eeds, because "he thought they charm us to
imitation."--"This is a use"--answered Zwingli--"which is no use to
_me_; bring the Divine Scripture for it. God has forbidden us to be
charmed by any one save Him alone and His Word. Besides, when we have
them, they will be honored and esteemed as helpers. And that is at all
points against Christ and His Word."

The severity of this answer the canon attributed perhaps to the
circumstance, that he was known as a secret adversary of the Reformer,
when one of his friends and admirers also rose up, not indeed for the
defence of images, but to put in a plea for their merciful treatment
and impartial estimation.

This was Commander Schmied. Let us dwell a while upon a character so
full of interest. Son of a countryman from the village of Kuessnacht,
set apart for study on account of his natural gifts, he came to Basel,
where he remained till the ripe age of manhood, and found himself
clothed with academical honors. Then he was chosen people's priest at
Seengen, and unanimously by the Knights of St. John at Kuessnacht for
their commander, in 1519. We know that he here won universal respect,
sought to promote religion and science, and in the spirit, which
animated the founders of this Order of Knighthood, joined a sincere and
active benevolence with courage, honor and morality. Even his external
appearance was dignified and engaging.

As the truth of the Gospel was sacred to him, so the spirit of love
lived in him, that spirit of the Holy Scriptures, which is eternal,
whilst the letter bears the stamp of the age from which it came--the
character of the men, by whom it was written; that spirit makes alive,
whilst the letter kills.

A shrewd observer, having the confidence of the country-people
living under him, he had heard many peculiar expressions about the
much-talked-of image-question, and looked as deep into weak as into
stronger hearts. Why should the nobler end be done away also with the
abuse? How had an elevation to the reign of pure ideas suddenly become
possible for thousands, whose feelings heretofore could only be wrought
upon through the medium of the senses? Was then the zeal so pure, which
glowed in the bosoms of the stormy fanatics, who with axe and hatchet
overthrew without discrimination the ornaments of churches and the
grotesque creations of superstition,[11] and before whose gloomy looks
the most delicate works of art, from which the grandeur of innocence
and