“Death playing on a dulcimer. Behind him
A poor old woman with a rosary
Follows the sound, and seems to wish her feet
Were swifter to o’ertake him.”
Underneath the inscription reads,
“Better is death than life.”
And in this strain the paintings continue, until, what between the objects
and the general gloom, the effect becomes most melancholy, and we heartily
sympathized in Prince Henry’s cry—his _cri du cœur_:
“Let us go forward, and no longer stay
In this great picture‐gallery of Death!”
It led us straight into the heart of the old town, and with the poet we
exclaimed:
“I breathe again more
Freely! Ah! how pleasant
To come once more into the light of day
Out of that shadow of death!”
The streets were narrow, clean, and well paved, however, and everything
looked so bright and cheerful—perhaps doubly so after that gloomy
bridge—that our spirits at once revived. The shops were small, and all on
a homely, simple scale. But there were no signs of poverty or neglect in
any direction, and a general air of contentment was perceptible on all
sides.
The schools were just breaking up for their mid‐day hour’s rest as we
passed on, and the crowds of boys and girls flocking homewards made a
bright contrast to the gloomy bridge. Troops of neatly‐dressed little
maidens were especially pleasant to look at, with their books slung in
diminutive knapsacks across their shoulders. A happy‐faced, merry‐looking
juvenile population they all were.
Some fine religious prints in a small shop‐window next attracted our
attention, and, going in, we found it to be the principal bookseller’s of
Lucerne. Numberless pamphlets on all the leading topics of the day lay on
the counter, of which one caught my eye from its peculiarly local title:
_Festreden an der Schlachtfeier_, or _Speeches at the Festival_, held on
the anniversary of the battle of Sempach, on the 8th of July, 1873.
“What is this?” I asked.
“The celebration of our glorious victory over the Austrians!—the Marathon
of Swiss history, as its hero, Arnold von Winkelried, may be called our
Leonidas,” replied Herr H——. “It took place in 1386. You passed near the
site yesterday, for the railway runs beside the Lake of Sempach, if you
remember.”
“Oh! this, then, is a celebration, I suppose, in the style of the twelve
hundredth commemoration of Ely Cathedral which they are going to hold in
England next month. We might as well celebrate Agincourt or Crécy. But
this cannot be called a ‘centenary’ or any name of that kind, as it will
not be five hundred years since the battle until 1886!”
“No, it is nothing of the kind,” he replied, “but is an anniversary
religiously kept every year. The town council of Lucerne, and the mayor at
their head, with all the authorities and a vast multitude of people, go to
the battle‐field every 8th of July. We go there for two purposes: first,
to pray for the dead who lie buried there, and then in order to keep the
memory of the heroism of that day and of those who gained us our freedom
fresh in our own minds, and to transmit it to our children, as it has been
transmitted to us by our fathers. Allow me to present you with this
pamphlet. It contains the sermon preached on the last occasion by Herr
Pfarrer Haas of Hitzkirch, and the speech made at the Winkelried monument
by Herr Regierungrath Gehrig, and they have been printed by order of our
government here. You will find them interesting, and also these,” giving
me another bundle, “and they will show you that, next to love of our holy
faith, ‘love of fatherland’ and of ‘liberty’ are deep‐seated in the heart
of every man belonging to these Catholic cantons.”
“Do tell us about the festival!” we cried. “Is it a pretty sight?”
“You have no idea how pretty,” he answered—“pretty even if only as a
sight; for so many priests come that they have to erect altars in the open
air, and Masses are going on and congregations praying round them in all
directions over the ground the whole morning. This sermon,” he continued,
opening the pamphlet, and reading from it as he spoke, “opens poetically
by allusions to ’the green fields, the singing of the birds, and the
peaceful landscape, which alone form the decorations to the quiet prayer
of the priests—the ‘Stilles Priestergebet—which had been going on
uninterruptedly from the first rosy dawn of morning up to that hour’;
while the speech equally begins by a reference to the ‘lovely lake of the
forest cantons, whence came the men who achieved the victory, and whose
descendants are as patriotic now as in those far‐off days.’ You will
seldom hear a sermon, by the way, in these parts, without allusion to the
magnificence of our nation, and to the great deeds of our forefathers. Old
and young, clergy and laity, we are always exhorting each other to imitate
them. And is it not right? We feel the deep truth of the principle I have
lately seen so beautifully expressed by a Catholic writer that I learned
it by heart at the time. ‘Nations,’ he says, ‘live by traditions, more
even than individuals. By them the past extends its influence over the
present, illumines it with the reflection of its glory, and animates it
with its spirit. Traditions bind together the successive periods in a
nation’s existence, and preserve amongst its children the unity produced
by a long community of dangers and struggles, of triumphs and reverses.’
Revolutionists alone wish to break with the past, which, in this country
at least, is in direct opposition to their godless theories, and at
variance with all their passions. And long may it continue so! The last
passage of Herr Gehrig’s speech, by which he winds up, is very fine on
that point,” he said, again reading: “ ‘The Swiss, says an old proverb of
the XVIth century, have a noble land, good laws, and a wise Confederacy—a
Confederacy that is firm and strong, because it is not dictated by
passion. Comrades! let us keep this legacy of our fathers sacred. The
fatherland before all! God protect the fatherland!’ ”
As he spoke these words we came to the senate‐house square, in sight of
the glaring frescos of this same battle of Sempach, and the list of all
other Swiss victories, with which its tower has been recently covered.
“It is not by badly‐painted representations such as these,” he continued,
smiling, “that we try to keep up the old spirit, but by that true
eloquence which touches the heart and convinces the reason. These two
addresses were most soul‐stirring—the sermon and speech equally fine—and
made the greatest impression. The speech is a short summary of our history
and of Arnold von Winkelried, opening, as I said, by allusion to that
‘pearl of creation,’ that lake of the forest cantons, which is bordered by
the _Urschweiz_.”
“What does that mean?” asked Caroline C——. “I so often have noticed the
word without understanding it.”
“It simply means, ‘The original Switzerland.’ The particle _ur_ means in
German something very ancient, or the origin or root of anything. It is
the proudest title of these forest cantons, and therefore you will
constantly find it used, varied now and then as the _Urcantone_. They are
truly the cradle, not only of Switzerland, but of our freedom, and so far
preserve the same spirit of independence and of courage up to this hour.”
“And the sermon—what was that like?” asked young C——, whose interest,
notwithstanding his scepticism about William Tell, was now thoroughly
roused.
“The sermon was most suitable to the times,” replied Herr H——. “The
subject was concord or harmony; and its aim, to show how we ought to copy
those virtues of our ancestors which caused true harmony. It was divided,
as you may see here, into four points; First, _Fidelity_, when the
preacher drew a beautiful picture of Swiss fidelity from the earliest
ages—a fertile theme. Next, _Justice_—Christian justice, for he averred
that real justice never existed in the pagan world, and he again goes back
to the XIVth century to show how the men of that age acted, so that the
historian Zschokke calls it ‘the golden age’ of Switzerland! And he
fortifies his assertions by quotations from old annals. Here is one from
the celebrated oath of the Rüti, in 1307: ‘Every man must protect the
innocent and oppressed people in his valley, and preserve to them their
old rights and freedom. On the other hand, we do not wish to deprive the
Counts of Habsburg of the smallest portion of their property, of their
rights, or of their vassals. Their governors, followers, servants, and
hirelings shall not lose a drop of blood.’ Then, again, how the same men
in 1332 gave an order to the judges ‘not to favor any one in a partisan
spirit, but to deal justice according to their oaths.’ Again, in 1334,
they answer a proposition made to them by the emperor by proudly telling
him that ‘there are laws which even princes should not transgress.’ Of
their own government they require ‘that the citizens shall receive
security for honor, life, and property; that the magistrates shall listen
to the complaints of the poor, and not answer them sharply; that they
shall not pronounce judgment imperiously, nor, above all, condemn
capriciously.’ This was in 1335. He continues then to prove how
scrupulously they forbid feuds and lawless plundering; and the high
respect our ancestors showed for churches and ecclesiastical institutions
is supported by a quotation from a league that was sworn to at Zurich
immediately after this very battle of Sempach, called, in consequence, the
Sempacher Brief, where this remarkable passage occurs: ‘As the Almighty
has chosen the churches for his dwelling, so it is our wish that none of
us shall dare to break into, plunder, or destroy any convent or chapel
whatsoever.’ This took place in 1393, and Herr Pfarrer Haas ends this part
by an appeal to the present generation: ‘Do you wish to imitate your
ancestors? Then give weight in the council‐chamber, in the tribunals, in
the framing of laws, in their execution and administration, to that
Christian justice which gives and leaves to each man that which by right
belongs to him. By that means you will preserve harmony in the land—the
foundation‐stone of national prosperity, and the strength of the
Confederacy. States grow old and pass away, but Christianity has eternal
youth and freshness. When a nation reposes on the rock of Christian
justice, she never suffers from the changes of childhood, youth, manhood,
or old age, but flourishes for ever in perpetual freshness and vigor.’ ”
“That is very fine!” all exclaimed. “But it is the more striking when one
finds it was only spoken the other day. It sounds so like an old middle‐
age sermon addressed to men of the ‘ages of faith.’ ”
“You are right,” returned Herr H——; “but I assure you the tone is the
ordinary one of sermons in these districts, and elicited no astonishment,
though a great deal of sympathy. It will tire you, however, to hear more,
so we had better go on!” We had been lingering on the promenade while
listening to him, under the shady chestnuts facing the lake; but now all
unanimously begged he would continue, merely moving to a bench nearer our
hotel.
“Well, as you wish it, I shall obey!” he said, making us a bow, with a
smile of pleasure at our increasing interest in his country. “The next
division of the sermon, on virtue and morality, was ably argued, as you
will perceive whenever you read this pamphlet; especially in reference to
the modern doctrines on these subjects now propounded in other parts of
Switzerland.” (We thought here of our recent experience at the book‐stall
at Berne!) “And the preacher complimented the inhabitants of the rural
cantons on the Christian faith and simple, virtuous manners they still
retain, ending by quotations from our Lord’s words in the New Testament,
and saying that ‘enlightenment is not unbelief, but the true and proper
use of belief.’’ The fourth and last essential to harmony he shows to be
that interior peace which can be produced by the Christian faith alone. No
one can be a good citizen who does not conquer the passions of his own
nature, and obtain that inner tranquillity of mind which is the growth of
true religion. Amongst other proofs of his argument he quotes from Blessed
Nicholas von der Flüe. I presume you know who he was?”
Each of us in turn was obliged to answer “No,” although the name was not
unfamiliar to some. But the more we heard, the greater did our humiliation
gradually become at finding how slightly we were acquainted with this
Swiss life; and every one rejoiced when Herr H—— replied:
“Blessed Nicholas was a hermit, but as great a patriot as he was a saint.”
However, you will hear enough about him when you visit Stanz and Sarnen.
His words carried immense weight in his day, and he is still very much
revered, and is perpetually quoted. He lived in the XVth century, and our
Herr Pfarrer Haas here gives a long extract from one of his letters to the
Mayor of Berne in those years. After this he goes on to say: “Such was the
faith of your forefathers! The prayers which the combatants said on this
very spot amidst the scoffs of their enemies; the Sacred Host which the
priest carried at Lauffen; the anniversaries they founded; the Holy
Sacrifice they ordered should be offered on those days of commemoration;
the crosses they erected over the graves of all who fell in the combat,
prove where their souls sought and obtained rest and peace.” “Fidelity,
justice, virtue, and faith form the groundwork of the union and harmony of
a people. Let each one of us, in his circle, and amongst those whom he can
influence, strengthen these pillars of the edifice, and in this manner we
can best help to secure the happiness and solidity of our dearly‐loved
Swiss fatherland.” Then he winds up by a beautiful peroration, thus: “We
stand here on graves. Simple stone crosses rise above these tombs, where
for the last four hundred and eighty‐seven years the heroes of Sempach,
friends and enemies, repose after their hard day’s work. Sleep in peace,
ye dead! I envy ye your rest! There may be fighting and storm o’erhead,
but what matters that to the sleepers? Your eyes are closed! Ye do not
watch the troubles and sorrows of mankind, the cares and burdens of life,
the battle of the spirits, the play of passions. Once, too, your hearts
beat high in the decisive hour. Each Swiss and Austrian believed that he
defended the right. On both sides stood great men and great heroes. Death,
brave hearts, has united you in peace; and over your graves, for nearly
five hundred years, has stood the cross in token of conciliation—the
symbol of peace, the badge of the confederates; indicating that
Switzerland will still stand firm in harmony when the hotly‐contested
opinions surging in her midst at this day shall long since have sunk into
dust and ashes.
“ ‘Our faith is firm in fatherland;
Although brave sons may die,
Swiss soil will still yield faithful band
To wield the cross on high:
The white, unsullied cross for aye
O’er Switzerland shall fly.’ ”
“Magnificent!” all again exclaimed, “in language and sentiment! How we
should like to have heard it!”
“There was a great crowd this year,” continued Herr H——, “though numbers
never fail on any occasion. But a musical festival had taken place in
Lucerne the day before, so for that reason there were more than usual. The
majority now go by rail, but in my youth the procession of carriages was
much more imposing. And Lucerne then was a Vorort, or capital of the
Confederacy alternately with Zurich and Berne—a system long since done
away with; so that when the year came for its turn, all the deputies and
the diplomatic representatives were invited, and came too—all except an
old Austrian, whom nothing could move. I well remember hearing that his
colleagues used to laugh at him for keeping up the feeling after so many
hundred years; but it was so strong that he never could hear William
Tell’s name mentioned without calling him an ‘assassin’; and you may
imagine how the others amused themselves by always bringing up the
subject. The feeling against the Austrians is very strong, too, amongst
the Swiss.”
“I never understand it,” remarked Caroline C——. “I have always been taught
to look on Rudolph von Habsburg as a perfect character; and yet the moment
one comes to this country, one hears nothing but abuse of the Habsburgs.
Do explain it.”
“I should have to give you a lecture on Swiss history, dear young lady, I
fear, before you could understand it; and there is no time for that now.”
“Oh! do tell us something. There is still half an hour before the _table‐
d’hôte_, and it is so pleasant sitting here. We should all like to have a
clearer view of the reason of this dislike. I am always much puzzled, too,
in Schiller’s _William Tell_, at the conspirators always wanting to be
under the empire alone, and not through the Habsburgs; and it is so
troublesome to wade through a history when travelling,” she replied.
“But I should go back to the very beginning for that purpose,” he
answered. “However, if you insist, I shall give you a few leading facts
that you can find amplified whenever you feel inclined to read a Swiss
history right through. May I presume, then, that you know,” he continued,
laughing, “that the first inhabitants of Switzerland are supposed to have
been offshoots of Northern tribes—men driven from their homes by famine?
There were a few settlers before these, said to be refugees from Italy,
but only in a wild corner of the mountains, hence called Rhœtia; and they
were so few and so isolated that they are not worth mentioning. The stream
of inhabitants poured down by the Lake of Constance. Some say that the
same names are found to this day in Sweden as in the valleys of these
cantons. In any case, the tradition is that two brothers, Switer and Swin,
arrived with their families and followers, and settled at the upper end of
this lake, and from them the territory they occupied was called Schwytz.
It is quite certain that this was the first part occupied; therefore the
title it claims of ‘Urschweiz,’ or ‘original Switzerland,’ is most
appropriate. They spread all round this lake and through these forest
cantons, on from one valley to another, to the foot of the great snowy Alp
region, but not further. Other races came later, and settled at Geneva and
elsewhere, and, coming into collision with Rome, then mistress of the
world, were finally made part of the Roman Empire. Then came the inroad of
other barbarians on the downfall of Rome, and everything was in utter
confusion until the light of Christianity shone over the land. It was
introduced here, as in Germany, by missionaries who came from all parts,
and a bishopric even was founded at Chur in the earliest Frankish times.
Convents, too, rose on all sides. You will find remains of them in the
most remote valleys and out‐of‐the‐way corners of the country. S.
Sigebert, for instance, came from France, and built Disentis in the wilds
of Rhœtia, now the Grisons. S. Columba and S. Maughold preached along the
Reuss and the Aar, and the great S. Gall evangelized the wild district
round the Lake of Constance, girt by forests filled with all manner of
wild beasts. The celebrated convent of his name was built on the site of
his hermitage, and gave rise to the town of St. Gall. Einsiedeln, too, the
famous monastery which you are going to visit, dates also from that
period, over the cell of the hermit Meinrad, and so on in every direction.
Even Zurich and our own Lucerne owe their origin to convents. As in so
many other countries, so here likewise the monks spread civilization,
opened schools, and taught the people agriculture. Then came another
period of confusion after Charlemagne’s reign, which ended by the greater
portion of Switzerland falling to the share of his successors in the
German Empire. There were numberless dukes and counts all over the land
who already held large possessions, but had been vassals of the Dukes of
Swabia. Now, however, they set him at defiance, and would obey no one but
the emperor. Many of the monasteries, too, had acquired considerable
property by this time, and their abbots were often powerful lords. They
followed the example of the counts and dukes, and also assumed
independence. But, on the other hand, the towns equally rose in
importance, and often set the nobles and abbots at naught. These then, in
order not to lose their influence, strove to increase the number of their
vassals by making clearances in their forests, promoting the establishment
of villages, and granting privileges to their inhabitants, in all which
you will find the origin of the extraordinary number of rural communes for
which Switzerland has always been so noted. The nobles, who had no
occupation but war, were engaged in constant feuds amongst themselves or
with the towns of which they were most jealous, and, leading lawless
lives, wasted their inheritance little by little. The Crusades also
contributed to diminish them, for all the knights in the country flocked
thither. In the course of time their numbers dwindled considerably by
these means, or by the sale of their property and feudal rights to the
towns and even to the villages. At the period we are talking of, however,
they were amongst the heroes of the land, and often fought bravely and
made themselves respected.
“In one district, however, there were neither nobles, nor castles, nor
towns, nor monasteries, nor any inhabitants, except the descendants of the
first settlers. That was in the wild region of Rhœtia, and in what now
constitutes these forest cantons, or Vierwaldstätter, as they are called
in German. The latter all sprang from one common stock, and for a long
time had only one head and one church. This was in the Muotta Valley, and
thither came the entire population of Schwytz, Unterwalden, and Uri. At
last, when they increased and multiplied, they divided into these three
districts, built their own churches, and elected their own _Landamman_, or
chief magistrate, and their own council. No one claimed sovereignty over
this mountain district but the emperor. To him the people never objected;
on the contrary, they were rather glad to enjoy his powerful protection,
and willingly accepted, nay, often chose, the imperial judges to act as
arbitrators in cases of their own internal disputes. Now, these judges
were called governors, or Vogts, and, in order to distinguish them from
inferior governors, were entitled _Reichsvögte_, or governors of the
empire. It is well to bear this in mind, for on this point turned the
whole dispute with the Habsburgs, and it was the cause of the conspiracy
of the Rüti and of our subsequent freedom. It must also be remembered that
the object of every community in the country at that period was to free
itself from the yoke of the local laws, whether nobles or abbots, and to
place themselves directly under the empire. And in this almost every town
succeeded by slow degrees. The advantages were very great. First of all,
they were not liable to the constant petty exactions of near neighbors,
and the imperial government was so far away that they were allowed to
administer their own property and to choose their own authorities, being
only asked in exchange to pay some light taxes to the imperial treasury,
and to accept a _Reichsvögt_, or governor. His office was merely to uphold
the emperor’s rights, and to act as judge in matters of life and death—a
condition never refused; for it was held that, being a stranger, he would
be more impartial than one of their community.
“Amongst the nobles who had gradually grown powerful at this time were the
Counts of Habsburg, who lived in the Aargau, and, instead of diminishing,
had been daily extending, their possessions and influence. Suddenly and
unexpectedly Count Rudolph was chosen Emperor of Germany. There were great
disputes between the German princes on the death of the late emperor, and
the story runs that they elected him simply on the assurance of the
Elector of Cologne, who declared that Rudolph von Habsburg was upright and
wise, beloved by God and man.
“This, as you know, proved true, and you were perfectly right in believing
him to have been a ‘perfect character.’ Moreover, he never forgot his old
fellow‐countrymen, and showered favors on them as long as he lived. Many
places were made direct fiefs of the empire by him, amongst others our
town of Lucerne, but more especially these forest cantons; and he raised
the Bishop of Lausanne and the Abbot of Einsiedeln to the rank of princes
of the empire. As a natural result, the whole country grew devoted to him,
and came forward with gifts of money and assistance of every kind whenever
he required it.
“But with his successor, his son Albrecht, comes the reverse of the medal.
It was soon seen that he thought of nothing but increasing his own family
possessions, and had no respect for the privileges of the towns or rural
populations. Foreseeing evil times, therefore, Uri, Schwytz, and
Unterwalden met together, and made a defensive league, binding themselves
by oath to stand by each other and to defend themselves against all
enemies. Hence the origin of their name, ‘Eidgenossen,’ which in German
means ‘oath‐participators.’ The Bishop of Constance and Duke of Savoy made
a separate agreement, and so did various others. At last the princes of
Germany also became so discontented with Albrecht that they elected a
Prince Adolf of Nassau in his stead. The whole country was soon divided
into two parties, one for and the other against Albrecht of Austria, as he
had then become. Down he marched with a large army, devastated the
territory of the Bishop of Constance, and Adolf of Nassau lost life and
crown in a desperate battle. The confederates had taken no part against
Albrecht openly as yet, and sent ambassadors to beg he would respect their
ancient rights, as his father of glorious memory had always done. But he
only answered ‘that he would soon change their condition.’ Meantime, the
majority of the nobles joined his side; but the towns resisted him, and
Berne gained such a great victory that he got alarmed and made peace with
Zurich, confirming all its privileges. He then sent word to the
Waldstätter cantons that he wished to treat them as the beloved children
of his own family, and that they had better at once place themselves under
Austrian protection. But the sturdy, free‐hearted mountaineers replied
that they preferred the old rights they had inherited from their fathers,
and desired to continue direct vassals of the empire. Albrecht was not
prepared to enforce their submission, so he resorted to the expedient of
sending them _Reichsvögte_ who were wicked and cruel men, that were
ordered, besides, to oppress and torment them in such a manner that they
should at last desire in preference to place themselves under Austro‐
Habsburg protection. Chief of these was the now far‐famed Gessler, and
also Landerberg, whose castle at Sarnen was the first destroyed later. Not
only were they cruel, but they insisted on living in the country, although
all previous _Reichsvögte_, or governors, had only come there
occasionally, and had allowed the people to govern themselves. Unable to
bear it, the celebrated ‘three,’ Stauffacher, Fürst, and Melchthal, whom
you now know through Schiller, if from no other source, met together.
Stauffacher came from Schwytz, Walther Fürst from Uri, and Arnold von
Melchthal represented Unterwalden, and they chose for their meeting the
central spot of the meadow, called the Rüti, which you will pass when
sailing up the lake. Each brought ten others with them, and in their name
and that of all their fellow‐countrymen they took that oath which was
quoted in the sermon as I read it just now. This union of the three
cantons was the foundation of the Swiss Confederation. Lucerne joined it
in 1332, and then it became the League of the Four Forest Cantons, all
surrounding this lake. Some say that Tell was one of the ten from his
canton, but others deny this. It does not much matter, for one fact is
certain: that the whole country was discontented, and Gessler grew alarmed
without knowing of the conspiracy, which alarm was the cause of his
conduct towards Tell.”
“Oh! William Tell is all a myth,” exclaimed young C——, who never could
conceal his sentiments on this point. “No one believes in him nowadays.”
“My dear young gentleman,” answered Herr H—— quietly, “it is easy for
modern critics to say this. They may laugh and sneer as they like. Nothing
is more easy than to argue against anything. I remember often hearing that
Archbishop Whately—your own archbishop—was so convinced of this that he
once undertook to write a pamphlet in this style, disproving the existence
of the First Napoleon, and succeeded triumphantly. But _I_ hold with
Buckle—your own Buckle too!” he said, laughing—“who declares that he
relies more on the strength of local traditions and on native bards than
on anything else. The great argument against William Tell, I know
perfectly well, is that the same story is to be found in Saxo‐Grammaticus,
and also in Sanscrit; but that does not disturb me, for there is no reason
why the same sort of thing may not have happened in many a place. These
mountaineers certainly had no means of studying either the one or the
other in what _you_, no doubt, will call the ’dark ages’! Just have
patience until you see the Tell chapels and hear a little more on the
subject, and I hope you will change your mind. One thing is certain,
namely, that Tell was not the _cause_ of the conspiracy, and that his
treatment did not make the confederates depart from their original plan,
which was to rise on the New Year’s night of 1308. In _my_ humble opinion,
Schiller has done poor William Tell no good, for between him and the opera
the story has been so much popularized that this alone has raised all the
doubts about it. People fancy it was Schiller’s creation more or less,
altogether forgetting that the chapels and the veneration for Tell have
existed on the spot these hundreds of years. It is fortunate Arnold von
Winkelried has not been treated in the same way, or we should doubt his
existence too.”
“You have not told us anything about Sempach yet,” broke in Caroline C——,
anxious to stop the discussion, which seemed likely to vex the old
gentleman, especially as she well knew her brother’s school‐boy
disposition for argument.
“Morgarten and much more occurred before that, mademoiselle,” answered
Herr H——, “all tending to increase the national hatred of Austria. As a
natural consequence of the Rüti and its uprising, Albrecht became enraged
against the forest cantons, and marched at once to Switzerland with a
large force. But a most unexpected, startling event happened. He had a
nephew, Duke John of Swabia, who was his ward, but from whom he continued
to withhold his patrimony on one pretext or another. The young man at
length grew furious, and, as they were crossing this very same river Reuss
at Windisch, Duke John stabbed his uncle, whilst a noble, a conspirator of
John’s, struck him on the head. There were a few others present, but in a
panic they all fled, and left the Emperor of Germany to die in the arms of
a poor woman who happened to be passing.
“The deed was so fearful that even Albrecht’s worst enemies were
horrified, and it is said that the murderers wandered over the world, and
ultimately died as outcasts. Zurich shut its gates against them, and the
forest cantons refused them all shelter. But Albrecht’s family not only
pursued them, but behaved inhumanly. His widow and two children, Duke
Leopold and Agnes, Queen of Hungary, came at once to Switzerland, and
seized innocent and guilty right and left, destroying without scruple the
castle of any noble whom they suspected in the slightest degree, and
executing all without mercy. Agnes in particular was cruel beyond measure.
One story related of her by Swiss historians is that, after having
witnessed the execution of sixty‐three innocent knights, and whilst their
blood was flowing at her feet, she exclaimed: ‘Now I am bathing in May‐
dew!’ Whether literally true or not, it shows what she must have been to
have given cause for such a tale. In fact, the stories of her merciless
character are too numerous and terrible to repeat now. At last she and her
mother, the widow, built a magnificent convent on the site of the murder,
which you may have heard of as _Königsfelder_, or the King’s Field. There
she subsequently retired to ‘end her days in piety’; but the people
detested her, and Zschokke says that once when she was passing through the
convent, and bowed to one of the monks, he turned round and boldly
addressed her thus: ‘Woman! it is a bad way to serve God, first to shed
innocent blood, and then to found convents from the spoils of the
victims.’ She died there, and we have a piece of silk in the arsenal in
Lucerne which formed part of her funeral apparel.”
“Oh! how horrible,” exclaimed Caroline C——. “But I would give anything to
see it! How could we manage it?”
“Very easily,” replied Herr H——. “If you only have time, we might go there
after dinner. It is close to the Spreuner Brücke, and I can get you in.
There are many trophies also from Sempach, and other victories besides.”
“Do tell us about Sempach,” I interposed. “It is getting late, and I fear
the dinner‐bell will soon ring.”
“First came the battle of Morgarten, of which you will see the site from
the top of the Rigi. Albrecht’s son Leopold followed up his father’s
grudge against the forest cantons, and gave them battle there in 1308,
when he was signally defeated. It was a glorious victory by a handful of
peasants. But you will read about it on your journey. Sempach is our
Lucerne property. It did not take place for sixty‐nine years after
Morgarten, but in the interval there had been constant fighting with the
house of Austria, which still kept its possessions in Switzerland, and
also with the nobles, who hated the towns‐people, and clung to the
Habsburgs more or less. It was about this time that a castle belonging to
the latter, on this lake, just round the projecting corner to our left,
was destroyed by the people. It was called here Habsburg, and has lately
been restored by a foreigner. On all sides the worst feelings were kept
alive, and it only required a spark to set all in a blaze. This eventually
happened by some angry Lucerners levelling to the ground the castle of a
knight who had imposed undue taxes upon them. He, on his side, appealed to
the Habsburg of the day, who, by a curious coincidence, was also a Duke
Leopold, son of the Leopold who was defeated at Morgarten. Full of anger,
he gathered all his forces, and marched in hot haste against Lucerne. But
on the heights near the Lake of Sempach he encountered the confederates.
They had come from Lucerne, with contingents, though in small force, from
all the forest cantons. It was hilly ground, most unfitted for cavalry;
but Leopold would not wait for his infantry, and, making his heavily‐armed
knights dismount, he ordered them to rush with their pointed lances in
close ranks on the enemy. It was like a wall of iron, and at first the
confederates could make no impression upon it. They fell in numbers, and
were just beginning to despair when a voice cried out, ‘I will open a path
to freedom! Faithful, dearly‐loved confederates, take care of my wife and
child!’ and a man, rushing forward, seized as many lances as he could
clasp, buried them in his own body, and fell dead. This was Arnold von
Winkelried, an inhabitant of Stanz, about whom little else is known. Over
his corpse his comrades pressed forward through the opening he had thus
made, and they never again yielded the dear‐bought advantage. The struggle
became fearful on both sides; prodigies of valor were performed, and it is
said that three standard‐bearers were killed before the flag of Austria
could be captured. Eventually the knights turned in order to retreat; but
their heavy armor impeded them, and their men, sure of victory, had led
their horses far away. So they were cut down by hundreds. Duke Leopold was
killed by a man from Schwytz; but they all fought bravely, and defended
their banners with such tenacity that one was found torn into small
shreds, in order that the enemy might not get it, while its pole was
firmly clenched between the teeth of the dead man who had been carrying
it. That was the glorious battle of Sempach, which finally crushed the
power of the Habsburgs in Switzerland, and after which our liberty was
firmly established. Is it any wonder, then, that we celebrate it so
religiously, or that the antipathy to Austria was so deeply rooted in the
nation? The whole aim of the Habsburgs after Rudolph’s reign, and of the
nobles who were their vassals, was to crush our privileges and freedom. In
consequence, they were so hated that no one could even venture to wear a
peacock’s feather, merely because it was the favorite ornament of the
Austrian dukes. In fact, peacocks were forbidden in Switzerland; and a
story is told, to show how far the feeling went, of a man having broken
his wine‐glass at a public tavern, merely because he fancied that he saw
the colors of a peacock’s tail in the play of the sun’s rays on the
glass.”
As Herr H—— pronounced these words the first dinner‐bell rang, and we all
rose, thanking him cordially for his most interesting lecture. Caroline
C—— in particular was most grateful, declaring that she never could
understand anything of Swiss history before, but now had the clearest view
of its general bearings.
After dinner all except myself and Mrs. C—— started off at once for the
arsenal to see the “relics,” as they now called them; but we two adjourned
to the Hofkirche at four o’clock to listen to the organ, played there
daily for strangers, as at Berne and Freyburg. The Lucerne instrument is
not so well known as those two, but it is equally fine, if not finer. It
was admirably played, too, and we sat entranced by its tones, especially
by its heavenly Vox Angelica, fully sympathizing with Wordsworth when
standing on the old Hofbridge that came up to the church hill in his day,
and writing:
“Volumes of sound, from the cathedral rolled,
This long‐roofed vista penetrate.”
We had arranged to sleep that night at Vitznau, at the foot of the Rigi,
in order to ascend by the first train next morning, and for this purpose
were to leave in a six o’clock steamer. It seemed difficult to tear
ourselves so quickly away from Lucerne, and the hurry was considerable.
The remainder of our party, however, returned just in time, full of all
they had seen—“Agnes’ shroud,” a dreadful title for a piece of heavy silk
used at her funeral, striped yellow and black, the Habsburg colors; Duke
Leopold’s coat‐of‐mail, in which he was killed at Sempach, and a dozen
others; a heap of lances taken there; numbers of trophies from Grandson
and Morat, the battles with Charles the Bold; but, what interested them
most, the great standard of Habsburg, of yellow silk with a red lion on
it, taken at Sempach, and another, a white flag, covered, they said, with
blood, also captured there. Young C—— was most struck besides with a very
old vase decorated with the meeting at the Rüti.
It was a lovely evening, but, though the sail promised to be delightful,
we left Lucerne and its worthy citizen with regret, thanking him
cordially, over and over again, for the interest he had given us in his
country, and at last persuaded him to come and meet us in a day or two,
and act as our cicerone in part of the forest cantons, which by his means
already assumed a place in our affections.
A Legend Of Alsace. Concluded.
From The French Of M. Le Vicomte De Bussierre.