And this place our forefathers built for man!
_Old Play._
The dungeon in which the younger Philipson was immured was one of
those gloomy caverns which cry shame on the inhumanity of our
ancestors. They seem to have been almost insensible to the distinction
betwixt innocence and guilt, as the consequences of mere accusation
must have been far more severe in those days than is in our own that
species of imprisonment which is adjudged as an express punishment for
crime.
The cell of Arthur Philipson was of considerable length, but dark and
narrow, and dug out of the solid rock upon which the tower was
founded. A small lamp was allowed him, not, however, without some
grumbling, but his arms were still kept bound; and when he asked for a
draught of water, one of the grim satellites by whom he was thrust
into this cell answered surlily that he might endure his thirst for
all the time his life was likely to last--a gloomy response, which
augured that his privations would continue as long as his life, yet
neither be of long duration. By the dim lamp he had groped his way to
a bench, or rough seat, cut in the rock; and, as his eyes got
gradually accustomed to the obscurity of the region in which he was
immured, he became aware of a ghastly cleft in the floor of his
dungeon, somewhat resembling the opening of a draw-well, but irregular
in its aperture, and apparently the mouth of a gulf of Nature's
conformation, slightly assisted by the labour of human art.
"Here, then, is my death-bed," he said, "and that gulf perhaps the
grave which yawns for my remains! Nay, I have heard of prisoners being
plunged into such horrid abysses while they were yet alive, to die at
leisure, crushed with wounds, their groans unheard, and their fate
unpitied!"
He approached his head to the dismal cavity, and heard, as at a great
depth, the sound of a sullen and, as it seemed, subterranean stream.
The sunless waves appeared murmuring for their victim. Death is
dreadful at all ages; but in the first springtide of youth, with all
the feelings of enjoyment afloat, and eager for gratification, to be
snatched forcibly from the banquet to which the individual has but
just sat down, is peculiarly appalling, even when the change comes in
the ordinary course of nature. But to sit, like young Philipson, on
the brink of the subterranean abyss, and ruminate in horrid doubt
concerning the mode in which death was to be inflicted, was a
situation which might break the spirit of the boldest; and the
unfortunate captive was wholly unable to suppress the natural tears
that flowed from his eyes in torrents, and which his bound arms did
not permit him to wipe away. We have already noticed that, although a
gallant young man in aught of danger which was to be faced and
overcome by active exertion, the youth was strongly imaginative, and
sensitive to a powerful extent to all those exaggerations which, in a
situation of helpless uncertainty, fancy lends to distract the soul
of him who must passively expect an approaching evil.
Yet the feelings of Arthur Philipson were not selfish. They reverted
to his father, whose just and noble character was as much formed to
attract veneration, as his unceasing paternal care and affection to
excite love and gratitude. He too was in the hands of remorseless
villains, who were determined to conceal robbery by secret murder--he
too, undaunted in so many dangers, resolute in so many encounters, lay
bound and defenceless, exposed to the dagger of the meanest stabber.
Arthur remembered, too, the giddy peak of the rock near Geierstein,
and the grim vulture which claimed him as its prey. Here was no angel
to burst through the mist, and marshal him on a path of safety--here
the darkness was subterranean and eternal, saving when the captive
should behold the knife of the ruffian flash against the lamp which
lent him light to aim the fatal blow. This agony of mind lasted until
the feelings of the unhappy prisoner arose to ecstasy. He started up,
and struggled so hard to free himself of his bonds, that it seemed
they should have fallen from him as from the arms of the mighty
Nazarene. But the cords were of too firm a texture; and after a
violent and unavailing struggle, in which the ligatures seemed to
enter his flesh, the prisoner lost his balance, and, while the feeling
thrilled through him that he was tumbling backward into the
subterranean abyss, he fell to the ground with great force.
Fortunately he escaped the danger which in his agony he apprehended,
but so narrowly, that his head struck against the low and broken fence
with which the mouth of the horrible pit was partly surrounded. Here
he lay stunned and motionless, and, as the lamp was extinguished in
his fall, immersed in absolute and total darkness. He was recalled to
sensation by a jarring noise.
"They come--they come--the murderers! Oh, Lady of Mercy! and oh,
gracious Heaven, forgive my transgressions!"
He looked up, and observed, with dazzled eyes, that a dark form
approached him, with a knife in one hand and a torch in the other. He
might well have seemed the man who was to do the last deed upon the
unhappy prisoner, if he had come alone. But he came not alone--his
torch gleamed upon the white dress of a female, which was so much
illuminated by it that Arthur could discover a form, and had even a
glimpse of features, never to be forgotten, though now seen under
circumstances least of all to be expected. The prisoner's unutterable
astonishment impressed him with a degree of awe which overcame even
his personal fear--"Can these things be?" was his muttered reflection.
"Has she really the power of an elementary spirit? Has she conjured up
this earthlike and dark demon to concur with her in my deliverance?"
It appeared as if his guess were real; for the figure in black, giving
the light to Anne of Geierstein, or at least the form which bore her
perfect resemblance, stooped over the prisoner, and cut the cord that
bound his arms, with so much despatch that it seemed as if it fell
from his person at a touch. Arthur's first attempt to arise was
unsuccessful, and a second time it was the hand of Anne of
Geierstein--a living hand, sensible to touch as to sight--which aided
to raise and to support him, as it had formerly done when the
tormented waters of the river thundered at their feet. Her touch
produced an effect far beyond that of the slight personal aid which
the maiden's strength could have rendered. Courage was restored to his
heart, vigour and animation to his benumbed and bruised limbs; such
influence does the human mind, when excited to energy, possess over
the infirmities of the human body. He was about to address Anne in
accents of the deepest gratitude. But the accents died away on his
tongue, when the mysterious female, laying her finger on her lips,
made him a sign to be silent, and at the same time beckoned him to
follow her. He obeyed in silent amazement. They passed the entrance of
the melancholy dungeon, and through one or two short but intricate
passages, which, cut out of the rock in some places, and built in
others with hewn stone of the same kind, probably led to holds similar
to that in which Arthur was so lately a captive.
The recollection that his father might be immured in some such horrid
cell as he himself had just quitted, induced Arthur to pause as they
reached the bottom of a small winding staircase, which conducted
apparently from this region of the building.
"Come," he said, "dearest Anne, lead me to his deliverance! I must not
leave my father."
She shook her head impatiently, and beckoned him on.
"If your power extends not to save my father's life, I will remain and
save him or die!--Anne, dearest Anne"----
She answered not, but her companion replied, in a deep voice, not
unsuitable to his appearance, "Speak, young man, to those who are
permitted to answer you; or rather, be silent, and listen to my
instructions, which direct to the only course which can bring thy
father to freedom and safety."
They ascended the stair, Anne of Geierstein going first; while Arthur,
who followed close behind, could not help thinking that her form gave
existence to a part of the light which her garment reflected from the
torch. This was probably the effect of the superstitious belief
impressed on his mind by Rudolph's tale respecting her mother, and
which was confirmed by her sudden appearance in a place and situation
where she was so little to have been expected. He had not much time,
however, to speculate upon her appearance or demeanour, for, mounting
the stair with a lighter pace than he was able at the time to follow
closely, she was no longer to be seen when he reached the
landing-place. But whether she had melted into the air, or turned
aside into some other passage, he was not permitted a moment's leisure
to examine.
"Here lies your way," said his sable guide; and at the same time
dashing out the light, and seizing Philipson by the arm, he led him
along a dark gallery of considerable length. The young man was not
without some momentary misgivings, while he recollected the ominous
looks of his conductor, and that he was armed with a dagger, or knife,
which he could plunge of a sudden into his bosom. But he could not
bring himself to dread treachery from any one whom he had seen in
company with Anne of Geierstein; and in his heart he demanded her
pardon for the fear which had flashed across him, and resigned himself
to the guidance of his companion, who advanced with hasty but light
footsteps, and cautioned him by a whisper to do the same.
"Our journey," he at length said, "ends here."
As he spoke, a door gave way, and admitted them into a gloomy Gothic
apartment, furnished with large oaken presses, apparently filled with
books and manuscripts. As Arthur looked round, with eyes dazzled with
the sudden gleam of daylight from which he had been for some time
excluded, the door by which they had entered disappeared. This,
however, did not greatly surprise him, who judged that, being formed
in appearance to correspond with the presses around the entrance which
they had used, it could not when shut be distinguished from them; a
device sometimes then practised, as indeed it often is at the present
day. He had now a full view of his deliverer, who, when seen by
daylight, showed only the vestments and features of a clergyman,
without any of that expression of supernatural horror which the
partial light and the melancholy appearance of all in the dungeon had
combined to impress on him.
Young Philipson once more breathed with freedom, as one awakened from
a hideous dream; and the supernatural qualities with which his
imagination had invested Anne of Geierstein having begun to vanish, he
addressed his deliverer thus: "That I may testify my thanks, holy
father, where they are so especially due, let me inquire of you if
Anne of Geierstein"----
"Speak of that which pertains to your house and family," answered the
priest, as briefly as before. "Hast thou so soon forgot thy father's
danger?"
"By heavens, no!" replied the youth. "Tell me but how to act for his
deliverance, and thou shalt see how a son can fight for a parent!"
"It is well, for it is needful," said the priest. "Don thou this
vestment, and follow me."
The vestment presented was the gown and hood of a novice.
"Draw the cowl over thy face," said the priest, "and return no answer
to any man who meets thee. I will say thou art under a vow.--May
Heaven forgive the unworthy tyrant who imposes on us the necessity of
such profane dissimulation! Follow me close and near--beware that you
speak not."
The business of disguise was soon accomplished, and the Priest of St.
Paul's, for such he was, moving on, Arthur followed him a pace or two
behind, assuming as well as he could the modest step and humble
demeanour of a spiritual novice. On leaving the library, or study, and
descending a short stair, he found himself in the street of Brisach.
Irresistibly tempted to look back, he had only time, however, to see
that the house he had left was a very small building of a Gothic
character, on the one side of which rose the church of St. Paul's, and
on the other the stern black gate-house, or entrance-tower.
"Follow me, Melchior," said the deep voice of the priest; and his keen
eyes were at the same time fixed upon the supposed novice, with a look
which instantly recalled Arthur to a sense of his situation.
They passed along, nobody noticing them, unless to greet the priest
with a silent obeisance, or muttered phrase of salutation, until,
having nearly gained the middle of the village, the guide turned
abruptly off from the street, and, moving northward by a short lane,
reached a flight of steps, which, as usual in fortified towns, led to
the banquette, or walk behind the parapet, which was of the old Gothic
fashion, flanked with towers from space to space, of different forms
and various heights at different angles.
There were sentinels on the walls; but the watch, as it seemed, was
kept not by regular soldiers, but by burghers, with spears, or swords,
in their hands. The first whom they passed said to the priest, in a
half-whispered tone, "Holds our purpose?"
"It holds," replied the Priest of St. Paul's.--"Benedicite!"
"_Deo Gratias!_" replied the armed citizen, and continued his walk
upon the battlements.
The other sentinels seemed to avoid them; for they disappeared when
they came near, or passed them without looking, or seeming to observe
them. At last their walk brought them to an ancient turret, which
raised its head above the wall, and in which there was a small door
opening from the battlement. It was in a corner, distinct from and
uncommanded by any of the angles of the fortification. In a
well-guarded fortress, such a point ought to have had a sentinel for
its special protection, but no one was there upon duty.
"Now mark me," said the priest, "for your father's life, and, it may
be, that of many a man besides, depends upon your attention, and no
less upon your despatch.--You can run?--you can leap?"
"I feel no weariness, father, since you freed me," answered Arthur;
"and the dun deer that I have often chased shall not beat me in such a
wager."
"Observe then," replied the Black Priest of St. Paul's, "this turret
contains a staircase, which descends to a small sallyport. I will give
you entrance to it--The sallyport is barred on the inside, but not
locked. It will give you access to the moat, which is almost entirely
dry. On crossing it, you will find yourself in the circuit of the
outer barriers. You may see sentinels, but they will not see
you--speak not to them, but make your way over the palisade as you
can. I trust you can climb over an undefended rampart?"
"I have surmounted a defended one," said Arthur. "What is my next
charge?--All this is easy."
"You will see a species of thicket, or stretch of low bushes--make for
it with all speed. When you are there, turn to the eastward; but
beware, while holding that course, that you are not seen by the
Burgundian Free Companions, who are on watch on that part of the
walls. A volley of arrows, and the sally of a body of cavalry in
pursuit, will be the consequence, if they get sight of you; and their
eyes are those of the eagle, that spy the carnage afar off."
"I will be heedful," said the young Englishman.
"You will find," continued the priest, "upon the outer side of the
thicket a path, or rather a sheep-track, which, sweeping at some
distance from the walls, will conduct you at last into the road
leading from Brisach to Bâle. Hasten forward to meet the Swiss, who
are advancing. Tell them your father's hours are counted, and that
they must press on if they would save him; and say to Rudolph
Donnerhugel, in especial, that the Black Priest of St. Paul's waits to
bestow upon him his blessing at the northern sallyport. Dost thou
understand me?"
"Perfectly," answered the young man.
The Priest of St. Paul's then pushed open the low-browed gate of the
turret, and Arthur was about to precipitate himself down the stair
which opened before him.
"Stay yet a moment," said the priest, "and doff the novice's habit,
which can only encumber thee."
Arthur in a trice threw it from him, and was again about to start.
"Stay yet a moment longer," continued the Black Priest. "This gown may
be a tell-tale--Stay, therefore, and help me to pull off my upper
garment."
Inwardly glowing with impatience, Arthur yet saw the necessity of
obeying his guide; and when he had pulled the long and loose upper
vestment from the old man, he stood before him in a cassock of black
serge, befitting his order and profession, but begirt, not with a
suitable sash such as clergymen wear, but with a most uncanonical
buff-belt, supporting a short two-edged sword, calculated alike to
stab and to smite.
"Give me now the novice's habit," said the venerable father, "and over
that I will put the priestly vestment. Since for the present I have
some tokens of the laity about me, it is fitting it should be covered
with a double portion of the clerical habit."
As he spoke thus he smiled grimly; and his smile had something more
frightful and withering than the stern frown, which suited better with
his features, and was their usual expression.
"And now," said he, "what does the fool tarry for, when life and death
are in his speed?"
The young messenger waited not a second hint, but at once descended
the stairs, as if it had been by a single step, found the portal, as
the priest had said, only secured by bars on the inside, offering
little resistance save from their rusted state, which made it
difficult to draw them. Arthur succeeded, however, and found himself
at the side of the moat, which presented a green and marshy
appearance. Without stopping to examine whether it was deep or
shallow, and almost without being sensible of the tenacity of the
morass, the young Englishman forced his way through it, and attained
the opposite side, without attracting the attention of two worthy
burghers of Brisach, who were the guardians of the barriers. One of
them indeed was deeply employed in the perusal of some profane
chronicle, or religious legend; the other was as anxiously engaged in
examining the margin of the moat, in search of eels, perhaps, or
frogs, for he wore over his shoulder a scrip for securing some such
amphibious booty.
Seeing that, as the priest foretold, he had nothing to apprehend from
the vigilance of the sentinels, Arthur dashed at the palisade, in hope
to catch hold of the top of the stockade, and so to clear it by one
bold leap. He overrated his powers of activity, however, or they were
diminished by his recent bonds and imprisonment. He fell lightly
backward on the ground, and, as he got to his feet, became aware of
the presence of a soldier, in yellow and blue, the livery of De
Hagenbach, who came running towards him, crying to the slothful and
unobservant sentinels, "Alarm!--alarm!--you lazy swine! Stop the dog,
or you are both dead men."
The fisherman, who was on the farther side, laid down his eel-spear,
drew his sword, and, flourishing it over his head, advanced towards
Philipson with very moderate haste. The student was yet more
unfortunate, for, in his hurry to fold up his book and attend to his
duty, he contrived to throw himself (inadvertently, doubtless) full in
the soldier's way. The latter, who was running at top speed,
encountered the burgher with a severe shock which threw both down; but
the citizen, being a solid and substantial man, lay still where he
fell, while the other, less weighty, and probably less prepared for
the collision, lost his balance and the command of his limbs at once,
and, rolling over the edge of the moat, was immersed in the mud and
marsh. The fisher and the student went with deliberate speed to assist
the unexpected and unwelcome partner of their watch; while Arthur,
stimulated by the imminent sense of danger, sprang at the barrier with
more address and vigour than before, and, succeeding in his leap,
made, as he had been directed, with his utmost speed for the covert of
the adjacent bushes. He reached them without hearing any alarm from
the walls. But he was conscious that his situation had become
extremely precarious, since his escape from the town was known to one
man at least who would not fail to give the alarm in case he was able
to extricate himself from the marsh--a feat, however, in which it
seemed to Arthur that the armed citizens were likely to prove rather
his apparent than actual assistants. While such thoughts shot across
his mind, they served to augment his natural speed of foot, so that in
less space than could have been thought possible, he reached the
thinner extremity of the thicket, whence, as intimated by the Black
Priest, he could see the eastern tower and the adjoining battlements
of the town--
With hostile faces throng'd, and fiery arms.
It required, at the same time, some address on the part of the
fugitive to keep so much under shelter as to prevent himself from
being seen in his turn by those whom he saw so plainly. He therefore
expected every moment to hear a bugle wind, or to behold that bustle
and commotion among the defenders which might prognosticate a sally.
Neither, however, took place, and heedfully observing the footpath, or
track, which the priest had pointed out to him, young Philipson
wheeled his course out of sight of the guarded towers, and soon
falling into the public and frequented road, by which his father and
he had approached the town in the morning, he had the happiness, by
the dust and flash of arms, to see a small body of armed men advancing
towards Brisach, whom he justly concluded to be the van of the Swiss
deputation.
He soon met the party, which consisted of about ten men, with Rudolph
Donnerhugel at their head. The figure of Philipson, covered with mud,
and in some places stained with blood (for his fall in the dungeon had
cost him a slight wound), attracted the wonder of every one, who
crowded around to hear the news. Rudolph alone appeared unmoved. Like
the visage on the ancient statues of Hercules, the physiognomy of the
bulky Bernese was large and massive, having an air of indifferent and
almost sullen composure, which did not change but in moments of the
fiercest agitation.
He listened without emotion to the breathless tale of Arthur
Philipson, that his father was in prison, and adjudged to death.
"And what else did you expect?" said the Bernese, coldly. "Were you
not warned? It had been easy to have foreseen the misfortune, but it
may be impossible to prevent it."
"I own--I own," said Arthur, wringing his hands, "that you were wise,
and that we were foolish.--But oh! do not think of our folly in the
moment of our extremity! Be the gallant and generous champion which
your Cantons proclaim you--give us your aid in this deadly strait!"
"But how, or in what manner?" said Rudolph, still hesitating. "We have
dismissed the Bâlese, who were willing to have given assistance, so
much did your dutiful example weigh with us. We are now scarce above a
score of men--how can you ask us to attack a garrison town, secured by
fortifications, and where there are six times our number?"
"You have friends within the fortifications," replied Arthur--"I am
sure you have. Hark in your ear--The Black Priest sent to you--to you,
Rudolph Donnerhugel of Berne--that he waits to give you his blessing
at the northern sallyport."
"Ay, doubtless," said Rudolph, shaking himself free of Arthur's
attempt to engage him in private conference, and speaking so that all
around might hear him, "there is little doubt on't; I will find a
priest at the northern sallyport to confess and absolve me, and a
block, axe, and headsman to strike my throat asunder when he has done.
But I will scarce put the neck of my father's son into such risk. If
they assassinate an English pedlar, who has never offended them, what
will they do with the Bear of Berne, whose fangs and talons Archibald
de Hagenbach has felt ere now?"
Young Philipson at these words clasped his hands together, and held
them up to heaven, as one who abandons hope, excepting thence. The
tears started to his eyes, and, clenching his hands and setting his
teeth, he turned his back abruptly upon the Swiss.
"What means this passion?" said Rudolph. "Whither would you now?"
"To rescue my father, or perish with him," said Arthur; and was about
to run wildly back to La Ferette, when a strong but kindly grasp
detained him.
"Tarry a little till I tie my garter," said Sigismund Biederman, "and
I will go with you, King Arthur."
"You? oaf!" exclaimed Rudolph. "You?--and without orders?"
"Why, look you, cousin Rudolph," said the youth, continuing, with
great composure, to fasten his garter, which, after the fashion of the
time, was somewhat intricately secured--"you are always telling us
that we are Swiss and freemen; and what is the advantage of being a
freeman, if one is not at liberty to do what he has a mind? You are my
Hauptman, look you, so long as it pleases me, and no longer."
"And why shouldst thou desert me now, thou fool? Why at this minute,
of all other minutes in the year?" demanded the Bernese.
"Look you," replied the insubordinate follower, "I have hunted with
Arthur for this month past, and I love him--he never called me fool or
idiot, because my thoughts came slower, maybe, and something duller,
than those of other folk. And I love his father--the old man gave me
this baldrick and this horn, which I warrant cost many a kreutzer. He
told me, too, not to be discouraged, for that it was better to think
justly than to think fast, and that I had sense enough for the one if
not for the other. And the kind old man is now in Hagenbach's
butcher-shambles!--But we will free him, Arthur, if two men may. Thou
shalt see me fight, while steel blade and ashen shaft will hold
together."
So saying, he shook in the air his enormous partisan, which quivered
in his grasp like a slip of willow. Indeed, if Iniquity was to be
struck down like an ox, there was not one in that chosen band more
likely to perform the feat than Sigismund; for though somewhat shorter
in stature than his brethren, and of a less animated spirit, yet his
breadth of shoulders and strength of muscles were enormous, and if
thoroughly aroused and disposed for the contest, which was very rarely
the case, perhaps Rudolph himself might, as far as sheer force went,
have had difficulty in matching him.
Truth of sentiment and energy of expression always produce an effect
on natural and generous characters. Several of the youths around began
to exclaim that Sigismund said well; that if the old man had put
himself in danger, it was because he thought more of the success of
their negotiation than of his own safety, and had taken himself from
under their protection, rather than involve them in quarrels on his
account. "We are the more bound," they said, "to see him unscathed;
and we will do so."
"Peace! all you wiseacres," said Rudolph, looking round with an air of
superiority; "and you, Arthur of England, pass on to the Landamman,
who is close behind. You know he is our chief commander, he is no less
your father's sincere friend, and, whatever he may determine in your
father's favour, you will find most ready executors of his pleasure in
all of us."
His companions appeared to concur in this advice, and young Philipson
saw that his own compliance with the recommendation was indispensable.
Indeed, although he still suspected that the Bernese, by his various
intrigues, as well with the Swiss youth as with those of Bâle, and, as
might be inferred from the Priest of St. Paul's, by communication even
within the town of La Ferette, possessed the greater power of
assisting him at such a conjuncture; yet he trusted far more in the
simple candour and perfect faith of Arnold Biederman, and pressed
forward to tell to him his mournful tale, and crave his assistance.
From the top of a bank which he reached in a few minutes after he
parted from Rudolph and the advanced guard, he saw beneath him the
venerable Landamman and his associates, attended by a few of the
youths, who no longer were dispersed upon the flanks of the party, but
attended on them closely, and in military array, as men prepared to
repel any sudden attack.
Behind came a mule or two with baggage, together with the animals
which, in the ordinary course of their march, supported Anne of
Geierstein and her attendant. Both were occupied by female figures as
usual, and, to the best of Arthur's ken, the foremost had the
well-known dress of Anne, from the grey mantle to a small heron's
plume, which, since entering Germany, she had worn in compliance with
the custom of the country, and in evidence of her rank as a maiden of
birth and distinction. Yet, if the youth's eyes brought him true
tidings at present, what was the character of their former
information, when, scarce more than half an hour since, they had
beheld, in the subterranean dungeon of Brisach, the same form which
they now rested upon, in circumstances so very different! The feeling
excited by this thought was powerful, but it was momentary, like the
lightning which blazes through a midnight sky, which is but just seen
ere it vanishes into darkness. Or, rather, the wonder excited by this
marvellous incident only maintained its ground in his thoughts by
allying itself with the anxiety for his father's safety, which was
their predominant occupation.
"If there be indeed a spirit," he said, "which wears that beautiful
form, it must be beneficent as well as lovely, and will extend to my
far more deserving father the protection which his son has twice
experienced."
But ere he had time to prosecute such a thought further, he had met
the Landamman and his party. Here his appearance and his condition
excited the same surprise as they had formerly occasioned to Rudolph
and the vanguard. To the repeated interrogatories of the Landamman he
gave a brief account of his own imprisonment, and of his escape, of
which he suffered the whole glory to rest with the Black Priest of St.
Paul's, without mentioning one word of the more interesting female
apparition, by which he had been attended and assisted in his
charitable task. On another point also Arthur was silent. He saw no
propriety in communicating to Arnold Biederman the message which the
priest had addressed to Rudolph's ear alone. Whether good should come
of it or no, he held sacred the obligation of silence imposed upon him
by a man from whom he had just received the most important assistance.
The Landamman was struck dumb for a moment with sorrow and surprise at
the news which he heard. The elder Philipson had gained his respect,
as well by the purity and steadiness of the principles which he
expressed, as by the extent and depth of his information, which was
peculiarly valuable and interesting to the Switzer, who felt his
admirable judgment considerably fettered for want of that knowledge of
countries, times, and manners, with which his English friend often
supplied him.
"Let us press forward," he said to the Banneret of Berne and the other
deputies; "let us offer our mediation betwixt the tyrant De Hagenbach
and our friend, whose life is in danger. He must listen to us, for I
know his master expects to see this Philipson at his court. The old
man hinted to me so much. As we are possessed of such a secret,
Archibald de Hagenbach will not dare to brave our vengeance, since we
might easily send to Duke Charles information how the Governor of La
Ferette abuses his power, in matters where not only the Swiss but
where the Duke himself is concerned."
"Under your reverend favour, my worthy sir," answered the Banneret of
Berne, "we are Swiss Deputies, and go to represent the injuries of
Switzerland alone. If we embroil ourselves with the quarrels of
strangers, we shall find it more difficult to settle advantageously
those of our own country; and if the Duke should, by this villany done
upon English merchants, bring upon him the resentment of the English
monarch, such breach will only render it more a matter of peremptory
necessity for him to make a treaty advantageous to the Swiss Cantons."
There was so much worldly policy in this advice, that Adam Zimmerman
of Soleure instantly expressed his assent, with the additional
argument, that their brother Biederman had told them scarce two hours
before how these English merchants had, by his advice and their own
free desire, parted company with them that morning, on purpose that
they might not involve the Deputies in the quarrels which might be
raised by the Governor's exactions on his merchandise.
"Now what advantage," he said, "shall we derive from this same parting
of company, supposing, as my brother seems to urge, we are still to
consider this Englishman's interest as if he were our fellow-traveller,
and under our especial protection?"
This personal reasoning pinched the Landamman somewhat closely, for he
had but a short while before descanted on the generosity of the elder
Philipson, who had freely exposed himself to danger, rather than that
he should embarrass their negotiation by remaining one of their
company; and it completely shook the fealty of the white-bearded
Nicholas Bonstetten, whose eyes wandered from the face of Zimmerman,
which expressed triumphant confidence in his argument, to that of his
friend the Landamman, which was rather more embarrassed than usual.
"Brethren," said Arnold at length with firmness and animation, "I
erred in priding myself upon the worldly policy which I taught to you
this morning. This man is not of our country, doubtless, but he is of
our blood--a copy of the common Creator's image--and the more worthy
of being called so, as he is a man of integrity and worth. We might
not, without grievous sin, pass such a person, being in danger,
without affording him relief, even if he lay accidentally by the side
of our path; much less should we abandon him if the danger has been
incurred in our own cause, and that we might escape the net in which
he is himself caught. Be not, therefore, downcast--We do God's will in
succouring an oppressed man. If we succeed by mild means, as I trust
we shall, we do a good action at a cheap rate;--if not, God can assert
the cause of humanity by the hands of few as well as of many."
"If such is your opinion," said the Bannerman of Berne, "not a man
here will shrink from you. For me, I pleaded against my own
inclinations when I advised you to avoid a breach with the Burgundian.
But as a soldier, I must needs say, I would rather fight the garrison,
were they double the number they talk of, in a fair field, than
undertake to storm their defences."
"Nay," said the Landamman, "I sincerely hope we shall both enter and
depart from the town of Brisach, without deviating from the pacific
character with which our mission from the Diet invests us."