CHAPTER I._Andreas Hofer: An Historical Novel

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ANDREAS HOFER

An HISTORICAL NOVEL

by Lousia Muhlbach

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER

I 1809

II The Emperor Francis

III The Courier and the Ambassador

IV The Emperor and his Brothers

V The Performance of "The Creation"

VI Andreas Hofer

VII Andreas Hofer at the Theatre

VIII Consecration of the Flags, and Farewell

IX Tis Time!

X Anthony Wallner of Windisch-Matrey

XI The Declaration of Love

XII Farewell!

XIII The Bridegroom

XIV The Bridge of St. Lawrence

XV The Bridge of Laditch

XVI On the Sterzinger Moos

XVII The Hay-Wagons

XVIII Capture of Innspruck

XIX The Capitulation of Wiltau

XX Eliza Wallner's Return

XXI The Catastrophe

XXII Eliza and Ulrich

XXIII The Triumph of Death

XXIV The Archduke John at Comorn

XXV The Emperor Francis at Wolkersdorf

XXVI The Reply of the King of Prussia

XXVII The Battle of Wagram

XXVIII The Armistice of Znaym

XXIX Hofer and Speckbacher

XXX The Capuchin's Oath

XXXI The First Battle

XXXII The Fifteenth of August at Innspruck

XXXIII Andreas Hofer, the Emperor's Lieutenant

XXXIV The Fifteenth of August at Comorn

XXXV A Day of the Emperor's Lieutenant

XXXVI The Lovers

XXXVII Elza's Return

XXXVIII The Wedding

XXXIX The Treaty of Peace

XL Dreadful Tidings

XLI Betrayal and Seizure of Hofer

XLII The Warning

XLIII The Flight

XLIV Andreas Hofer's Death

CHAPTER I.

1809.

The year 1809 had come; but the war against France, so intensely

longed for by all Austria, had not yet broken out, and the people

and the army were vainly waiting for the war-cry of their sovereign,

the Emperor Francis. It is true, not a few great things bad been

accomplished in the course of the past year: Austria had armed,

organized the militia, strengthened her fortresses, and filled her

magazines; but the emperor still hesitated to take the last and most

decisive step by crowning his military preparations with a formal

declaration of war.

No one looked for this declaration of war more intensely than the

emperor's second brother, the Archduke John, a young man of scarcely

twenty-seven. He had been the soul of all the preparations which,

since the summer of 1808, had been made throughout Austria; he had

conceived the plan of organizing the militia and the reserves; and

had drawn up the proclamation of the 12th of May, 1808, by which all

able-bodied Austrians were called upon to take up arms. But this

exhausted his powers; he could organize the army, but could not say

to it, "Take the field against the enemy!" The emperor alone could

utter this word, and he was silent.

"And he will be silent until the favorable moment has passed,"

sighed the Archduke John, when, on returning from a very long

interview with the emperor, he was alone with his friend, General

Nugent, in his cabinet.

He had communicated to this confidant the full details of his

interview with the emperor, and concluded his report by saying, with

a deep sigh, "The emperor will be silent until the favorable moment

has passed!"

Count Nugent gazed with a look of heart-felt sympathy into the

archduke's mournful face; he saw the tears filling John's large blue

eyes; he saw that he firmly compressed his lips as if to stifle a

cry of pain or rage, and that he clinched his hands in the agony of

his despair. Animated by tender compassion, the general approached

the archduke, who had sunk into a chair, and laid his hand gently on

his shoulder. "Courage, courage!" he whispered; "nothing is lost as

yet, and your imperial highness--"

"Ah, why do you address me with `imperial highness'?" cried the

archduke, almost indignantly. "Do you not see, then, that this is a

miserable title by which Fate seems to mock me, and which it

thunders constantly, and, as it were, sneeringly into my ears, in

order to remind me again and again of my deplorable powerlessness?

There is nothing 'imperial' about me but the yoke under which I am

groaning; and my `highness' is to be compared only with the crumbs

of Lazarus which fell from the rich man's table. And yet there are

persons, Nugent, who envy me these crumbs--men who think it a

brilliant and glorious lot to be an 'imperial highness,' the brother

of a sovereign emperor! Ah, they do not know that this title means

only that I am doomed to everlasting dependence and silence, and

that the emperor's valet de chambre and his private secretary are

more influential men than the Archduke John, who cannot do anything

but submit, be silent, and look on in idleness."

"Now your imperial highness slanders yourself," exclaimed Count

Nugent. "You have not been silent, you have not looked on in

idleness, but have worked incessantly and courageously for the

salvation of your people and your country. Who drew up the original

plan for the organization of the militia and the reserves? Who

elaborated its most minute details with admirable sagacity? It was

the Archduke John--the archduke in whom all Austria hopes, and who

is the last refuge and comfort of all patriots!"

"Ah, how much all of you are to be pitied, my friend, if you hope in

me!" sighed John. "What am I, then? A poor atom which is allowed to

move in the glare of the imperial sun, but which would be

annihilated so soon as it should presume to be an independent

luminary. Pray, Nugent, do not speak of such hopes; for, if the

emperor should hear of it, not only would my liberty be endangered,

but also yours and that of all who are of your opinion. The emperor

does not like to see the eyes of his subjects fixed upon me; every

kind word uttered about me sours him and increases the ill-will with

which he regards me."

"That is impossible, your highness," exclaimed the count. "How can

our excellent emperor help loving his brother, who is so gifted, so

high-minded and learned, and withal so modest and kind-hearted? How

can he help being happy to see that others love and appreciate him

too?"

"Does the emperor love my brother Charles, who is much more gifted

and high-minded than I am?" asked John, shrugging his shoulders.

"Did he not arrest his victorious career, and recall him from the

army, although, or rather BECAUSE, he knew that the army idolized

him, and that all Austria loved him and hoped in him? Ah, believe

me, the emperor is distrustful of all his brothers, and all our

protestations of love and devotedness do not touch him, but rebound

powerlessly from the armor of jealousy with which he has steeled his

heart against us. You see, I tell you all this with perfect

composure, but I confess it cost me once many tears and inward

struggles, and it was long before my heart became calm and resigned.

My heart long yearned for love, confidence, and friendship. I have

got over these yearnings now, and resigned myself to be lonely, and

remain so all my life long. That is to say," added the archduke,

with a gentle smile, holding out his hand to the count, "lonely,

without a sister, without a brother--lonely in my family. However, I

have found a most delightful compensation for this loneliness, for I

call you and Hormayr friends; I have my books, which always comfort,

divert, and amuse me; and last, I have my great and glorious hopes

regarding the future of the fatherland. Ah, how could I say that I

was poor and lonely when I am so rich in hopes, and have two noble

and faithful friends? I am sure, Nugent, you will never desert me,

but stand by me to the end--to the great day of victory, or to the

end of our humiliation and disgrace?"

"Your imperial highness knows full well that my heart will never

turn from you; that I love and revere you; that you are to me the

embodiment of all that is noble, great, and beautiful; that I would

be joyfully ready at any hour to suffer death for you; and that

neither prosperity nor adversity could induce me to forsake you. You

are the hope of my heart, you are the hope of my country--nay, the

hope of all Germany. We all need your assistance, your heart, your

arm; for we expect that you will place yourself at the head of

Germany, and lead us to glorious victories!"

"God grant that the hour when we shall take the field may soon come!

Then, my friend, I shall prove that I am ready, like all of you, to

shed my heart's blood for the fatherland, and conquer or die for the

liberty of Austria, the liberty of Germany. For in the present state

of affairs the fate of Germany, too, depends on the success of our

arms. If we succumb and have to submit to the same humiliations as

Prussia, the whole of Germany will be but a French province, and the

freedom and independence of our fatherland will be destroyed for

long years to come. I am too weak to survive such a disgrace. If

Austria falls, I shall fall too; if German liberty dies, I shall die

too." [Footnote: The Archduke John's own words.--See "Forty-eight

Letters from Archduke John of Austria to Johannes von Muller," p.

90.]

"German liberty will not die!" exclaimed Count Nugent,

enthusiastically; "it will take the field one day against all the

powerful and petty tyrants of the fatherland. Then it will choose

the Archduke John its general-in-chief, and he will lead it to

victory!"

"No, no, my friend," said John, mournfully; "Fate refuses to let me

play a decisive part in the history of the world. My role will

always be but a secondary one; my will will always be impeded, my

arm will be paralyzed forever. You know it. You know that I am

constantly surrounded by secret spies and eavesdroppers, who watch

me with lynx-eyed mistrust and misrepresent every step I take. It

was always so, and will remain so until I die or become a decrepit

old man, whose arm is no longer able to wield the sword or even the

pen. That I am young, that I have a heart for the sufferings of my

country, a heart not only for the honor of Austria, but for that of

Germany--that is what gives umbrage to them, what renders me

suspicious in their eyes, and causes them to regard me as a

revolutionist. I had to suffer a good deal for my convictions; a

great many obstacles were raised against all my plans; and yet I

desired only to contribute to the welfare of the whole; I demanded

nothing for myself, but every thing for the fatherland. To the

fatherland I wished to devote my blood and my life; for the

fatherland I wished to conquer in the disastrous campaign of 1805.

However, such were not the plans of my adversaries; they did not

wish to carry on the war with sufficient energy and perseverance;

they would not give my brother Charles and me an opportunity to

distinguish ourselves and gain a popular name. Whenever I planned a

vigorous attack, I was not permitted to carry it into effect.

Whenever, with my corps, I might have exerted a decisive influence

upon the fortunes of the war, I was ordered to retreat with my

troops to some distant position of no importance whatever; and when

I remonstrated, they charged me with rebelling against the emperor's

authority. Ah, I suffered a great deal in those days, and the wounds

which my heart received at that juncture are bleeding yet. I had to

succumb, when the men who had commenced the war at a highly

unfavorable time, conducted it at an equally unfavorable moment, and

made peace. And by that peace Austria lost her most loyal province,

the beautiful Tyrol, one of the oldest states of the Hapsburgs; and

her most fertile province, the territory of Venetia and Dalmatia,

for which I did not grieve so much, because it always was a source

of political dissensions and quarrels for the hereditary provinces

of Austria. What afflicted me most sorely was the loss of the Tyrol,

and even now I cannot think of it without the most profound emotion.

It seemed as though Fate were bent on blotting out from our memory

all that might remind us of our ancestors, their virtues, their

patriotism, and their perseverance in the days of universal

adversity; and as though, in consequence of this, the spirit, of the

Hapsburgs had almost become extinct, and we were to lose all that

they bad gained in the days of their greatness. [Footnote: John's

own words.--See "Forty-eight Letters from Archduke John to Johannes

von Muller," p. 103.] But now Fate is willing to give us another

opportunity to repair our faults and show that we are worthy of our

ancestors. If we allow this to pass too, all is lost, not only the

throne of the Hapsburgs, but also their honor!"

"This opportunity will not pass!" exclaimed the count. "The throne

of the Hapsburgs will be preserved, for it is protected by the

Archdukes John and Charles, a brave army that is eager for a war

with France, and a faithful, intrepid people, which is sincerely

devoted to its imperial dynasty, which never will acknowledge

another ruler, and which never will desert its Hapsburgs."

"Yes, the people will not desert us," said John, "but worse things

may happen; we may desert ourselves. Just look around, Nugent, and

see how lame we have suddenly become again; how we have all at once

stopped half way, unable to decide whether it might not be better

for us to lay down our arms again and surrender at discretion to the

Emperor of the French."

"Fortunately, it is too late now to take such a resolution; for

Austria has already gone so far that a hesitating policy at this

juncture will no longer succeed in pacifying the Emperor of the

French. And it is owing to the efforts of your imperial highness

that it is so; we are indebted for it to your zeal, your energy, and

your enthusiasm for the good cause, which is now no longer the cause

of Austria, but that of Germany. And this cause will not succumb;

God will not allow a great and noble people to be trampled under

foot by a foreign tyrant, who bids defiance to the most sacred

treaties and the law of nations, and who would like to overthrow all

thrones to convert the foreign kingdoms and empires into provinces

of his empire, blot out the history of the nations and dynasties,

and have all engulfed by his universal monarchy."

"God may not decree this, but He may perhaps allow it if the will of

the nations and the princes should not be strong enough to set

bounds to such mischief. When the feeling of liberty and

independence does not incite the nations to rise enthusiastically

and defend their rights, God sends them a tyrant as a scourge to

chastise them. And such, I am afraid, is our case. Germany has lost

faith in herself, in her honor; she lies exhausted at the feet of

the tyrant, and is ready to be trampled in the dust by him. Just

look around in our German fatherland. What do you see there? All the

sovereign princes have renounced their independence, and become

Napoleon's vassals; they obey his will, they submit to his orders,

and send their armies not against the enemy of Germany, but against

the enemies of France, no matter whether those enemies are their

German brethren or not. The German princes have formed the

Confederation of the Rhine, and the object of this confederation is

not to preserve the frontier of the Rhine to Germany, but to secure

the Rhine to France. The German princes are begging for honors and

territories at the court of Napoleon; they do not shrink from

manifesting their fealty to their master, the Emperor of the French,

by betraying the interests of Germany; they are playing here at

Vienna the part of the meanest spies; they are watching all our

steps, and are shameless enough to have the Emperor Napoleon reward

their infamy by conferring royal titles on them, and to accept at

his hands German territories which he took from German princes.

Bavaria did not disdain to aggrandize her territories at our

expense; Wurtemberg accepts without blushing the territories of

other German princes at the bands of Napoleon, who thus rewards her

for the incessant warnings by which the King of Wurtemberg urges the

Emperor of the French to be on his guard against Austria, and always

distrust the intentions of the Emperor Francis. [Footnote:

Schlosser, "History of the Eighteenth Century," vol. vii., p. 488.]

In the middle of the German empire we see a new French kingdom;

Westphalia, established by Napoleon's orders; it is formed of the

spoils taken from Prussia and Hanover; and the German princes suffer

it, and the German people bow their heads, silently to the

disgraceful foreign yoke! Ah, Nugent, my heart is full of grief and

anger, full of the bitterness of despair; for I have lost faith in

Germany, and see shudderingly that she will decay and die, as Poland

died, of her own weakness. Ah, it would be dreadful, dreadful, if we

too, had to fall, as the unfortunate Kosciusko did, with the

despairing cry of 'Finis Germaniae!'"

"No, that will never happen!" cried Nugent. "No, Germany will never

endure the disgrace and debasement of Poland; she will never sink to

ruin and perish like Poland. It is true, a majority of the German

princes bow to Napoleon's power, and we may charge them with

infidelity and treason against Germany; but we can not prefer the

same charge against the German people and the subjects of the

traitorous German princes. They have remained faithful, and have not

yet lost faith in their fatherland. They are indignantly champing

the bit with which their despots have shut their mouth; and, in

silence, harmony, and confidence in God, they are preparing for the

great hour when they will rise, for the sacred day when they will

break their shackles with the divine strength of a united and high-

minded people. Everywhere the embers are smouldering under the

ashes; everywhere secret societies and leagues have been formed;

everywhere there are conspirators, depots of arms, and passwords;

everywhere the people of Germany are waiting only for the moment

when they are to strike the first blow, and for the signal to rise.

And they are in hopes now that Austria will give the signal. Our

preparations for war have been hailed with exultation throughout

Germany: everywhere the people are ready to take up arms so soon as

Austria draws the sword. The example of Spain and Portugal has

taught the Germans how the arrogant conqueror must be met; the

example of Austria will fill them with boundless enthusiasm, and

lead them to the most glorious victories!"

"And we are still temporizing and hesitating," exclaimed John,

mournfully; "we are not courageous enough to strike the first blow!

All is ready; the emperor has only to utter the decisive word, but

he refuses to do so!"

"The enthusiasm of his people will soon compel him and his advisers

to utter that word," said Nugent. "Austria can no longer retrace her

steps; she must advance. Austria must lead Germany in the sacred

struggle for liberty; she can no longer retrace her steps."

"God grant that your words may be verified!" cried John, lifting his

tearful eyes to heaven; "God grant that--"

A low rapping at the door leading to the small secret corridor

caused the archduke to pause and turn his eyes with a searching

expression to this door.

The rapping was repeated, more rapidly than before.

"It is Hormayr," exclaimed the archduke, joyfully; and he hastened

to the secret door and opened it quickly.

A tall young man, in the uniform of an Austrian superior officer,

appeared in the open door. The archduke grasped both his hands and

drew him hastily into the cabinet.

"Hormayr, my friend," he said, breathlessly, "you have returned from

the Tyrol? You have succeeded in fulfilling the mission with which I

intrusted you? You have carried my greetings to the Tyrolese? Oh,

speak, speak, my friend! What do my poor, deserted Tyrolese say?"

Baron von Hormayr fixed his flashing dark eyes with an expression of

joyful tenderness on the excited face of the archduke.

"The Tyrolese send greeting to the Archduke John," he said; "the

Tyrolese hope that the Archduke John will deliver them from the

hateful yoke of the Bavarians; the Tyrolese believe that the hour

has arrived, when they may recover their liberty; and to prove this-

"To prove this?" asked the archduke, breathlessly, when Hormayr

paused a moment.

"To prove this," said Hormayr, in a lower voice, stepping up closer

to the prince, "some of the most influential and respectable

citizens of the Tyrol have accompanied me to Vienna; they desire to

assure your imperial highness of their loyal devotedness, and

receive instructions from you."

"Is Andreas Hofer, the landwirth, among them?" asked the archduke,

eagerly.

"He is, and so are Wallner and Speckbacher. I bring to your imperial

highness the leading men of the Tyrolese peasants, and would like to

know when I may introduce them to you, and at what hour you will

grant a private audience to my Tyrolese friends?"

"Oh, I will see them at once!" exclaimed John, impatiently. "My

heart longs to gaze into the faithful, beautiful eyes of the

Tyrolese, and read in their honest faces if they really are still

devoted and attached to me. Bring them to me, Hormayr; make haste--

but no, I forgot that it is broad daylight, and that the spies

watching me have eyes to see, ears to hear, and tongues to report to

the emperor as dreadful crimes all that they have seen and heard

here. We must wait, therefore, until the spies have closed their

eyes, until dark and reticent night has descended on earth, and--.

Well, Conrad, what is it?" the archduke interrupted himself, looking

at his valet de chambre, who had just entered hastily by the door of

the anteroom.

"Pardon me, your imperial highness," said Conrad; "a messenger of

her majesty the empress is in the anteroom. Her majesty has ordered

him to deliver his message only to the archduke himself."

"Let him come in," said the archduke.

Conrad opened the door, and the imperial messenger appeared on the

threshold.

"Her majesty the Empress Ludovica sends her respects to the

archduke," said the messenger, approaching the archduke

respectfully. "Her majesty thanks your imperial highness for the

book which you lent her; and she returns it with sincere thanks."

An expression of astonishment overspread John's face, but it soon

disappeared, and the archduke received with a calm smile the small

sealed package which the messenger handed to him.

"All right," he said; "tell her majesty to accept my thanks."

The messenger returned to the anteroom, and Conrad closed the door

behind him.

"Place yourself before the door, Nugent, that nobody may be able to

look through the key-hole," whispered John, "for you know that I do

not trust Conrad. And you, Hormayr, watch the secret door."

The two gentlemen hastened noiselessly to obey. The archduke cast a

searching glance around the walls, as if afraid that even the silken

hangings might contain somewhere an opening for the eyes of a spy,

or serve as a cover to an ear of Dionysius.

"Something of importance must have occurred," whispered John;

"otherwise the empress would not have ventured to send me a direct

message. I did not lend her a book, and you know we agreed with the

ladies of our party to communicate direct news to each other only in

cases of pressing necessity. Let us see now what it is."

He hastily tore open the sealed package and drew from it a small

prayer-book bound in black velvet. While he was turning over the

leaves with a smile, a small piece of paper fluttered from between

the gilt-edged leaves and dropped to the floor.

"That is it," said John, smiling, picking up the paper, and fixing

his eyes on it. "There is nothing on it," he then exclaimed,

contemplating both sides of the paper. "There is not a word on it.

It is only a book-mark, that is all. But, perhaps, something is

written in the book, or there may be another paper."

"No, your imperial highness," whispered Nugent, stepping back a few

paces from the door. "The Princess Lichtenstein whispered to me

yesterday, at the court concert, that she had obtained an excellent

way of sending a written message to her friends and allies, and

that, if we received a piece of white paper from the ladies of our

party, we had better preserve it and read it afterward near the

fireplace."

"Ah, sympathetic ink," exclaimed John; "well, we will see."

He hastily approached the fireplace, where a bright fire was

burning, and held the piece of paper close to the flames.

Immediately a number of black dots and lines appeared on the paper;

these dots and lines assumed gradually the shape of finely-written

words.

The archduke followed with rapt attention every line, every letter

that appeared on the white paper, and now he read as follows:

"The French ambassador has requested the emperor to grant him an

audience at eleven o'clock this morning. A courier from Metternich

in Paris has arrived, and, I believe, brought important news. The

decisive hour is at hand. Hasten to the emperor; leave nothing

undone to prevail on him to take a bold stand. Send somebody to the

Archduke Charles; request him to repair likewise to the emperor and

influence him in the same direction. I have paved the way for you. I

hope the French ambassador will, in spite of himself, be our ally,

and by his defiant and arrogant bearing, attain for us the object

which we have hitherto been unable to accomplish by our persuasion

and our arguments. Make haste! Burn this paper."

The archduke signed to his two confidants to come to him, and

pointed to the paper. When they had hastily read the lines, he threw

the paper into the flames, and turned to the two gentlemen who stood

behind him.

"Well, what do you think of it?" he inquired. "Shall I do what these

mysterious lines ask of me? Shall I go to the emperor without being

summoned to him?"

"The empress requests you to do so, and she is as prudent as she is

energetic," said Count Nugent.

"I say, like the empress, the decisive hour is at hand," exclaimed

Baron von Hormayr. "Hasten to the emperor; try once more to force

the sword into his hand, and to wrest at length the much-wished-for

words, 'War against France!' from his lips. The Tyrolese are only

waiting for these words, to rise for their emperor and become again

his loving and devoted subjects. All Austria, nay, all Germany, is

longing for these words, which will be the signal of the deliverance

of the fatherland from the French yoke. Oh, my lord and prince,

hasten to the emperor; speak to him with the impassioned eloquence

of the cherubim, break the fatal charm that holds Austria and the

Tyrol enthralled!"

At this moment the large clock standing on the mantelpiece commenced

striking.

"Eleven o'clock," said the archduke--"the hour when the emperor is

to give an audience to the French ambassador. It is high time,

therefore. Nugent, hasten to my brother; implore him to repair

forthwith to the emperor, and to act this time at least in unison

with me. Tell him that everything is at stake, and that we must risk

all to win all. But you, Hormayr, go to my dear Tyrolese; tell them

that I will receive them here at twelve o'clock to-night, and

conduct them to me at that hour, my friend. We will hold a council

of war at midnight."

"And your imperial highness does not forget that you promised to go

to the concert to-night?" asked Nugent. "Your highness is aware that

our friends not only intend to-night to give an ovation to the

veteran master of German art, Joseph Haydn, but wish also to profit

by the German music to make a political demonstration; and they long

for the presence of the imperial court, that the emperor and his

brothers may witness the patriotic enthusiasm of Vienna."

"I shall certainly be present," said the archduke, earnestly, "and I

hope the empress will succeed in prevailing on the emperor to go to

the concert.--Well, then, my friends, let us go to work, and nay God

grant success to our efforts!"