Cursed be the gold and silver, which persuade
Weak man to follow far fatiguing trade.
The lily, peace, outshines the silver store,
And life is dearer than the golden ore.
Yet money tempts us o'er the desert brown,
To every distant mart and wealthy town.
_Hassan, or the Camel-driver._
Arthur Philipson and Anne of Geierstein, thus placed together in a
situation which brought them into the closest possible contiguity,
felt a slight degree of embarrassment; the young man, doubtless, from
the fear of being judged a poltroon in the eyes of the maiden by whom
he had been rescued, and the young woman, perhaps, in consequence of
the exertion she had made, or a sense of being placed suddenly in a
situation of such proximity to the youth whose life she had probably
saved.
"And now, maiden," said Arthur, "I must repair to my father. The life
which I owe to your assistance can scarce be called welcome to me,
unless I am permitted to hasten to his rescue."
He was here interrupted by another bugle-blast, which seemed to come
from the quarter in which the elder Philipson and his guide had been
left by their young and daring companion. Arthur looked in that
direction; but the platform, which he had seen but imperfectly from
the tree, when he was perched in that place of refuge, was invisible
from the rock on which they now stood.
"It would cost me nothing to step back on yonder root," said the young
woman, "to spy from thence whether I could see aught of your friends.
But I am convinced they are under safer guidance than either yours or
mine; for the horn announces that my uncle, or some of my young
kinsmen, have reached them. They are by this time on their way to the
Geierstein, to which, with your permission, I will become your guide;
for you may be assured that my uncle Arnold will not allow you to pass
farther to-day; and we shall but lose time by endeavouring to find
your friends, who, situated where you say you left them, will reach
the Geierstein sooner than we shall. Follow me, then, or I must
suppose you weary of my guidance."
"Sooner suppose me weary of the life which your guidance has in all
probability saved," replied Arthur, and prepared to attend her; at the
same time taking a view of her dress and person, which confirmed the
satisfaction he had in following such a conductor, and which we shall
take the liberty to detail somewhat more minutely than he could do at
that time.
An upper vest, neither so close as to display the person, a habit
forbidden by the sumptuary laws of the canton, nor so loose as to be
an incumbrance in walking or climbing, covered a close tunic of a
different colour, and came down beneath the middle of the leg, but
suffered the ankle, in all its fine proportions, to be completely
visible. The foot was defended by a sandal, the point of which was
turned upwards, and the crossings and knots of the strings, which
secured it on the front of the leg, were garnished with silver rings.
The upper vest was gathered round the middle by a sash of
party-coloured silk, ornamented with twisted threads of gold; while
the tunic, open at the throat, permitted the shape and exquisite
whiteness of a well-formed neck to be visible at the collar, and for
an inch or two beneath. The small portion of the throat and bosom thus
exposed was even more brilliantly fair than was promised by the
countenance, which last bore some marks of having been freely exposed
to the sun and air, by no means in a degree to diminish its beauty,
but just so far as to show that the maiden possessed the health which
is purchased by habits of rural exercise. Her long fair hair fell down
in a profusion of curls on each side of a face, whose blue eyes,
lovely features, and dignified simplicity of expression implied at
once a character of gentleness and of the self-relying resolution of a
mind too virtuous to suspect evil, and too noble to fear it. Above
these locks, beauty's natural and most beseeming ornament--or rather,
I should say, amongst them--was placed the small bonnet, which, from
its size, little answered the purpose of protecting the head, but
served to exercise the ingenuity of the fair wearer, who had not
failed, according to the prevailing custom of the mountain maidens, to
decorate the tiny cap with a heron's feather, and the then unusual
luxury of a small and thin chain of gold, long enough to encircle the
cap four or five times, and having the ends secured under a broad
medal of the same costly metal.
I have only to add, that the stature of the young person was
something above the common size, and that the whole contour of her
form, without being in the slightest degree masculine, resembled that
of Minerva, rather than the proud beauties of Juno, or the yielding
graces of Venus. The noble brow, the well-formed and active limbs, the
firm and yet light step--above all, the total absence of anything
resembling the consciousness of personal beauty, and the open and
candid look, which seemed desirous of knowing nothing that was hidden,
and conscious that she herself had nothing to hide, were traits not
unworthy of the goddess of wisdom and of chastity.
The road which the young Englishman pursued, under the guidance of
this beautiful young woman, was difficult and unequal, but could not
be termed dangerous, at least in comparison to those precipices over
which Arthur had recently passed. It was, in fact, a continuation of
the path which the slip or slide of earth, so often mentioned, had
interrupted; and although it had sustained damage in several places at
the period of the same earthquake, yet there were marks of these
having been already repaired in such a rude manner as made the way
sufficient for the necessary intercourse of a people so indifferent as
the Swiss to smooth or level paths. The maiden also gave Arthur to
understand, that the present road took a circuit for the purpose of
gaining that on which he was lately travelling, and that, if he and
his companions had turned off at the place where this new track united
with the old pathway, they would have escaped the danger which had
attended their keeping the road by the verge of the precipice.
The path which they now pursued was rather averted from the torrent,
though still within hearing of its sullen thunders, which seemed to
increase as they ascended parallel to its course, till suddenly the
road, turning short, and directing itself straight upon the old
castle, brought them within sight of one of the most splendid and
awful scenes of that mountainous region.
The ancient tower of Geierstein, though neither extensive nor
distinguished by architectural ornament, possessed an air of terrible
dignity by its position on the very verge of the opposite bank of the
torrent, which, just at the angle of the rock on which the ruins are
situated, falls sheer over a cascade of nearly a hundred feet in
height, and then rushes down the defile, through a trough of living
rock, which perhaps its waves have been deepening since time itself
had a commencement. Facing, and at the same time looking down upon
this eternal roar of waters, stood the old tower, built so close to
the verge of the precipice that the buttresses with which the
architect had strengthened the foundation seemed a part of the solid
rock itself, and a continuation of its perpendicular ascent. As usual
throughout Europe in the feudal times, the principal part of the
building was a massive square pile, the decayed summit of which was
rendered picturesque, by flanking turrets of different sizes and
heights, some round, some angular, some ruinous, some tolerably
entire, varying the outline of the building as seen against the stormy
sky.
A projecting sallyport, descending by a flight of steps from the
tower, had in former times given access to a bridge connecting the
castle with that side of the stream on which Arthur Philipson and his
fair guide now stood. A single arch, or rather one rib of an arch,
consisting of single stones, still remained, and spanned the river
immediately in front of the waterfall. In former times this arch had
served for the support of a wooden drawbridge, of more convenient
breadth, and of such length and weight as must have been rather
unmanageable, had it not been lowered on some solid resting-place. It
is true, the device was attended with this inconvenience, that even
when the drawbridge was up, there remained a possibility of
approaching the castle gate by means of this narrow rib of stone. But
as it was not above eighteen inches broad, and could only admit the
daring foe who should traverse it to a doorway regularly defended by
gate and portcullis, and having flanking turrets and projections, from
which stones, darts, melted lead, and scalding water might be poured
down on the soldiery who should venture to approach Geierstein by this
precarious access, the possibility of such an attempt was not
considered as diminishing the security of the garrison.
In the time we treat of, the castle being entirely ruined and
dismantled, and the door, drawbridge, and portcullis gone, the
dilapidated gateway, and the slender arch which connected the two
sides of the stream, were used as a means of communication between the
banks of the river, by the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, whom
habit had familiarised with the dangerous nature of the passage.
Arthur Philipson had, in the meantime, like a good bow when new
strung, regained the elasticity of feeling and character which was
natural to him. It was not indeed with perfect composure that he
followed his guide, as she tripped lightly over the narrow arch,
composed of rugged stones, and rendered wet and slippery with the
perpetual drizzle of the mist issuing from the neighbouring cascade.
Nor was it without apprehension that he found himself performing this
perilous feat in the neighbourhood of the waterfall itself, whose
deafening roar he could not exclude from his ears, though he took care
not to turn his head towards its terrors, lest his brain should again
be dizzied by the tumult of the waters as they shot forward from the
precipice above, and plunged themselves into what seemed the
fathomless gulf below. But notwithstanding these feelings of
agitation, the natural shame to show cowardice where a beautiful young
female exhibited so much indifference, and the desire to regain his
character in the eyes of his guide, prevented Arthur from again giving
way to the appalling feelings by which he had been overwhelmed a short
time before. Stepping firmly on, yet cautiously supporting himself
with his piked staff, he traced the light footsteps of his guide along
the bridge of dread, and followed her through the ruined sallyport, to
which they ascended by stairs which were equally dilapidated.
The gateway admitted them into a mass of ruins, formerly a sort of
courtyard to the donjon, which rose in gloomy dignity above the wreck
of what had been works destined for external defence, or buildings for
internal accommodation. They quickly passed through these ruins, over
which vegetation had thrown a wild mantle of ivy, and other creeping
shrubs, and issued from them through the main gate of the castle into
one of those spots in which Nature often embosoms her sweetest
charms, in the midst of districts chiefly characterised by waste and
desolation.
The castle in this aspect also rose considerably above the
neighbouring ground, but the elevation of the site, which towards the
torrent was an abrupt rock, was on this side a steep eminence, which
had been scarped like a modern glacis, to render the building more
secure. It was now covered with young trees and bushes, out of which
the tower itself seemed to rise in ruined dignity. Beyond this hanging
thicket the view was of a very different character. A piece of ground,
amounting to more than a hundred acres, seemed scooped out of the
rocks and mountains, which, retaining the same savage character with
the tract in which the travellers had been that morning bewildered,
enclosed, and as it were defended, a limited space of a mild and
fertile character. The surface of this little domain was considerably
varied, but its general aspect was a gentle slope to the south-west.
The principal object which it presented was a large house composed of
huge logs, without any pretence to form or symmetry, but indicating,
by the smoke which arose from it, as well as the extent of the
neighbouring offices, and the improved and cultivated character of the
fields around, that it was the abode, not of splendour certainly, but
of ease and competence. An orchard of thriving fruit-trees extended to
the southward of the dwelling. Groves of walnut and chestnut grew in
stately array, and even a vineyard, of three or four acres, showed
that the cultivation of the grape was understood and practised. It is
now universal in Switzerland, but was, in those early days, almost
exclusively confined to a few more fortunate proprietors, who had
the rare advantage of uniting intelligence with opulent, or at least
easy, circumstances.
[Illustration: GEIERSTEIN.
Drawn and Etched by R. de los Rios.]
There were fair ranges of pasture-fields, into which the fine race of
cattle which constitute the pride and wealth of the Swiss mountaineers
had been brought down from the more Alpine grazings where they had fed
during the summer, to be near shelter and protection when the autumnal
storms might be expected. On some selected spots, the lambs of the
last season fed in plenty and security, and in others, huge trees, the
natural growth of the soil, were suffered to remain, from motives of
convenience probably, that they might be at hand when timber was
required for domestic use, but giving, at the same time, a woodland
character to a scene otherwise agricultural. Through this
mountain-paradise the course of a small brook might be traced, now
showing itself to the sun, which had by this time dispelled the fogs,
now intimating its course, by its gently sloping banks, clothed in
some places with lofty trees, or concealing itself under thickets of
hawthorn and nut bushes. This stream, by a devious and gentle course,
which seemed to indicate a reluctance to leave this quiet region,
found its way at length out of the sequestered domain, and, like a
youth hurrying from the gay and tranquil sports of boyhood into the
wild career of active life, finally united itself with the boisterous
torrent, which, breaking down tumultuously from the mountains, shook
the ancient Tower of Geierstein as it rolled down the adjacent rock,
and then rushed howling through the defile in which our youthful
traveller had well-nigh lost his life.
Eager as the younger Philipson was to rejoin his father, he could not
help pausing for a moment to wonder how so much beauty should be found
amid such scenes of horror, and to look back on the Tower of
Geierstein, and on the huge cliff from which it derived its name, as
if to ascertain, by the sight of these distinguished landmarks, that
he was actually in the neighbourhood of the savage wild where he had
encountered so much danger and terror. Yet so narrow were the limits
of this cultivated farm, that it hardly required such a retrospect to
satisfy the spectator that the spot susceptible of human industry, and
on which it seemed that a considerable degree of labour had been
bestowed, bore a very small proportion to the wilderness in which it
was situated. It was on all sides surrounded by lofty hills, in some
places rising into walls of rock, in others clothed with dark and
savage forests of the pine and the larch, of primeval antiquity. Above
these, from the eminence on which the tower was situated, could be
seen the almost rosy hue in which an immense glacier threw back the
sun; and still higher over the frozen surface of that icy sea arose,
in silent dignity, the pale peaks of those countless mountains, on
which the snow eternally rests.
What we have taken some time to describe, occupied young Philipson
only for one or two hurried minutes; for on a sloping lawn, which was
in front of the farm-house, as the mansion might properly be styled,
he saw five or six persons, the foremost of whom, from his gait, his
dress, and the form of his cap, he could easily distinguish as the
parent whom he hardly expected at one time to have again beheld.
He followed, therefore, his conductress with a glad step, as she led
the way down the steep ascent on which the ruined tower was situated.
They approached the group whom Arthur had noticed, the foremost of
which was his father, who hastily came forward to meet him, in company
with another person, of advanced age, and stature well-nigh gigantic,
and who, from his simple yet majestic bearing, seemed the worthy
countryman of William Tell, Stauffacher, Winkelried, and other Swiss
worthies, whose stout hearts and hardy arms had, in the preceding age,
vindicated against countless hosts their personal liberty, and the
independence of their country.
With a natural courtesy, as if to spare the father and son many
witnesses to a meeting which must be attended with emotion, the
Landamman himself, in walking forward with the elder Philipson, signed
to those by whom he was attended, all of whom seemed young men, to
remain behind. They remained accordingly, examining, as it seemed, the
guide Antonio, upon the adventures of the strangers. Anne, the
conductress of Arthur Philipson, had but time to say to him, "Yonder
old man is my uncle, Arnold Biederman, and these young men are my
kinsmen," when the former, with the elder traveller, were close before
them. The Landamman, with the same propriety of feeling which he had
before displayed, signed to his niece to move a little aside; yet
while requiring from her an account of her morning's expedition, he
watched the interview of the father and son with as much curiosity as
his natural sense of complaisance permitted him to testify. It was of
a character different from what he had expected.
We have already described the elder Philipson as a father devotedly
attached to his son, ready to rush on death when he had expected to
lose him, and equally overjoyed at heart, doubtless, to see him again
restored to his affections. It might have been therefore expected that
the father and son would have rushed into each other's arms, and such
probably was the scene which Arnold Biederman expected to have
witnessed.
But the English traveller, in common with many of his countrymen,
covered keen and quick feelings with much appearance of coldness and
reserve, and thought it a weakness to give unlimited sway even to the
influence of the most amiable and most natural emotions. Eminently
handsome in youth, his countenance, still fine in his more advanced
years, had an expression which intimated an unwillingness either to
yield to passion or encourage confidence. His pace, when he first
beheld his son, had been quickened by the natural wish to meet him;
but he slackened it as they drew near to each other, and when they
met, said in a tone rather of censure and admonition than
affection,--"Arthur, may the Saints forgive the pain thou hast this
day given me."
"Amen," said the youth. "I must need pardon since I have given you
pain. Believe, however, that I acted for the best."
"It is well, Arthur, that in acting for the best, according to your
forward will, you have not encountered the worst."
"That I have not," answered the son, with the same devoted and patient
submission, "is owing to this maiden," pointing to Anne, who stood at
a few paces' distance, desirous perhaps of avoiding to witness the
reproof of the father, which might seem to her rather ill-timed and
unreasonable.
"To the maiden my thanks shall be rendered," said his father, "when I
can study how to pay them in an adequate manner; but is it well or
comely, think you, that you should receive from a maiden the succour
which it is your duty as a man to extend to the weaker sex?"
Arthur held down his head and blushed deeply, while Arnold Biederman,
sympathising with his feelings, stepped forward and mingled in the
conversation.
"Never be abashed, my young guest, that you have been indebted for
aught of counsel or assistance to a maiden of Unterwalden. Know that
the freedom of their country owes no less to the firmness and wisdom
of her daughters than to that of her sons.--And you, my elder guest,
who have, I judge, seen many years and various lands, must have often
known examples how the strong are saved by the help of the weak, the
proud by the aid of the humble."
"I have at least learned," said the Englishman, "to debate no point
unnecessarily with the host who has kindly harboured me;" and after
one glance at his son, which seemed to kindle with the fondest
affection, he resumed, as the party turned back towards the house, a
conversation which he had been maintaining with his new acquaintance
before Arthur and the maiden had joined them.
Arthur had in the meantime an opportunity of observing the figure and
features of their Swiss landlord, which, I have already hinted,
exhibited a primeval simplicity mixed with a certain rude dignity,
arising out of its masculine and unaffected character. The dress did
not greatly differ in form from the habit of the female which we have
described. It consisted of an upper frock, shaped like the modern
shirt, and only open at the bosom, worn above a tunic or under
doublet. But the man's vest was considerably shorter in the skirts,
which did not come lower down than the kilt of the Scottish
Highlander; a species of boots or buskins rose above the knee, and the
person was thus entirely clothed. A bonnet made of the fur of the
marten, and garnished with a silver medal, was the only part of the
dress which displayed anything like ornament; the broad belt which
gathered the garment together was of buff leather, secured by a large
brass buckle.
But the figure of him who wore this homely attire, which seemed almost
wholly composed of the fleeces of the mountain sheep and the spoils of
animals of the chase, would have commanded respect wherever the wearer
had presented himself, especially in those warlike days, when men were
judged of according to the promising or unpromising qualities of their
thews and sinews. To those who looked at Arnold Biederman from this
point of view, he displayed the size and form, the broad shoulders and
prominent muscles, of a Hercules. But to such as looked rather at his
countenance, the steady sagacious features, open front, large blue
eyes, and deliberate resolution which it expressed, more resembled the
character of the fabled King of Gods and Men. He was attended by
several sons and relatives, young men, among whom he walked,
receiving, as his undeniable due, respect and obedience, similar to
that which a herd of deer are observed to render to the monarch stag.
While Arnold Biederman walked and spoke with the elder stranger, the
young men seemed closely to scrutinise Arthur, and occasionally
interrogated in whispers their relation Anne, receiving from her brief
and impatient answers, which rather excited than appeased the vein of
merriment in which the mountaineers indulged, very much, as it seemed
to the young Englishman, at the expense of their guest. To feel
himself exposed to derision was not softened by the reflection, that
in such a society it would probably be attached to all who could not
tread on the edge of a precipice with a step as firm and undismayed as
if they walked the street of a city. However unreasonable ridicule may
be, it is always unpleasing to be subjected to it, but more
particularly is it distressing to a young man, where beauty is a
listener. It was some consolation to Arthur that he thought the maiden
certainly did not enjoy the jest, and seemed by word and look to
reprove the rudeness of her companions; but this he feared was only
from a sense of humanity.
"She, too, must despise me," he thought, "though civility, unknown to
these ill-taught boors, has enabled her to conceal contempt under the
guise of pity. She can but judge of me from that which she has
seen--if she could know me better" (such was his proud thought), "she
might perhaps rank me more highly."
As the travellers entered the habitation of Arnold Biederman, they
found preparations made in a large apartment, which served the purpose
of general accommodation, for a homely but plentiful meal. A glance
round the walls showed the implements of agriculture and the chase;
but the eyes of the elder Philipson rested upon a leathern corselet, a
long heavy halberd, and a two-handed sword, which were displayed as a
sort of trophy. Near these, but covered with dust, unfurbished and
neglected, hung a helmet, with a visor, such as was used by knights
and men-at-arms. The golden garland, or coronal twisted around it,
though sorely tarnished, indicated noble birth and rank; and the
crest, which was a vulture of the species which gave name to the old
castle and its adjacent cliff, suggested various conjectures to the
English guest, who, acquainted in a great measure with the history of
the Swiss revolution, made little doubt that in this relic he saw some
trophy of the ancient warfare between the inhabitants of these
mountains, and the feudal lord to whom they had of yore appertained.
A summons to the hospitable board disturbed the train of the English
merchant's reflections; and a large company, comprising the whole
inhabitants of every description that lived under Biederman's roof,
sat down to a plentiful repast of goat's flesh, fish, preparations of
milk of various kinds, cheese, and, for the upper mess, the venison of
a young chamois. The Landamman himself did the honours of the table
with great kindness and simplicity, and urged the strangers to show,
by their appetite, that they thought themselves as welcome as he
desired to make them. During the repast, he carried on a conversation
with his elder guest, while the younger people at table, as well as
the menials, ate in modesty and silence. Ere the dinner was finished,
a figure crossed on the outside of the large window which lighted the
eating-hall, the sight of which seemed to occasion a lively sensation
amongst such as observed it.
"Who passed?" said old Biederman to those seated opposite to the
window.
"It is our cousin, Rudolph of Donnerhugel," answered one of Arnold's
sons eagerly.
The annunciation seemed to give great pleasure to the younger part of
the company, especially the sons of the Landamman; while the head of
the family only said with a grave, calm voice,--"Your kinsman is
welcome--tell him so, and let him come hither."
Two or three arose for this purpose, as if there had been a contention
among them who should do the honours of the house to the new guest. He
entered presently--a young man, unusually tall, well-proportioned and
active, with a quantity of dark-brown locks curling around his face,
together with mustaches of the same, or rather a still darker hue. His
cap was small considering the quantity of his thickly clustering hair,
and rather might be said to hang upon one side of his head than to
cover it. His clothes were of the same form and general fashion as
those of Arnold, but made of much finer cloth, the manufacture of the
German loom, and ornamented in a rich and fanciful manner. One sleeve
of his vest was dark green, curiously laced and embroidered with
devices in silver, while the rest of the garment was scarlet. His sash
was twisted and netted with gold, and besides answering the purpose of
a belt, by securing the upper garment round his waist, sustained a
silver-hilted poniard. His finery was completed by boots, the tips of
which were so long as to turn upwards with a peak, after a prevailing
fashion in the Middle Ages. A golden chain hung round his neck, and
sustained a large medallion of the same metal.
This young gallant was instantly surrounded by the race of Biederman,
among whom he appeared to be considered as the model upon which the
Swiss youth ought to build themselves, and whose gait, opinions,
dress, and manners all ought to follow who would keep pace with the
fashion of the day, in which he reigned an acknowledged and unrivalled
example.
By two persons in the company, however, it seemed to Arthur Philipson
that this young man was received with less distinguished marks of
regard than those with which he was hailed by the general voice of the
youths present. Arnold Biederman himself was at least no way warm in
welcoming the young Bernese, for such was Rudolph's country. The young
man drew from his bosom a sealed packet, which he delivered to the
Landamman with demonstrations of great respect, and seemed to expect
that Arnold, when he had broken the seal and perused the contents,
would say something to him on the subject. But the patriarch only bade
him be seated, and partake of their meal, and Rudolph found a place
accordingly next to Anne of Geierstein, which was yielded to him by
one of the sons of Arnold with ready courtesy.
It seemed also to the observant young Englishman, that the new comer
was received with marked coldness by the maiden, to whom he appeared
eager and solicitous to pay his compliments, by whose side he had
contrived to seat himself at the well-furnished board, and to whom he
seemed more anxious to recommend himself, than to partake of the food
which it offered. He observed the gallant whisper her, and look
towards him. Anne gave a very brief reply, but one of the young
Biedermans, who sat on his other hand, was probably more
communicative, as the youths both laughed, and the maiden again seemed
disconcerted, and blushed with displeasure.
"Had I either of these sons of the mountain," thought young Philipson,
"upon six yards of level greensward, if there be so much flat ground
in this country, methinks I were more likely to spoil their mirth than
to furnish food for it. It is as marvellous to see such conceited
boors under the same roof with so courteous and amiable a damsel, as
it would be to see one of their shaggy bears dance a rigadoon with a
maiden like the daughter of our host. Well, I need not concern myself
more than I can help about her beauty or their breeding, since morning
will separate me from them for ever."
As these reflections passed through the young guest's mind, the father
of the family called for a cup of wine, and having required the two
strangers to pledge him in a maple cup of considerable size, he sent a
similar goblet to Rudolph Donnerhugel. "Yet you," he said, "kinsman,
are used to more highly flavoured wine than the half-ripened grapes of
Geierstein can supply.--Would you think it, Sir Merchant," he
continued, addressing Philipson, "there are burghers of Berne who send
for wine for their own drinking both to France and Germany?"
"My kinsman disapproves of that," replied Rudolph; "yet every place
is not blessed with vineyards like Geierstein, which produces all that
heart and eye can desire." This was said with a glance at his fair
companion, who did not appear to take the compliment, while the envoy
of Berne proceeded: "But our wealthier burghers, having some
superfluous crowns, think it no extravagance to barter them for a
goblet of better wine than our own mountains can produce. But we will
be more frugal when we have at our disposal tuns of the wine of
Burgundy, for the mere trouble of transporting them."
"How mean you by that, cousin Rudolph?" said Arnold Biederman.
"Methinks, respected kinsman," answered the Bernese, "your letters
must have told you that our Diet is likely to declare war against
Burgundy?"
"Ah! And you know, then, the contents of my letters?" said Arnold;
"another mark how times are changed at Berne, and with the Diet of
Switzerland. When did all her grey-haired statesmen die, that our
allies should have brought beardless boys into their councils?"
"The Senate of Berne, and the Diet of the Confederacy," said the young
man, partly abashed, partly in vindication of what he had before
spoken, "allow the young men to know their purposes, since it is they
by whom they must be executed. The head which thinks may well confide
in the hand that strikes."
"Not till the moment of dealing the blow, young man," said Arnold
Biederman, sternly. "What kind of counsellor is he who talks loosely
the secrets of state affairs before women and strangers? Go, Rudolph,
and all of ye, and try by manly exercises which is best fitted to
serve your country, rather than give your judgment upon her
measures.--Hold, young man," he continued, addressing Arthur, who had
arisen, "this does not apply to you, who are unused to mountain
travel, and require rest after it."
"Under your favour, sir, not so," said the elder stranger. "We hold,
in England, that the best refreshment after we have been exhausted by
one species of exercise is to betake ourselves to another; as riding,
for example, affords more relief to one fatigued by walking, than a
bed of down would. So, if your young men will permit, my son will join
their exercises."
"He will find them rough playmates," answered the Switzer; "but be it
at your pleasure."
The young men went out accordingly to the open lawn in front of the
house. Anne of Geierstein, and some females of the household, sat down
on a bank to judge which performed best, and shouts, loud laughing,
and all that announces the riot of juvenile spirits occupied by manly
sports, was soon after heard by the two seniors, as they sat together
in the hall. The master of the house resumed the wine-flask, and,
having filled the cup of his guest, poured the remainder into his own.
"At an age, worthy stranger," he said, "when the blood grows colder,
and the feelings heavier, a moderate cup of wine brings back light
thoughts, and makes the limbs supple. Yet, I almost wish that Noah had
never planted the grape, when of late years I have seen with my own
eyes my countrymen swill wine like very Germans, till they were like
gorged swine, incapable of sense, thought, or motion."
"It is a vice," said the Englishman, "which I have observed gains
ground in your country, where within a century I have heard it was
totally unknown."
"It was so," said the Swiss, "for wine was seldom made at home, and
never imported from abroad; for indeed none possessed the means of
purchasing that, or aught else, which our valleys produce not. But our
wars and our victories have gained us wealth as well as fame; and in
the poor thoughts of one Switzer, at least, we had been better without
both, had we not also gained liberty by the same exertion. It is
something, however, that commerce may occasionally send into our
remote mountains a sensible visitor like yourself, worthy guest, whose
discourse shows him to be a man of sagacity and discernment; for
though I love not the increasing taste for trinkets and gewgaws which
you merchants introduce, yet I acknowledge that we simple mountaineers
learn from men like you more of the world around us, than we could
acquire by our own exertions. You are bound, you say, to Bâle, and
thence to the Duke of Burgundy's leaguer?"
"I am so, my worthy host," said the merchant--"that is, providing I
can perform my journey with safety."
"Your safety, good friend, may be assured, if you list to tarry for
two or three days; for in that space I shall myself take the journey,
and with such an escort as will prevent any risk of danger. You will
find in me a sure and faithful guide, and I shall learn from you much
of other countries, which it concerns me to know better than I do. Is
it a bargain?"
"The proposal is too much to my advantage to be refused," said the
Englishman; "but may I ask the purpose of your journey?"
"I chid yonder boy but now," answered Biederman, "for speaking on
public affairs without reflection, and before the whole family; but
our tidings and my errand need not be concealed from a considerate
person like you, who must indeed soon learn it from public rumour. You
know doubtless the mutual hatred which subsists between Louis XI. of
France and Charles of Burgundy, whom men call the Bold; and having
seen these countries, as I understand from your former discourse, you
are probably well aware of the various contending interests, which,
besides the personal hatred of the sovereigns, make them
irreconcilable enemies. Now Louis, whom the world cannot match for
craft and subtlety, is using all his influence, by distributions of
large sums amongst some of the counsellors of our neighbours of Berne,
by pouring treasures into the exchequer of that state itself, by
holding out the bait of emolument to the old men, and encouraging the
violence of the young, to urge the Bernese into a war with the Duke.
Charles, on the other hand, is acting, as he frequently does, exactly
as Louis could have wished. Our neighbours and allies of Berne do not,
like us of the Forest Cantons, confine themselves to pasture or
agriculture, but carry on considerable commerce, which the Duke of
Burgundy has in various instances interrupted, by the exactions and
violence of his officers in the frontier towns, as is doubtless well
known to you."
"Unquestionably," answered the merchant; "they are universally
regarded as vexatious."
"You will not then be surprised, that, solicited by the one sovereign,
and aggrieved by the other, proud of past victories, and ambitious of
additional power, Berne and the City Cantons of our confederacy, whose
representatives, from their superior wealth and better education, have
more to say in our Diet than we of the Forests, should be bent upon
war, from which it has hitherto happened that the Republic has always
derived victory, wealth, and increase of territory."
"Ay, worthy host, and of glory," said Philipson, interrupting him with
some enthusiasm; "I wonder not that the brave youths of your states
are willing to thrust themselves upon new wars, since their past
victories have been so brilliant and so far-famed."
"You are no wise merchant, kind guest," answered the host, "if you
regard success in former desperate undertakings as an encouragement to
future rashness. Let us make a better use of past victories. When we
fought for our liberties God blessed our arms; but will He do so if we
fight either for aggrandisement or for the gold of France?"
"Your doubt is just," said the merchant, more sedately; "but suppose
you draw the sword to put an end to the vexatious exactions of
Burgundy?"
"Hear me, good friend," answered the Switzer; "it may be that we of
the Forest Cantons think too little of those matters of trade, which
so much engross the attention of the burghers of Berne. Yet we will
not desert our neighbours and allies in a just quarrel; and it is
well-nigh settled that a deputation shall be sent to the Duke of
Burgundy to request redress. In this embassy the General Diet now
assembled at Berne have requested that I should take some share; and
hence the journey in which I propose that you should accompany me."
"It will be much to my satisfaction to travel in your company, worthy
host," said the Englishman. "But, as I am a true man, methinks your
port and figure resemble an envoy of defiance rather than a messenger
of peace."
"And I too might say," replied the Switzer, "that your language and
sentiments, my honoured guest, rather belong to the sword than the
measuring-wand."
"I was bred to the sword, worthy sir, before I took the cloth-yard in
my hand," replied Philipson, smiling, "and it may be I am still more
partial to my old trade than wisdom would altogether recommend."
"I thought so," said Arnold; "but then you fought most likely under
your country's banners against a foreign and national enemy; and in
that case I will admit that war has something in it which elevates the
heart above the due sense it should entertain of the calamity
inflicted and endured by God's creatures on each side. But the warfare
in which I was engaged had no such gilding. It was the miserable war
of Zurich [_c_], where Switzers levelled their pikes against the
bosoms of their own countrymen; and quarter was asked and refused in
the same kindly mountain language. From such remembrances your warlike
recollections are probably free."
The merchant hung down his head and pressed his forehead with his
hand, as one to whom the most painful thoughts were suddenly
recalled.
"Alas!" he said, "I deserve to feel the pain which your words inflict.
What nation can know the woes of England that has not felt them--what
eye can estimate them which has not seen a land torn and bleeding with
the strife of two desperate factions, battles fought in every
province, plains heaped with slain, and scaffolds drenched in blood!
Even in your quiet valleys, methinks, you may have heard of the Civil
Wars of England?"
"I do indeed bethink me," said the Switzer, "that England had lost her
possessions in France during many years of bloody internal wars
concerning the colour of a rose--was it not?--But these are ended."
"For the present," answered Philipson, "it would seem so."
As he spoke, there was a knock at the door; the master of the house
said, "Come in!" the door opened, and, with the reverence which was
expected from young persons towards their elders in those pastoral
regions, the fine form of Anne of Geierstein presented itself.