History of the Reformation, vol. 3

Chapter 6

Persecution—Gaspard Tauber—A Bookseller—Cruelties in Wurtemberg, Salzburg, and Bavaria—Pomerania—Henry of Zuphten

The Roman party was not satisfied with this. The alliance of Ratisbon was not to be a mere form; it must be sealed with blood. Ferdinand and Campeggio descended the Danube together from Ratisbon to Vienna, and during their journey bound each other by cruel promises. The persecution immediately broke out in the Austrian states. HRSCV3 366.7

One Gaspard Tauber, a citizen of Vienna, had circulated Luther’s writings, and had even written against the invocation of saints, purgatory, and transubstantiation. Being thrown into prison, he was summoned by his judges, both theologians and lawyers, to retract his errors. It was thought that he had consented, and every preparation was made in Vienna to gratify the people with this solemn spectacle. On the festival of St. Mary’s nativity, two pulpits were erected in St. Stephen’s cemetery, one for the leader of the choir, who was to extol by his chants the repentance of the heretic; and the other for Tauber himself. The formula of recantation was placed in his hands; the people and choristers waited in silence. Whether Tauber had made no promise, or whether at the moment of abjuration his faith suddenly revived with fresh energy, he exclaimed, “I am not convinced, and I appeal to the holy Roman empire!” Clergy, choristers, and people were seized with astonishment and alarm. But Tauber continued to call for death rather than that he should deny the Gospel. He was decapitated, and his body burnt; and his courage made an indelible impression on the inhabitants of Vienna. HRSCV3 366.8

At Buda in Hungary, an evangelical bookseller, named John, had circulated Luther’s New Testament and other of his writings throughout that country. He was bound to a stake; his persecutors then piled his books around him, enclosing him as if in a tower, and then set fire to them. John manifested unshaken courage, exclaiming from the midst of the flames, that he was delighted to suffer in the cause of the Lord. “Blood follows blood,” cried Luther, when informed of this martyrdom, “but that generous blood, which Rome loves to shed, will at last suffocate the pope with his kings and their kingdoms.” HRSCV3 367.1

Fanaticism grew fiercer every day; evangelical ministers were expelled from their churches; magistrates were banished; and at times the most horrible punishments were inflicted. In Wurtemberg, an inquisitor named Reichler caused the Lutherans, and above all the preachers, to be hanged upon trees. Barbarous ruffians were found who unfeelingly nailed the pastors by their tongues to a post; so that these unhappy victims, tearing themselves violently from the wood to which they were fastened, were horribly mutilated in attempting to recover their liberty, and thus deprived of that gift which they had long used to proclaim the Gospel. HRSCV3 367.2

Similar persecutions took place in the other states of the catholic league. An evangelical minister in the neighborhood of Salzburg was led to prison, where he was to pass the rest of his days; whilst the police who had him in charge were drinking at an alehouse on the road, two young peasants, moved with compassion, eluded their vigilance, and delivered the pastor. The anger of the archbishop was inflamed against these poor people, and without any form of trial they were ordered to be beheaded. They were secretly led outside the town early in the morning; and when they arrived on the plain where they were to die, the executioner himself hesitated, for (said he) they have not been tried. “Do what I command you,” harshly replied the archbishop’s emissary, “and leave the responsibility to the prince!” and the heads of these youthful liberators immediately fell beneath the sword. HRSCV3 367.3

The persecution was most violent in the states of the Duke of Bavaria: priests were deprived of their office; nobles driven from their castles; spies filled the whole country; and in every heart reigned mistrust and alarm. As Bernard Fichtel, a magistrate, was going to Nuremberg on the duke’s business, on the high-road he fell in with Francis Burkhardt, professor at Ingolstadt, and one of Dr. Eck’s friends. Burkhardt accosted him, and they travelled together. After supper the professor began to talk of religion; Fichtel, who was no stranger to his fellow-traveller, reminded him that the new edict prohibited such conversations. “Between us,” replied Burkhardt, “there is nothing to fear.”—Upon this Fichtel remarked: “I do not think this edict can ever be enforced.” He then proceeded to express himself in an ambiguous manner on purgatory, and said it was a horrible thing to punish religious differences with death. At these words Burkhardt could not contain himself: “What is more just,” said he, “than to cut off the heads of all these Lutheran rascals!” He took a friendly leave of Fichtel, but immediately denounced him. Fichtel was thrown into prison, and the wretched man, who had never thought of becoming a martyr, and whose religious convictions were not very deep, only escaped death by a shameful retraction. There was no security in any place, not even in the bosom of a friend. HRSCV3 367.4

But others met with that death from which Fichtel escaped. In vain was the Gospel preached in secret; the dukes tracked it in its obscurity and mystery,—beneath the domestic roof and in the lonely fields. HRSCV3 367.5

“The cross and persecution reign in Bavaria,” said Luther; “these wild beasts are lashing themselves into madness.” HRSCV3 367.6

Even the north of Germany was not free from these cruelties. Bogislaus, duke of Pomerania, being dead, his son, who had been brought up at Duke George’s court, persecuted the Gospel; Suaven and Knipstrow were compelled to flee. HRSCV3 367.7

But it was in Holstein that one of the most extraordinary instances of fanaticism occurred. HRSCV3 367.8

Henry von Zuphten, who had escaped, as we have seen, from the convent at Antwerp, was preaching the Gospel at Bremen; Nicholas Boye, pastor of Mehldorf in the Dittmarsh, and several pious men of that district, invited him to come and proclaim Jesus Christ among them. He complied with their wishes. Immediately the prior of the Dominicans and the vicar of the official of Hamburg consulted together. “If he preaches and the people listen to him,” said they, “all is lost!” The prior, after passing an agitated night, rose early and repaired to the barren and uncultivated heath where the forty-eight regents of the country were wont to hold their meetings. “The monk of Bremen is come to ruin all the Dittmarshers,” said he to them. These forty-eight simple-minded and ignorant men, being persuaded that they would acquire great renown by delivering the world from the heretical monk, resolved on putting him to death, without having either seen or heard him. HRSCV3 367.9

This was on Saturday, and the prior wished to prevent Henry from preaching on the following day. He arrived at the pastor of Boye’s dwelling in the middle of the night with the letter of the forty-eight regents. “If it be God’s will that I should die among the Dittmarshers,” said Henry von Zuphten, “heaven is as near me there as elsewhere; I will preach.” HRSCV3 368.1

He went up into the pulpit and preached with great energy. His hearers, moved and excited by his christian eloquence, had scarcely left the church when the prior handed them the letter of the forty-eight regents, forbidding the monk to preach. They immediately sent their representatives to the heath; and, after a long discussion, the Dittmarshers agreed that, considering their great ignorance, they would wait until Easter. But the incensed prior went up to some of the regents and inflamed their zeal afresh. “We will write to him,” said they.—“Mind what you are about,” replied the prior; “if he begins to speak, we shall be able to do nothing with him. We must seize him during the night, and burn him before he can open his mouth.” HRSCV3 368.2

They determined to adopt this course. At nightfall on the day after the Festival of the Conception, the Ave Maria bell was rung. At this signal, all the neighboring villagers assembled, to the number of five hundred, and their leaders having broached three butts of Hamburg beer, by this means inspired them with great courage. It was striking midnight when they reached Mehldorf;—the peasants were armed;—the monks carried torches;—all marched in disorder, exchanging shouts of fury. As they entered the village, they kept deep silence for fear Henry should escape. HRSCV3 368.3

On a sudden the gates of the parsonage were burst open; the drunken peasants rushed in, striking everything they saw; dishes, kettles, flagons, clothing, were tossed about pell-mell; they seized on all the gold and silver they could find, and falling on the poor pastor, they beat him, with loud cries of “Kill him! kill him!” and then flung him into the mud. But it was Henry they were seeking; they pulled him out of bed, tied his hands behind his back, and dragged him after them, without clothing, and in a piercing cold night. “Why did you come here,” said they. As Henry answered mildly, they cried out, “Down with him! down with him! if we listen to him we shall become heretics also!” They had dragged him naked through the ice and snow; his feet were bleeding; he entreated to be set on horseback. “Yes, indeed,” replied they, mocking him, “we will find horses for heretics! March!”—And they continued hurrying him towards the heath. A woman, standing at the door of her cottage as the servant of God was passing, began to weep. “My good woman,” said Henry, “do not weep for me.” The bailiff pronounced his condemnation. Upon this one of the madmen who had dragged him hither struck the preacher of Jesus Christ on the head with a sword; another gave him a blow with a club; after which they brought him a poor monk to receive his confession. “Brother,” said Henry, “have I ever done you any wrong?”—“None,” replied the monk.—“In that case I have nothing to confess to you,” resumed Henry, “and you have nothing to forgive me.” The monk retired in confusion. Several ineffectual attempts were made to kindle the pile; the logs would not catch fire. For two hours the martyr remained thus before the furious peasantry,—calm, and raising his eyes to heaven. While they were binding him to throw him into the flames, he began the confession of his faith. “Burn first,” said a peasant, striking him on the mouth with his fist, “and then you may speak!” They tried to fling him on the pile, but he fell on one side. John Holme, seizing a club, struck him upon the breast, and he was laid dead on the burning heap. “Such is the true history of the sufferings of the holy martyr, Henry von Zuphten.” HRSCV3 368.4