When the field of Cappel was in the possession of the Catholics, the camp-followers, with lighted torches, began to prowl over the battle-field. In turning over the bodies-for the purpose of stripping or robbing them-when they found any who were still sensible, they said, "Call upon the saints and confess to our priests." If the Zuricher refused, he was instantly despatched as a vile heretic with oaths and curses. Among those heaps of slain was one, whose eyes and hands were raised to heaven;-"Do you wish for a priest to confess yourself?" said one of those slayers of the slain, holding the glimmering light of his torch against his expiring features. He shook his head. "If you cannot speak," said they, "invoke the mother of God, and the other saints for their intercession." He again shook his head, keeping his eyes fixed on heaven. "This man too is an obstinate heretic," cried they. But a soldier, moved with curiosity, turned the head in the direction of a fire that had been lighted on the spot and exclaimed, "I think it is Zwingle!" whereupon, a Captain Tockinger, of Unterwalden, who came up at that moment, hearing the name, drew his sword, struck Zwingle on the throat, uttering many curses, and thus extinguished what remained of that remarkable life. And thus too was that scripture fulfilled: "All they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." (Matt. 26:5252Then said Jesus unto him, Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword. (Matthew 26:52).)
The night was cold; a thick hoar-frost wraped, as in a winding-sheet, the bodies of the dead and the dying. At length the day appeared; the body of Zwingle was recognized, and then the full hatred of his enemies-especially the foreign service men-broke out against him. After offering many indignities to the lifeless body, they held the mockery of a council, and summoned it before them. It was condemned, on the double charge of treason and heresy, to be burnt to ashes. The public executioner of Lucerne carried out the sentence, and the fanatical pensioners flung the ashes to the four winds of heaven.
The condition of Zurich, when a few wounded men found their way home to tell what had happened, was beyond description terrible. But we dwell not on the agitation, confusion, sorrow. We only refer to it for the purpose of introducing one chief mourner-Anna Zwingle. She had heard from her own house the repeated discharges of artillery. She feared the worst. What hours of anguish! But at length she knows all: her husband, son, son-in-law, brother, brother-in-law, and almost all her dear friends, lie cold on the heights of Cappel. But though a woman, a wife, and a mother, she was a true Christian, and committed herself and her young children to God's tender care, and sought to rejoice in the midst of her tears, that so many whom she loved had received the crown of martyrdom.