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Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=).
Waverley Novels
Forty-Eight Volumes
Volume XLIII.
Border Edition
The Introductory Essays and Notes by Andrew Lang to this
Edition of the Waverley Novels are Copyright
[Illustration: THE DUEL.
Drawn and Etched by R. de Los Rios]
ANNE OF GEIERSTEIN
by
SIR WALTER SCOTT, BART.
With Introductory Essay and Notes by Andrew Lang
Ten Etchings
VOLUME I.
London
John C. Nimmo
14, King William Street, Strand
MDCCCXCIV
Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh
THIS EDITION OF THE WAVERLEY NOVELS,
THE BORDER EDITION,
IS DEDICATED BY THE PUBLISHER
TO
THE HON. MRS. MAXWELL SCOTT OF ABBOTSFORD
AND HER CHILDREN,
WALTER, MARY, MICHAEL, ALICE, MALCOLM,
MARGARET, AND HERBERT,
GREAT-GRANDDAUGHTER AND GREAT-GREAT-GRANDCHILDREN
OF THE AUTHOR.
TO
The King's Most Gracious Majesty.
SIRE,
The Author of this Collection of Works of Fiction would not have
presumed to solicit for them your Majesty's august patronage, were it
not that the perusal has been supposed in some instances to have
succeeded in amusing hours of relaxation, or relieving those of
languor, pain, or anxiety, and therefore must have so far aided the
warmest wish of your Majesty's heart, by contributing in however small
a degree to the happiness of your people.
They are therefore humbly dedicated to your Majesty, agreeably to
your gracious permission, by
Your Majesty's Dutiful Subject,
WALTER SCOTT.
ABBOTSFORD,
1st January, 1829.
LIST OF ETCHINGS.
PRINTED BY F. GOULDING, LONDON.
VOLUME THE FIRST.
THE DUEL. Drawn and Etched by R. de Los Rios
(p. 99) Frontispiece
GEIERSTEIN. Drawn and Etched by R. de Los
Rios To face page 48
IN THE STABLE. Drawn and Etched by R. de Los
Rios 192
THE EXAMINATION. Drawn and Etched by R. de
Los Rios 256
THE EXECUTION. Drawn and Etched by R. de Los
Rios 304
ANNE OF GEIERSTEIN;
OR,
THE MAIDEN OF THE MIST.
What! will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground?
SHAKSPEARE.
EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION
TO
ANNE OF GEIERSTEIN.
With "The Fair Maid of Perth" we take farewell of Scott at his best,
though "even from the stubble one may tell what the grain has been."
"Anne of Geierstein" was no favourite of the author's, and, as Mr.
Matthew Arnold says, the world does not contemplate with pleasure what
the poet creates without joy. The novel was begun in the late summer
or autumn of 1828, but for part of the time Scott neglected his Diary.
He was become (June 19) "a writing automaton," and suffered much pain
from rheumatism and rheumatic headaches. He feared that this affected
"the quality of the stuff," but he was not one who "waited for the
spark from heaven to fall." He plodded on, in these late years,
_invita Minerva_. Of old the goddess had generally been willing; but
now his task took the likeness of journalism, the round had to be
trodden, be he well or be he ill. Masterpieces are not written thus:
it is the moral effort that we admire, and the contempt for fame, even
for art, compared with the respect for duty. Scott believed in his
duty and in his power of will, but imagination will not obey a moral
dictate. We find Ballantyne "complaining of his manuscript": the
wearied hand no longer wrote legibly, despite the mechanical supports
which he used. "I cannot trace my _pieds de mouche_ but with great
labour and trouble" (June 22). He "wrought and endured," afflicted by
a hypochondriacal melancholy: "it may be chased away by study or by
exercise." He is nobly master of his fate, in every event. In July we
find him "beginning Simond's 'Switzerland,'" in search of local
colour, for he did not know Switzerland, nor even the Rhine. His
description of a storm in the mountains is, in the circumstances,
wonderfully accurate. He simply drew the hills above Loch Skene on a
grander scale. Morritt and Sir James Stuart of Allanbank, who were
well acquainted with the scenes, were "surprised at the felicity with
which he divined its character, and outdid, by the force of
imagination, all the efforts of a thousand actual tourists." Their
praise much encouraged Sir Walter (Lockhart, ix. 279). Ballantyne
"bored and bothered me with his criticisms," he said, for he did not
pretend to be a geologist, and to describe the formation of the rocks.
In January he "muzzed on"--I can call it little better--with "Anne of
Geierstein." The "materials are excellent, but the power of using them
is failing." In February (1829) he was better "pleased with his work."
The reason why he was better pleased may perhaps be gathered from his
Journal (Feb. 17): "I called on Skene, and borrowed a volume of his
journal to get some information about Burgundy and Provence. Something
may be made out of King René, but I wish I had thought of him sooner."
This is elucidated by a note of Mr. Skene's: "Sir Walter wished to see
a paper which I had some time before contributed to the Memoirs of the
Society of Antiquaries on the subject of the secret tribunals of
Germany, and upon which, accordingly, he grounded his scene in the
novel." Mr. Skene now suggested the introduction of King René of
Provence, as he himself could give topographical details. "He liked
the idea much ... and the whole dénouement of the story was changed,
and the Provence part woven into it, in the form in which it
ultimately came forth" (Journal, ii. 235, note). On March 8 "Cadell
totally condemns 'Anne of Geierstein' ... great dishonour in this, as
Trinculo says, besides an infinite loss. Yet worse has succeeded, but
it was while the fashion of the thing was fresh. I retrenched a good
deal about the Troubadours, which was really _hors de place_" (April
14). After some weeks of work and reflection, he came to the
conclusion that more pains would not serve his turn. Inspiration came
at once, if it came at all, and now his "braes and burn-sides" were
ceasing to inspire him. "I don't know why or wherefore, but I hate
'Anne'" (April 27). "The story will end, and shall end, because it
must end, and so here goes." He finished "Anne of Geierstein" on April
29, and began an historical work for Dr. Lardner on the same day. He
had been writing reviews and other trifles all the time. "Were
necessity out of the question, I would take the same literary labour
from choice--something more leisurely, though."
The book was published in the middle of May, and was very popular in
Switzerland. Lockhart praises "occasional outbursts of the old poetic
spirit," as in the Alpine storm, the wild climb of Arthur, the duel,
the noble picture of the battle of Granson. No one else then writing
in England could have matched these passages. Lockhart especially
admired the sympathy with which an old and weary man "depicts the
feelings of youth with all their original glow and purity." "He was
always living over again in his children, young at heart whenever he
looked on them, and the world that was opening on them and their
friends. But, above all, he had a firm belief in the future reunion of
those whom death had parted."
The novel is unlucky, perhaps, in the period chosen, which is not
sufficiently familiar to most readers. The forlorn cause of the House
of Lancaster now affects us very little, and the passion of Margaret
of Anjou is remote--it cannot stir us like the last view of the King,
in "Redgauntlet." The mechanism of the volume does suggest the
favourite topics of Mrs. Radcliffe, and the mysterious appearances and
disappearances of the heroine need a more plausible explanation than
they receive. The prophecy turning on the drawing of the bow is rather
dropped out of sight, and the magic scenes connected with the opal and
the mysterious bride suffer from being explained away. The miracle is
more easy of belief than the explanation. Though Charles the Bold is
painted with power in his pride and in his fall, he does not interest
us like Louis XI. or James VI., either in this novel or in "Quentin
Durward." It is probable enough that Scott, in his intended
continuation of "Quentin Durward," had this very period in his eye:
perhaps we need not regret that, with failing powers, he left Quentin
out of the tale. His place is filled by the good dull Sigismund, who
always warms up into a kind of brilliance when action is to be taken
or described. The hero and heroine do not differ much from Scott's
usual characters, in similar romantic circumstances, but Anne has less
of originality and charm, of course, than the women of his earlier
novels. The story, even on the least favourable estimate, is a rapid
novel of adventure: incident follows incident, and, as a modern critic
says, "the novel of character is one we often take up, the novel of
incident is one we cannot lay down;" if it be written with the spirit
of Scott, or of Dumas. That friendly master of romance was just about
to take up the pen which fell from the fingers of Sir Walter--
Uno avulso non deficit alter.
Scott's imitators, in his lifetime, produced little or nothing of
merit: he was, however, to leave successors, the author of "Vingt Ans
Après" first and greatest; the author of "Esmond"; the author, we may
surely add, of "The Master of Ballantrae." Much as these differ from
Scott, both in quantity and quality of genius, in method, in style,
they are all "sealed of his tribe," like the spiritual children of Ben
Jonson. Scott is he
Without whose life they had not been,
and thus his example has borne, and still bears, new fruit in the most
innocent of intellectual pleasures. For a later generation Scott has
done what the romances and the epics did for chivalry, and fairy-tales
for all the world. In an unexpected place, the Memoirs of Dr. Adam
Clarke, we find a tribute to old romance and fairy-tale. Had he not
read these in boyhood, the learned and excellent Doctor declares, his
religion would have lacked imagination, and his character the courage
which he displayed in face of many dangers. Examples of lofty fancy,
of chivalrous courage, all that can attract and inspire youth, all
that makes against moody despair, and stolid commonplace, and creeping
prose, Scott gives, even in this late work, and he enlightens all with
humour, as in his admirable description of the despotic German
innkeeper, before whom the Earl of Oxford has to lower his bonnet.
While youth is youth, and men have yet a smack of it, we can be happy
with Arthur Philipson in his duel, with Sigismund in the fight, with
the cheery maid of Anne of Geierstein, and her honest ideas of love on
first principles, with that royal philosopher King René, with the
sagacious loyalty of Oxford, and the manly patriotism of the peasant
noble. That the conclusion is entangled, and the knots rather broken
than disengaged, is no unusual fault in Scott: it haunted his works
from the beginning. Considering his health, his absence, in this tale,
from scenes familiar to him, and times familiar to his readers, the
novel is remarkable for its interest. What success and merit it
possesses are mainly due, however, to a determined effort of the will,
not to a delighted and conscious inspiration. In his last essays,
though the will was indomitable, the material machinery of the brain
was shattered, and we can only criticise them as psychological
examples of unconquered courage. He had to see James Ballantyne,
broken by his wife's death, and "squandering his thoughts and senses
upon dowdy metaphysics, and abstruse theology." It was better for
Scott to work on, and die at his task, at the labour of a life which
would not be complete, would not offer the same invigorating
spectacle, had he thrown his pen away and confessed himself defeated.
The historical sources of "Anne of Geierstein" are explained in
Scott's own Introduction and Notes. All the later part of the novel
follows the narrative of Commines closely, save for certain dramatic
liberties, as we shall point out in our additional annotations.
ANDREW LANG.
_May 1894._
INTRODUCTION
TO
ANNE OF GEIERSTEIN.
This novel was written at a time when circumstances did not place
within my reach the stores of a library tolerably rich in historical
works, and especially the memoirs of the Middle Ages, amidst which I
had been accustomed to pursue the composition of my fictitious
narratives. In other words, it was chiefly the work of leisure hours
in Edinburgh, not of quiet mornings in the country. In consequence of
trusting to a memory, strongly tenacious certainly, but not less
capricious in its efforts, I have to confess on this occasion more
violations of accuracy in historical details, than can perhaps be
alleged against others of my novels. In truth, often as I have been
complimented on the strength of my memory, I have through life been
entitled to adopt old Beattie of Meikledale's answer to his parish
minister when eulogising him with respect to the same faculty. "No,
doctor," said the honest border-laird, "I have no command of my
memory; it only retains what happens to hit my fancy, and like enough,
sir, if you were to preach to me for a couple of hours on end, I might
be unable at the close of the discourse to remember one word of it."
Perhaps there are few men whose memory serves them with equal fidelity
as to many different classes of subjects; but I am sorry to say, that
while mine has rarely failed me as to any snatch of verse or trait of
character that had once interested my fancy, it has generally been a
frail support, not only as to names, and dates, and other minute
technicalities of history, but as to many more important things.
I hope this apology will suffice for one mistake which has been
pointed out to me by the descendant of one of the persons introduced
in this story, and who complains with reason that I have made a
peasant deputy of the ancestor of a distinguished and noble family,
none of whom ever declined from the high rank to which, as far as my
pen trenched on it, I now beg leave to restore them. The name of the
person who figures as deputy of Soleure in these pages, was always, it
seems, as it is now, that of a patrician house. I am reminded by the
same correspondent of another slip, probably of less consequence. The
Emperor of the days my novel refers to, though the representative of
that Leopold who fell in the great battle of Sempach, never set up any
pretensions against the liberties of the gallant Swiss, but, on the
contrary, treated with uniform prudence and forbearance such of that
nation as had established their independence, and with wise, as well
as generous kindness, others who still continued to acknowledge fealty
to the imperial crown. Errors of this sort, however trivial, ought
never, in my opinion, to be pointed out to an author, without meeting
with a candid and respectful acknowledgment.
With regard to a general subject of great curiosity and interest, in
the eyes at least of all antiquarian students, upon which I have
touched at some length in this narrative, I mean the _Vehmic_
tribunals of Westphalia, a name so awful in men's ears during many
centuries, and which, through the genius of Goethe, has again been
revived in public fancy with a full share of its ancient terrors, I am
bound to state my opinion that a wholly new and most important light
has been thrown upon this matter since Anne of Geierstein first
appeared, by the elaborate researches of my ingenious friend, Mr.
Francis Palgrave, whose proof-sheets, containing the passages I allude
to, have been kindly forwarded to me, and whose complete work will be
before the public ere this Introduction can pass through the press.
"In Germany," says this very learned writer, "there existed a singular
jurisdiction, which claimed a _direct descent from the Pagan policy
and mystic ritual of the earliest Teutons_.
"We learn from the Historians of Saxony, that the 'Frey Feld gericht,'
or Free Field Court of Corbey, was, in Pagan times, under the
supremacy of the Priests of the Eresburgh, the Temple which contained
the Irminsule, or pillar of Irmin. After the conversion of the people,
the possessions of the temple were conferred by Louis the Pious upon
the Abbey which arose upon its site. The court was composed of sixteen
persons, who held their offices for life. The senior member presided
as the Gerefa or Graff; the junior performed the humbler duties of
'Frohner,' or summoner; the remaining fourteen acted as the Echevins,
and by them all judgments were pronounced or declared. When any one of
these died, a new member was elected by the Priests, from amongst the
twenty-two septs or families inhabiting the Gau or district, and who
included all the hereditary occupants of the soil. Afterwards, the
selection was made by the Monks, but always with the assent of the
Graff and of the 'Frohner.'
"The seat of judgment, the King's seat, or 'Königs-stuhl,' was always
established on the greensward; and we collect from the context, that
the tribunal was also raised or appointed in the common fields of the
Gau, for the purpose of deciding disputes relating to the land within
its precinct. Such a 'King's seat' was a plot sixteen feet in length,
and sixteen feet in breadth; and when the ground was first
consecrated, the Frohner dug a grave in the centre, into which each of
the Free Echevins threw a handful of ashes, a coal, and a tile. If any
doubt arose whether a place of judgment had been duly hallowed, the
Judges sought for the tokens. If they were not found, then all the
judgments which had been given became null and void. It was also of
the very essence of the Court, that it should be held beneath the sky,
and by the light of the sun. All the ancient Teutonic judicial
assemblies were held in the open air; but some relics of solar worship
may perhaps be traced in the usage and in the language of this
tribunal. The forms adopted in the Free Field Court also betray a
singular affinity to the doctrines of the British Bards respecting
their Gorseddau, or Conventions, which were 'always held in the open
air, in the eye of the light, and in face of the sun.'[1]
"When a criminal was to be judged, or a cause to be decided, the Graff
and the Free Echevins assembled around the 'Königs-stuhl;' and the
'Frohner,' having proclaimed silence, opened the proceedings by
reciting the following rhymes:
"Sir Graff, with permission,
I beg you to say,
According to law, and without delay,
If I, your Knave,
Who judgment crave,
With your good grace,
Upon the King's seat this seat may place.
"To this address the Graff replied:
"While the sun shines with even light
Upon Masters and Knaves, I shall declare
The law of might, according to right.
Place the King's seat true and square,
Let even measure, for justice' sake,
Be given in sight of God and man,
That the plaintiff his complaint may make,
And the defendant answer,--if he can.
"In conformity to this permission, the 'Frohner' placed the seat of
judgment in the middle of the plot, and then he spake for the second
time:
"Sir Graff, Master brave,
I remind you of your honour, here,
And moreover that I am your Knave;
Tell me, therefore, for law sincere,
If these mete-wands are even and sure,
Fit for the rich and fit for the poor,
Both to measure land and condition;
Tell me as you would eschew perdition.
"And so speaking, he laid the mete-wand on the ground. The Graff then
began to try the measure, by placing his right foot against the wand,
and he was followed by the other Free Echevins in rank and order,
according to seniority. The length of the mete-wand being thus proved,
the Frohner spake for the third time:
"Sir Graff, I ask by permission,
If I with your mete-wand may mete
Openly, and without displeasure,
Here the king's free judgment seat.
"And the Graff replied:
"I permit right,
And I forbid wrong,
Under the pains and penalties
That to the old known laws belong.
"Now was the time of measuring the mystic plot; it was measured by the
mete-wand along and athwart, and when the dimensions were found to be
true, the Graff placed himself in the seat of judgment, and gave the
charge to the assembled Free Echevins, warning them to pronounce
judgment, according to right and justice.
"On this day, with common consent,
And under the clear firmament,
A free field court is established here,
In the open eye of day;
Enter soberly, ye who may.
The seat in its place is pight,
The mete-wand is found to be right;
Declare your judgments without delay:
And let the doom be truly given,
Whilst yet the Sun shines bright in heaven.
"Judgment was given by the Free Echevins according to plurality of
voices."
After observing that the author of Anne of Geierstein had, by what he
calls a "very excusable poetical licence," transferred something of
these judicial rhymes from the Free Field Court of the Abbey of
Corbey, to the Free Vehmic Tribunals of Westphalia, Mr. Palgrave
proceeds to correct many vulgar errors, in which the novel he remarks
on no doubt had shared, with respect to the actual constitution of
those last-named courts. "The protocols of their proceedings," he
says, "do not altogether realise the popular idea of their terrors and
tyranny." It may be allowed to me to question whether the mere
protocols of such tribunals are quite enough to annul all the import
of tradition respecting them; but in the following details there is no
doubt much that will instruct the antiquary, as well as amuse the
popular reader.
"The Court," says Mr. Palgrave, "was held with known and notorious
publicity beneath the 'eye of light;' and the sentences, though speedy
and severe, were founded upon a regular system of established
jurisprudence, not so strange, even to England, as it may at first
sight appear.
"Westphalia, according to its ancient constitution, was divided into
districts called 'Freygraffschafften,' each of which usually contained
one, and sometimes many, Vehmic tribunals, whose boundaries were
accurately defined. The right of the 'Stuhlherr,' or Lord, was of a
feudal nature, and could be transferred by the ordinary modes of
alienation; and if the Lord did not choose to act in his own person,
he nominated a 'Freigraff' to execute the office in his stead. The
Court itself was composed of 'Freyschöppfen,' Scabini, or Echevins,
nominated by the Graff, and who were divided into two classes: the
ordinary, and the 'Wissenden' or 'Witan,' who were admitted under a
strict and singular bond of secrecy.
"The initiation of these, the participators in all the mysteries of
the tribunal, could only take place upon the 'red earth,' or within
the limits of the ancient Duchy of Westphalia. Bareheaded and ungirt,
the candidate is conducted before the dread tribunal. He is
interrogated as to his qualifications, or rather as to the absence of
any disqualification. He must be free born, a Teuton, and clear of any
accusation cognisable by the tribunal of which he is to become a
member.--If the answers are satisfactory, he then takes the oath,
swearing by the Holy Law, that he will conceal the secrets of the Holy
Vehme from wife and child--from father and mother--from sister and
brother--from fire and water--from every creature upon which the sun
shines, or upon which the rain falls--from every being between earth
and heaven.
"Another clause relates to his active duties. He further swears, that
he will 'say forth' to the tribunal all crimes or offences which fall
beneath the secret ban of the Emperor, which he knows to be true, or
which he has heard from trustworthy report; and that he will not
forbear to do so, for love nor for loathing, for gold nor for silver
nor precious stones.--This oath being imposed upon him, the new
Freischopff was then intrusted with the secrets of the Vehmic
tribunal. He received the password, by which he was to know his
fellows, and the grip or sign by which they recognised each other in
silence; and he was warned of the terrible punishment awaiting the
perjured brother.--If he discloses the secrets of the Court, he is to
expect that he will be suddenly seized by the ministers of vengeance.
His eyes are bound, he is cast down on the soil, his tongue is torn
out through the back of his neck--and he is then to be hanged seven
times higher than any other criminal. And whether restrained by the
fear of punishment, or by the stronger ties of mystery, no instance
was ever known of any violation of the secrets of the tribunal.
"Thus connected by an invisible bond, the members of the 'Holy Vehme'
became extremely numerous. In the fourteenth century, the league
contained upwards of one hundred thousand members. Persons of every
rank sought to be associated to this powerful community, and to
participate in the immunities which the brethren possessed. Princes
were eager to allow their ministers to become the members of this
mysterious and holy alliance; and the cities of the Empire were
equally anxious to enrol their magistrates in the Vehmic union.
"The supreme government of the Vehmic tribunals was vested in the
great or general Chapter, composed of the Freegraves and all the other
initiated members, high and low. Over this assembly the Emperor might
preside in person, but more usually by his deputy, the Stadtholder of
the ancient Duchy of Westphalia; an office which, after the fall of
Henry the Lion, Duke of Brunswick, was annexed to the Archbishopric
of Cologne.
"Before the general Chapter, all the members were liable to account
for their acts. And it appears that the 'Freegraves' reported the
proceedings which had taken place within their jurisdictions in the
course of the year. Unworthy members were expelled, or sustained a
severer punishment. Statutes, or 'Reformations,' as they were called,
were here enacted for the regulation of the Courts, and the amendment
of any abuses; and new and unforeseen cases, for which the existing
laws did not provide a remedy, received their determination in the
Vehmic Parliament.
"As the Echevins were of two classes, uninitiated and initiated, so
the Vehmic Courts had also a twofold character; the 'Offenbare Ding'
was an Open Court or Folkmoot; but the 'Heimliche Acht' was the
far-famed Secret Tribunal.
"The first was held three times in each year. According to the ancient
Teutonic usage, it usually assembled on Tuesday, anciently called
'Dingstag,' or court-day, as well as 'Diensttag,' or serving-day, the
first open or working day after the two great weekly festivals of
Sun-day and Moon-day. Here all the householders of the district,
whether free or bond, attended as suitors. The 'Offenbare Ding'
exercised a civil jurisdiction; and in this Folkmoot appeared any
complainant or appellant who sought to obtain the aid of the Vehmic
tribunal, in those cases when it did not possess that summary
jurisdiction from which it has obtained such fearful celebrity. Here
also the suitors of the district made presentments or 'wroge,' as they
are termed, of any offences committed within their knowledge, and
which were to be punished by the Graff and Echevins.
"The criminal jurisdiction of the Vehmic Tribunal took the widest
range. The 'Vehme' could punish mere slander and contumely. Any
violation of the Ten Commandments was to be restrained by the
Echevins. Secret crimes, not to be proved by the ordinary testimony of
witnesses, such as magic, witchcraft, and poison, were particularly to
be restrained by the Vehmic Judges; and they sometimes designated
their jurisdiction as comprehending every offence against the honour
of man or the precepts of religion. Such a definition, if definition
it can be called, evidently allowed them to bring every action of
which an individual might complain, within the scope of their
tribunals. The forcible usurpation of land became an offence against
the 'Vehme.' And if the property of an humble individual was occupied
by the proud Burghers of the Hanse, the power of the Defendants might
afford a reasonable excuse for the interference of the Vehmic power.
"The Echevins, as Conservators of the Ban of the Empire, were bound to
make constant circuits within their districts, by night and by day. If
they could apprehend a thief, a murderer, or the perpetrator of any
other heinous crime in possession of the 'mainour,' or in the very
act--or if his own mouth confessed the deed, they hung him upon the
next tree. But to render this execution legal, the following
requisites were necessary: fresh suit, or the apprehension and
execution of the offender before daybreak or nightfall;--the visible
evidence of the crime;--and lastly, that three Echevins, at least,
should seize the offender, testify against him, and judge of the
recent deed.
"If, without any certain accuser, and without the indication of crime,
an individual was strongly and vehemently suspected; or when the
nature of the offence was such as that its proof could only rest upon
opinion and presumption, the offender then became subject to what the
German jurists term the inquisitorial proceeding; it became the duty
of the Echevin to denounce the 'Leumund,' or manifest evil fame, to
the secret tribunal. If the Echevins and the Freygraff were satisfied
with the presentment, either from their own knowledge, or from the
information of their compeer, the offender was said to be
'verfämbt;'--his life was forfeited; and wherever he was found by the
brethren of the tribunal, they executed him without the slightest
delay or mercy. An offender who had escaped from the Echevins was
liable to the same punishment; and such also was the doom of the party
who, after having been summoned pursuant to an appeal preferred in
open court, made default in appearing. But one of the 'Wissenden' was
in no respect liable to the summary process, or to the inquisitorial
proceeding, unless he had revealed the secrets of the Court. He was
presumed to be a true man; and if accused upon vehement suspicion, or
'Leumund,' the same presumption or evil repute which was fatal to the
uninitiated might be entirely rebutted by the compurgatory oath of the
free Echevin. If a party, accused by appeal, did not shun
investigation, he appeared in the open court, and defended himself
according to the ordinary rules of law. If he absconded, or if the
evidence or presumptions were against him, the accusation then came
before the Judges of the Secret Court, who pronounced the doom. The
accusatorial process, as it was termed, was also, in many cases,
brought in the first instance before the 'Heimliche Acht.' Proceeding
upon the examination of witnesses, it possessed no peculiar character,
and its forms were those of the ordinary courts of justice. It was
only in this manner that one of the 'Wissenden,' or Witan, could be
tried; and the privilege of being exempted from the summary process,
or from the effects of the 'Leumund,' appears to have been one of the
reasons which induced so many of those who did not tread the 'red
earth' to seek to be included in the Vehmic bond.
"There was no mystery in the assembly of the Heimliche Acht. Under the
oak, or under the lime-tree, the Judges assembled, in broad daylight,
and before the eye of heaven; but the tribunal derived its name from
the precautions which were taken, for the purpose of preventing any
disclosure of its proceedings which might enable the offender to
escape the vengeance of the Vehme. Hence, the fearful oath of secrecy
which bound the Echevins. And if any stranger was found present in the
Court, the unlucky intruder instantly forfeited his life as a
punishment for his temerity. If the presentment or denunciation did
chance to become known to the offender, the law allowed him a right of
appeal. But the permission was of very little utility, it was a
profitless boon, for the Vehmic Judges always laboured to conceal the
judgment from the hapless criminal, who seldom was aware of his
sentence until his neck was encircled by the halter.
"Charlemagne, according to the traditions of Westphalia, was the
founder of the Vehmic tribunal; and it was supposed that he instituted
the Court for the purpose of coercing the Saxons, ever ready to
relapse into the idolatry from which they had been reclaimed, not by
persuasion, but by the sword. This opinion, however, is not confirmed
either by documentary evidence or by contemporary historians. And if
we examine the proceedings of the Vehmic tribunal, we shall see that,
in principle, it differs in no essential character from the summary
jurisdiction exercised in the townships and hundreds of Anglo-Saxon
England. Amongst us, the thief or the robber was equally liable to
summary punishment, if apprehended by the men of the township; and the
same rules disqualified them from proceeding to summary execution. An
English outlaw was exactly in the situation of him who had escaped
from the hands of the Echevins, or who had failed to appear before the
Vehmic Court: he was condemned unheard, nor was he confronted with his
accusers. The inquisitorial proceedings, as they are termed by the
German jurists, are identical with our ancient presentments.
Presumptions are substituted for proofs, and general opinion holds the
place of a responsible accuser. He who was untrue to all the people in
the Saxon age, or liable to the malecredence of the inquest at a
subsequent period, was scarcely more fortunate than he who was branded
as 'Leumund' by the Vehmic law.
"In cases of open delict and of outlawry, there was substantially no
difference whatever between the English and the Vehmic proceedings.
But in the inquisitorial process, the delinquent was allowed,
according to our older code, to run the risk of the ordeal. He was
accused by or before the Hundred, or the Thanes of the Wapentake; and
his own oath cleared him, if a true man; but he 'bore the iron' if
unable to avail himself of the credit derived from a good and fair
reputation. The same course may have been originally adopted in
Westphalia; for the 'Wissend,' when accused, could exculpate himself
by his compurgatory oath, being presumed to be of good fame; and it
is, therefore, probable that an uninitiated offender, standing a stage
lower in character and credibility, was allowed the last resort of the
ordeal. But when the 'Judgment of God' was abolished by the decrees of
the Church, it did not occur to the Vehmic Judges to put the offender
upon his second trial by the visne, which now forms the distinguishing
characteristic of the English law, and he was at once considered as
condemned. The Heimliche Acht is a presentment not traversable by the
offender.
"_The Vehmic Tribunals can only be considered as the original
jurisdictions of the 'Old Saxons,' which survived the subjugation of
their country. The singular and mystic forms of initiation, the system
of enigmatical phrases, the use of the signs and symbols of
recognition, may probably be ascribed to the period when the whole
system was united to the worship of the Deities of Vengeance, and when
the sentence was promulgated by the Doomsmen, assembled, like the Asi
of old, before the altars of Thor or Woden._ Of this connection with
ancient pagan policy, so clearly to be traced in the Icelandic Courts,
the English territorial jurisdictions offer some very faint vestiges;
but the mystery had long been dispersed, and the whole system passed
into the ordinary machinery of the law.
"As to the Vehmic Tribunals, it is acknowledged, that in a truly
barbarous age and country, their proceedings, however violent, were
not without utility. Their severe and secret vengeance often deterred
the rapacity of the noble robber, and protected the humble suppliant;
the extent, and even the abuse, of their authority was in some measure
justified in an Empire divided into numerous independent
jurisdictions, and not subjected to any paramount tribunal, able to
administer impartial justice to the oppressed. But as the times
improved, the Vehmic tribunals degenerated. The Echevins, chosen from
the inferior ranks, did not possess any personal consideration.
Opposed by the opulent cities of the Hanse, and objects of the
suspicion and the enmity of the powerful aristocracy, the tribunals of
some districts were abolished by law, and others took the form of
ordinary territorial jurisdictions; the greater number fell into
desuetude. Yet, as late as the middle of the eighteenth century, a
few Vehmic tribunals existed in name, though, as it may be easily
supposed, without possessing any remnant of their pristine
power."--PALGRAVE _on the Rise and Progress of the English
Commonwealth. Proofs and Illustrations._ p. 157.
I have marked _by italic letters_ the most important passage of the
above quotation. The view it contains seems to me to have every
appearance of truth and justice--and if such should, on maturer
investigation, turn out to be the fact, it will certainly confer no
small honour on an English scholar to have discovered the key to a
mystery, which had long exercised in vain the laborious and profound
students of German antiquity.
There are probably several other points on which I ought to have
embraced this opportunity of enlarging; but the necessity of preparing
for an excursion to foreign countries, in quest of health and
strength, that have been for some time sinking, makes me cut short my
address upon the present occasion.
Although I had never been in Switzerland, and numerous mistakes must
of course have occurred in my attempts to describe the local scenery
of that romantic region, I must not conclude without a statement
highly gratifying to myself, that the work met with a reception of
more than usual cordiality among the descendants of the Alpine heroes
whose manners I had ventured to treat of; and I have in particular to
express my thanks to the several Swiss gentlemen who have, since the
novel was published, enriched my little collection of armour with
specimens of the huge weapon that sheared the lances of the Austrian
chivalry at Sempach, and was employed with equal success on the bloody
days of Granson and Morat. Of the ancient doublehanded _espadons_ of
the Switzer, I have, in this way, received, I think, not less than
six, in excellent preservation, from as many different individuals,
who thus testified their general approbation of these pages. They are
not the less interesting, that gigantic swords, of nearly the same
pattern and dimensions, were employed, in their conflicts with the
bold knights and men-at-arms of England, by Wallace, and the sturdy
foot-soldiers who, under his guidance, laid the foundations of
Scottish independence.
The reader who wishes to examine with attention the historical events
of the period which the novel embraces will find ample means of doing
so in the valuable works of Zschokké and M. de Barante--which last
author's account of the Dukes of Burgundy is among the most valuable
of recent accessions of European literature--and in the new Parisian
edition of Froissart, which has not as yet attracted so much attention
in this country as it well deserves to do.
W.S.
ABBOTSFORD, _Sept. 17, 1831_.
FOOTNOTE:
[1] Owen Pugh's Elegies of Lewarch Hen, Pref., p. 46. The place of
these meetings was set apart by forming a circle of stones round the
_Maen Gorsedd_, or Stone of the Gorsedd.
ANNE OF GEIERSTEIN;
OR,
THE MAIDEN OF THE MIST.
CHAPTER I.
The mists boil up around the glaciers; clouds
Rise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphurous,
Like foam from the roused ocean ...
... I am giddy.
_Manfred._
The course of four centuries has well-nigh elapsed since the series of
events which are related in the following chapters took place on the
Continent. The records which contained the outlines of the history,
and might be referred to as proof of its veracity, were long preserved
in the superb library of the Monastery of St. Gall, but perished, with
many of the literary treasures of that establishment, when the convent
was plundered by the French revolutionary armies. The events are
fixed, by historical date, to the middle of the fifteenth
century--that important period, when chivalry still shone with a
setting ray, soon about to be totally obscured: in some countries, by
the establishment of free institutions; in others, by that of
arbitrary power, which alike rendered useless the interference of
those self-endowed redressers of wrongs, whose only warrant of
authority was the sword.
Amid the general light which had recently shone upon Europe, France,
Burgundy, and Italy, but more especially Austria, had been made
acquainted with the character of a people of whose very existence they
had before been scarcely conscious. It is true, that the inhabitants
of those countries which lie in the vicinity of the Alps, that immense
barrier, were not ignorant that, notwithstanding their rugged and
desolate appearance, the secluded valleys which winded among those
gigantic mountains nourished a race of hunters and shepherds; men who,
living in a state of primeval simplicity, compelled from the soil a
subsistence gained by severe labour, followed the chase over the most
savage precipices and through the darkest pine forests, or drove their
cattle to spots which afforded them a scanty pasturage, even in the
vicinage of eternal snows. But the existence of such a people, or
rather of a number of small communities who followed nearly the same
poor and hardy course of life, had seemed to the rich and powerful
princes in the neighbourhood a matter of as little consequence, as it
is to the stately herds which repose in a fertile meadow, that a few
half-starved goats find their scanty food among the rocks which
overlook their rich domain.
But wonder and attention began to be attracted towards these
mountaineers, about the middle of the fourteenth century, when reports
were spread abroad of severe contests, in which the German chivalry,
endeavouring to suppress insurrections among their Alpine vassals,
had sustained repeated and bloody defeats, although having on their
side numbers and discipline, and the advantage of the most perfect
military equipment then known and confided in. Great was the wonder
that cavalry, which made the only efficient part of the feudal armies
of these ages, should be routed by men on foot; that warriors sheathed
in complete steel should be overpowered by naked peasants who wore no
defensive armour, and were irregularly provided with pikes, halberts,
and clubs, for the purpose of attack; above all, it seemed a species
of miracle, that knights and nobles of the highest birth should be
defeated by mountaineers and shepherds. But the repeated victories of
the Swiss at Laupen, Sempach [_a_],[2] and on other less distinguished
occasions, plainly intimated that a new principle of civil
organisation, as well as of military movements, had arisen amid the
stormy regions of Helvetia.
Still, although the decisive victories which obtained liberty for the
Swiss Cantons, as well as the spirit of resolution and wisdom with
which the members of the little confederation had maintained
themselves against the utmost exertions of Austria, had spread their
fame abroad through all the neighbouring countries; and although they
themselves were conscious of the character and actual power which
repeated victories had acquired for themselves and their country, yet
down to the middle of the fifteenth century, and at a later date, the
Swiss retained in a great measure the wisdom, moderation, and
simplicity of their ancient manners; so much so, that those who were
intrusted with the command of the troops of the Republic in battle,
were wont to resume the shepherd's staff when they laid down the
truncheon, and, like the Roman dictators, to retire to complete
equality with their fellow-citizens, from the eminence of military
command to which their talents, and the call of their country, had
raised them.
It is, then, in the Forest Cantons of Switzerland, in the autumn of
1474, while these districts were in the rude and simple state we have
described, that our tale opens.
* * * * *
Two travellers, one considerably past the prime of life, the other
probably two or three and twenty years old, had passed the night at
the little town of Lucerne, the capital of the Swiss state of the same
name, and beautifully situated on the Lake of the Four Cantons. Their
dress and character seemed those of merchants of a higher class, and
while they themselves journeyed on foot, the character of the country
rendering that by far the most easy mode of pursuing their route, a
young peasant lad, from the Italian side of the Alps, followed them
with a sumpter mule, laden apparently with men's wares and baggage,
which he sometimes mounted, but more frequently led by the bridle.
The travellers were uncommonly fine-looking men, and seemed connected
by some very near relationship,--probably that of father and son; for
at the little inn where they lodged on the preceding evening, the
great deference and respect paid by the younger to the elder had not
escaped the observation of the natives, who, like other sequestered
beings, were curious in proportion to the limited means of information
which they possessed. They observed also, that the merchants, under
pretence of haste, declined opening their bales, or proposing traffic
to the inhabitants of Lucerne, alleging in excuse that they had no
commodities fitted for the market. The females of the town were the
more displeased with the reserve of the mercantile travellers, because
they were given to understand that it was occasioned by the wares in
which they dealt being too costly to find customers among the
Helvetian mountains; for it had transpired, by means of their
attendant, that the strangers had visited Venice, and had there made
many purchases of rich commodities, which were brought from India and
Egypt to that celebrated emporium, as to the common mart of the
Western World, and thence dispersed into all quarters of Europe. Now
the Swiss maidens had of late made the discovery that gauds and gems
were fair to look upon, and, though without the hope of being able to
possess themselves of such ornaments, they felt a natural desire to
review and handle the rich stores of the merchants, and some
displeasure at being prevented from doing so.
It was also observed, that though the strangers were sufficiently
courteous in their demeanour, they did not evince that studious
anxiety to please, displayed by the travelling pedlars or merchants of
Lombardy or Savoy, by whom the inhabitants of the mountains were
occasionally visited; and who had been more frequent in their rounds
of late years, since the spoils of victory had invested the Swiss with
some wealth, and had taught many of them new wants. Those peripatetic
traders were civil and assiduous, as their calling required; but the
new visitors seemed men who were indifferent to traffic, or at least
to such slender gains as could be gathered in Switzerland.
Curiosity was further excited by the circumstance that they spoke to
each other in a language which was certainly neither German, Italian,
nor French, but from which an old man serving in the cabaret, who had
once been as far as Paris, supposed they might be English; a people of
whom it was only known in these mountains, that they were a fierce
insular race, at war with the French for many years, and a large body
of whom had long since invaded the Forest Cantons [_b_], and sustained
such a defeat in the valley of Russwyl as was well remembered by the
grey-haired men of Lucerne, who received the tale from their fathers.
The lad who attended the strangers was soon ascertained to be a youth
from the Grisons country, who acted as their guide, so far as his
knowledge of the mountains permitted. He said they designed to go to
Bâle, but seemed desirous to travel by circuitous and unfrequented
routes. The circumstances just mentioned increased the general desire
to know more of the travellers and of their merchandise. Not a bale,
however, was unpacked, and the merchants, leaving Lucerne next
morning, resumed their toilsome journey, preferring a circuitous route
and bad roads, through the peaceful cantons of Switzerland, to
encountering the exactions and rapine of the robber chivalry of
Germany, who, like so many sovereigns, made war each at his own
pleasure, and levied tolls and taxes on every one who passed their
domains, of a mile's breadth, with all the insolence of petty
tyranny.
For several hours after leaving Lucerne, the journey of our travellers
was successfully prosecuted. The road, though precipitous and
difficult, was rendered interesting by those splendid phenomena, which
no country exhibits in a more astonishing manner than the mountains of
Switzerland, where the rocky pass, the verdant valley, the broad lake,
and the rushing torrent, the attributes of other hills as well as
these, are interspersed with the magnificent and yet fearful horrors
of the glaciers, a feature peculiar to themselves.
It was not an age in which the beauties or grandeur of a landscape
made much impression either on the minds of those who travelled
through the country, or who resided in it. To the latter, the objects,
however dignified, were familiar, and associated with daily habits and
with daily toil; and the former saw, perhaps, more terror than beauty
in the wild region through which they passed, and were rather
solicitous to get safe to their night's quarters, than to comment on
the grandeur of the scenes which lay between them and their place of
rest. Yet our merchants, as they proceeded on their journey, could not
help being strongly impressed by the character of the scenery around
them. Their road lay along the side of the lake, at times level and
close on its very margin, at times rising to a great height on the
side of the mountain, and winding along the verge of precipices which
sank down to the water as sharp and sheer as the wall of a castle
descending upon the ditch which defends it. At other times it
traversed spots of a milder character,--delightful green slopes, and
lowly retired valleys, affording both pasturage and arable ground,
sometimes watered by small streams, which winded by the hamlet of
wooden huts with their fantastic little church and steeple, meandered
round the orchard and the mount of vines, and, murmuring gently as
they flowed, found a quiet passage into the lake.
"That stream, Arthur," said the elder traveller, as with one consent
they stopped to gaze on such a scene as I have described, "resembles
the life of a good and a happy man."
"And the brook, which hurries itself headlong down yon distant hill,
marking its course by a streak of white foam," answered Arthur,--"what
does that resemble?"
"That of a brave and unfortunate one," replied his father.
"The torrent for me," said Arthur; "a headlong course which no human
force can oppose, and then let it be as brief as it is glorious."
"It is a young man's thought," replied his father; "but I am well
aware that it is so rooted in thy heart, that nothing but the rude
hand of adversity can pluck it up."
"As yet the root clings fast to my heart's strings," said the young
man; "and methinks adversity's hand hath had a fair grasp of it."
"You speak, my son, of what you little understand," said his father.
"Know, that till the middle of life be passed, men scarce distinguish
true prosperity from adversity, or rather they court as the favours of
fortune what they should more justly regard as the marks of her
displeasure. Look at yonder mountain, which wears on its shaggy brow a
diadem of clouds, now raised and now depressed, while the sun glances
upon, but is unable to dispel it;--a child might believe it to be a
crown of glory--a man knows it to be the signal of tempest."
Arthur followed the direction of his father's eye to the dark and
shadowy eminence of Mount Pilatus.
"Is the mist on yonder wild mountain so ominous, then?" asked the
young man.
"Demand of Antonio," said his father; "he will tell you the legend."
The young merchant addressed himself to the Swiss lad who acted as
their attendant, desiring to know the name of the gloomy height,
which, in that quarter, seems the leviathan of the huge congregation
of mountains assembled about Lucerne.
The lad crossed himself devoutly, as he recounted the popular legend,
that the wicked Pontius Pilate, Proconsul of Judea, had here found the
termination of his impious life; having, after spending years in the
recesses of that mountain which bears his name, at length, in remorse
and despair rather than in penitence, plunged into the dismal lake
which occupies the summit. Whether water refused to do the
executioner's duty upon such a wretch, or whether, his body being
drowned, his vexed spirit continued to haunt the place where he
committed suicide, Antonio did not pretend to explain. But a form was
often, he said, seen to emerge from the gloomy waters, and go through
the action of one washing his hands; and when he did so, dark clouds
of mist gathered first round the bosom of the Infernal Lake (such it
had been styled of old), and then, wrapping the whole upper part of
the mountain in darkness, presaged a tempest or hurricane, which was
sure to follow in a short space. He added, that the evil spirit was
peculiarly exasperated at the audacity of such strangers as ascended
the mountain to gaze at his place of punishment, and that, in
consequence, the magistrates of Lucerne had prohibited any one from
approaching Mount Pilatus, under severe penalties. Antonio once more
crossed himself as he finished his legend; in which act of devotion he
was imitated by his hearers, too good Catholics to entertain any doubt
of the truth of the story.
"How the accursed heathen scowls upon us!" said the younger of the
merchants, while the cloud darkened and seemed to settle on the brow
of Mount Pilatus. "_Vade retro!_ Be thou defied, sinner!"
A rising wind, rather heard than felt, seemed to groan forth, in the
tone of a dying lion, the acceptance of the suffering spirit to the
rash challenge of the young Englishman. The mountain was seen to send
down its rugged sides thick wreaths of heaving mist, which, rolling
through the rugged chasms that seamed the grisly hill, resembled
torrents of rushing lava pouring down from a volcano. The ridgy
precipices, which formed the sides of these huge ravines, showed their
splintery and rugged edges over the vapour, as if dividing from each
other the descending streams of mist which rolled around them. As a
strong contrast to this gloomy and threatening scene, the more distant
mountain range of Rigi shone brilliant with all the hues of an
autumnal sun.
While the travellers watched this striking and varied contrast, which
resembled an approaching combat betwixt the powers of Light and
Darkness, their guide, in his mixed jargon of Italian and German,
exhorted them to make haste on their journey. The village to which he
proposed to conduct them, he said, was yet distant, the road bad, and
difficult to find, and if the Evil One (looking to Mount Pilatus, and
crossing himself) should send his darkness upon the valley, the path
would be both doubtful and dangerous. The travellers, thus admonished,
gathered the capes of their cloaks close round their throats, pulled
their bonnets resolvedly over their brows, drew the buckle of the
broad belts which fastened their mantles, and each with a mountain
staff in his hand, well shod with an iron spike, they pursued their
journey, with unabated strength and undaunted spirit.
With every step the scenes around them appeared to change. Each
mountain, as if its firm and immutable form were flexible and varying,
altered in appearance, like that of a shadowy apparition, as the
position of the strangers relative to them changed with their motions,
and as the mist, which continued slowly though constantly to descend,
influenced the rugged aspect of the hills and valleys which it
shrouded with its vapoury mantle. The nature of their progress, too,
never direct, but winding by a narrow path along the sinuosities of
the valley, and making many a circuit round precipices and other
obstacles which it was impossible to surmount, added to the wild
variety of a journey, in which, at last, the travellers totally lost
any vague idea which they had previously entertained concerning the
direction in which the road led them.
"I would," said the elder, "we had that mystical needle which mariners
talk of, that points ever to the north, and enables them to keep their
way on the waters, when there is neither cape nor headland, sun,
moon, nor stars, nor any mark in heaven or earth, to tell them how to
steer."
"It would scarce avail us among these mountains," answered the youth;
"for though that wonderful needle may keep its point to the northern
Pole-star, when it is on a flat surface like the sea, it is not to be
thought it would do so when these huge mountains arise like walls,
betwixt the steel and the object of its sympathy."
"I fear me," replied the father, "we shall find our guide, who has
been growing hourly more stupid since he left his own valley, as
useless as you suppose the compass would be among the hills of this
wild country.--Canst tell, my boy," said he, addressing Antonio in bad
Italian, "if we be in the road we purposed?"
"If it please St. Antonio"--said the guide, who was obviously too much
confused to answer the question directly.
"And that water, half covered with mist, which glimmers through the
fog, at the foot of this huge black precipice--is it still a part of
the Lake of Lucerne, or have we lighted upon another since we ascended
that last hill?"
Antonio could only answer that they ought to be on the Lake of Lucerne
still, and that he hoped that what they saw below them was only a
winding branch of the same sheet of water. But he could say nothing
with certainty.
"Dog of an Italian!" exclaimed the younger traveller, "thou deservest
to have thy bones broken, for undertaking a charge which thou art as
incapable to perform as thou art to guide us to heaven!"
"Peace, Arthur," said his father; "if you frighten the lad, he runs
off, and we lose the small advantage we might have by his knowledge;
if you use your baton, he rewards you with the stab of a knife,--for
such is the humour of a revengeful Lombard. Either way, you are marred
instead of helped.--Hark thee hither, my boy," he continued, in his
indifferent Italian, "be not afraid of that hot youngster, whom I will
not permit to injure thee; but tell me, if thou canst, the names of
the villages by which we are to make our journey to-day."
The gentle mode in which the elder traveller spoke reassured the lad,
who had been somewhat alarmed at the harsh tone and menacing
expressions of his younger companion; and he poured forth, in his
patois, a flood of names, in which the German guttural sounds were
strangely intermixed with the soft accents of the Italian, but which
carried to the hearer no intelligible information concerning the
object of his question; so that at length he was forced to conclude,
"Even lead on, in Our Lady's name, or in St. Antonio's, if you like it
better: we shall but lose time, I see, in trying to understand each
other."
They moved on as before, with this difference, that the guide, leading
the mule, now went first, and was followed by the other two, whose
motions he had formerly directed by calling to them from behind. The
clouds meantime became thicker and thicker, and the mist, which had at
first been a thin vapour, began now to descend in the form of a small
thick rain, which gathered like dew upon the capotes of the
travellers. Distant rustling and groaning sounds were heard among the
remote mountains, similar to those by which the Evil Spirit of Mount
Pilatus had seemed to announce the storm. The boy again pressed his
companions to advance, but at the same time threw impediments in the
way of their doing so, by the slowness and indecision which he showed
in leading them on.
Having proceeded in this manner for three or four miles, which
uncertainty rendered doubly tedious, the travellers were at length
engaged in a narrow path, running along the verge of a precipice.
Beneath was water, but of what description they could not ascertain.
The wind, indeed, which began to be felt in sudden gusts, sometimes
swept aside the mist so completely as to show the waves glimmering
below; but whether they were those of the same lake on which their
morning journey had commenced, whether it was another and separate
sheet of water of a similar character, or whether it was a river or
large brook, the view afforded was too indistinct to determine. Thus
far was certain, that they were not on the shores of the Lake of
Lucerne, where it displays its usual expanse of waters; for the same
hurricane gusts which showed them water in the bottom of the glen gave
them a transient view of the opposite side, at what exact distance
they could not well discern, but near enough to show tall abrupt rocks
and shaggy pine-trees, here united in groups, and there singly
anchored among the cliffs which overhung the water. This was a more
distinct landscape than the farther side of the lake would have
offered, had they been on the right road.
Hitherto the path, though steep and rugged, was plainly enough
indicated, and showed traces of having been used both by riders and
foot passengers. But suddenly, as Antonio with the loaded mule had
reached a projecting eminence, around the peak of which the path made
a sharp turn, he stopped short, with his usual exclamation, addressed
to his patron saint. It appeared to Arthur that the mule shared the
terrors of the guide; for it started back, put forwards its fore feet
separate from each other, and seemed, by the attitude which it
assumed, to intimate a determination to resist every proposal to
advance, at the same time expressing horror and fear at the prospect
which lay before it.
Arthur pressed forward, not only from curiosity, but that he might if
possible bear the brunt of any danger before his father came up to
share it. In less time than we have taken to tell the story, the young
man stood beside Antonio and the mule, upon a platform of rock on
which the road seemed absolutely to terminate, and from the farther
side of which a precipice sank sheer down, to what depth the mist did
not permit him to discern, but certainly uninterrupted for more than
three hundred feet.
The blank expression which overcast the visage of the younger
traveller, and traces of which might be discerned in the physiognomy
of the beast of burden, announced alarm and mortification at this
unexpected and, as it seemed, insurmountable obstacle. Nor did the
looks of the father, who presently after came up to the same spot,
convey either hope or comfort. He stood with the others gazing on the
misty gulf beneath them, and looking all around, but in vain, for some
continuation of the path, which certainly had never been originally
designed to terminate in this summary manner. As they stood uncertain
what to do next, the son in vain attempting to discover some mode of
passing onward, and the father about to propose that they should
return by the road which had brought them hither, a loud howl of the
wind, more wild than they had yet heard, swept down the valley. All
being aware of the danger of being hurled from the precarious station
which they occupied, snatched at bushes and rocks by which to secure
themselves, and even the poor mule seemed to steady itself in order to
withstand the approaching hurricane. The gust came with such
unexpected fury that it appeared to the travellers to shake the very
rock on which they stood, and would have swept them from its surface
like so many dry leaves, had it not been for the momentary precautions
which they had taken for their safety. But as the wind rushed down the
glen, it completely removed for the space of three or four minutes the
veil of mist which former gusts had only served to agitate or
discompose, and showed them the nature and cause of the interruption
which they had met with so unexpectedly.
The rapid but correct eye of Arthur was then able to ascertain that
the path, after leaving the platform of rock on which they stood, had
originally passed upwards in the same direction along the edge of a
steep bank of earth, which had then formed the upper covering of a
stratum of precipitous rocks. But it had chanced, in some of the
convulsions of nature which take place in those wild regions, where
she works upon a scale so formidable, that the earth had made a slip,
or almost a precipitous descent, from the rock, and been hurled
downwards with the path, which was traced along the top, and with
bushes, trees, or whatever grew upon it, into the channel of the
stream; for such they could now discern the water beneath them to be,
and not a lake, or an arm of a lake, as they had hitherto supposed.
The immediate cause of this phenomenon might probably have been an
earthquake, not unfrequent in that country. The bank of earth, now a
confused mass of ruins inverted in its fall, showed some trees growing
in a horizontal position, and others, which, having pitched on their
heads in their descent, were at once inverted and shattered to pieces,
and lay a sport to the streams of the river which they had heretofore
covered with gloomy shadow. The gaunt precipice which remained behind,
like the skeleton of some huge monster divested of its flesh, formed
the wall of a fearful abyss, resembling the face of a newly wrought
quarry, more dismal of aspect from the rawness of its recent
formation, and from its being as yet uncovered with any of the
vegetation with which nature speedily mantles over the bare surface
even of her sternest crags and precipices.
Besides remarking these appearances, which tended to show that this
interruption of the road had been of recent occurrence, Arthur was
able to observe, on the farther side of the river, higher up the
valley, and rising out of the pine forests, interspersed with rocks, a
square building of considerable height, like the ruins of a Gothic
tower. He pointed out this remarkable object to Antonio, and demanded
if he knew it; justly conjecturing that, from the peculiarity of the
site, it was a landmark not easily to be forgotten by any who had seen
it before. Accordingly, it was gladly and promptly recognised by the
lad, who called out cheerfully that the place was Geierstein--that is,
as he explained it, the Rock of the Vultures. He knew it, he said, by
the old tower, as well as by a huge pinnacle of rock which arose near
it, almost in the form of a steeple, to the top of which the
lammer-geier (one of the largest birds of prey known to exist) had in
former days transported the child of an ancient lord of the castle. He
proceeded to recount the vow which was made by the Knight of
Geierstein to Our Lady of Einsiedlen; and, while he spoke, the castle,
rocks, woods, and precipices again faded in mist. But as he concluded
his wonderful narrative with the miracle which restored the infant
again to its father's arms, he cried out suddenly, "Look to
yourselves--the storm!--the storm!" It came accordingly, and, sweeping
the mist before it, again bestowed on the travellers a view of the
horrors around them.
"Ay!" quoth Antonio, triumphantly, as the gust abated, "old Pontius
loves little to hear of Our Lady of Einsiedlen; but she will keep her
own with him--Ave Maria!"
"That tower," said the young traveller, "seems uninhabited. I can
descry no smoke, and the battlement appears ruinous."
"It has not been inhabited for many a day," answered the guide. "But I
would I were at it, for all that. Honest Arnold Biederman, the
Landamman [chief magistrate] of the Canton of Unterwalden, dwells
near, and, I warrant you, distressed strangers will not want the best
that cupboard and cellar can find them, wherever he holds rule."
"I have heard of him," said the elder traveller, whom Antonio had been
taught to call Seignor Philipson; "a good and hospitable man, and one
who enjoys deserved weight with his countrymen."
"You have spoken him right, Seignor," answered the guide: "and I would
we could reach his house, where you should be sure of hospitable
treatment, and a good direction for your next day's journey. But how
we are to get to the Vulture's Castle, unless we had wings like the
vulture, is a question hard to answer."
Arthur replied by a daring proposal, which the reader will find in the
next chapter.
FOOTNOTE:
[2] See Editor's Notes at the end of the Volume. Wherever a similar
reference occurs, the reader will understand that the same direction
applies.