unhurt. She was now certain, that the Castle was at no great distance:
but she dreaded either to miss the proper road, or to find it rendered
impassable by earth and rubbish. Should either happen, she had no
alternative left but perishing of hunger in these frightful dungeons:
nor had she much time left her for deliberation, since her torch already
began to draw towards its end. Observing this, she rushed forwards with
desperate resolution, and committed herself to the guidance of chance.
Accident, or rather a benevolent Providence directed her footsteps; and
she reached the staircase and Urania’s chamber, before her strength
entirely failed her. Here then she rested at length; but that rest was
insensibility.
After some time her recollection returned. She raised herself, and saw
with surprise, that the chamber, which Donat to favour his escape had
caused to be fastened so carefully, was filled with people. She felt,
that they conveyed her to a couch, and rendered her every possible
assistance; and she heard them make a thousand kind enquiries respecting
her health and her wishes: but her strength both of mind and body was so
completely exhausted, that she found it impossible to pronounce a word,
or even make a sign, that she was sensible of their attentions.
It was pain, which enabled her to give the first token of sensation. Her
arms and bosom were much bruised, and the blood streamed copiously from
a wound on her head. She has never been able to recollect, whether she
received these injuries, when Donat threw her down the dungeon steps, or
from her being struck by the falling stones while making her escape. The
persons, who surrounded her couch, lost no time in binding up her
wounds, and the pain of this operation forced from her a feeble cry.
Finding that she was now sensible, they repeated their enquiries as to
what had happened to her, and how she had been brought into so terrible
a condition. She stammered out the word “earthquake!” Where was Count
Donat, was the next demand, which she answered by pointing to the
private door conducting to the vaults.
She was soon removed to a more quiet chamber, and the care which was
taken of her convinced her, that she had not fallen into the hands of
enemies.
On the fourth day she was already declared to be convalescent; and it
was announced to her, that the Commander of the Bishop of Coira’s
forces, which had, conquered the Castle, requested an audience of her.
She consented to receive him, and shortly after a young man of
prepossessing appearance entered the room.
—“Noble Lady,” said he, “though you are the wife of the cruel owner of
this fortress, we are well aware, that you are not a partner in his
crimes. His people are some of them slain; others have betaken
themselves to flight; and it is in vain, that we have endeavoured to
find the place of his concealment. Your pointing out the door into the
vaults has not been sufficient; he cannot have made his escape through
that passage, since the falling-in of the roof has rendered it
impracticable; and had he in his flight been overtaken by the vengeance
of Heaven, how could _you_ have avoided the sharing his fate? Be frank
with us, noble Lady; I conjure you in the name of humanity, tell us,
where he is concealed, and depend on our dealing better with him, than
he has been accustomed to deal with others.”—
Helen mustered up all her strength, and endeavoured to relate the
circumstances of her escape: but anxiety to be as brief as possible, and
her endeavours to conceal Donat’s ill-usage of her, (which she thought,
duty to her husband forbade her revealing,) rendered every thing she
said obscure and improbable. She mentioned the earthquake, and to prove
it showed the bruises and wounds, which it had occasioned her. The
stranger, however, assured her, that she must have received them in some
other manner, for that no one in the Castle had perceived the slightest
symptoms of an earthquake.
Helen, however, endeavoured to establish her assertion; and while
recalling the various circumstances which had passed in the caverns, she
suddenly recollected the groans, which had struck her hearing. She
earnestly entreated, that the heap of rubbish might be examined; she was
obeyed; the stones were removed, and beneath them was discovered the
shattered and lifeless form of the Count of Carlsheim.
It was now the general opinion, that the violence which Donat had used
in forcing open the dungeon-door, had shattered the rotten cavern, had
made the supports crack, and had brought down the roof, whose fall had
involved in it his own destruction.
Helen’s horror at this discovery, her urgent entreaties that the corse
might have christian burial, and the many hours which she past in
prayers for the repose of Donat’s spirit, startled the present masters
of the Castle not a little. They began to suspect, that she was not by
any means so innocent a creature, and so unfortunate a victim of
conjugal tyranny, as she had been represented, and as in truth she was.
They therefore ceased to trouble her with questions, considering her as
the confidante and accomplice of Count Donat’s crimes; but as they had
no other fault to lay to her charge, and as the power of her relations
compelled them to treat her with respect, as soon as she was
sufficiently recovered, she was removed to the Convent of Zurich, and
left there with a hint by no means equivocal,—“that all things
considered, she would do well to pass the remainder of her days within
that sanctuary.”—
Helen’s joy at understanding, that she had been conveyed to Zurich, was
indescribable: she immediately requested to see the venerable Countess
Urania, and discovered to the patroness of her mother both herself and
all that had happened. It was now, that her fate seemed disposed to
abate its severity. In an unrestrained intercourse with this excellent
woman, who received her with open arms, and to whom she unveiled her
whole heart, she looked forward to a life of tranquil happiness.
Urania’s conversation poured balsam into her wounded soul, and explained
to her many things, which had hitherto appeared to her unaccountable.
Donat’s resolution to make her his wife was produced by a former
passion, which he had entertained for her mother, and by a desire to be
revenged on her father, the Count of Homburg; and that unknown cavern to
which he had conducted her, was doubtless the same, in which (as it was
reported) the worthy father of such a son had starved to death two of
the fugitive monks of Curwald. Oh! Towers of Sargans, what crimes have
been committed within your gloomy bounds! And will then the vengeance of
the Eternal Judge sleep for ever? Will neither the heavens rain down
fire to consume you, nor the earth unclose to swallow you in its womb,
and thus prevent you from reminding posterity of those horrible acts, to
which you have been so long a witness?—Yet the blood of your barbarous
master has purified you, and you are now the abode of innocence and
virtue. Peace, long peace be with you, and be with your lawful
possessors; and may the curse of retribution only fall on those, who
shall dare to deprive those possessors of their right!
Solitude and experience sometimes endow the soul, which has withdrawn
itself from earth to devote itself to Heaven, with a prophetic power.
Even now I see into futurity! I see, that the family of Carlsheim and
Sargans, which has already suffered so much, has still much more to
suffer; but again I say it—“Alas for those, by whom the descendants of
Amalberga and Emmeline shall be robbed of their lawful inheritance, and
compelled to experience the calamities of their predecessors.”—
I have deviated from my narrative, to which I now return.—Helen lived
tranquil by Urania’s side, equally unconscious of the evil reports,
which were circulated respecting her late misfortunes by her enemies,
and of the benevolent intentions of her powerful friends. Her parents
soon visited her at Zurich, and now that she was a widow, requested her
to accept the hand of her former bridegroom, the Count of Torrenburg:
but Helen knew but too well, that no Count of Torrenburg existed for
_her_. She had courageously torn his image from her heart; and she
avowed to her friends her knowledge of his passion for Amalberga, and
declared, that to see them happy in the possession of each other was now
the only wish of her heart.
Helen’s relations listened to this declaration with no trifling regret:
they would willingly have rewarded her for her past sufferings by the
certainty, that the remainder of her life would be past in happiness
with one of the noblest of Helvetian youths. But they had brought with
them (for the purpose of persuading Helen to the proposed marriage) some
of Torrenburg’s relations, to whom his passion for Amalberga was by no
means so unpleasant a subject. She was now a rich heiress; as Count
Donat’s only surviving daughter, she was entitled to the extensive
domains of Carlsheim and Sargans, and consequently she was a much more
advantageous match than Helen. This gave rise to some disputes between
the friends of the different parties: but the solemn declaration of
Count Donat’s widow, that she never would lay aside that name, at length
silenced every opposition; and she obtained from them all a promise,
that they would mutually exert themselves to accomplish the only wish,
which she indulged on this side of the grave; namely, the union of
Eginhart of Torrenburg with Amalberga of Sargans. They were informed by
her, that according to Amabel’s letter the lady was concealed in the
Convent of Engelberg, and thither they hastened to apprize her of the
happiness, which awaited her.
I need not say, that they sought her there in vain; the Count of
Torrenburg’s endeavours to discover her were also unsuccessful, till the
arrival of Bloomberg, who assured him, that she must be in Landenberg’s
power, and that the most likely place to look for her was the Fortress
of Rassburg. The consequence of this information was a bond of union
between Torrenburg and the Friends of Freedom against Landenberg and his
brother in iniquity, the insolent Gessler; and the Count immediately
accompanied Bloomberg to Stein, that he might consult with his new
allies the best means for effecting Landenberg’s overthrow and
Amalberga’s deliverance.
In the mean while William Tell’s plan, for throwing off the Governor’s
yoke, and asserting the liberty of his beloved country, had been
gradually ripening. The impression, which he and his friends, Walter
Forest, Bernsdorf, and the two Melthals, had made upon the general mind
was great, and their adherents were numerous; but the success of their
enterprise still depended entirely upon its being kept a profound
secret. Those men, whose plans were soon to burst out into flames
terrible as the explosion of a volcano, and to give posterity an example
of heroic devotion to the cause of Freedom, were as yet compelled to
work in darkness, and arrange their vast designs in corners and by
stealth.
It was not till the 28th of December (being the Festival of St.
Alexander) that they ventured to muster their numbers in a large meadow
near the Lake of the Four Cantons; this was to be their last conference,
and even this they took the precaution of holding under covert of the
night. The Count of Torrenburg and Edmund Bloomberg were also present;
but the former by his impatience had nearly ruined the whole design.
Conscious of his exalted station, and of the valour of his new allies,
he could not endure the degrading idea of skulking about in darkness and
concealment, as if he were plotting the execution of some crime. He
insisted upon an instant declaration of hostility against Landenberg,
and that an attempt to rescue his beloved should be made without delay:
it was not without difficulty that William Tell convinced him, how
impossible it would be to rescue Amalberga any other way than by
artifice, without exposing her to the most imminent danger; and that he
persuaded him to wait patiently till St. Sylvester’s Eve, when (it was
determined) the tyrant should have an open and forcible attack made upon
him; though in making that attack, there would still be an absolute
necessity for conducting it with the utmost caution.
Amalberga’s friends had obtained some intelligence respecting her
present situation. One of Arnold Melthal’s sons, a spirited lad, equally
well adapted to daring enterprise and the winding paths of artifice,
found means to enter the Fortress of Rassburg in disguise, and examine
whether any thing could be attempted towards the rescue of the lady.
During her abode on the banks of the Lake of Thun, her sweetness and
humility of manners; her majestic air accompanied by the condescension
of an angel; the little difference which she seemed to make between
herself and the girls of the village, whom she honoured with the name of
her companions; all these together had made her an universal favourite;
and had not every appearance of a chain been hateful in the eyes of the
sons of Freedom, it would have been easy for Amalberga to have
established herself as the queen of one of the best people that the
earth holds, and to have mounted Helvetia’s throne by general
acclamation.
To an eager desire for rescuing this adored lady from the power of
Landenberg, was now united the wish to gain possession of the strong
Castle of Rassburg; which would secure to Helvetia the success of all
those mighty plans, whose accomplishment still lay concealed within the
bosom of futurity.
Alwyn, Arnold Melthal’s son, when he ventured to approach the fortress
in disguise, was not aware, that his was one of those countenances,
which cannot pass unobserved. Fortunately, the eyes, whose notice he
attracted, were those of one, by whom features like his were seldom
viewed with displeasure. Landenberg happened to be absent, and had left
his fair prisoner to the charge of a female attendant, who had formerly
stood high in his estimation for the sake of her own beauty, and who now
preserved her influence with him by condescending to watch over those,
who were in present possession of that heart, to which she was herself
become indifferent. Well skilled in manly beauty, she no sooner saw
Alwyn pass along with a bucket on his head (for he had obtained entrance
into Rassburg under the disguise of a common water-carrier) than she was
convinced of his being something better, than his dress denoted. She
accosted, and questioned him. His affected simplicity could not deceive
her; and he saw himself compelled either to adopt some artifice, or to
be reduced to that suspicious silence, which in such a situation would
have been scarcely better than a confession of the truth.
—“And so you continue to deny,” continued the girl, “that there is any
secret reason for a man like you being here, habited in a manner to
which, I am certain, you have never been accustomed? Young man, be frank
with me! I should be sorry to give you over to some other questioner,
who might use rough means to obtain an answer, or to order that you
should be kept in custody, till the Governor returns. Then tell me
honestly at once, who you are, and what motive has brought you hither?”—
Alwyn during this speech had examined the countenance of his new
acquaintance, and fancied, that he could read in it marks of a
partiality for him by no means doubtful. His resolution was taken in a
moment, and he threw himself at her feet.
—“What brought me hither?” he exclaimed; “’twas Love, most beautiful of
all earthly creatures! But who I am.... Ah! shall I dare to avow myself
one of the lowliest among the inhabitants of yonder valley, and thus
make it certain, that my suit will be rejected, and myself driven with
scorn from the presence of her whom I adore?”—
—“And who is it that you adore?” demanded Ursula.
“You, lovely angel! you!” he exclaimed passionately, while he seized her
hand, and prest upon it a thousand kisses; “my heart is devoted to you
alone, and your cruelty will kill me!”—
The astonished and delighted Ursula forced herself from his embrace, and
fled; but it was not long before she returned, anxious to convince
herself, that her half-faded charms had really made so valuable a
conquest. To make a woman’s vanity believe any thing flattering, Heaven
knows, is no difficult task; and half an hour was sufficient to leave
her no doubt of her triumph. She soon grew weary of playing the prude,
and she gave him to understand, that he would not find her heart
absolutely marble; and thus did the handsome Alwyn find himself involved
in an amour, at whose termination he could not guess, and of which,
while it lasted, he thought, that he had but little reason to be vain.
At present he reaped no great advantages from his artifice. It was
impossible to get a sight of Amalberga, or convey to her a hint, that
her friends in the valley were making preparations for her rescue. He
was also soon compelled to retire by the return of the Governor, who was
now frequently absent for days together from Rassburg on account of the
popular disturbances, and who could only bestow a few isolated hours on
the prosecution of his suit to the heiress of Sargans. As soon as the
warder’s horn announced the Governor’s return, Ursula (who trembled,
lest her supposed lover should be discovered by others, as he had been
by her) requested him to be gone; yet still there was a secret means
left for him to gain entrance into the fortress of the rock, which
(disagreeable as it was) for Amalberga’s sake and the general advantage,
he did not refuse to employ. At midnight his doating inamorata used to
let a bucket down through a chasm in the wall; the rock was steep and
flat; the unwilling Lover was then drawn up to the top, where he was
obliged to purchase every little scrap of intelligence, which it was
requisite for him to know, by a thousand lies and flattering speeches;
every one of which, to an heart filled with Helvetian honesty, was
scarcely less painful than the stab of a dagger.
He was rewarded, however, for this sacrifice by obtaining the important
information, that hitherto Landenberg’s behaviour towards the Lady of
Sargans had been restrained within the limits of the most respectful
adoration: but that he had assured her with the most dreadful
imprecations, that a period was fixed, beyond which he would no longer
submit to be the patient victim of her severity. The first day of the
ensuing year, he was determined, should make the cruel beauty completely
his by fair means or by force. This intelligence induced Alwyn to be
more frequent in his midnight visits; he repeated them, till every part
of the fortress was become perfectly familiar, and till every little
circumstance had been carefully gleaned by him, which might assist his
friends in their design of storming the fort and rescuing the lovely
captive.
By the Festival of St. Sylvester every necessary preparation was
completed; and all the machines were ready to be worked at once in
various parts of the country, which might secure the success of an
enterprise, of whose views the release of an imprisoned damsel made but
a very trifling part—those views were of the most extensive nature; yet
if the plan had failed, in spite of the justice of Tell’s cause
posterity would no doubt have branded him with the name of rebel, and
confounded him with the common herd of unsuccessful adventurers, who
have dared to attempt objects beyond their power to attain. But as his
plan was arranged with the utmost foresight, and its execution was
followed with the most prosperous issue, after-ages have viewed his deed
with admiration, have reckoned it as the proudest triumph of the rights
of nature over cruelty and oppression, and have bestowed on its author
the title of a Hero: so certain is it, that actions are almost always
weighed according to their result, and the most impartial judge (without
being aware of it) is frequently induced to decide unfairly of events,
dazzled by the lustre of the success with which they were attended.
Had nothing but the Count of Torrenburg’s inclination been consulted,
the attempt, which was to decide upon his future happiness or despair,
would not have been deferred till the latest day possible; neither when
it _was_ made, would so small a number of men have been employed to
carry it into effect. Perhaps in this respect something would have been
sacrificed in consideration of the impatience natural to a lover; but
Helvetia’s deliverers were not without a certain portion of that
obstinacy, which so often accompanies valour and resolution.
Torrenburg’s opinion would doubtless have had more influence with them,
had he not been a nobleman and one who was able to bring so powerful a
force either to their aid or against them. They considered the most
distant trace of authority over them with abhorrence, and were
determined, that every step, which they made in the service of liberty,
should be taken of their own free will. It was certain, that the
fortress was but ill garrisoned, and that its security consisted solely
in its inaccessible situation: in spite therefore of Torrenburg’s
entreaties and anger, they resolved, that no more than one hundred men
should be allotted for this service; and among these the jealous
Helvetians, who could not endure that any hands but their own should
break their fetters, would not suffer one of Torrenburg’s warriors to be
introduced. It was not without some difficulty, that the Count obtained
permission to accompany the party himself, and to be the next to Alwyn
Melthal, who should penetrate into the Castle of Rassburg.
Never did any summer’s day seem so long to the Count as St. Sylvester’s,
while he waited with impatience for the departure of light. No sooner
was it dark, than the allies began to assemble by twos and threes from
different quarters. It was one of the most gloomy winter nights, that
ever favoured a secret enterprise; and the glimmering taper, which was
the usual signal for Alwyn to ascend the wall, was not yet discernible.
Midnight was already past; still there was no token of Ursula’s
approach; when suddenly the trampling of horses was heard, and the gleam
of approaching torches showed them a body of soldiers coming from the
Castle by a path, which was well guarded by sentinels and provided with
several draw-bridges. Landenberg was at the head of the troop. Unmoved
by her tears and fainting, he had just informed Amalberga, that he
should return the next day to hear her final decision; and he was now
bending his course to Sarno, in order to exact the usual new-year’s gift
from the inhabitants of the Valley, and hear them renew the oath of
submission to their Leige-Lord, the Emperor. It was an established
custom of the vice-gerents to receive from the hands of the vassals on
the first day of the new year, what little had escaped their extortion
during the old one; in return for which they never failed to promise
greater indulgence for the future, nor in spite of that promise to
conduct themselves with increased oppression.
As he journeyed onwards, Landenberg recapitulated to himself the
advantages, which this year had produced to him; the quantity of wealth
which he had collected in gold, jewels, and other valuables; the
possession of the lovely Amalberga, whom he already looked upon as his
own; and above all, the power of throwing off the wearisome mask of
hypocrisy, which he had at first been compelled to assume.