1397
Nothing in history has been more remarkable than the union of the
cantons and cities of the little republic of Switzerland. Of differing
races, languages, and, latterly, even religions--unlike in habits,
tastes, opinions and costumes--they have, however, been held together,
as it were, by pressure from without, and one spirit of patriotism has
kept the little mountain republic complete for five hundred years.
Originally the lands were fiefs of the Holy Roman Empire, the city
municipalities owning the Emperor for their lord, and the great family
of Hapsburg, in whom the Empire became at length hereditary, was in
reality Swiss, the county that gave them title lying in the canton of
Aargau. Rodolf of Hapsburg was elected leader of the burghers of Zurich,
long before he was chosen to the Empire; and he continued a Swiss in
heart, retaining his mountaineer's open simplicity and honesty to the
end of his life. Privileges were granted by him to the cities and the
nobles, and the country was loyal and prosperous in his reign.
His son Albert, the same who was slain by his nephew Johann, as before-
mentioned, permitted those tyrannies of his bailiffs which goaded the
Swiss to their celebrated revolt, and commenced the long series of wars
with the House of Hapsburgor, as it was now termed, of Austria--which
finally established their independence.
On the one side, the Dukes of Austria and their ponderous German
chivalry wanted to reduce the cantons and cities to vassalage, not to
the Imperial Crown, a distant and scarcely felt obligation, but to the
Duchy of Austria; on the other, the hardy mountain peasants and stout
burghers well knew their true position, and were aware that to admit the
Austrian usurpation would expose their young men to be drawn upon
for the Duke's wars, cause their property to be subject to perpetual
rapacious exactions, and fill their hills with castles for ducal
bailiffs, who would be little better than licensed robbers. No wonder,
then, that the generations of William Tell and Arnold Melchthal
bequeathed a resolute purpose of resistance to their descendants.
It was in 1397, ninety years since the first assertion of Swiss
independence, when Leopold the Handsome, Duke of Austria, a bold but
misproud and violent prince, involved himself in one of the constant
quarrels with the Swiss that were always arising on account of the
insulting exactions of toll and tribute in the Austrian border cities. A
sharp war broke out, and the Swiss city of Lucerne took the opportunity
of destroying the Austrian castle of Rothemburg, where the tolls had
been particularly vexatious, and of admitting to their league the cities
of Sempach and Richensee.
Leopold and all the neighboring nobles united their forces. Hatred and
contempt of the Swiss, as low-born and presumptuous, spurred them on;
and twenty messengers reached the Duke in one day, with promises of
support, in his march against Sempach and Lucerne. He had sent a large
force in the direction of Zurich with Johann Bonstetten, and advanced
himself with 4,000 horse and 1,400 foot upon Sempach. Zurich undertook
its own defense, and the Forest cantons sent their brave peasants to the
support of Lucerne and Sempach, but only to the number of 1,300, who,
on the 9th of July, took post in the woods around the little lake of
Sempach.
Meanwhile, Leopold's troops rode round the walls of the little city,
insulting the inhabitants, one holding up a halter, which he said was
for the chief magistrate; and another, pointing to the reckless waste
that his comrades were perpetrating on the fields, shouted, 'Send a
breakfast to the reapers.' The burgomaster pointed to the wood where his
allies lay hid, and answered, 'My masters of Lucerne and their friends
will bring it.'
The story of that day was told by one of the burghers who fought in the
ranks of Lucerne, a shoemaker, named Albert Tchudi, who was both a brave
warrior and a master-singer; and as his ballad was translated by another
master-singer, Sir Walter Scott, and is the spirited record of an
eyewitness, we will quote from him some of his descriptions of the
battle and its golden deed.
The Duke's wiser friends proposed to wait till he could be joined by
Bonstetten and the troops who had gone towards Zurich, and the Baron von
Hasenburg (i.e. hare-rock) strongly urged this prudent counsel; but--
'O, Hare-Castle, thou heart of hare!'
Fierce Oxenstiern he cried,
'Shalt see then how the game will fare,'
The taunted knight replied.'
'This very noon,' said the younger knight to the Duke, 'we will deliver
up to you this handful of villains.'
'And thus they to each other said,
'Yon handful down to hew
Will be no boastful tale to tell
The peasants are so few.'
Characteristically enough, the doughty cobbler describes how the first
execution that took place was the lopping off the long-peaked toes of
the boots that the gentlemen wore chained to their knees, and which
would have impeded them on foot; since it had been decided that the
horses were too much tired to be serviceable in the action.
'There was lacing then of helmets bright,
And closing ranks amain,
The peaks they hewed from their boot points
Might well nigh load a wain.'
They were drawn up in a solid compact body, presenting an unbroken
line of spears, projecting beyond the wall of gay shields and polished
impenetrable armor.
The Swiss were not only few in number, but armor was scarce among them;
some had only boards fastened on their arms by way of shields, some
had halberts, which had been used by their fathers at the battle of
Morgarten, others two-handed swords and battleaxes. They drew themselves
up in the form of a wedge and
'The gallant Swiss confederates then
They prayed to God aloud,
And He displayed His rainbow fair,
Against a swarthy cloud.'
Then they rushed upon the serried spears, but in vain. 'The game was
nothing sweet.'
The banner of Lucerne was in the utmost danger, the Landamman was slain,
and sixty of his men, and not an Austrian had been wounded. The flanks
of the Austrian host began to advance so as to enclose the small peasant
force, and involve it in irremediable destruction. A moment of dismay
and stillness ensued. Then Arnold von Winkelried of Unterwalden, with
an eagle glance saw the only means of saving his country, and, with the
decision of a man who dares by dying to do all things, shouted aloud: 'I
will open a passage.'
'I have a virtuous wife at home,
A wife and infant son:
I leave them to my country's care,
The field shall yet be won!'
He rushed against the Austrian band
In desperate career,
And with his body, breast, and hand,
Bore down each hostile spear;
Four lances splintered on his crest,
Six shivered in his side,
Still on the serried files he pressed,
He broke their ranks and died!'
The very weight of the desperate charge of this self-devoted man opened
a breach in the line of spears. In rushed the Swiss wedge, and the
weight of the nobles' armor and length of their spears was only
encumbering. They began to fall before the Swiss blows, and Duke Leopold
was urged to fly. 'I had rather die honorably than live with dishonor,'
he said. He saw his standard bearer struck to the ground, and seizing
his banner from his hand, waved it over his head, and threw himself
among the thickest of the foe. His corpse was found amid a heap of
slain, and no less then 2000 of his companions perished with him, of
whom a third are said to have been counts, barons and knights.
'Then lost was banner, spear and shield
At Sempach in the flight;
The cloister vaults at Konigsfeldt
Hold many an Austrian knight.'
The Swiss only lost 200; but, as they were spent with the excessive heat
of the July sun, they did not pursue their enemies. They gave thanks
on the battlefield to the God of victories, and the next day buried the
dead, carrying Duke Leopold and twenty-seven of his most illustrious
companions to the Abbey of Konigsfeldt, where they buried him in the old
tomb of his forefathers, the lords of Aargau, who had been laid there in
the good old times, before the house of Hapsburg had grown arrogant with
success.