61. The ships sailed out of port, freighted with mother love and religious blessings. To anxious eyes that watched their departure, their white sails, lessening in the distance, wafted back messages of hope and assurance. At the dawn of another day the last speck had disappeared, and the blue waves of the Mediterranean rolled tranquilly, as if jealously guarding the secrets of fate. But time went on. Homeward-bound vessels, direct from the scene of conflict, saw the precious fleet. News of stern conflicts with the infidels was brought by wandering palmers; but from sailor merchant, from peasant warrior, and from noble, scarred with Saracenic wounds, there was a death-like silence in regard to the little wanderers. Streaming eyes fixed upon the East looked in vain until all tears were quenched in death.
62. Eighteen years passed since the children's fleet sailed out of European life. Then a vague rumor of treachery began to circulate, and, little by little, the details came out of one of the most inhuman crimes that ever shocked the hearts of men. The benevolent merchants who furnished the ships had sold the children to the barbarous Moslems, and the course of the fleet was turned from east to south. On the second day out a great storm arose, and two of the ships foundered, and all on board perished. A more horrible fate awaited the survivors. Landing in a city of the Moors in northern Africa, they were conducted to a secure prison, and from the gloomy portals they passed out into distant and perpetual slavery. One by one the captives died, some by disease, some by cruelty, others passed away in old age. At length all dropped their weary burdens, and their toils and sorrows ended. Not one of the hundreds that sailed out of Marseilles on that sunny afternoon ever saw Europe again. Rarely in the history of the world has a story in real life been freighted with so much woe as fell to the lot of the victims of the strange madness which swept over Europe less than seven hundred years ago. Peace to their memories!
63. At last an army was organized, and Innocent announced that he himself would lead the host to the defense of the holy sepulchre; but his death intervened before the project was ripe. Andrew, king of Hungary, was the only monarch who had leisure or inclination to leave his dominions. He led the army to Palestine and defeated the Saracens, but failed to follow up his victory, and soon after abandoned the enterprise. The Duke of Austria, who succeeded him as leader, directed the whole energy of the crusade against Egypt; and Damietta, which commanded the river Nile, was chosen as the first point of attack. Finding themselves unable to successfully defend the city, the Moslems offered to yield the whole of Palestine to the Christians upon the condition of the evacuation of Egypt. With a blindness almost incredible these terms were refused, and a last attack made on the walls of Damietta. The besieged made but slight resistance, and the Christians entered the city, to find out of seventy thousand but three thousand remaining, so fearful had been the scourge of plague and famine. Several months were spent in Damietta. The climate either weakened the frames or obscured the understandings of the Christians, for after their conquest they remained inactive until the Moslems recuperated their army and were able to recapture Damietta and expel the Crusaders from Egypt.
64. With a view to the recovery of the Holy Land, Frederick II, of Germany, had been married to Iolante, the heiress of the kingdom of Jerusalem. His early life was spent in Sicily, in familiar intercourse with Jews and Arabs, and Sicily was to the last the favored portion of his dominion. The emperor's court was given up to unpardonable frivolities in the eyes of Pope Gregory IX, one of whose first pontifical acts was to summon Frederick to a new crusade. The emperor paid little heed to the aged Pope's exhortations and commands, postponing from time to time the period of his departure. He embarked at last, but in ten days returned. The Pope was not to be trifled with, and pronounced his excommunication. Frederick treated it with contempt, and appealed to Christendom to sustain him. For this be underwent a more tremendous excommunication, but his partisans in Rome raised an insurrection and expelled the Pope.
65. And now Frederick set sail of his own accord on his crusading expedition. On reaching the Holy Land he was received with joy by the knights and pilgrims, but the clergy held aloof from him as under the ban of the Church. He negotiated privately with the Sultan of Egypt. The Christian camp was thronged with Saracens. The emperor wore a Saracen dress. In his privacy he did not hesitate to say, "I came not here to deliver the Holy City, but to maintain my estimation among the Franks." To the Sultan he appealed: "Out of your goodness surrender to me Jerusalem as it is, that I may be able to lift up my head among the kings of Christendom." Accordingly, the city was surrendered to him. The Pope repudiated the transaction.
66. While the emperor proclaimed his successes to Europe, the pope denounced them. Frederick crowned himself at Jerusalem, being unable to find any ecclesiastic who dared to perform the ceremony, and departed from the Holy Land. He prepared to enter on his conflict with the pontiff, and drew over to his side the general sentiment of Europe; the Pope was made to give way, and peace proclaimed. The treaty, which closed the sixth crusade, was for ten years.
67. On neither side probably was the truce strictly kept, and the injuries done to pilgrims on their way from Acre to Jerusalem were alleged as a sufficient reason for sending out the expedition headed by Richard, Earl of Cornwall, brother of the English Henry III, and afterward King of the Romans. This expedition may be regarded as the seventh in the list of crusades, and deserves notice as having been brought to an end, like that of Frederick, by a treaty, in 1240. The terms of the latter covenant were even more favorable to the Christians, but, two years later, the Latin power, such as it was, was swept away by the sword of Korasmians, pushed onward by the hordes of Jenghiz Khan. The awful inroad was alleged by Pope Innocent IV as reason for summoning Christendom again to the rescue of the Holy Land.
68. Nearly seven years passed away before the French king, Louis IX, was able to set sail for Egypt. The royal saint, who lives for us in the quaint and graphic account of his seneschal Joinville, may with truth be said to have been animated by a spirit of devotion and self-sacrifice. Intolerant in theory and bigoted in language, Louis had that true charity which would make him succor his enemies not less than his friends. Nor was his bravery less signal than his gentleness. His dauntless courage saved his army from complete destruction at Mansourah in 1249, but his offer to exchange Damietta for Jerusalem was rejected, and in the retreat, during which they were compelled to fight at desperate disadvantage, Louis was taken prisoner. With serene patience he underwent suffering, for which the Saracens, so Joinville tells us, frankly confessed that they would have renounced Mahommed; and, when the payment of his ransom set him free, he made a pilgrimage in sackcloth to Nazareth in 1250. As a general he achieved nothing, but his humiliation involved no dishonor; and the genuineness of his faith, his devotion, and his love had been fully tested in the furnace of affliction.
69. The crusading fire was now rapidly burning itself out. In the West there was nothing to awaken again the enthusiasm which had been stirred by Peter the Hermit and St. Bernard, while in Palestine itself the only signs of genuine activity were furnished by the antagonism between the religious orders there. The quarrels of Templars and Hospitallers led to a pitched battle in 1259, in which almost all the Templars were slain.
70. Some eight years later the tidings that Antioch had been taken by the infidels revived in St. Louis the old yearning for the rescue of the holy places. Cheered by the sympathy of Pope Clement IV, he embarked with an army of sixty thousand in 1270, but a storm drove his ships to Sardinia, and thence they sailed for Tunis. They encamped on the site of Carthage, when a plague broke out. The saintly king was among the victims, and the truest of all crusaders died. In the following year Edward, of England, reached Acre, took Nazareth—the inhabitants of which he massacred—fell sick, and during his sickness narrowly escaped being murdered by an assassin sent by the Emir of Joppa. Having made a peace for nine years, he returned to Europe, and the ninth and last crusade was at an end.
71. The after fate of the Holy Land may be briefly told: The Christians, unmindful of their past sufferings and of the jealous neighbors they had to deal with, first broke the truce by plundering some Egyptian traders, near Margat. The Sultan revenged the outrage by taking possession of Margat, and war once more raged between the two nations. Tripoli and the other cities were captured in succession, until at last Acre was the only city of Palestine remaining to the Christians.
72. The Grand Master of the Templars collected his small and devoted band, and prepared to defend to the death the last possession of the order. Europe was deaf to his cry, the numbers of the foe were overwhelming, and devoted bravery was of no avail. In the disastrous siege the Christians were all but exterminated. The Grand Master fell at the head of his knights, pierced by many wounds. Seven Templars and as many Hospitallers alone escaped from the dreadful carnage. The victorious Moslems then set fire to the city, and the rule of the Christians in Palestine was brought to a close forever.
73. Kingsley ably summarizes the effects of the crusades as follow: "Egypt was still the center of communication between the two great stations of the Moslem power; and, indeed, as Mr. Lane has shown us in his most valuable translation of the 'Arabian Nights,' possessed a peculiar life and character of its own.
74. "It was the rash object of the crusaders to extinguish that life. Palestine was first their point of attack, but the later crusaders seem to have found, like all the rest of the world, that the destinies of Palestine could not be separated from those of Egypt, and to Damietta accordingly was directed that last disastrous attempt of St. Louis. The crusaders failed utterly of the object at which they aimed. They succeeded in an object of which they never dreamed; for in those crusades the Moslem and the Christian had met face to face, and found that both were men, that they had a common humanity, a common eternal standard of nobility and virtue. So the Christian knights went home humbler and wiser men, when they found in the Saracen enemies the same generosity, truth, mercy, chivalrous self-sacrifice, which they fancied their own peculiar possession; and, added to that, a civilization and a learning which they could only admire and imitate. And, thus, from the era of the crusades, a kindlier feeling sprang up between the Crescent and the Cross, till it was again broken by the fearful invasions of the Turks through Eastern Europe.
75. "The learning of the Moslem, as well as their commerce, began to pour rapidly into Christendom, both from Spain, Egypt, and Syria; and thus the crusaders were, indeed, rewarded according to their deeds. They took the sword and perished by the sword. But the truly noble element in them, the element which our hearts and reasons recognize and love, in spite of all the folly and fanaticism of the crusades, whensoever we read 'Ivanhoe' or the 'Talisman,' the element of loyal faith and self-sacrifice, did not go unrequited.
76. "They learned wider, juster views of man and virtue, which I can not help believing must have had great effect in weakening in their minds the old, exclusive, bigoted notions, and in paving the way for the great outburst of free thought and the great assertion of the dignity of humanity which the fifteenth century beheld. They opened a path for that influx of scientific knowledge which has produced in after centuries the most enormous effects on the welfare of Europe, and made life possible for millions who would otherwise have been pent within the narrow bounds of Europe to devour each other in the struggle for life and bread!"
1. While the great sovereigns of Europe were busy in fighting the Moslems in Palestine, they did not entirely neglect affairs at home. Some of them were very good rulers, protecting their subjects and maintaining good order, and others were tyrannical and imposed all sorts of taxes and heavy burdens upon the people. Up among the Alps, where the country is made up of rough, rocky mountains and narrow valleys, lived a people who were practically free. They lived in little communities, each one of which elected its own magistrate or governor, and made its own laws. The region was so poor and rough that the neighboring kings little cared to get possession of it, and the Alpine dwellers had a greater amount of freedom than any other people of Europe. The country was divided into little separate communities, one of which was called Schwytz, and this afterward gave the name to the whole country—Switzerland.
2. This country of the Swiss was really a part of the German empire, but the emperors had extended their rule over the lower parts of the country, leaving the forest cantons free. And a brave, courageous, and industrious people grew up there. No pauper-house among the Alps, for every able-bodied person worked, and no body tried to rob his neighbor of his honest earnings. They were a strong athletic race, and the monarchs of the surrounding countries were glad to secure Swiss soldiers, for it was said that the Swiss never deserted. In 1298, while Wallace was struggling for freedom in Scotland, Albert of Austria, the second of the house of Hapsburg, resolved to get possession of the free forest cantons. He observed great secrecy in carrying out his designs, and it was not until a tax-gatherer or bailiff was permanently established in the country, supported by Austrian soldiers, that the people awakened to their danger. The story that follows is one that all true Swiss delight to believe, and, though it may not be true in regard to names and details, yet as a record of the main incidents of history it is substantially correct.
3. The first Austrian bailiff was Hermann Gessler, who built a strong fortress at Küssnacht, in Uri. At first he professed great love for the people, but when he became firmly established he threw off the mask, and showed himself to be a cruel, cowardly, mean-spirited tyrant. He was both vain and greedy, and he exacted both homage and tribute from the surrounding peasantry. Property was seized by the soldiers, and, should the owner venture to remonstrate, he was mercilessly beaten or killed on the spot. Complaints to the governor were followed by fresh outrages, until no one, even in the most secluded valleys, considered himself safe. Here tyranny as usual overstepped the bounds of safety. The free spirit, born of toil and privations in the mountain-fastnesses, would not long endure the outrages to which the people were subjected. A leader only was needed to induce a general revolt, and this leader was found in the person of William Tell.
[Illustration:Lake Lucerne]
4. William Tell, according to the received accounts, was born at Bürgelen, a secluded hamlet in the canton of Uri, near the lake of Lucerne, about the year 1275; and, like his forefathers, was the proprietor of a cottage, a few small fields, a vineyard, and an orchard. When William had reached the age of twenty, his father is said to have died, bequeathing to him these humble possessions. Endowed by nature with a lofty and energetic mind, Tell was distinguished also by great physical strength and manly beauty. He was taller by a head than most of his companions; he loved to climb the rugged rocks of his native mountains in pursuit of the chamois, and to steer his boat across the lake in time of storm and of danger. The load of wood which he could bear upon his shoulders was double that which any ordinary man could support.
5. With other sources of happiness, Tell combined that of possessing an intimate friend, who dwelt amid the rocky heights separating Uri from Unterwalden. Arnold Auderhalden, of Melchthal, was this associate. Although similar in many salient points of character, there was still an essential difference between the two men. Arnold, of Melchthal, while he loved his country with an ardor equal to that of Tell, and was capable of very great actions, was not prepared for much patient suffering or long endurance of wrong. Tell, whose temperament was more calm, and whose passions were more influenced by reason than impulse, only succeeded in restraining his friend's impulsive character by the stern force of example. Meantime the two friends passed their days in the enjoyment of one another's society, visiting at intervals each other's humble residence. Tell foresaw, on the arrival of Gessler, many of the misfortunes which must inevitably follow his iron rule, and without explaining his views even to Arnold, of Melchthal, without needlessly alarming his family, endeavored to devise some means, not of bearing the yoke patiently, but of delivering his country from the galling oppression which Albert had brought upon it. The hero felt satisfied that the evil deeds of the governor would sooner or later bring just retribution upon him; for this, and many other reasons, therefore, despite his own secret wishes, when Arnold poured out his fiery wrath in the ear of his friend, he listened calmly, and, to avoid inflaming him more, avowed none of his own views, or even feelings, in return.
6. One evening, however, William Tell and his wife sat in front of their cottage, watching their son amusing himself amid the flocks, when the former grew more thoughtful and sad than usual. Presently Tell spoke, and for the first time imparted to his wife some of his most secret designs. While the conversation was still proceeding, the parents saw their son rush toward them crying for help, and shouting the name of old Melchthal. As he spoke, Arnold's father appeared in sight, led by his grand-child, and feeling his way with a stick. Tell and his wife hastened forward, and discovered, to their inconceivable horror, that their friend was blind, his eyes having been put out with hot irons. The hero of Bürgelen, burning with just indignation, called on the old man to explain the fearful sight, and also the cause of Arnold's absence.
7. It appeared that that very morning the father, son, and grand-daughter were in the fields loading a couple of oxen with produce for the market-town, when an Austrian soldier presented himself, and, having examined the animals, which appeared to suit his fancy, ordered their owner to unyoke the beasts preparatory to his driving them off. Adding insolence to tyranny, he further remarked that such clod-poles might very well draw their own plows and carts. Arnold, furious at the man's daring impertinence, was only restrained by his father's earnest entreaties from sacrificing the robber on the spot; nothing, however, could prevent him from aiming a blow at the soldier, which broke two of his fingers.
8. The enraged soldier then retreated; but old Melchthal, who well knew the character of Gessler, immediately forced Arnold, much against his inclination, to go and conceal himself for some days in the Righi. Scarcely had Arnold departed in this direction, when a detachment of guards from Altorf surrounded their humble tenement, and dragged old Melchthal before Gessler, who ordered him to give up his son. Furious at the refusal which ensued, the tyrant commanded the old man's eyes to be put out, and then sent him forth blind to deplore his misfortunes.
9. Tell heard the story of Melchthal in silence, and, when he had finished, inquired the exact spot of his son's concealment. The father replied that it was in a particular cavern of Mount Righi, the desert rocks of which place are unknown to the emissaries of the governor, and there he had promised to remain until he received his parent's permission to come forth. This Tell requested might be granted immediately; and, turning to his son, ordered him to start at once for the Righi with a message to Arnold. Walter obeyed gladly; and, providing himself with food, and receiving private instructions from his father, went on his journey under cover of the night.
10. Tell himself then threw around his own person a cloak of wolf-skin, seized his quiver full of sharp arrows, and, taking his terrible bow, which few could bend, in hand, bade adieu to his wife for a few days, and took his departure in an opposite direction from that pursued by his son. It was quite dawn when Walter reached the Righi, and a slight column of blue smoke speedily directed him to the spot where Arnold lay concealed. The intrusion at first startled the fugitive; but, recognizing Tell's son, he listened eagerly to his dismal story, the conclusion of which roused in him so much fury that he would have rushed forth at once to assassinate Gessler had not Walter restrained him.
11. Schooled by Tell, he informed him that his father was engaged in preparing vengeance for the tyrant's crime, being at that moment with Werner Stauffacher concerting proper measures of resistance. "'Go,' said my father, 'and tell Arnold of this new villany of the governor's, and say that it is not rage which can give us just revenge, but the utmost exertion of courage and prudence. I leave Schwytz to bid Werner arm his canton: let Melchthal go to Stautz and prepare the men of Unterwalden for the outbreak; having done this, let him meet me, with Fürst and Werner, in the field of Grütli!'"
12. Arnold, scarcely taking time to refresh himself with food, sent Walter on his homeward journey, while he started for Stautz. Walter, when alone, turned his steps toward Altorf, where unfortunately, and unknown to himself, he came into the presence of Gessler, to whom he uttered somewhat hard things about the state of the country, being led to commit himself by the artful questions of the tyrant, who immediately ordered the lad into confinement, with strict injunctions to the guards to seize whomsoever should claim him.
13. Meanwhile, certain doubts and fears, from he knew not what cause, arose in the mind of Gessler, and struck him with a presentiment that all was not right. He imagined that the people wore in their looks less abject submission to his authority, and, the better to satisfy himself of the correctness or erroneousness of this view, he commanded Berenger to erect at dawn of day, in the market-place of Altorf, a pole, on the point of which he was to place the ducal cap of Austria. An order was further promulgated, to the effect that every one passing near or within sight of it should make obeisance, in proof of his honor and fealty to the duke.
14. Numerous soldiers under arms were directed to surround the place, to keep the avenues, and to compel the passers-by to bend with proper respect to the emblem of the governing power of the three cantons. Gessler likewise determined that whoever should disobey the mandate should be accused of disaffection, and treated accordingly; a measure which promised both to discover the discontented, and furnish sufficient grounds for their punishment. Numerous detachments of troops, among whom money had been previously distributed, were then placed around to see that his commands were scrupulously obeyed. History scarcely records another instance of tyranny so galling and humiliating to the oppressed, and so insolent on the part of its author.
15. The proceedings of Tell in the interval were of the deepest concern to the country. Having arrived within the territory of Schwytz, and at the village of Stainea, he called at the house of Werner, and, being admitted, threw at his feet a heavy bundle of lances, arrows, cross-bows, and swords. "Werner Stauffacher," cried Tell, "the time is come for action!" and without a moment's delay he informed his friend of all that had passed, dwelling minutely on every detail. And, when he had at length finished, the cautious Werner could restrain his wrath no longer, but exclaimed, clasping the hero's hand, "Friend, let us begin; I am ready!" After further brief conference, they, by separate ways, carried round arms to their friends in the town and neighboring villages. Many hours were thus consumed; and, when their weapons were at last distributed, they both returned to Stauffacher's house, snatched some slight refreshment, and then sped on their way to Grütli, accompanied by ten of their most tried adherents.
16. The lake of Lucerne was soon reached, and a boat procured. Werner, perceiving the furious tempest, inquired of Tell if his skill would enable him to struggle against the storm. "Arnold awaits us!" cried William; "and the fate of our country depends on this interview!" With these words he leaped into the boat, Werner jumped after him, and the rest followed. Tell cast loose the agitated vessel, seized the tiller, and, hoisting sail, the little craft flew along the waves.
17. Presently, it is said, the wind moderated, and ere they reached the opposite side had ceased altogether—a phenomenon common in these mountain lakes. The boat was now made fast, and the conspirators hastened to the field of Grütli, where, at the mouth of a cavern of the same name, Arnold and Walter Fürst awaited them, each with ten other companions. Tell allowed no consideration of natural feeling to silence the calls of duty, but at once came to the point. He first gave a brief sketch of the state of the country under the Austrian bailiffs, and, having shown to the satisfaction of his companions the necessity for immediate and combined action, is related to have added: "We may have our plans frustrated by delay, and the time has come for action. I ask only a few days for preparation. Unterwalden and Schwytz are armed. Three hundred and fifty warriors are, I am assured, ready. I will remain in Altorf, and, as soon as I receive tidings from Fürst, will fire a huge pile of wood near my house. At this signal let all march to the rendezvous, and, when united, we will pour down upon Altorf, where I will then strive to rouse the people!"
18. This plan of the campaign was agreed to; and it was further resolved that, in the enterprise upon which they were now embarked, no one should be guided by his own private opinion, nor ever forsake his friends; that they should jointly live or jointly die in defense of the common cause; that each should in his own vicinity promote the object in view, trusting that the whole nation would one day have cause to bless their friendly union; that the Count of Hapsburg should be deprived of none of his lands, vassals, or prerogatives; that the freedom which they had inherited from their fathers they were determined to assert, and to hand down to their children untainted and undiminished. Then Stauffacher, Fürst, and Melcthal, and the other conspirators, stepped forward, and, raising their hands, swore that they would die in defense of that freedom. After this solemn oath, and after an agreement that New Year's Day should be chosen for the outbreak, unless, in the meantime, a signal fire should arouse the inhabitants on some sudden emergency, the heroes separated. Arnold returned to Stautz, Werner to Schwytz, while Tell and Fürst took their way to Altorf. The sun already shone brightly as Tell entered the town, and he at once advanced into the public place, where the first object which caught his eye was a handsome cap embroidered with gold stuck upon the end of a long pole. Soldiers walked around it in respectful silence, and the people of Altorf, as they passed, bowed their heads profoundly to the symbol of power.
19. Tell was much surprised at this new and strange manifestation of servility, and, leaning on his cross-bow, gazed contemptuously both on the people and the soldiers. Berenger, captain of the guard, at length observed this man, who alone, amid a cringing populace, carried his head erect. He went to him, and fiercely asked why he neglected to pay obedience to the orders of Hermann Gessler? Tell replied that he saw no reason why he should bow to a hat, or even to the one which the hat represented. This bold language surprised Berenger, who ordered Tell to be disarmed, and then, surrounded by guards, he was carried before the governor. "Wherefore," demanded the incensed bailiff, "Hast thou disobeyed my orders, and failed in thy respect to the emperor? Why hast thou dared to pass before the sacred badge of thy sovereign without the evidence of homage required of thee?" "Verily," answered Tell, with mock humility, "how this happened I know not; 'tis an accident, and no mark of contempt. Suffer me, therefore, in thy clemency to depart."
20. Gessler was irritated at this reply, feeling assured that there was something beneath the tranquil and bitter smile of the prisoner which he could not fathom. Suddenly he was struck by the resemblance which existed between him and the boy Walter, whom he had met the previous day, and immediately ordered him to be brought forward.
21. Gessler now inquired the prisoner's name, which he no sooner learned than he recognized as that of the archer so celebrated throughout the canton. As soon as the youth arrived, the governor turned to Tell and told him that he had heard of his extraordinary dexterity, and was accordingly determined to put it to proof. "While beholding justice done, the people of Altorf shall also admire thy skill. Thy son shall be placed a hundred yards distant, with an apple on his head; if thou hast the good fortune to carry off the apple in triumph with one of thy arrows, I pardon both, and restore your liberty. If thou refusest this trial, thy son shall die before thine eyes!"
22. Tell implored Gessler to spare him so cruel an experiment, but, finding the governor inexorable, the hero submitted to the trial. He was conducted into the public place, where the required distance was measured by Berenger—a double row of soldiers shutting up three sides of the square. The people, awe-stricken and trembling, pressed behind. Walter stood with his back to a linden tree, patiently awaiting the exciting moment. Hermann Gessler, some distance behind, watched every motion. His cross-bow and belt were handed to Tell; he tried the point, broke the weapon, and demanded his quiver. It was brought to him, and emptied at his feet. William stooped down, and, taking a long time to choose one, managed to hide a second in his girdle; the other he held in his hand, and proceeded to string his bow, while Berenger cleared away the remaining arrows. After hesitating, he drew the bow, aimed, shot, and the apple, struck through the core, was carried away by the arrow.
23. The market-place was filled by loud cries of admiration. Walter flew to embrace his father, who, overcome by the excess of his emotions, fell insensible to the ground, thus exposing the second arrow to view. Gessler stood over him awaiting his recovery, which speedily took place. Tell rose, and turned away from the governor, who, however, thus addressed him: "Incomparable archer! I will keep my promise; but," added he, "tell me what needed you with that second arrow which you have, I see, secreted in your girdle? One was surely enough." "The second shaft," replied Tell, "was to pierce thy heart, tyrant, if I had chanced to harm my son!" At these words the terrified governor retired behind his guards, revoked his promise of pardon, commanding him further to be placed in irons, and to be reconducted to the fort. He was obeyed, and, as slight murmurs rose among the people, double patrols of Austrian soldiers paraded the streets, and forced the citizens to retire to their houses. Walter, released, fled to join Arnold, of Melchthal, according to a whispered order from his father.
24. Gessler, reflecting on the aspect of the people, and fearful that some plot was in progress, which his accidental shortness of provisions rendered more unfortunate, determined to rid his citadel of the object which might induce an attack. With this in view, he summoned Berenger, and said to him: "I am about to leave Altorf, and you shall command during my absence. I leave my brave soldiers, who will readily obey your voice; and soon, returning with supplies and reinforcements, we will crush this vile people, and punish them for their insolent murmurings. Prepare me a large boat, in which thirty men, picked from my guard, may depart with me. As soon as night comes on, load this audacious Tell with chains, and send him on board. I will myself take him where he can expiate his crimes!"
25. The evening was fine and promising; the boat danced along the placid waters. The air was pure, the waves tranquil, the stars shone brightly in the sky. A light southern breeze aided the efforts of the oarsmen, and tempered the rigor of the cold, which night in that season rendered almost insupportable so near the glaciers. All appeared in Gessler's favor. The extent of the first section of the lake was soon passed, and the boat headed for Brunnen. Tell, meantime, loaded with irons, gazed with eager eye on the desert rocks of Grütli, where the day before he had planned with his friends for the deliverance of his country. While painful thoughts crossed his mind, his looks were attracted by a dim light which burst forth near his own house. Presently this light increased, and before long a blaze arose visible all over Uri. The heart of the prisoner beat with joy, for he felt that all efforts were making to rescue him. Gessler observed the flame, which in reality was a signal-fire to arouse the cantons, but supposed it some Swiss peasant's house accidentally in flames.
26. Suddenly, however, between Fluelen and Sissigen, when in deep water, intermingled with shoals, the south wind ceased to blow, and one of those storms which are common on the lake commenced. A north wind burst upon them, raised the waves to a great height, and dashed them over the gunwale of the boat, which, giving way to the fury of the storm, flew toward the shore that, rocky and precipitous, menaced their lives. The bleak wind brought also frost, snow, and sleet, which spread darkness over the waters, and covered the hands and faces of the rowers with ice. The soldiers, inert and panic-stricken, prayed for life, while Gessler, but ill prepared for death, was profuse in his offers of money and other rewards if they would rouse themselves to save him.
27. In this emergency the Austrian bailiff was reminded by one of his attendants that the prisoner Tell was no less skillful in the management of a boat than in the exercise of the bow. "And, see, my lord," said one of the men, representing to Gessler the imminent peril they were all incurring, "all are paralyzed with terror, and even the pilot is unable to manage the helm!"
28. Gessler's fear of Tell induced him at first to hesitate, but, the prayers of the soldiers becoming pressing, he told the prisoner that if he could take them safely through the storm he should be at once unbound. Tell having replied that, by the grace of God, he could still save them, was instantly freed from his shackles and placed at the helm, when the boat, answering to a master-hand, kept its course steadily through the bellowing surge, as if conscious of the free spirit which had now taken the command.
29. Guiding the obedient tiller at his will, Tell pointed the head of the boat in the direction whence they came, which he knew to be the only safe course; and, encouraging and cheering the rowers, made rapid and steady progress through the water. The darkness which now wrapped them round prevented Gessler from discovering that he had turned his back on his destination. Tell continued on his way nearly the whole night, the dying light of the signal-fire on the mountain serving as a beacon in enabling him to approach the shores of Schwytz, and to avoid the shoals.
30. Between Sissigen and Fluelen are two mountains, the greater and the lesser Achsenberg, whose sides, hemmed in and rising perpendicularly from the bed of the lake, offer not a single platform where human foot can stand. When near this place dawn broke in the eastern sky, and Gessler—the danger appearing to decrease—scowled upon Tell in sullen silence. As the prow of the vessel was driven inland, Tell perceived a solitary table-rock, and called to the rowers to redouble their efforts till they should have passed the precipice ahead, observing with ominous truth that it was the most dangerous point on the whole lake.
31. The soldiers here recognized their position, and pointed it out to Gessler, who demanded of Tell what he meant by taking them back to Altorf. William, without answering him, brought the bow suddenly close upon the rock, seized his bow, and, with an effort which sent the unguided craft back into the lake, sprang on shore, scaled the rocks, and took the direction of Schwytz.
32. Having thus escaped the clutches of the governor, he made for the main road between Art and Küssnacht, and there hid himself until such a time as the bailiff should pass that way. Gessler and his attendants having, with great difficulty, effected a landing at Brunnen, proceeded toward Küssnacht. In the spot still known as "the hollow way," and marked by a chapel, Tell overheard the threats pronounced against himself should he once more be caught, and, in default of his apprehension, vengeance was vowed against his family. Tell felt that the safety of himself and his wife and children, to say nothing of the duty he owed to his country, required the tyrant's death; and, seizing an arrow, he pierced Gessler to the heart.
33. The bold deed accomplished, the hero effected his escape to Stemen, where he found Werner Stauffacher preparing to march. Immediate action was now necessary, but the original decision of the conspirators remained unchanged. Accordingly, on the morning of New Year's Day, 1308, the castle of Rostberg, in Obwalden, was taken possession of, its keeper, Berenger, of Landasberg, made prisoner, and compelled to promise that he would never again set foot within the territory of the three cantons, after which he was allowed to retire to Lucerne.
34. Stauffacher, the same morning, at the head of the men of Schwytz, destroyed the fortress of Schwanan, while Tell and the men of Uri took possession of Altorf. On the following Sunday the deputies of Uri, Schwytz, and Unterwalden met, and renewed that fraternal league which has endured to this day.
35. In 1315 Leopold, second son of Albert, determined to punish the confederate cantons for their revolt, and accordingly marched against them at the head of a considerable army, accompanied by a numerous retinue of nobles. Count Otho, of Strasberg, one of his ablest generals, crossed the Brunig with a body of four thousand men, intending to attack Upper Unterwalden. The bailiffs of Willisan, of Wodhausen, and of Lucerne meantime armed a fourth of that number to make a descent on the lower division of the same canton, while the emperor in person, at the head of his army of reserve, poured down from Egerson on Mogarten, in the country of Schwytz, ostentatiously displaying an extensive supply of rope where with to hang the chiefs of the rebels.
36. The confederates, in order to oppose this formidable invasion, occupied a position in the mountains bordering on the convent of Our Lady of the Hermits. Four hundred men of Uri, and three hundred of Unterwalden, had effected a junction with the warriors of Schwytz, who formed the principal force of the little army. Fifty men, banished from this latter canton, offered themselves to combat beneath their banner, intending to efface by their valor the remembrance of past faults. Early on the morning of November 15, 1315, some thousands of well-armed Austrian knights slowly ascended the hill on which the Swiss were posted, with the hope of dislodging them; the latter, however, advanced to meet their enemies, uttering the most terrific cries. The band of banished men, having precipitated large stones and fragments of rocks from the hillsides and from overhanging cliffs, rushed from behind the sheltering influence of a thick fog and threw the advancing columns into confusion. The Austrians immediately broke their ranks, and presently a complete rout, with terrible slaughter, ensued. The flower of the Austrian chivalry perished on the field of Morgarten, beneath the halberts, arrows, and iron-headed clubs of the shepherds. Leopold, himself, though he succeeded in gaining the shattered remnant of his forces, had a narrow escape, while the Swiss, animated by victory, hastened to Unterwalden, where they defeated another body of Austrians. In this instance Count Otho had as narrow an escape as the emperor.
37. After these two well-fought fields, the confederates hastened to renew their ancient alliance, which was solemnly sworn to in an assembly held at Brunnen on the eighth day of December.
38. After the battle of Morgarten one canton after another threw off the Austrian yoke, and joined the forest cantons, until nearly all Switzerland was joined in a confederacy. A later war waged by Albert proved disastrous to the Austrian cause, and ended by a further consolidation of the Swiss cantons. In 1356, seventy years after Morgarten, the Austrians made another attempt to bring the brave mountaineers into subjection. An army of nine thousand men, the best trained soldiers of the empire, under the lead of the Archduke Leopold, invaded the country. To these the confederates opposed a force of fourteen hundred. They met in a valley near the lake of Sempach. The Austrians had learned something of Swiss warfare, and knew that they stood no chance in a hand-to-hand conflict with the Swiss, and so they formed their men into squares, with a wall of bristling spears on every side. Upon this solid mass of men the Swiss could make no impression. In vain they charged with the fiery courage which had so often gained them the victory; they could find no vulnerable point in the serried columns, and it seemed that the brave mountaineers must all perish, and leave their homes again to the mercy of the Austrian soldiers. But, when almost in despair, the tide of battle was turned by the acts of a single Swiss soldier, Arnold Winkelried, of Unterwalden. He communicated his plan to his immediate neighbors, and then, rushing forward, he grasped as many of the Austrian spears as he could reach; and, gathering them together, he bowed to the ground with the spears buried in his breast. Into the breach his companions rushed, and with their powerful swords they soon widened the space, so that the whole Swiss force had room for action. The Austrians were almost annihilated, Leopold himself being slain. The poet Montgomery has given the following version of this event:
39. "Make way for liberty!" he cried;"Make way for liberty!" and died.
40. In arms the Austrian phalanx stood,A living wall, a human wood!A wall where every conscious stoneSeemed to its kindred thousands grown;A rampart all assaults to bear,Till time to dust their frames should wear!A wood, like that enchanted groveIn which with fiends Rinaldo strove,Where every silent tree possessedA spirit prisoned in its breast,Which the first stroke of coming strifeWould startle into hideous life;So dense, so still, the Austrians stood,A living wall, a human wood!Impregnable their front appears,All horrent with projected spears,Whose polished points before them shine,From flank to flank, one brilliant line,Bright as the breakers' splendors runAlong the billows, to the sun.
41. Opposed to these, a hovering bandContended for their native land;Peasants, whose new-found strength had brokeFrom manly necks the ignoble yoke,And forged their fetters into swords,On equal terms to fight their lordsAnd what insurgent rage had gained,In many a mortal fray maintained!Marshaled at morn at Freedom's call,They come to conquer or to fall,Where he who conquered, he who fell,Was deemed a dead, or living Tell!Such virtue had that patriot breathed,So to the soil his soul bequeathed,That wheresoe'er his arrows flew,Heroes in his own likeness grew,And warriors sprang from every sodWhich his awakening footstep trod.
42. And now the work of life and deathHung on the passing of a breath;The fire of conflict burnt within,The battle trembled to begin;Yet, while the Austrians held their ground,Point for attack was nowhere found.Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed,The unbroken line of lances blazed;That line 'twere suicide to meet,And perish at their tyrant's feetHow could they rest within their graves,And leave their homes the homes of slaves?Would they not feel their children treadWith clanging chains above their head?
43. It must not! This day, this hour,Annihilates the oppressor's power;All Switzerland is in the field,She will not fly, she can not yield—She must not fall; her better fateHere gives her an immortal date.Few were the numbers she could boast;But every freeman was a host,And felt as though himself were heOn whose sole arm hung victory!
44. It did depend on one, indeed,Behold him—Arnold WinkelriedThere sounds not to the tramp of fameThe echo of a nobler name.Unmarked he stood amid the throng,In rumination deep and long,Till you might see, with sudden grace,The very thought come o'er his face,And by the motion of his formAnticipate the coming storm;And by the uplifting of his browTell where the bolt would strike, and how.
45. But 'twas no sooner thought and done,The field was in a moment won.
46. "Make way for Liberty!" he cried;Then ran with arms extended wideAs if his dearest friend to clasp;Ten spears he swept within his grasp."Make way for Liberty!" he cried:Their keen points met from side to side;He bowed among them like a tree,And thus made way for Liberty!
47. Swift to the breach his comrades fly;"Make way for Liberty!" they cry.And through the Austrian phalanx dart,As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart!While instantaneous as his fall,Rout, ruin, panic, scattered allAn earthquake could not overthrowA city with a surer blow.
48. Thus Switzerland again was free,Thus death made way for Liberty!
49. In the next fifty years the Swiss were engaged in a war with Austria and another with France, and in both cases they were victorious. But, while they were exhausted by the incessant wars that had been urged upon them, they were threatened with a more formidable invasion than ever. Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, resolved to attach Switzerland to his domain. Crossing the Jura, the duke found himself in possession of Yverdun, it having been betrayed into his hands; but the citadel still held out. Charles, irritated that his progress should be stayed by such a handful of men, offered to let them retire home if they would surrender, but if they still held out he would hang them all! The Swiss, knowing prolonged defense was useless, surrendered. As they marched out of the citadel they were seized, by order of the duke, and all murdered.
50. Aroused by these horrors, an army of twenty thousand advanced to meet the duke at the head of three times that number. In the battle that ensued the Burgundians were entirely defeated, and Charles narrowly escaped with his life. Writhing under his disgrace, and vowing revenge, the duke raised a much more numerous army, and again invaded Switzerland.
51. He advanced by the way of the lake of Neufchatel, and paused a few days to capture the fortress on the banks of Lake Morat. While the siege was going on the Swiss army concentrated, and marched to meet their foes. Thirty thousand men were to fight the battle of freedom against one hundred thousand. It was on Saturday, June 22, 1476. The weather was threatening, the sky overcast, and rain fell in torrents. A vanguard was formed, commanded by John Hallwyl, who knelt and besought a blessing from on high. While they yet prayed the sun broke through the clouds, upon which the Swiss commander rose, sword in hand, crying: "Up, up, Heaven smiles on our victory!" The artillery thundered forth as he spoke, and the whole plain, from the lake to the rocky heights, became one vast battle-field! Toward the main body of the Burgundians the Swiss army poured down with irresistible force and courage; and, clearing all difficulties, they reached the line of the enemy. A fearful slaughter now ensued. The Burgundians were utterly vanquished. The haughty duke, pale and dispirited, fled with a few followers, and never stopped till he reached the banks of Lake Leman. The rout was so complete that many of the Burgundians, in terror and despair, threw themselves into the Lake of Morat, the banks of which were strewed with the bodies of the slain.
52. The battle of Morat lives in history with the victories of Marathon and Bannockburn. In each, freedom for the nation was secured, and liberty for man was preserved and transmitted. As a deed, the Swiss victory for ever freed a people from a grasping foreign tyrant; and it is a matter of rejoicing to all who love liberty till to-day, and, like other great events, it is the subject of national traditions.
53. According to one of these, a young native of Friburg, who had been engaged in the battle, keenly desirous of being the first to carry home tidings of the victory, ran the whole way—a distance of ten or twelve miles—and with such overhaste that on his arrival at the market-place he dropped with fatigue, and, barely able to shout that the Swiss were victorious, immediately expired. A twig of lime-tree, which he carried in his hand, was planted on the spot in commemoration of this event; and till the present day are seen, in the market-place of Friburg, the aged and propped-up remains of the venerable tree which grew from this twig. In most of the towns of Switzerland a "tree of Liberty" is preserved, which came from scions of the original tree at Friburg.
1. Six hundred years ago the duty of defending freedom fell to King Robert Bruce and the Scotch. And this is how it happened. The time was during the crusades, when all Europe was marching to the East, and engaging in battle with the Moslems. Scotland had been an independent country for many years, but some of her princes were too weak for those troublous times. The witches that deceived Macbeth seem to have cast a spell upon the prosperity of the country. Clan was at enmity with clan, and one great chieftain waged relentless war with another. The fierce nobles paid little heed to the king, and showed no regard for the rights of the people. It seemed that peace and liberty had departed forever.
2. Alexander III died, leaving no direct heir. The Scottish nobles assembled to elect who should be their king. The choice lay between Robert Bruce and John Balliol. As the nobles could not agree, the matter was referred to King Edward I, of England, who decided in favor of Balliol. The new prince was weak, and, when he resented the interference of King Edward in some of his affairs, he was easily defeated and driven from the kingdom. Scotland was now regarded as a conquered country, and the people were terribly oppressed. The nobles were deprived of their estates, and the poor people were taxed to the verge of starvation. For fifteen years King Edward held on to his usurped power, while the weak king Balliol was wandering in foreign lands, paying no attention to the distracted state of his country.
3. At last the oppression became so great that conflicts took place almost daily between the Scotch peasants and the English soldiery. On one occasion, a young man named William Wallace was out a-fishing with a boy to carry the fish. Two or three English soldiers came along and insisted on taking the fish. Wallace offered to divide with them, but they insisted on taking the whole, when he flew in a rage, killed one with his fishing-pole, and, seizing a sword, put the others to flight. He then fled, and concealed himself in the mountains until the matter blew over. On another occasion he killed an Englishman who insulted him at a fair, and fled to his home, where he was pursued by the soldiers. He escaped by the back door, but the cruel English leader, Hazelrigg, put his wife and servants to death. From that time Wallace devoted himself to fighting the English. He soon collected a band of outlaws and attacked the English whereever he found a favorable opportunity. He soon had the satisfaction of killing Hazelrigg, and of capturing many important places.
4. The Scotch rose everywhere and joined Wallace, who soon found himself at the head of a formidable army. With this lie captured the English fortresses, and finally defeated the chief English army under Earl Warren. Scotland was now free, but the English king hastened back from Flanders to punish the Scotch. The battle of Falkirk was fought July 22, 1298, and the Scotch were entirely defeated. Wallace again became a fugitive, but was betrayed into the hands of Edward, and was beheaded and quartered, according to the barbarous custom of the times.
5. The eyes of all Scotland were now turned to Robert Bruce as the only remaining champion who would be likely to make head against the English, and he accepted the proffered leadership. His principal rival was a powerful noble called the Red Comyn, and with this rival Bruce sought to make friends. The two met in a church, and Comyn flatly refused to join the Scottish cause, but openly proclaimed his adherence to the English. A quarrel arose, and, in the excitement, Bruce stabbed Comyn. Almost paralyzed at his act, he rushed out of the house and called for his horse. His friends eagerly inquired what was the matter. "I doubt," said Bruce, "that I have slain the Red Comyn." "Do not leave the matter in doubt," said Kirkpatrick; "I will make it certain." He and his companions then rushed into the church and soon dispatched Comyn with their daggers.
6. This deed is the one great blot upon the name of Bruce, and bitterly did he repent of his rashness. It called down upon his devoted head the anathema of the church for sacrilege in committing violence before the holy altar. It arrayed against him the kinsmen and friends of the Red Comyn, and it produced distrust in the minds of many true friends of Scotland, who could never have confidence in such an impetuous leader. Bruce made a vow that, if he succeeded in securing the freedom of Scotland, he would do penance for his crime by entering upon a crusade and fighting for the holy sepulchre.
7. On the 29th of March, 1306, Bruce was crowned king. His enemies immediately attacked and defeated him, and he was obliged to take refuge in the mountains of the Highlands. Here he was hunted like a wild animal, and was obliged to flee from one fastness to another. One of the most malignant of his enemies was Lord Lorn, a kinsman of the Red Comyn. At one time Bruce and his few followers were retreating through a narrow pass, when he was set upon by Lorn and a much superior force. Sending his followers ahead, he stopped his horse in the narrow way, and covered their retreat. Upon seeing the king thus alone, three powerful highlandmen—a father and two sons—set upon him, determined to kill him or take him prisoner for their master, Lord Lorn. Bruce struck the first man who came up and seized his bridle such a blow with his sword as to cut off his hand and free the bridle. The man bled to death. The other brother seized him by the leg and attempted to throw him from his horse. The king, setting spurs to the horse, made the animal spring forward so that the Highlander fell under the horse's feet, and, as he endeavored to rise, the king cleft his head in two with his sword. The father, seeing his two sons thus slain, flew at Bruce and grasped him in his mantle so close to his body that he could not have room to wield his long sword. But with an iron hammer which hung at his saddle-bow, Bruce dashed out the brains of this new assailant. The dying man still clung to the king's mantle, so that, to get free, Bruce was obliged to undo the brooch by which it was fastened, and leave it with the mantle behind. This brooch fell into the hands of Lorn, and was kept in the family for many generations as a memorial of Bruce.
8. But Bruce was soon reduced to greater straits, and, without followers, was obliged to conceal himself in stables and caves. In all his misfortunes he never gave up the cause of his country, and he sacredly devoted his life to the freedom of Scotland. After one of his defeats he was lying one night on a wretched bed in a rude hut, while debating in his own mind whether it were not best to enlist in a crusade, when his attention was directed to a spider on the rafters overhead. He saw that the little spinner was trying to swing from one rafter to another, so as to fix his thread across the space. Time and again it tried and failed. Admiring the perseverance of the creature, Bruce began to count the number of times he tried. One, two, three, four, five, six. It suddenly occurred to Bruce that this was just the number of times he had failed in his attempts against the enemy. He then made up his mind that if the spider succeeded in the next trial he would make one more endeavor to recover his kingdom, but if it failed he would start at once for Palestine. The spider sprang into the air, and this time succeeded, so the king resolved upon another trial, and never after met with a defeat.
[Illustration:Edinburgh Castle]
9. Many a wild story is told of his feats of arms and hairbreadth escapes while he wandered about without a country. Sir Walter Scott, in his poem, "The Lord of the Isles," records one of these legends. It is reported that, on one occasion, with his brother Edward and sister Isabel in a boat, he was driven by stress of weather to take refuge in one of the Hebrides upon the western coast, the home of Roland, the Lord of the Isles. It happened to be a festive occasion, a large assembly having met to celebrate the marriage of the Lord of the Isles with the sister of the Lord of Lorn. As Bruce entered the banquet-hall, Lorn recognized him:
10. "Now, by Columba's shrine I swear,And every saint that's buried there,'Tis he himself!" Lorn sternly cries;"And for my kinsman's death he dies!"As loudly Roland calls, "Forbear!Not in my sight while brand I wear,O'ermatched by odds shall warrior fall,Or blood of stranger stain my hall!This ancient fortress of my raceShall be misfortune's resting-place,Shelter or shield of the distressed,No slaughter-house of shipwrecked guest!"
11. "Talk not to me," fierce Lorn replied,"Of odds or match! When Comyn died,Three daggers clashed within his side!Talk not to me of sheltering hall,The church of God saw Comyn fall!On God's own altar streamed his blood,While o'er my prostrate kinsman stoodThe ruthless murderer—e'en as now—With armèd hand and scornful brow!Up, all who love me! blow on blow,And lay the outlawed felons low!"
* * * * *
12. Then waked the wild debate again,With brawling threat and clamor vain,Vassals and menials thronging in,Lent their brute rage to swell the din;When far and wide a bugle clangFrom the dark, ocean upward rang."The abbot comes!" they cried at once,"The holy man whose favored glanceHath sainted visions known;Angels have met him on the way,Beside the blessed martyr's bay,And by Columba's stone.He comes our feuds to reconcile,A sainted man from sainted isle;We will his holy will abide,The abbot shall our strife decide!"
13. The abbot on the threshold stood,And in his hands the holy rood;Back on his shoulders flowed his hood,The torch's glaring rayShowed, in its red and flashing light,His withered cheek and amice white,His blue eye glistening cold and bright,His tresses scant and gray."Fair lords," he said, "our lady's love,And peace be with you from above,And benedicite!But what means this? no peace is here!Do dirks unsheathed suit bridal cheer?Or are these naked brandsA seemly show for churchman's sight,When he comes summoned to uniteBetrothed hearts and hands?"Then, cloaking hate with fiery zeal,Proud Lorn answered the appeal:"Thou comest, O holy man,True sons of blessed church to greet,But little deeming here to meetA wretch, beneath the banOf pope and church, for murder doneEven on the sacred altar-stone!Well may'st thou wonder we should knowSuch miscreant here, nor lay him low,Or dream of greeting, peace, or truce,With excommunicated Bruce!Yet will I grant, to end debate,Thy sainted voice decide his fate."
14. Then Roland pled the stranger's causeAnd knighthood's oath and honor's laws;And Isabel on bended kneeBrought prayers and tears to back her plea;And Edith lent her generous aid,And wept, and Lorn for mercy prayed.
15. Then Argentine, in England's name,So highly urged his sovereign's claim,He waked a spark, that, long suppressed,Had smoldered in Lord Roland's breast;And now, as from the flint the fire,Flashed forth at once his generous ire."Enough of noble blood," he said,"By English Edward had been shed,Since matchless Wallace first had beenIn mockery crowned with wreaths of green,And done to death by felon hand,For guarding well his native land.Where's Nigel Bruce? and De la Haye,And valiant Seaton—where are they?Where Somerville, the kind and free?And Fraser, flower of chivalry?Have they not been on gibbet bound,Their quarters flung to hawk and hound,And hold we here a cold debateTo yield more victims to their fate?What! can the English leopard's moodNever be gorged with Northern blood?Was not the life of Athole shedTo soothe the tyrant's sickened bed?Nor must his word, till dying day,Be nought but quarter, hang, and slay?"
16. "Nor deem," said Dunnegan's knight,"That thou shalt brave alone the fight!By saints of isle and mainland both,By woden wild—my grandsire's oath—Let Rome and England do their worst;Rowe'er attainted and accursed,If Bruce shall e'er find friends again,Once more to brave a battle-plain,If Douglas couch again his lance,Or Randolph dare another chance,Old Torquil will not be to lackWith twice a thousand at his back;Nay, chafe not at my bearing bold,Good abbot! for thou knowest of old,Torquil's rude thought and stubborn willSmack of the wild Norwegian stillNor will I barter freedom's causeFor England's wealth or Rome's applause!"
17. The abbot seemed with eye severe,The hardy chieftain's speech to hear;Then on King Robert turned the monk,But twice his courage came and sunk,Confronted with the hero's look;Twice fell his eye, his accents shook;At length resolved in tone and brow,Sternly he questioned him, "And thouUnhappy, what hast thou to plead,Why I denounce not on thy deedThat awful doom which canons tellShuts paradise and opens hell?Anathema of power so dread,It blends the living with the dead,Bids each good angel soar away,And every ill one claim his prey;Expels thee from the church's care,And deafens Heaven against thy prayer;Arms every hand against thy life,Bans all who aid thee in the strife;Nay, each whose succor, cold and scant,With meanest alms relieves thy want;Haunts thee when living; and, when dead,Dwells on thy yet devoted head,Rends honor's 'scutcheon from thy hearse,Stills o'er thy bier the holy verse,And spurns thy corpse from hallowed groundFlung like vile carrion to the hound;Such is the dire and desperate doomFor sacrilege, decreed by Rome;And such the well-deserved meedOf thine unhallowed, ruthless deed."
18. "Abbot!" the Bruce replied, "thy chargeIt boots me not to dispute at large;This much, howe'er, I bid thee know,No selfish vengeance dealt the blow,For Comyn died his country's foe.Nor blame I friends whose ill-timed speedFulfilled my soon-repented deed,Nor censure those from whose stern tongueThe dire anathema has rung.I only blame my own wild ire,By Scotland's wrongs incensed to fire.Heaven knows my purpose to atone,Far as I may, the evil done,And bears a penitent's appeal,From papal curse and prelate zeal.My first and dearest task achieved,Fair Scotland from her thrall relieved,Shall many a priest in cope and stoleSay requiem for Red Comyn's soul,While I the blessèd cross advance,And expiate this unhappy chanceIn Palestine, with sword and lance.But, while content the church should knowMy conscience owns the debt I owe,Unto de Argentine and LornThe name of traitor I return,Bid them defiance, stern and high,And give them in their throats the lie!These brief words spoke, I speak no more,Do as thou wilt; my shrift is o'er."
19. Like man by prodigy amazed,Upon the king the abbot gazed;Then o'er his pallid features glanceConvulsions of ecstatic trance.His breathing came more thick and fast,And from his pale-blue eyes were castStrange rays of wild and wandering light;Uprise his locks of silver white,Flushed is his brow, through every veinIn azure tides the currents strain,And undistinguished accents brokeThe awful silence e'er he spoke.
20. "De Bruce, I rose with purpose dreadTo speak my curse upon thy head,And give thee as an outcast o'erTo him who burns to shed thy gore;But like the Midianite of oldWho stood on Zophin, heaven-controlled,I feel within my aged breastA power that can not be repressed.It prompts my voice, it swells my veins,It burns, it maddens, it constrains!De Bruce, thy sacrilegious blowHath at God's altar slain thy foe;O'ermastered, yet by high behest,I bless thee, and thou shalt be blest!"He spoke, and o'er the astonished throngWas silence, awful, deep and long.Again that light has fired his eye,Again his form swells bold and high,The broken voice of age is gone,'Tis vigorous manhood's lofty tone"Thrice vanquished on the battle-plain,Thy followers slaughtered, fled, or ta'en,A hunted wanderer on the wild,On foreign shores a man exiled,Disowned, deserted, and distressed,I bless thee, and thou shalt be blessedBlessed in the hall and in the field,Under the mantle as the shield.Avenger of thy country's shame,Restorer of her injured name,Blessed in thy scepter and thy sword,De Bruce, fair Scotland's rightful lord,Blessed in thy deeds and in thy fame,What lengthened honors wait thy name!In distant ages, sire to sonShall tell the tale of freedom won,And teach his infants, in the useOf earliest speech, to falter Bruce.Go then, triumphant! sweep alongThy course, the theme of many a song!The power, whose dictates swell my breast,Hath blessed thee, and thou shalt be blessed!"
21. With the faithful islanders Bruce remained for some months, while his friends were making preparations for a rising upon the mainland. At last the time came, and Bruce, at the head of a little force, landed in the night and surprised and captured a castle held by the Lord of Lorn. Holding this as a basis of operations, the king and his principal followers, Douglas and Randolph, went out in different directions to arouse the people against their English oppressors, and to raise forces of sufficient strength to risk their cause in battle. This was a matter of great hazard, as every movement of the Scotch was closely watched by the enemy, and, when any one was suspected of opposing the English rule, he was at once imprisoned and probably executed. The patriots were obliged to move with great caution, and often to secrete themselves in the fastnesses of the mountains or in the lonely huts of the peasants. Blood-hounds were employed to track the fugitives, and it is related that Lorn at one time followed Bruce with a blood-hound that had once been his own. The king, seeing that he was followed by a large body of soldiers, divided his men into three separate parties, hoping to throw the hound off the track. The blood-hound, when he came to the point of separation, would not even notice the two other divisions, but followed that of the king. Finding his last expedient had failed, Bruce ordered his whole party to disperse, keeping with him only his foster-brother as an attendant. When Lorn discovered the party had broken up, he sent five of his men who were speedy on foot to follow the king and put him to death. They ran so fast that they soon gained sight of Bruce and his companion. The two turned upon the five men of Lorn, who came up one by one, exhausted with running, and put them all to death.
22. By this time Bruce was much fatigued, but he dared not stop to rest, for he could hear every moment the deep bay of the hound. At length they came to a wood through which ran a small stream of water. Into the stream they waded and followed it for a long distance; the blood-hound followed the track to the water, but he could trace the scent no farther, and Lorn gave up the chase. But Bruce's adventures were not at an end. After resting themselves in the woods, the two set out to find some human habitation, or to fall in with some party of their friends. In the midst of the forest they met three men who looked like ruffians. "They were well armed, and one of them bore a sheep on his back, which it seemed he had just stolen. They saluted the king civilly, and he, replying to their salutation, asked them where they were going. The men answered that they were seeking for Robert Bruce, for they intended to join him. The king answered that, if they would go with him, he would conduct them where they could find the Scottish king. Then the man who had spoken changed color, and Bruce, who looked sharply at him, began to suspect that the ruffian guessed who he was, and that he and his companions had some design against his person, in order to gain the reward which had been offered for his life.
23. "So he said to them, 'My good friends, as we are not well acquainted with each other, you must go before us, and we will follow near to you.' 'You have no occasion to suspect any harm from us,' said the man. 'Neither do I suspect any,' said Bruce, I but this is the way it, which I choose to travel.'
24. "The men did as he commanded, and thus they traveled till they came to a waste and ruinous cottage, where the men proposed to dress down part of the sheep which they were carrying. The king was glad to hear of food, but he insisted that two fires should be kindled, one for himself and foster-brother at one end of the cottage, the other at the other end for the three companions. The men did as he desired. They broiled a quarter of the mutton for themselves, and gave another to the king and his attendant. They were obliged to eat it without bread or salt; but, as they were very hungry, they were glad to get food in any shape, and partook of it heartily.
25. "Then so heavy a drowsiness fell on King Robert that he greatly desired to sleep. But, first, he desired his foster-brother to watch as he slept, for he had great suspicion of his new acquaintances. His foster-brother promised to keep awake, and did his best to so keep his word. But the king had not been long asleep ere his foster-brother fell into a deep slumber also, for he had under-gone as much fatigue as the king.
26. "When the three villains saw the king and his attendant were asleep, they made signs to each other, and, rising up, at once drew their swords with the purpose to kill them both. But the king slept but lightly, and, as little noise as the traitors made in rising, he was awakened by it, and, starting up, drew his sword and went to meet them. At the same moment he pushed his foster-brother with his foot to awaken him, and he started up; but, ere he got his eyes cleared to see what was about him, one of the ruffians that were advancing to slay the king killed him with the stroke of a sword. The king was now alone—one man against three, and in the greatest danger of his life; but his amazing strength, and the good armor which he wore, freed him from this great danger, and he killed the men one by one.