For six years the Gospel had been preached in Basle. The meek and pious Œcolampadius was always waiting for happier times. "The darkness," said he, "is about to retire before the rays of truth."[945] But his expectation was vain. A triple aristocracy—the superior clergy, the nobles, and the university—checked the free expansion of christian convictions. It was the middle classes who were destined to effect the triumph of the Reformation in Basle.[946] Unhappily the popular wave invades nothing without tossing up some foul scum.
It is true that the Gospel had many friends in the councils: but being men of a middle party, they tacked backwards and forwards like Erasmus, instead of sailing straight to the port. They ordered "the pure preaching of the Word of God;" but stipulated at the same time that it should be "without Lutheranism." The aged and pious bishop Utenheim, who was living in retirement at Bruntrut, tottered daily into the church, supported by two domestics, to celebrate Mass with a broken voice. Gundelsheim, an enemy of the Reformation, succeeded him erelong; and on the 23d September, followed by many exiles and with a train of forty horses, he made his triumphal entry into Basle, proposing to restore everything to its ancient footing. This made Œcolampadius write in alarm to Zwingle: "Our cause hangs upon a thread."
But in the citizens the Reform found a compensation for the disdain of the great, and for the terrors inspired by the new bishop. They organized repasts for fifty and a hundred guests each; Œcolampadius and his colleagues took their seats at these tables with the people, where energetic acclamations and reiterated cheers greeted the work of the Reformation. In a short time even the council appeared to incline to the side of the Gospel. Twenty feast-days were retrenched, and the priests were permitted to refuse celebrating the Mass. "It is all over with Rome," was now the cry. But Œcolampadius, shaking his head, replied; "I am afraid that, by wishing to sit on the two stools, Basle will at last fall to the ground."[947]
WITTICISM OF ERASMUS.
This was at the period of his return from his discussion at Berne. He arrived in time to close the eyes of his pious mother; and then the reformer found himself alone, succumbing under the weight of public and domestic cares; for his house was like an inn for all fugitive Christians. "I shall marry a Monica,"[948] he had often said, "or else I shall remain a bachelor." He thought he had now discovered the "christian sister" he was in search of. This was Wilibrandis, daughter of one of the Emperor Maximilian's knights, and widow of a master of arts named Keller,—a woman already proved by many trials. He married her, saying: "I look to the ordinances of God, and not to the scowling faces of men." This did not prevent the sly Erasmus from exclaiming: "Luther's affair is called a tragedy, but I maintain it is a comedy, for each act of the drama ends in a wedding." This witticism has been often repeated. For a long time it was the fashion to account for the Reformation by the desire of the princes for the church-property, and of the priests for marriage. This vulgar method is now stigmatized by the best Roman controversialists as "a proof of a singularly narrow mind.—The Reformation originated," add they, "in a true and christian, although unenlightened zeal."[949]
The return of Œcolampadius had still more important consequences for Basle than it had for himself. The discussion at Berne caused a great sensation there. "Berne, the powerful Berne, is reforming!" was passed from mouth to mouth. "How, then!" said the people one to another, "the fierce bear has come out of his den......he is groping about for the rays of the sun......and Basle, the city of learning—Basle, the adopted city of Erasmus and of Œcolampadius, remaining in darkness!"
HALF-MEASURES.
On Good Friday (10th April, 1528), without the knowledge of the council and Œcolampadius, five workmen of the Spinners' Company entered the church of St. Martin, which was that of the reformer, and where the Mass was already abolished, and carried away all the "idols." On Easter Monday, after the evening sermon, thirty-four citizens removed all the images from the church of the Augustines.
This was going too far. Were they desirous, then, of drawing Basle and its councils from that just medium in which they had till this moment so wisely halted? The council met hastily on Tuesday morning, and sent the five men to prison; but, on the intercession of the burghers, they were released, and the images suppressed in five other churches. These half-measures sufficed for a time.
On a sudden the flame burst out anew with greater violence. Sermons were preached at St. Martin's and St. Leonard's against the abominations of the cathedral; and at the cathedral the Reformers were called "heretics, knaves, and profligates."[950] The Papists celebrated mass upon mass. The burgomaster Meyer, a friend of the Reform, had with him the majority of the people; the burgomaster Meltinger, an intrepid leader of the partisans of Rome, prevailed in the councils: a collision became inevitable. "The fatal hour approaches," says Œcolampadius, "terrible for the enemies of God."[951]