VIOLENCE OF THE POPULACE.
IX. Frightful darkness hung over Zurich during the night that followed the afflicting day of Cappel. It was seven in the evening when the first news of the disaster arrived......Vague but alarming reports spread at first with the rapidity of lightning. It was known that a terrible blow had been inflicted, but not of what kind; but soon a few wounded men, who arrived from the field of battle, cleared up the frightful mystery. "Then," said Bullinger, whom we shall allow to speak, "there arose suddenly a loud and horrible cry of lamentation and tears, bewailing and groaning." The consternation was so much the greater that no one had expected this disaster. "There is not enough for a breakfast," had said some haughty worldly men; "With one blow we shall be masters of the Five Chalets," had said another; and an old soldier added with disdainful sneer, "We shall soon have scattered these five dunghills." The christian portion, convinced that Zurich was fighting in a good cause, had not doubted that victory would be on the side of truth......Thus their first stupefaction was succeeded by a violent outburst of rage. With blind fury the mob accused all their chiefs, and loaded with insults even those who had defended their country at the price of their blood. An immense crowd—agitated, pale, and bewildered, filled all the streets of the city. They meet, they question and reply; they question again, and the answer cannot be heard, for the shouts of the people interrupted or drowned the voice of the speakers. The councillors who had remained in Zurich, repaired in haste to the town-hall. The people, who had already assembled there in crowds, looked on with threatening eyes. Accusations of treason burst from every mouth, and the patricians were pointed out to the general indignation. They must have victims. "Before going to fight against the enemy on the frontiers," said the mob, "we should defend ourselves against those who are within our walls." Sorrow and fear excited the minds of all. That savage instinct of the populace, which in great calamities leads them, like a wild beast, to thirst for blood, was violently aroused.
A hand from the midst of the crowd points out the council-hall, and a harsh and piercing voice exclaims: "Let us chop off the heads of some of the men who sit in these halls, and let their blood ascend to heaven, to beg for mercy in behalf of those whom they have slain."
But this fury is nothing in comparison with that which breaks out against the ministers, against Zwingle, and all those Christians who were the cause (say they) of the ruin of the country. Fortunately the sword of the Waldstettes had withdrawn them from the rage of their fellow-citizens; nevertheless, there still remained some who could pay for the others. Leo Juda, whom Zwingle's death was about to raise to the head of religious affairs, had scarcely recovered from a serious illness; it is on him they rush. They threaten, they pursue him; a few worthy citizens carry him off and hide him in their houses. The rage of these madmen is not appeased: they continue shouting that atonement must be made for the slaughter at Cappel, by a still more frightful slaughter within the very walls of the city. But God placed a curb in the mouths of these infuriate beasts of prey, and subdued them.
On a sudden, grief succeeded to rage, and sobs choked the utterance of the most furious. All those whose relatives had marched to Cappel, imagine that they are among the number of the victims. Old men, women, and children, go forth in the darkness by the glimmering light of torches, with haggard eyes and hurried steps; and as soon as some wounded man arrives, they question him with trembling voice about those whom they are seeking. To some they reply: "I saw him fall close by my side.—He was surrounded by so many enemies," they say to others, "that there was no chance of safety for him."[1235] At these words the distracted family drop their torches, and fill the air with shrieks and groans.
ZWINGLE IS DEAD.
Anna Zwingle had heard from her house the repeated discharges of artillery. As wife and mother, she had passed in expectation many long hours of anguish, offering fervent prayers to heaven. At length the most terrible accounts, one after another, burst upon her.
In the midst of those whose cries of despair re-echoed along the road to Cappel, was Oswald Myconius, who inquired with anxiety what had become of his friend. Soon he hears one of the unfortunates who had escaped from the massacre, relating to those around him that Zwingle had fallen![1236].....Zwingle is no more! Zwingle is dead! The cry is repeated: it runs through Zurich with the rapidity of lightning, and at length reaches the unhappy widow. Anna falls on her knees. But the loss of her husband is not enough: God has inflicted other blows. Messengers following each other at short intervals announce to her the death of her son Gerold of Knonau, of her brother the bailiff of Reinhardt, of her son-in-law Antony Wirz, of John Lustchi the husband of her dear sister, as well as of all her most intimate friends. This woman remains alone—alone with her God; alone with her young children, who, as they see her tears, weep also, and throw themselves disconsolate into their mother's arms.
FUNERAL ORATION.
On a sudden the alarm-bell rings. The council, distracted by the most contrary opinions, has at last resolved to summon all the citizens towards the Albis. But the sound of the tocsin re-echoing through the darkness, the lamentable stories of the wounded, and the distressful groans of bereaved families, still further increased the tumult. A numerous and disorderly troop of citizens rushed along the road to Cappel. Among them is the Valaisan, Thomas Plater. Here he meets with a man that has but one hand,[1237]—there with others who supported their wounded and bleeding heads with both hands;—further still is a soldier whose bowels protrude from his body. In front of these unhappy creatures peasants are walking with lighted torches, for the night is very dark. Plater wishes to return; but he cannot, for sentinels placed on the bridge over the Sihl allow persons to quit Zurich, but permit no one to reenter.