"Well, then," said the Protestant princes, "we agree to silence our preachers, in the hope that we shall hear nothing offensive to our consciences. If it were otherwise, we should feel ourselves constrained to repel so serious an insult.[469] Besides," added the Elector, as he withdrew, "we hope that if at anytime we desire to hear one of our chaplains in our own palace, we shall be free to do so."[470]
They hastened to the Emperor, who desired nothing better than to come to an understanding with the Protestants on this subject, and who ratified everything.
This was Saturday. An imperial herald was immediately sent out, who, parading the streets of the city at seven in the evening to the sound of trumpets,[471] cried with all his might: "O yes, O yes![472] Thus ordains his imperial majesty, our most gracious lord: no preacher whatever shall preach in Augsburg except such as his majesty shall have nominated; and that under penalty of incurring the displeasure and punishment of his majesty."
The New Preachers.
A thousand different remarks were exchanged in the houses of the citizens of Augsburg. "We are very impatient," said they, "to see the preachers appointed by the Emperor, and who will preach (O! unprecedented wonder!) neither against the evangelical doctrine nor against the doctrine of the Pope!"[473] "We must expect," added another, "to behold some Tragelaph or some chimera with the head of a lion, a goat's body, and a dragon's tail."[474] The Spaniards appeared well satisfied, with this agreement, for many of them had never heard a single sermon in their lives; it was not the custom in Spain; but Zwingle's friends were filled with indignation and alarm.[475]
At length Sunday the 19th of June began; every one hastened to the churches, and the faithful who filled them, with eyes fixed on the priest and with attentive ears,[476] prepared to listen to what these new and strange preachers would say.[477] It was generally believed that their task would be to make an evangelico-papistical discourse, and they were very impatient to hear this marvel. But
"The mountain in labour, gave birth to a mouse!"
The preacher first read the commonprayer; he then added the Gospel of the day, finished with a general confession of sins, and dismissed his congregation. People looked at one another in surprise: "Verily," said they, "here is a preacher that is neither Gospeller nor Papist, but strictly textual."[478] At last all burst into laughter; "and truly," adds Brenz, "there was reason enough."[479] In some churches, however, the chaplains, after reading the Gospel, added a few puerile words void of Christianity and of consolation, and in no way founded on the holy Scripture.[480]
THE MEDLEY OF POPERY.
After the so-called sermon, they proceeded to the Mass. That in the Cathedral was particularly noisy. The Emperor was not present, for he was accustomed to sleep until nine or ten o'clock,[481] and a late Mass was performed for him; but Ferdinand and many of the princes were present. The pealing notes of the organ, the resounding voices of the choir—all were set to work, and a numerous and motley crowd, rushing in at all the doors, filled the aisles of the temple. One might have said that every nation in the world had agreed to meet in the cathedral of Augsburg. Here were Frenchmen, there Spaniards, Moors in one place, Moriscos in another, on one side Italians, on the other Turks, and even, says Brenz, those who are called Stratiots.[482] This crowd was no bad representation of the medley of Popery.