the Louis, Philips, Pepins, and all your ancestors, who have gone hence in faith. In short there has not been a good man and will not be a holy heart or faithful soul from the beginning of the world to the end thereof that you will not see in heaven with God. And what can be imagined more glad, what more delightful, what, finally, more honourable than such a sight?25
As Luther and others quickly noted, Zwingli’s words were arresting. Alongside the kings of Israel and France, the blessed included Socrates and the Catos. The virtuous pagans would find their place among the elect.26 From Wittenberg came the caustic reply:
Tell me, any one of you who wants to be a Christian, what need is there of baptism, the sacrament, Christ, the Gospel, or the prophets and Holy Scripture, if such godless heathen, Socrates, Aristides, yes, the cruel Numa, who was the first to instigate every kind of idolatry at Rome by the devil’s revelation, as St Augustine writes in the City of God, and Scipio the Epicurean, are saved and sanctified along with the patriarchs, prophets, and apostles in heaven, even though they knew nothing about God, Scripture, the Gospel, Christ, baptism, the sacrament, or the Christian faith? What can such an author, preacher, and teacher believe about the Christian faith except that it is no better than any other faith and that everyone can be saved by his own faith, even an idolater and an Epicurean like Numa and Scipio?27
The list was not the first time Zwingli had expressed himself on the salvation of non-Christians. Against his beloved Augustine, he was adamant that unbaptized infants would be saved. On the noble heathen, he had made his point most emphatically in his sermon on providence in 1530, when he claimed that Seneca was ‘the unparalleled cultivator of the soul among pagans’. He was a ‘theologian’ and his works ‘divine oracles’.28
Salvation was not limited to Israel or the visible Church. Zwingli’s conviction was consistent: God is entirely free in election to choose whom he wills with reasons completely beyond human comprehension. Profound attachment to divine freedom led Zwingli to find God working through the deeds and thoughts of non-Christians. God was the source of all goodness, and faith and goodness were to be found among virtuous pagans as they were somehow part of God’s election.29 Unlike John Milton later, Zwingli felt no need to explain the ways of God to humanity.
A NEW BIBLE
Alongside the 1525 liturgy of the Lord’s Supper, the enduring spiritual, intellectual and artistic creation of the Reformation in Zurich was the first complete translation of the Bible into German. It was the culmination of Zwingli’s effort to reform education, the daily sessions in the Grossmünster and Fraumünster to translate and expound scripture, and over 10 years of evangelical preaching. During the 1520s, Zwingli, alongside Ceporin, Jud and Pellikan, had committed himself to translating the Old and New Testaments into the Swiss German dialect of the people of Zurich. For the early versions, they relied heavily on the work of Martin Luther, but his Saxon German was not very accessible for the Swiss. Gradually they moved from adapting Luther’s works to their own versions. In his 1529 preface to his translation of the Old Testament prophets, Zwingli gave a full account of the prophetic work of the Church. The prophet is one who possesses both the inner illumination of the mind and conviction. The Word is dictated to him by the Spirit, and he delivers his message with full confidence in his grasp of the truth. He must be ‘inflamed and made passionate and arduous’ by the Spirit of God.30 It was Zwingli’s vision of his own calling and place in the Church.
At the end of 1529, the scholars in Zurich had completed their own translations of all the books of the Bible, which the printer Christoph Froschauer released in octavo form in 1530, creating the first full German translation of the scriptures – anticipating Luther’s Bible by four years. Expectations were high: Froschauer had a run of over 5,000 copies, anticipating a broad readership, which he addressed in a short preface.31 No theologian, but a deeply pious man of business, Froschauer noted the handiness of an octavo for carrying in the pocket during travel. Other folio editions, he continued, contained elegant illustrations, but he had opted for a non-illustrated version that was affordable and practical. He may not have produced the first complete German printed Bible, but he had provided the first in the handier octavo format. His intended audience consisted of workers and merchants, preachers and lay people, who could read the bibles at home or bring them with them to church.
Appealing and practical as the octavo Bible was, the larger folio German Bible appeared in Zurich the following year, filled with scholarship, piety and woodcuts.32 The volume, a delight to the eye, opened with a title page graced by a Hans Holbein woodcut of 12 scenes from the creation of the world. With its beautiful type, elegant marginal notes and illustrations, this Bible was unlike anything hitherto produced in Zurich. Without doubt it was Froschauer’s finest work and the very summit of biblical scholarship in Zwingli’s Zurich. The woodcuts were visually arresting: of the 140 in the Old Testament, 118 were by Hans Holbein the Younger. The New Testament contained six illustrations from an earlier Zurich Bible of 1524, plus 21 of Revelation prepared by Holbein for Thomas Wolf in Basel.33 Signs of scholarship in the service of the faithful were everywhere. Each chapter began with a summary of its contents, while the subsequent text was surrounded by a forest of biblical citations and glosses to inform and instruct the reader.
The printer Froschauer played a vital role in the production of the 1531 Bible. Although a canny businessman, his commitment to the reform movement had been an act of faith. From the earliest days, he had played a central role in the evangelical movement in Zurich, providing contacts across the German-speaking lands. He had been with Zwingli from the beginning, and the production of the Bible was a profoundly devotional act. In his testament, he left a moving statement of his faith. His commitment to printing, he wrote, had been a vocation that ‘all goodness might be planted’. Commissioning his cousin to take up his labours, he counselled him ‘not to print anywhere anything that contests our true Christian religion and evangelical truth, nor anything sectarian, seditious, immoral, transgressing and shameful’. Zwingli concluded with the assurance that God advances only that which is useful, honourable and Christian.34
The extensive preface to the Zurich folio Bible of 1531 was anonymous. The mystery, however, is not great. The sheer weight of similarities of argument and style with his writings makes it clear that the preface was written by Zwingli during the early months of 1531. Why he did not name himself is also easily answered: his purpose was to divert attention away from himself and stress the collective nature of the work. The prophets of Zurich, like those of 1 Corinthians, had together produced this translation of the Bible.
The preface opened in an Erasmian spirit, reflecting on the disposition of the Christian towards scripture, which must be formed by a peaceful heart untouched by the vices of the world, a heart that mirrors the divine truth.35 The language is almost directly from the Dutch humanist’s 1518 text Method of True Theology, which in turn drew on Augustine’s On Christian Doctrine. The Christian reader was exhorted to abjure the fleshly or worldly and was commended to humility, love and a yearning for ‘heavenly matters’.36 Such piety was preparation for reading and understanding God’s Word correctly, attentive to the figurative language and pursuing the essential questions of who was the author and in what context did he live and write. Reflecting on a history of persecution and the banning of Luther’s works in 1521, Zwingli argued that there had always been those who had sought to keep the Word of God from the people. No work is perfect, and there was always room for fraternal correction in producing editions of the Bible, but the burning of holy books could not be justified.
The argument against perfection was also a defence of the Zurich project of translating the whole Bible into German when other partial versions were available – in particular, the work from Wittenberg, although Luther’s name was never mentioned. The early Church, above all in the time of Augustine, the preface noted, had had numerous translations of scripture, which was all to the good, for it demonstrated the vitality of the work of the Holy Spirit. Each was prepared as faithfully as possible, with none possessing the status of an official version. Divergent translations formed a community of texts to be consulted and compared; they were not rivals, and nor should the work of Wittenberg and Zurich be placed in opposition to one another. Rather, a spirit of fraternity should prevail in which each rejoiced at the achievements of the other. ‘How,’ Zwingli asked,
should it harm the Wittenberg Church that the Old and New Testaments have been freshly translated? . . . that the servants of the Church in Zurich have prepared also a notable and unique translation, as here follows, of the Prophets, Job, the Psalms, and the Wisdom of Solomon, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Songs?37
In the Old Testament, God demonstrated his power, wisdom, goodness and righteousness. Taking aim at the Anabaptists’ supposedly low estimation of the Hebrew Bible, Zwingli reminded his readers that Christ himself had encouraged his followers to study the sacred texts:
The New Testament or Gospel is a clear witness to Christ, to how God brought about his mercy and promises in the Old Testament. The New is signalled and sealed in the Old. The Old Testament is fulfilled in the New and made true.38
The preface was bursting with Zwingli’s undiminished conviction that the Word of God could be understood by women and men of all social rank and distinction. He passionately believed in the power of scripture to turn the heart. His doctrine of election was the unstated condition: only those to whom the gift of faith had been given might possess true understanding. And yet the preface rang with hope for the present: in these days when the prophets spoke of impending judgement, the Word of God had been restored and spread by the divine gift of the printing press. It concluded with something of a puff for the book:
As God has now brought us this time of grace, let us not disdain the gifts of God. Hasten and let no one delay. Let everyone purchase a copy, the cost is not too great. Great is the reward, precious is the treasure received.39
The liturgy of the Lord’s Supper and the vernacular Bible were poignant expressions of Zwingli’s Reformed Christian community. Word and worship formed a seamless robe of the Church. The expertise of languages and textual studies, the legacy of Erasmus, had been embraced in the creation of a new Bible that would endure for centuries. The sacred philology of Zwingli, Ceporin, Pellikan and Jud was produced in an edition of scripture that sang in the Swiss vernacular. It would never find the audience of Luther’s translation that appeared a few years later: the Swiss dialect limited its audience. Nevertheless, from William Tyndale onwards, the legacy of the Zurich Bible would shape Reformed Christianity.
WAR
During 1530, the rivalry between Bern and Zurich had heightened, drawing in sharp relief their different goals. Bern was largely concerned with the west, with France, Savoy and the Catholic lands of Wallis (the Valais) – all of which posed a serious threat. In 1530, the city acted to defend Geneva against the duke of Savoy, and the French-speaking lands of the Pays de Vaud came increasingly under Bern’s control. The rulers of the city on the Aare were not prepared to go to war for Zurich and were not supportive of Zwingli’s efforts to make an alliance with Philipp of Hesse.40 Zwingli fully understood that without Bern, his hopes for any form of Protestant front were doomed.
The religious divide within the Confederation was accentuated in 1531 by the so-called Musso War, a curious affair involving the eccentric castellan Gian Giacomo de’ Medici, known as Il Medeghino.41 He had come into possession of the castle known as Musso, from which he was able to exercise considerable authority, terrorizing Graubünden and attempting to have his brother made a bishop. His various adventures put enormous strain on the Confederation, particularly after two officials from Graubünden were murdered on their return from negotiations in Milan. When Medici launched an attack on the Valtelline, which lay in Swiss territory and contained evangelicals, Reformed Confederates responded quickly with troops and arms; the Catholic Confederates did not engage. Zurich identified a confessional struggle in which co-religionists were under threat, and its artillery brought low the castle of Musso, after Gian Giacomo found that his Austrian allies had no intention of supporting him. The reluctance of the Catholics to participate was interpreted by Zurich as further evidence of their infidelity; but once again, the members of the Christian Civic Union refused to be drawn into conflict with fellow Confederates. Zwingli was persuaded that the Musso War was not an isolated event, but rather evidence that Catholic attacks were in the offing. He suspected that the Catholics had cleverly lured Zurich troops into Graubünden in order to leave the city open to attack.
On the wider Swiss front, Zwingli and his supporters in Zurich were sceptical that anything short of coercion would have any effect. The Bernese favoured, by contrast, the economic sanctions permitted under the terms of the Kappel Peace; but these could only be effective with the cooperation of all the Reformed states. When Zwingli preached at Pentecost in 1531, he rejected the blockade as immoral, on the grounds that it primarily hurt the common people, who were innocent. According to Bullinger, Zwingli declared from the pulpit: ‘If a person is called a liar to their face they must defend themselves. Not to attack leads to defeat.’42 The sermon caused a furore in Zurich, but the agreement with Bern to hold to the blockade remained intact and Zurich did contribute to enforcing it. Prices rose in Catholic lands and provisions were in short supply, creating hardships for the people, a suffering compounded by bad weather. The price of grain quadrupled, while that of wine doubled. A measure of salt cost double the wages of the average man. The situation was so dire that the Catholic Confederates created a culture of smuggling, by which goods made their way into the lands, often through Reformed territories.
During August 1531, Zwingli wrote a radical plan for the wholesale restructuring of the Confederation that would place Zurich and Bern in control and utterly exclude the Catholics from political influence.43 The two cities were to be the ‘oxen’ pulling the cart. Central to Zwingli’s plan was the creation of a Christian political authority that would reform the Confederation. Zwingli seemed ready to completely redesign the Confederation and forge a unified Christian state, to the alarm of many, particularly in Bern. With theological and historical arguments, he attacked the rights of the Catholic states, which he claimed had forfeited their political privileges through their failure to accept true religion.
Zwingli was clear that in the inevitable war, the godly would prevail precisely because of their justness. The blockade, he argued, was not leading to the spread of the gospel. In strikingly bellicose language, in calling for the destruction of the Reformation’s enemies he cited the example of the Israelites. It was not sufficient that the Catholics merely permit preaching of the gospel: the whole order of the Swiss Confederation was to be radically altered through their vanquishment.44 To this end, the man who had made his name by relentless opposition to mercenaries and pensions was willing to countenance the payment of money for military support.
Zwingli’s outspoken advocacy of war did not appeal to many of the magistrates in Zurich, who hoped to avoid conflict, and his writing never reached Bern. Open water appeared between his advocacy of attack and the magistrates’ measured caution. Zwingli used the pulpit to continue his assaults on those who received pensions or who, in his eyes, were prepared to compromise. Even his friends were unnerved by his stridency. Oecolampadius advised calmness, but Zwingli replied that there was nothing extreme about his demands.45
Zwingli had argued that Reformation required Zurich and Bern to put aside their differences and be led by God, even into battle. Bern, for its part, refused to adopt the reformer’s assessment of the religious and political situation, and remained committed to negotiation. Its position among the Reformed Confederates was unchallenged. The situation continued to deteriorate. The blockade badly hurt the Catholics, who faced a virtual wall composed of the Reformed Confederates and their allies; but the sanctions were hardly better for traders and craftsmen in Zurich and Bern, who complained angrily that the collapse of the markets in the Five States was ruinous for them. A comet on 12 August 1531 was seen as a portent of war. A month later, a new War Council was formed in Zurich. Zwingli was persuaded that all news pointed to a planned Habsburg–papal invasion to eradicate the Reformation.
CALAMITY AND DEATH
The First Kappel War had been caused by the demand for gospel preaching in the Mandated Territories, but now Zwingli and Zurich were determined that preaching be introduced in all the Catholic lands.46 The desire for war was minimal – Zwingli was hardly typical – but every effort at mediation failed miserably. Bern and Zurich showed no sign of being able to reconcile their differences. In early August, Zwingli and some colleagues met representatives from Bern at Bremgarten to urge them to support Zurich; but they had no joy. Zurich’s need for Bernese support was bordering on the desperate. And their disharmony emboldened the Five States, in their dire need, to plan an attack – although when and where was uncertain.
The Catholic forces began to receive reinforcements as troops arrived from Wallis and the Italian lands. Zwingli pleaded with the Zurich Council to take action, but, mindful of Bern’s opposition to war, the leading magistrates wavered.47 Basel, too, warned Zurich that the Catholics were arming.48 The inaction saw Catholic troops move in early October into the Freie Ämter, part of the Mandated Territories, pillaging and driving the Reformed officials to flight. The quarrel, the Catholics insisted, was with Zurich alone, which had broken the terms of the peace with its blockade, and was now to be punished by God. Panicked discussions took place in Zurich on 7 and 8 October, as invasion seemed imminent. Rumours circulated that Bern had lifted the blockade, allowing the Catholics to receive food and goods. On 9 October, the Catholic states effectively declared war. Zurich’s relations with Bern were at a low point, and it was doubted whether the Bernese would even respond militarily to an attack on Zurich. On 11 October, word arrived that it would.49
Zurich was unclear as to Catholic intentions. Some feared an attack on the city, while others believed that enemy forces would move into the Mandated Territories. The Council was divided on several key issues, such as preparations for war and relations with Bern. Despite the blockade, the borders were porous, and for months spies had moved back and forth across them, carrying news of war preparations.50 There was plenty of false information, fuelling rumours and anxiety. Indeed, the Secret Council in Zurich misjudged the situation and did not take action to prepare the city. Zwingli had been clear that defeat of the Catholics was essential for the Reformation cause, but worthy preparations for that defeat had not been made. Experienced commanders had been dismissed in favour of men of little ability, but who were sympathetic to the magistrates’ concern for true religion. The hand of the military had also been weakened in Zurich by lay rulers looking to reduce costs. As historian George Potter has wisely observed, ‘they chose the wrong commander, they agreed on impracticable strategy, the tactics were deplorable and the Zurichers who took the field were few in number and unwilling to fight for survival’.51 Fighting this reality, Zwingli preached war to stiffen the resolve of the city. We have some evidence from Konrad Pellikan and Leo Jud for Zwingli’s last sermon, on 8 October 1531: marginal notes suggest that he preached in the Grossmünster a fierce attack on the papacy and offered a vigorous defence of his own interpretation of the gospel.52
Zurich conjectured that the attack would come in the Freie Ämter; Zurich itself was thought a step too far for the Catholics. By 9 October, however, a large force had evidently massed at Catholic Lucerne and would advance on their city. When the error was recognized, the Zurichers scrambled to assemble a force of a thousand men to advance to Kappel under the leadership of Jörg Göldi, a prominent and competent leader who had fought in Italy and at Musso.53 Göldi, however, would make several ill-judged decisions on the field; unfounded rumours later suggested that he had swapped information with his brother Kaspar, a supporter of the mercenary service who had left Zurich in 1523 and was fighting on the opposing side. A key issue for the commanders was whether they were to attack or defend, for that question was unanswered in the instructions from the Large Council, which remained locked in debate even as the crisis unfolded. As Göldi understood the situation, he was not to attack the Catholics.
Early in the morning of 11 October, a smaller part of the Catholic forces advanced against the Zurichers, who, because they expected an ambush, had hardly slept that night. This Catholic contingent then swung to join the main Catholic force of 7,000 men. When Göldi was entreated to attack, he demurred, still uncertain of his instructions from the magistrates. He decided to await reinforcements, but his troops were now hemmed in. The reinforcements had indeed left Zurich, although the practical arrangements for calling up the men had been repeatedly botched. This contingent included Zwingli, dressed in green, and about 30 other pastors. The reinforcements arrived to join Göldi’s men exhausted and ill prepared for battle. Despite his now enhanced numbers, Göldi decided to withdraw to an alternative site, which meant crossing marshland; meanwhile the Catholics appeared before them. As daylight retreated, the two sides expected the battle to commence the following day, with the Catholics holding a superior position on the field.
But the plans changed when a small party of about a hundred soldiers emerged from the woods to launch a surprise attack on the Zurichers. In the ensuing melee, which was joined by the main Catholic force, men were cut down in the dark. The Zurichers sought to withdraw from what was developing into a rout. But the situation went from bad to disastrous. The Zurichers did not possess the weapons to face the guns and long swords of the Catholic forces, and their commanders fled the field. Many Zurichers fell as they ran. Others, weighed down by armour, drowned in the marsh and stream.
Zwingli, together with other ministers, was surrounded by enemy soldiers. Precisely what happened next is uncertain. For example, his biographers are divided over whether he used his sword or simply exhorted the soldiers in battle. In any case, wearing armour he was not identifiable among the troops when they were set upon by the enemy. Eventually, he was wounded in the leg and fell to the ground. Heinrich Bullinger portrayed him as lying with his eyes to heaven; the Catholic historian Hans Salat had him face down in the mud.54 As he lay alive among the dead, the Catholic soldiers looked for his body; they found him still conscious. He refused confession and was run through with a sword by one Vokinger from Unterwalden. The reformer’s last words were reputedly: ‘You may kill the body but you cannot kill the soul.’ A Catholic priest who had known Zwingli in Zurich was reported to have said: ‘Whatever your religious faith, I know that you were always a loyal Confederate. May God pardon your sins.’
It fell to Zwingli’s close friend Oswald Myconius, the man who had brought him to Zurich, to provide an account that evoked the miracles of a medieval saint:
After the battle, when our soldiers had retreated, the enemy got the chance to look for Zwingli’s body. They found it and after condemning it, they cut it into four and threw it into the fire and reduced it to ashes. Three days later, after the enemy had gone, Zwingli’s friends came to see if they could find anything that remained of him and, miraculously, his heart emerged from the ashes, whole and unmarked. These good men were astonished, recognizing the miracle but not understanding it. Attributing this event to God, they rejoiced greatly that this miracle confirmed the sincerity of his heart.55
Zwingli’s heart was brought to the city and Myconius was given the opportunity to view it; however, he declined, fearing that the story was untrue.
HUMILIATION
Just before midnight on 11 October, those who had survived the battle at Kappel straggled back into the city to recount what had taken place. Anna Reinhart was told that she had lost her husband, her son, her brother and her brother-in-law. She would live another seven years under the care of Heinrich Bullinger, who provided for her children after her death. In all, about 500 Zurichers died, as against about a hundred Catholics.
Forty years after Zwingli’s death, the distinguished humanist and teacher of ancient languages Thomas Platter (1499–1582), who had lived in Zurich as a student, recalled the desperate situation in the city:
The event was very lamentable, for many a worthy and honest man met his death there. Among others that eminent man, Huldrych Zwingli. I was at that time in Zurich. When the battle was lost, and the report reached Zurich, they sounded an alarm on the great bell, just about the time the candles were lighted. Then many people ran out of the town towards the Sihl bridge, lower down on the Albis. I also snatched up a halberd and sword in Myconius’ house, and ran out with the others, but when we had proceeded some distance, the sight was so dreadful that I thought to myself, ‘Better for you to have stayed at home’, for many met us who had only one hand; others held their head with both hands, grievously wounded and bloody; others suffering still more dreadfully, and men with them who lighted them along, for it was dark.56
The young man joined a motley crew hastily assembled to defend the city. When it became clear that there was no immediate threat, he returned home in shock:
My old teacher Myconius asked me, ‘What is the news? Has Huldrych Zwingli been killed?’ When I said ‘Yes’, he said, with a grieved heart, ‘My God! Have mercy upon us: now I have no wish to remain any longer in Zurich’, for Zwingli and Myconius had been good friends for many years.57
Among the dead were many from the leading families of Zurich that had supported Zwingli. The shock of Zurich’s defeat unnerved her allies, and the Catholic army had taken up a strong position in Zug, just south of the city. Bern refused to attack. A force of about 4,000 troops from Zurich, Basel, Schaffhausen and St Gallen attempted an assault, but were routed at Gubel. Over a thousand were killed. There was panic in Zurich as a Catholic army made its way up the lake, stopping only a few miles from the city walls. A month later, Zurich and Bern sued for peace.
In the wake of the surprise defeat, order broke down in Zurich. Gangs moved through the city looking to lynch anyone associated with Zwingli. Leo Jud went into hiding and was only able to make his way across the city dressed as a woman. His courage did not fail him, however, and he entered the pulpit to declare Kappel the judgement of God. Divine condemnation had fallen not on Zwingli, but on the Zurichers for their lack of faith.
As Jud attempted to rally the supporters of the Reformation, the remnants of the Zurich army made their way towards the city. Their leader, Hans Escher, was a prominent opponent of Zwingli, who boasted that he had struck a peace with the Catholics and claimed that when he arrived back inside the walls of the city, he would run a sword through Jud and all the other preachers. His army was met by negotiators sent by the panicked Zurich Council, who sought to head off civil war. Escher reluctantly agreed that his forces would lay down their swords before entering the city. The situation was dire. No sooner had Escher brought home the defeated troops than an army from Schwyz appeared outside the gates of Zurich. Fortunately, the Catholics had no desire for further battle and moved off after a few days.
The mood in Zurich ranged from shock to anger. A general sentiment held that Bern and Basel had betrayed the city. Equally, Zwingli and his clerical allies were held responsible for a war that nobody but they had wanted. But there was no stomach for further conflict, and peace was desperately sought. The restoration of order was principally a result of the emergence of a moderate party that supported the Reformed Church and sought to calm the situation.58 The Reformation was secured by the fact that those in power in Zurich had not been dislodged: they were able to restore a semblance of peace and ensure that dissent in the rural areas did not overwhelm the city. Clerics such as Leo Jud and others might decry the failure of the magistrates to support Zwingli, but they possessed no political power.
Outside the walls of the city, the rural communities of the Zurich territory were on edge, angry that they had been led into a war they did not want.59 The villages had long resented the authority of the city and the clerical elite. The failure of the Reformation to relieve the burden of the tithe was well remembered. Furthermore, in the rural areas cross-confessional contact was much greater than in the city, as farmers and traders were in constant contact with their Catholic neighbours. Theological differences meant little to these men and women, and they had no appetite for war with those they knew well. Intense anti-clerical sentiments were directed against those urban clergy who had instigated a needless conflict.
In late November 1531, representatives of the rural communities gathered at Meilen on Lake Zurich to draft a petition to be presented to the magistrates. War was not to be undertaken without consultation, and the clergy should be drawn from ‘native sons’, not foreigners. In many respects, the demands were a damning indictment of Zwingli’s condescending attitude towards the rural population, with his assumption that the people would receive the gospel obediently. The reformer’s words were turned back on him in one article agreed at Meilen:
Let the preachers in the countryside say only that which is God’s Word, expressed in both testaments. Let the clergy, as stated, not undertake or meddle in any secular matters either in the city or the countryside, in the Council or elsewhere, which they should rather allow you, our lords, to manage.60
The Catholics were able to set the terms of the agreement between Zurich and the Five States, signed in November 1531. The reparations were so punitive that the Zurich Council had to seek a loan from Augsburg. It has been reckoned that the financial burden crippled the city for at least a decade.61 The terms of the First Kappel Treaty were abrogated, and the villages of the Mandated Territories were left to choose their faith. The conditions, however, were not equal: those areas that decided to remain Catholic were to make no provision for evangelicals, whereas in Protestant areas Catholics were to be guaranteed access to mass. Zurich was to abandon its foreign alliances and the abbot of St Gallen was to be restored.
Myconius had witnessed from Zurich the results of the defeat at Kappel, and in a letter lamented the situation. There was great sorrow in the city, he reported, and his own fate was surely either death or exile.62 The betrayal and even the death of Zwingli were less significant than the loss of the Word. The people were stunned and the godless rejoiced. All the good people were dead and the rest simply hung their heads. What were the preachers to do? They must follow the exhortation of Paul to persevere and be courageous – although, he admitted, such strength was not given to all. The only ray of hope that Myconius could discern came from Heinrich Bullinger, who had come to the Grossmünster and preached; many had believed that Zwingli had risen like a phoenix.