Andreas Hofer halted his horse and turned. A cloud of dust came up the road like a whirlwind; now it opened, and the head and neck of a horse and the slender rider mounted on him came in view. The cloud veils his face as yet, but he comes nearer and nearer; his horse is now by Andreas Hofer's side, the rider stretches out his arms toward him and exclaims exultingly: "Andy, here I am! I heard what you said, and jumped from the wagon, untied my horse, vaulted into the saddle, and sped after you, my Andy. I had to overtake you and tell you that I do not want to be disgraced; that I will not leave the Tyrol unless you do too."
"I never will, Joe, unless I should die," said Andreas Hofer, solemnly. "But God be praised that I have got you back, for a piece of my heart would have left the country with you. But you are back, and I am so glad of it! And I must give you a kiss in the name of God, the country, and the Emperor Francis. Welcome home, good and faithful son of the fatherland!"
He encircled Speckbacher's neck with his arms and imprinted a kiss on his forehead. They remained locked in a long embrace, keeping their horses side by side, and gazing at each other with proud, smiling joy.
"And now tell me, Andy, what are you going to do?" asked Speckbacher, after a long pause. "I hope you will not look on quietly and peaceably while the Bavarians and French are re-entering the country? I could not bear it, and this was the very reason why I did not want to stay in the country; for the Austrian officers told me, if I wished to remain in the Tyrol, I should have to keep very quiet and allow the enemy to take possession of the province, in accordance with the stipulations of the armistice. And you see, Andy, my heart revolted at that; therefore I wished to get away and remain abroad until the armistice had expired, when we would be once more allowed to fight bravely for our country and our emperor."
"No one shall prevent us from doing so now," said Andreas, calmly. "What do we care for the armistice? The emperor concluded it; we did not, and I believe the emperor will not blame us for disregarding it and continuing the war as we commenced it."
"You are right, we will do so," exclaimed Speckbacher, joyfully. "And now I will communicate to you some important news which the Austrian officers received only this morning. Anthony Wallner, of Windisch-Matrey is also of your opinion; he refuses likewise to acknowledge the armistice and make peace with the enemy. When the Bavarians, four days ago, intended to cross the frontier near Windisch-Matrey, Anthony Wallner and John Panzl went to meet them with four hundred sharpshooters whom they had gathered in great haste. They took position at the bridge of Taxenbach and tried to prevent the Bavarians from crossing it. The Bavarians were seven thousand strong, and Wallner had only four hundred men; but our friends, nevertheless, defended the bridge for seven hours, killed and wounded over three hundred Bavarians, and retreated into the mountains only because the odds were too great." [Footnote: Peternader, "Die Tyroler Landesvertheidigung im Jahre 1809," vol. ii., p. 84.]
"I know Anthony Wallner, and was convinced that he would not submit
quietly," said Andreas, joyfully. "And we will follow his example,
Joseph. The good God has imposed on us the task of defending the
Tyrol, and we will fulfil it faithfully."
"Yes, we will, and we will begin this very hour. We must find out, above all things, if all of our countrymen are of our opinion, and if they are courageous enough to continue the struggle, even after the Austrians have left us."
"What good did the Austrians do us while they were here?" asked Andreas, indignantly. "Let me tell you, Joe, on the whole I am glad that the Austrians are evacuating the province. It is better for us to fight alone, and trust only our own strength. Regular troops and insurgents never fight well together in the end, for there are always jealousies between them; they mutually charge each other with the blunders committed during the campaign, and grudge each other the glory obtained in the battles. Hence, it is better for us to be alone and have no other allies than the good God, the Holy Virgin, and her blessed Son." [Footnote: Andrew Hofer's own words.—See Mayr's "Joseph Speckbacher," p.145. 22]
"You are right, always right, Andy," said Speckbacher. "We will go courageously to work, then; and you shall see, my Andy, that Speckbacher is still what he always was, and that he will henceforth never think of leaving the country, but will stand faithfully by it and fight until the enemy has been expelled once more, and we are free again. I will ride now through the whole Puster valley, and then from Brunecken through the Dux valley to my home, the Rinn; and I will stir up the people everywhere, and call upon the men to follow me and fight once more for liberty and the fatherland."
"Do so, Joe, and I will follow your example. I will return to the Passeyr valley; you shall all hear from me before long, and then my voice shall resound throughout the Tyrol. God will make it strong enough to penetrate to every ear, and fill every heart with enthusiastic devotion to the country and the emperor. Farewell, then, Joseph! The Tyrol and I have recovered you, and my heart thanks God fervently for it. Farewell, you shall hear from me before long!"
He nodded once more kindly to Joseph Speckbacher and galloped down the valley, while Speckbacher trotted up the mountain-path.
Andreas Hofer rode all day long through the country. He saw the people everywhere in commotion and uproar; they greeted him with jubilant cheers, and the men swore everywhere that they would not allow the enemy to re-enter the country without resistance; that they did not believe in the pacific assurances of the proclamations with which the Bavarians had flooded the country; that they were satisfied, on the contrary, that the enemy would revenge himself as cruelly as he had done after his return in May; and that they were, therefore, firmly resolved to fight and expel the enemy once more.
"Get your rifles and ammunition, then, and prepare for the struggle," said Andreas Hofer everywhere to the men who were so full of ardor. "You shall hear from me soon, and learn what God wants us to do."
Andreas Hofer did not rest even at night. The great task which was imposed upon him urged him on incessantly. He therefore profited by the clear moonlight to ride across the Janfen, and at daybreak his horse neighed joyously and stopped at the bank of the foaming Passeyr, at no great distance from the white house of the Sandwirth, the home which contained his greatest treasures on earth, his wife and children.
But Andreas Hofer did not intend to return to them now; he did not want to have his heart softened by the sight of his wife, who would certainly weep and lament on learning of his resolve to renew the war against the Bavarians and French. And for the same reason he wished to avoid meeting his children, whose dear faces might remind him that he was about to endanger the life of their father, and that their bright eyes might soon fill with tears of bitter grief. He would speak only to God, and solitude was to be his sole adviser. Andreas Hofer greeted his house and its beloved inmates with a long, tearful look; he then dried his eyes and alighted. The horse neighed joyously and sped merrily down the hill toward his stable. But Andreas Hofer took a by-path and ascended the mountain through the forest and shrubbery to the Kellerlahn, a cave known only to him and some of his intimate friends, where his faithful servant had prepared him a couch, and kept always in readiness for him, in a secret cupboard fixed in the rock, wine and food, some prayer-books, and writing materials.
In this cave Andreas Hofer intended to pass a few days in prayer and solitude.
CHAPTER XXX.
THE CAPUCHIN'S OATH.
A great festival was to be celebrated at Brixen today. It was the 2nd of August, the day of St. Cassian, and not only were the bones of this saint, which reposed in the cathedral adorned with two splendid towers to be exhibited as they were every year to the devout pilgrims, but the pious bishop had resolved that these sacred relics should be carried in solemn procession through the whole city, that all might have an opportunity to see the saint's remains and implore the assistance of God in the sore distress which bad befallen the Tyrol again. Therefore, since early this morning the peasantry had been flocking from all sides toward the gates of Brixen. Women and children, young and old men, came from all parts of the country to take part in the solemn procession and the devout prayers for the welfare of the country.
Among those who were wandering along the road to Brixen, was a monk of strikingly bold and martial appearance. His tall, broad- shouldered form was remarkable for its military bearing; his long, well-kept red whiskers and mustache did not correspond to the tonsure on his head, which was covered with thin reddish ringlets; and in striking contrast with it were likewise the broad red scar on his healthy sunburnt countenance, and the bright, defiant glance of his eyes, which indicated boldness and intrepidity rather than piety and humility. He had tucked up his brown robe, and thus exhibited his stout legs, which seemed to mock the soft sandals encasing his broad, powerful feet. In his hand he held a long brown staff, terminating at its upper end in a carved image of St. Francis; and the Capuchin did not carry this staff in order to lean upon it, but he brandished it in the air like a sword, or held it up triumphantly as though it were a victorious banner.
But however strange and unusual the Capuchin's appearance might be, no one laughed at him, but he was greeted everywhere with demonstrations of love and reverence; and when he passed some slow wanderers with his rapid step, they looked after him with joyful surprise, and said to each other, "Look at old Red-beard, look at brave Father Haspinger! He has fought often enough for the fatherland. Now he is going to pray for the Tyrol."
"Pray, and fight again, if need be," said the friar, turning to the speakers.
"You think, then, reverend father, that there will be war again?" asked many voices; and dense groups surrounded the friar, and asked him anxiously if he advised them to allow the enemy to re-enter the country; if it would not be better to drive him back forcibly, or if be thought it would be preferable for them to keep quiet and submit to stern necessity?
"I think there is a time for every thing—for keeping quiet as well as for fighting, for praying as well as for politics," said Father Haspinger, shrugging his shoulders. "If you wish to pray and confess your sins, come to me. I am ready to teach you how to pray, and exhort you with true earnestness. But if you want to fight and expel the enemy from the country, why do you not apply to your commanders, and consult, above all, the brave and pious Andreas Hofer?"
"We cannot find him anywhere," shouted several voices. "He is not at home, and even his wife does not know where he has concealed himself."
"Do you, impious wretches, think that the most pious man in the whole Tyrol, Andreas Hofer, has concealed himself because he is afraid of the Bavarians who are re-entering the country?" asked the friar, in a thundering voice.
"No, your reverence, we do not. We know well that Andreas Hofer will not act like Ashbacher, Sieberer, Teimer, Eisenstecken, and Speckbacher, and abandon us in our sore distress."
"He who does not extricate himself from his sore distress will not be saved by others," cried the friar, indignantly.
"Do you not know the eleventh commandment you white-livered cowards, who think you are lost when there is no leader to put himself at your head? Do you not know the eleventh commandment, saying that he who trusts in God and fights well will overpower his enemies? But you will never overpower your enemies; you do not trust in God, and hence you can not fight well."
"But we will fight well, your reverence," replied the men, with bold, defiant glances; "only our leaders do not stand by us. Every one cannot fight alone and at random, but there must be some one at the lead to lead the whole movement. Since Andreas Hofer cannot be found, pray put yourself at our head, your reverence, and become our leader!"
"That request is not so stupid," said the Capuchin, smiling, and stroking his red beard. "You know very well that old Red-beard does not stay at home when an effort is to be made to save the fatherland, and perhaps I may soon be able to accept your offer and call upon you to defend the Tyrol."
"Do so, do call upon us," shouted the men enthusiastically. "We will not permit the French and Bavarians to murder our people and burn our houses as they did last May; we will fight rather until we have driven them from the country or perished to a man!"
"These are brave and pious sentiments," said Father Haspinger, his eyes flashing for joy; "and we will speak further about them. Come up to the church of Latzfons to-morrow, and hear me preach; and after the sermon we will confer as to the state of the country. But now keep quiet, for you see we are at the gate of Brixen; turn your souls, therefore, to God, and pray St. Cassian to have mercy upon you, and intercede for you with God and the Redeemer."
And Father Haspinger's face became suddenly very grave and devout; he lifted the rosary hanging at his belt, and, while entering the city by the gate, he commenced praying a Pater-noster in an undertone.
The city meanwhile was already in great commotion. The bells had begun to ring their solemn peals, and all devout worshippers, consisting on this occasion of the whole population of the city, were flocking to the cathedral. All at once the doors of the cathedral were thrown open, and under a gold-embroidered baldachin borne by four priests appeared the pious bishop, carrying in his uplifted right hand the casket containing the bones of Saint Cassian. Behind the bishop came the priests bearing wax-lights, and singing soul-stirring hymns. Next followed the long line of acolytes with smoking censers; and pious worshippers, carrying torches, and repeating the hymns intoned by the priests, closed the pro cession. This procession gained strength at every step as it advanced, and soon it had been joined by the whole population of the city and the hundreds of pious pilgrims who had flocked to Brixen to take part in the holy festival.
Haspinger, the Capuchin friar, was likewise in the procession; he walked in the midst of the brave peasants with whom he had conversed, singing with head erect and in a tone of solemn earnestness the hymns with which the holy relics were being invoked. Only it seemed to the peasants who heard his powerful voice as though he somewhat changed the passage imploring Saint Cassian to grant the Tyrolese peace, protection, and tranquillity, and prayed for the very reverse. The passage was as follows: "Have mercy upon our weakness, and grant us peace and tranquillity." But Father Haspinger, brandishing his staff with the image of Saint Francis, sang in a tone of fervent piety: "Have mercy upon our valor, and grant us war!" To those who looked at him wonderingly on account of this change of the text, he nodded with a shrewd twinkle of his eyes, and murmured: "Come tomorrow to the church of Latzfons. We will hold a council of war there!"
The procession had not yet finished one-half of its route, and had just reached the market-place when a horseman gal loped up the street leading from the gate to the market-place. It was probably a belated worshipper, who intended to take part in the procession. He alighted hurriedly from his horse, and tied it to the brass knob of a street-door, and then walked close up to the procession. However, he did not join it, but stood still and contemplated every passer-by with prying eyes. Now he seemed to have found him whom he sought, for a smile illuminated his sunburnt face, and he advanced directly toward Father Haspinger, who was singing again: "Have mercy upon our valor, and grant us war!" But on perceiving the young lad who was approaching him, he paused, and a bright gleam of joy overspread his features.
"It is Andreas Hofer's servant, Anthony Wild," murmured Father Haspinger, joyfully, holding out his hand to the lad. "Say, Tony, do you come to bring me a message from brother Andreas?"
"I do, reverend sir. The Sandwirth sends me to you, and as I did not meet you at your convent of Seeben near Klausen, I followed you to Brixen; for my master instructed me to deliver my message as quickly as possible into your hands and return with your answer."
"What message do you bring me, Tony?"
"This letter, reverend sir."
The friar took it and put it quickly into his belt. "Where is brother Andreas?" he asked.
"In the cave which is known only to him, to you, and to myself," whispered Anthony Wild, into the friar's ear. "He awaits your reply there, reverend sir."
"And you shall have it this very day, Tony. Now, however, we will not forget our divine service, but worship God with sincere piety. Take the place behind me in the procession; and when we return to the cathedral, follow me where-ever I may go."
And the friar commenced singing again; his hand, however, no longer held the rosary, but he put it firmly on the letter which was concealed in his belt, and whose contents engrossed his thoughts:
At length the procession had returned to the portals of the cathedral. Father Haspinger signed to the Sandwirth's servant, who was walking behind him, and instead of accompanying the other worshippers into the church, he walked along the procession until he reached a tall, slender young man, with whom he had already exchanged many a glance. "Martin Schenk," said the friar to him, "will you go home now?"
"I will, and I request you, reverend sir, to accompany me," said the young man, hastily. "I believe you will find a number of friends at my house. Peter Kemnater, the innkeeper of Schabs, and Peter Mayer, the innkeeper of Mahr, will be there. I invited them, and had I known that you would be here, I should have invited you too."
"You see that I come without being invited, for I think the fatherland has invited us all; and I believe we will not partake of an epicurean breakfast at your tavern to-day, but confer as to the terrible calamities of our country. We are the cooks that will prepare a very spicy and unhealthy breakfast for the French and Bavarians, and I believe I am the bearer of some salt and pepper from Andreas Hofer for this purpose. See, Martin Schenck, in my belt here, by the side of the rosary, is a letter from our dear brother Andreas Hofer."
"And what does he write to you? I hope he does not want us to keep quiet and permit the enemy to re-enter the country, as all prudent and cautious people advise us to do?"
"Hush, hush, Martin! do not insult our commander-in-chief by such a supposition. I have not read the letter yet, but I believe I know its contents, and could tell you beforehand every word that the good and faithful Andreas has written to us. Ah, here is your tavern, and let me ask a favor of you now. The lad who is following us is Andreas Hofer's faithful servant, Anthony Wild, who brought me the letter from his master, and who must wait for my answer. Give him a place where he may rest, and a good breakfast, for he must set out for home this very day."
"Come in, Anthony Wild; you are welcome," said the young innkeeper, shaking hands with Hofer's servant.
"Thank you, but I must first fetch my horse which I tied to a pole somewhere down the street. I rode very fast, and must first attend to the Horse, afterward I will request you to let me have some breakfast."
And Hofer's servant hastened down the street. The innkeeper and the friar entered the house and stepped into the large bar-room. Two men came to meet them there.
One of them, a man about forty-five years old, dressed in the simple costume of the Tyrolese, and of a tall, powerful form, was Peter Mayer, known throughout the Tyrol as one of the most ardent and faithful patriots, and a man of extraordinary intrepidity, firmness, and energy.
The other, a young man of scarcely twenty-two, slender yet well built, and far-famed for his fine appearance, boldness, and wealth, was Peter Kemnater, the most faithful and devoted friend of the fine-looking and patriotic young innkeeper, Martin Schenk.
The two men shook hands with the new-comers and bowed to them, but their faces were gloomy, and not the faintest gleam of a smile illuminated them.
"Have you come hither, Father Joachim Haspinger, only to join in the peace-prayers?" asked Peter Mayer in his laconic style, fixing his dark, piercing eyes on the friar's face.
"No, Peter Mayer," said the Capuchin, gravely; "I have come hither because I wanted to see you three, and because I have to say many things to you. But previously let me read what our pious and patriotic brother Andreas Hofer has written to me."
"You have a letter from Andreas Hofer!" exclaimed Mayer and
Kemnater, joyfully.
"Here it is," said the friar, drawing it from his belt. "Now give me a moment's time to read the letter, and then we will confer upon the matter that brought us here."
He stepped to the window and unfolded the letter. While he was reading it, the three men looked at him with rapt suspense, seeking to read in his features the impression produced by Andreas Hofer's words on the heart of the brave Capuchin. Indeed, the friar's features brightened more and more, his forehead and face colored, and a smile illuminated his hard features.
"Listen, men," he exclaimed triumphantly, waving the paper as though it were a flag; "listen to what Andreas writes to me!" And the friar read in a clarion voice:
"Dear brother Red-beard! Beloved Father Joachim Haspinger: You know, brother, that all has been in vain; the Austrians are evacuating the country, and the emperor, or rather not the emperor, but his ministers and secretaries, stipulated in the armistice concluded with Bonaparte, that the French and Bavarians should re-enter the Tyrol and recommence the infamous old system. But I think, even though the emperor has abandoned us, God Almighty will not do so; and even though the Austrian soldiers are crossing our frontiers, our mountains and glaciers remain to us; God placed them there to protect our frontiers, and He gave us strong arms and good rifles and keen eyes to discern the enemy and hit him. We are the inhabitants of the Tyrol, and the Austrian soldiers are not, hence it is incumbent on us to protect our frontiers, and prevent the enemy from invading our territory. If you are of my opinion, gather about you as many brave sharpshooters as you can, call out the Landsturm where it is possible, tell the other commanders to do the same, and advance, if possible, at once toward the Brenner, where I hope you will meet me or hear further news from me. Joseph Speckbacher did not leave the country either; he is enlisting sharpshooters and calling out the Landsturm in his district. It is the Lord's will that the Tyrol be henceforth protected only by the Tyrolese. Bear this in mind, and go to work.—Your faithful Andreas Hofer, at present not knowing where he is." [Footnote: Andreas Hofer signed all his letters and orders in this strange manner while he was concealed in his cave.]
"Well," asked the friar, exultingly, "do you think that Andreas Hofer is right, and that we ought not to allow the enemy to re-enter the country?"
"I think he is," said Peter Kemnater, joyously. "I think it will be glorious for us to expel the French and Bavarians once more from our frontiers."
"Or, if they have already crossed them, drive them ignominiously from the country," added Peter Mayer.
"I have passed, during the last few days, through the whole of Puster valley," said Martin Schenk. "Everywhere I found the men determined to die, rifle in hand, on the field of battle, rather than stay peaceably at home and bend their necks before the enemy. 'It is a misfortune,' said the men, 'that the Austrians are abandoning us at this critical juncture; but it would be a greater misfortune still for us to abandon ourselves and consent to surrender at discretion.'"
"And I say it is no misfortune at all that the Austrians have left us," cried the Capuchin, vehemently. "The cause of the fatherland has not suffered much by the retreat of the Austrians. Who assisted us at the battle of Mount Isel? Who helped us to drive the enemy twice from the country? Not an Austrian did! We accomplished all that was great and glorious in the short and decisive struggle. Let us not complain, then, that no one stands by us now, and that we know that no one will help us but God and we ourselves. But we must not plunge blindly and furiously into the struggle; on the contrary, we must consider whether we are able to defeat the enemy. The French and Bavarians are sending large forces on all sides to the poor Tyrol. I cannot conceal from you that the enterprise which we are going to undertake, and to which Andreas Hofer invites us, is a dangerous one. Let me tell you that that miserable assassin and ruffian Lefebre, whom they call the Duke of Dantsic, is approaching from the north with twenty-five thousand men, and is already close to Innspruck. General Deroi, too, is coming; he intends to march through the whole Vintschgau, and force his way over the Gerlos Mountains to the district of Innspruck. Rusca's wild legions are already near Lienz; General Pery is moving up from the south with his Italian troops; and the exasperated Bavarians, under Generals Wreden and Arco, are already at Salzburg. In short, more than fifty thousand men are coming up from all sides to trample the poor Tyrol under foot. They are veteran soldiers; they have got artillery and better arms than we, and are superior to us in numbers, equipments, and strength. Consider, therefore, whether you are willing to undertake the heavy task nevertheless; consider that you risk your property, your blood, and your lives, and that, if you should be so unfortunate as to fall into the enemy's hands, he would perhaps punish you as criminals and rebels. It is true, you are ready to risk your property, your blood, and your lives, for the fatherland and the liberty of the Tyrol; but then you have also duties to your families, your parents, your brides; you have a duty to yourselves— that of not endangering your lives recklessly. It is true, even though the enemy should punish you as rebels, you would die the beautiful death of martyrs for your fatherland, and the halo of your virtue and love of country will immortalize your names; but you must consider, also, whether your death will be useful to the country, and whether you will not shed your blood in vain. Ask your hearts, my friends, whether they will be courageous and strong enough to brave cheerfully whatever reverses and calamities may befall us, and whether they really will risk death, imprisonment, and the scaffold, without flinching and trembling? That is what I wished to say to you before concerting measures with you and sending an answer to Andreas Hofer. Consider it all, my friends, and then speak."
"We are to ask our hearts if they will not flinch and tremble?" said Peter Mayer, almost contemptuously. "When the enemy returned to the Tyrol last May, he burned down eight houses which belonged to me, and for some time I did not know but that my wife and children had perished in the conflagration. Did you see me tremble—did you hear me complain at that time? Did I not stand up cheerfully in the battle on Mount Isel, without weeping or murmuring, and bearing in mind only that I was fighting for liberty, the fatherland, and the emperor? It was not until we had gained the victory, and obtained our freedom, that I went home to mourn and weep on the smoking ruins of my houses. But I found my wife and my children alive and well; a friend had concealed them and taken care of them; and after thanking God for our victory, I thanked Him for preserving my wife and children; and only now, when we were happy and free, did I shed tears. But since the enemy is re-entering the country, and fresh misfortunes are to befall us, my tears are dried again; my heart is full of courage and constancy; and I believe we must risk all, because otherwise every thing that we have done hitherto will be in vain. I love my wife dearly; but, if she came now to dissuade me from taking part in the struggle, and if I felt that my heart was giving way to her persuasion, I would strangle her with my own hands, lest she should prevent me from serving the great cause of the fatherland. It is true, our task is difficult, but it is not impossible; and that which is not impossible should be tried for the fatherland! I have given you my opinion; it is your turn now, my young friends. Peter Kemnater, speak! Tell Father Red-beard whether your heart is trembling and flinching, and whether you think we had better keep quiet, because the enemy is so powerful and superior to us."
"I have an affianced bride of whom I am very fond," said Peter Kemnater, with flushed cheeks and flashing eyes; "a girl whom I love better than my parents, than anything in the world, and whom I intended to marry a fortnight hence; but I swear to God and the Holy Virgin that my wedding shall not take place until the Tyrol is free again, and we have expelled the enemy once more from the country. And if my bride should be angry at this, and demand that I should think more of her than of the fatherland, and prefer living for her alone to dying perhaps for the fatherland, I should break with her, and never look at her again, never speak another word with her. I have many houses and lands; but even though I knew that my fields and meadows were to be devastated, and my houses burned down, like those of Peter Mayer, I should say, nevertheless, we will fight for the fatherland! We will defeat the enemy, even though we should all become beggars, and even though I knew that I should die before seeing my affianced bride again, and that she would curse me in my grave. That is what I have got to say. Now you may speak, Martin Schenk; tell the father whether your heart is flinching and trembling."
"Yes, it is," cried Martin Schenk, "but only when I think the men of the Tyrol could be so cowardly and mean-spirited as to keep quiet and submit to their oppressors, because the latter are powerful and superior to us in numbers. I have a young wife whom I married only a year ago, and who gave birth to a little boy a week since, and I assure you that I love her and her child with all my heart. But if I knew that their death would be useful to the fatherland, and would contribute to its salvation, I would shoot them with my own rifle, and should not weep on seeing their corpses at my feet; but I should rejoice and exclaim, 'I did it for the sake of the fatherland; I sacrificed my most precious treasures for the beloved Tyrol.' Even though the enemy is very strong and numerous, even though the emperor has abandoned us, God stands by us. The mountains stand firm yet; they are our fortresses, and we will fight in them until we are all dead, or until we have defeated the enemy, and delivered the Tyrol a third time. Now you know my opinion, Father Joachim Haspinger."
The Capuchin made no reply. He stood with hands clasped in prayer and eyes lifted to heaven, and two large tears rolled down his bronzed cheeks into his red beard.
"Great God in heaven," he murmured in a voice tremulous with emotion, "I thank Thee for letting me see this hour, and hear the soul-stirring words of these patriotic men. What can I say now, what have I to sacrifice to the fatherland? I have no wife, no children, no property; I am but a poor Capuchin! I have nothing but my blood and my life. But I will give it to the country, even though the bishop and the abbot should excommunicate me for it and condemn my soul to burn in everlasting fire. It is better that a poor Capuchin's soul should burn in hell than that the fatherland should groan with pain and wear the brand of disgrace and slavery on its forehead. It is better to be a faithless son of the bishop and abbot, than a faithless son of the fatherland. It is better to be a bad Christian than a bad patriot. Therefore, whatever may happen, I shall share every thing with you, danger or victory, triumph or death. Henceforth I am no longer a Capuchin, but old Red-beard Joachim Haspinger, the defender of his country; and I swear that I will no more lay down my head and repose before we have delivered the country from the enemy and concluded an honorable peace. If that is your sentiment also, swear here before God that you will fight henceforth for the country, devote your whole strength to it, and perish rather than give up the struggle, make peace with the enemy, and submit to the Bavarian yoke."
And the three men lifted their hands and eyes to heaven, and exclaimed with one accord, in a loud and solemn tone: "We swear by God Almighty, and by all that is sacred and dear to us on earth, that we will fight henceforth for the country, devote our whole strength to it, and perish rather than give up the struggle, make peace with the enemy, and submit to the Bavarian yoke!"
"Benedictus! benedictus!" cried Father Haspinger, laying his hands
on those which the three men had joined on taking the oath. "The
Lord has heard and accepted your oath; the Lord will bless you, the
Holy Virgin will protect you! Amen!"
"And now let us concert measures for the struggle, and consider what we ought to do," said the friar, after a pause. "In the first place, we will inform Andreas Hofer that his wishes shall be complied with, and that we will call out the Landsturm and all our forces. Let me write to him, therefore, and then we will hold a council of war."
The council of war lasted until midnight; and while all Europe was truckling to the "invincible Emperor Napoleon," while all Germany was lying humbly prostrate at his feet, and while all the princes were basking in the sunshine of his favor, four poor men, neither learned nor even well educated, three peasants and a monk, were concerting measures to bid defiance to "Bonaparte, the robber of crowns," and expel his powerful armies from their mountains! All Germany was subjugated, and had given up all further resistance to the all-powerful conqueror; only the small Tyrol would not suffer herself to be subjugated; only the brave sons of the German mountains were still intent on braving the tyrant, and upholding their liberty and independence, despite the formidable efforts he was making to crush them.
Already on the following morning the tocsin sounded in all the valleys and on all the heights, and called upon the men to fight for the fatherland. After midnight the three brave men had left Brixen; each had set out in a different direction to incite the men to insurrection, inform them of Andreas Hofer's order, and implore them in the name of the fatherland to take up their rifles again and risk once more their lives for the deliverance of the Tyrol.
Father Haspinger had walked all night to Latzfons, and on the following morning he preached to the people at the church of that place an enthusiastic sermon, in which he called upon them to make one more effort in behalf of their beloved country, and promised entire absolution for one year to every one who should kill a dozen French soldiers, and absolution for five years to any who should kill twice as many. [Footnote: Mayer's "Speckbacher," p. 151.]
Carried away by the soul-stirring words and promises of the Capuchin, full of ardor to serve the fatherland, and desirous of obtaining absolution, the men took up arms, and even a company of women was formed for the holy service of the fatherland.
At night on the same day three hundred sharpshooters had rallied around the martial friar, and with them he marched toward Unterau, constantly receiving re-enforcements on the road; for the inhabitants everywhere rose again as one man, and with their redoubted rifles on their shoulders descended every lateral glen and ravine, and joined his command to conquer or die under him.
And joyful news arrived from all sides, announcing that the inhabitants were rising throughout the Tyrol. Already Peter Mayer and Peter Kemnater had gathered around them all the sharpshooters of the neighboring towns and villages, and their four companies now united with the friar's troops. News also came from Andreas Hofer: he had emerged again from the cave, and at his call all the sharpshooters of the Passeyr valley had rallied around him, and companies had flocked to him from all parts of the country to fight again under their beloved commander-in-chief. Andreas Hofer had marched with them across the crest of the precipitous Janfen, and his army gathering strength like a mountain-torrent from every tributary stream which crossed its course, soon embraced all the able-bodied men of Passeyr, Meran, and Algund.
The Tyrolese bad risen a third time to defend the independence of their country.
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE FIRST BATTLE.
What the four men had sworn at the inn of Brixen, and what Andreas Hofer had agreed upon with his friend Speckbacher, had succeeded. The whole Tyrol had risen and was eager for the fray. A small army, commanded by Father Haspinger, was encamped near Brixen, and received hourly fresh accessions. Peter Kemnater and Peter Mayer were still traversing the country, and calling upon the peasants to repair to Father Red-beard's camp near Brixen, and their appeals were readily complied with. The brave peasants of Rodeneck, Weitenthal, and Schoneck, led by their courageous pastor, George Schoneck, came into camp; and so did Anthony Wallner with the four hundred men who had followed him from the Puster valley.
Father Haspinger received these brave men exultingly, and folded their leader, Anthony Wallner, tenderly to his heart.
"You have fought again like a hero," he exclaimed, patting his cheeks affectionately; "the whole Tyrol is extolling your exploits at the murderous battle of Taxenbach, and they are telling wonderful stories about the surpassing heroism and bravery you displayed on that occasion."
"It is true, we fought bravely," said Anthony Wallner, sighing; "but it did not do much good, for the enemy was ten to one, and we were finally unable to check his advance. But we followed him, and will now unite with you, reverend father, in order to expel him once more from the country. I believe there will be another battle on Mount Isel, for the enemy is always intent on forcing his way to Innspruck, believing that the whole Tyrol is subjugated so soon as the capital has fallen into his hands. We must strive, therefore, to meet him there once more; for you know the old prophecy, saying that Mount Isel will be a lucky place for the Tyrolese."
"I do know it," said the friar; "and if it please God we will verify it. The freedom of the Tyrol is buried on Mount Isel near Innspruck, and we will disinter the golden treasure there and cause it to shed its lustre once more on our mountains and valleys. You shall help me to do it, Anthony Wallner, you and your famous sharpshooters of Windisch-Matrey. But previously I think, my friend, we shall have something to do here; for our scouts have returned with the news that the enemy is approaching. His column is headed by Saxon and Bavarian troops under the French general, Royer; his forces are followed by the main army under the commander-in-chief, Marshal Lefebvre, or as he proudly call himself, the Duke of Dantsic. General Royer has got already as far as Sterzing, and if we do not interfere the Saxons will soon reach Brixen."
"But we will interfere," cried Anthony Wallner; "we will not allow them to advance to Brixen, and I will occupy immediately with my sharpshooters the mountain-passes on the route of the enemy. We will receive the Duke of Dantsic with fireworks which will sadden his heart."
"Do so, dear Anthony," exclaimed Haspinger, joyfully. "I myself will first go to Brixen and teach the members of the municipality better manners. Their terror and anguish have rendered them quite eloquent, and they have dissuaded many hundred peasants, who were passing through Brixen to join my command, from so doing, and induced them to return to their homes. I shall speak a serious word with those gentlemen, and teach them a little patriotism."
Haspinger nodded kindly to Anthony Wallner, and calling ten of his best sharpshooters to him repaired to the city hall of Brixen, where the members of the municipality were assembled. He made them a furious speech, which, however, did not impress the gentlemen as forcibly as the threats which he added to it. He swore that, if the members of the municipality would not have the tocsin sounded immediately and send out mounted messengers to call out the peasants and send them to him, he would cause every one of them to be hanged or shot in the morning! And this oath was effectual enough, for the terrified gentlemen knew full well that Father Haspinger had the power and the will to fulfil his oaths. Hence, the tocsin was sounded, mounted messengers were Neat out in all directions, and on the following morning upward of two thousand able-bodied men arrived at Haspinger's camp. [Footnote: "Gallery of Heroes: Andreas Hofer," p. 110.]
"All right," said the friar; "if Andreas Hofer and Speckbacher join us with their forces, I believe we shall succeed, and St. Cassian will have understood our prayers."
While Anthony Wallner and his sharpshooters occupied the mountain- gorges this side of Brixen on the road to Mittewald, Joseph Speckbacher and his men had penetrated far beyond Mittewald toward Sterzing, and had learned that the Saxons, under General Royer, were resting at Sterzing with the intention of advancing in the morning through the wild valley of the Eisach toward Brixen.
"Well, if the Saxons are resting we must work in order to prepare eternal repose for them," said Joseph Speckbacher, gayly. "Now come, my brave lads, we must take the Saxons between two fires. They are miserable scoundrels and traitors. Ah, they do not shrink from serving the rapacious conqueror Bonaparte, and turning their arms against their German countrymen, merely because the French emperor orders them to do so, and because we refuse to submit to the foreign yoke. and are determined to preserve our German tongue and our German rights! How disgraceful it is that Germans should attack Germans at the bidding of the foreign oppressor! Therefore, we will punish the Saxons and Bavarians in the name of God and the Holy Virgin. We will let them advance down the defile, and attack them only after they are in it. They cannot retrace their steps, for we are behind them; nor can they advance very far, for Father Red-beard will meet them in front. Now come and let us make festive preparations, as it behooves those who are expecting distinguished guests. We will erect a few triumphal arches to them, and show them how avalanches roll down our mountains. Ah, we will build up for them artificial ruins which will excite their sincere admiration!"
"Yes, yes, we will!" shouted the peasants, who went to work, singing and laughing. In the first place, they erected "triumphal arches" to the enemy; that is to say, they obstructed the road by raising a number of abatis, besmeared with pitch the wooden railing of the bridge built across the Eisach near the village of Pleis, loosened the planks of the bridge, and began to build "avalanches." They felled a considerable number of tall larches, tied ropes to both ends of them, lowered them half-way down the precipitous side of the mountain, and fastened the ropes above to the strong branches of trees firmly rooted in the soil of the crest. Then they threw huge masses of rock and heaps of rubbish on these hanging scaffolds; and after the "avalanches" had thus been completed, they withdrew cautiously and rapidly into the mountain-gorges. Only Zoppel, Joseph Speckbacher's servant, and an old peasant remained near the "avalanches." They stood on both sides of the ropes, hatchet in hand, casting fiery glances into the defile on the bank of the Eisach, and between overhanging wood-clad precipices.
Profound silence reigned all around; only from time to time a rustling noise was heard in the shrubbery; the flashing barrel of a rifle was then seen, and it seemed as though the fleet-footed chamois appeared on the heights above. But they were Tyrolese sharpshooters who had climbed up to the watch-towers of their natural fortresses to espy the enemy and on his appearance to welcome him with the bullets of their rifles.
Profound silence reigned all around, and the two men were still standing, hatchet in hand, by the side of the ropes holding the artificial avalanches.
All at once a loud, shrill whistle resounded in front of the entrance to the defile; it was repeated all around the gloomy gorge.
"That is the signal that the enemy has passed the inn am Sack and is entering the defile of the Eisach," murmured Zoppel, examining once more the edge of his hatchet with his hand. Then he looked down attentively into the depth, where only a footpath meandered close along the bank of the foaming Eisach.
A few soldiers were now seen entering the defile yonder, where the road projected between two jutting rocks forming the background of the gorge.
The form of a Tyrolese sharpshooter appeared at the same moment on the top of the precipitous rock. He stepped close to the edge of the rock, allowed the soldiers, who looked around slowly and distrustfully, to advance a few steps, and then raised his rifle. He fired; one of the soldiers fell immediately to the ground, and the Tyrolese sharpshooter reloaded his rifle. He fired again, and laid another soldier prostrate.
The two reports had accelerated the march of the enemy. The soldiers entered the defile with a hasty step; in order to advance, they had to remove the two soldiers who were writhing in the agony of death and obstructing the narrow path, and throw them into the waters of the Eisach, which received with a wild roar the two corpses, the first victims of the reopening struggle.
Meanwhile the Tyrolese sharpshooter on the height above had reloaded his rifle and shot another soldier. On seeing this, he uttered a loud Jodler, made a leap of joy, and nodded laughingly to the enemy, who cast threatening glances on him. But he did not see that one of the officers below called four soldiers to him, pointed his hand at the top of the rock, and gave them a quick order. The four soldiers sprang at once from the ranks and disappeared in the shrubbery covering the base of the rock.
The sharpshooter was reloading his rifle, when the shrubbery behind him rustled, and, on turning hastily, be saw one of the soldiers rushing toward him. A cry of rage burst from the lips of the sharpshooter. He then raised his rifle and fired. The soldier fell, but at the same moment one of his comrades hastened from the thicket toward the top of the rock. Another cry burst from the sharpshooter's lips, but this time it sounded like a death-cry. He saw that he was lost, for already the uniforms of the other two soldiers were glittering among the trees, and the second soldier was only a few steps from the edge of the rock where the sharpshooter was standing. The Tyrolese cast a last despairing glance around him, as if to take leave of heaven and earth, and of the mountains and Valleys of his beloved Tyrol. Then he threw down his rifle and seized the soldier furiously. His arms encircled the body of his enemy like iron clasps, and he forced him with irresistible impetuosity toward the edge of the rock.
"In God's name, then," he shouted in a loud voice echoed by the rocks all around. "In God's name, then!"
With a last effort he threw himself with the soldier into the depth, and both disappeared in the waters of the Eisach.
Speckbacher's servant the faithful Zoppel, had seen and understood everything; and when the two sank into the foaming torrent, he wiped a tear from his eyes.
"He died like a brave son of the Tyrol," he murmured, "and the Holy Virgin will assuredly bid him kindly welcome. But we, Hisel, will avenge his death on the accursed enemy below."
"Yes, we will," cried the peasant grimly; and he raised his hatchet with a furious gesture.
"It is not yet time," said Zoppel thoughtfully. "Just wait until a larger body of troops has entered the defile. See, Hisel, how splendid they look in their gorgeous uniform, and how proudly they are marching on!"
The Saxons did march on proudly, but not with drums beating. They advanced in silence, filled with misgivings by the profound stillness which surrounded them all at once, listening attentively to every sound, and examining anxiously the top of every projecting rock.
The head of the serried column had arrived now directly under the hanging "avalanche" in the middle of the gloomy defile. The silence was suddenly broken by a loud angry voice, which seemed to resound in the air like the croaking of the death-angel.
This voice asked, "Zoppel, shall I cut the rope now?"
"Not yet! not yet!" replied another voice; and the precipitous rocks all around echoed "Not yet! not yet!"
The Saxons gave a start and looked up. Whence came these voices? What meant that huge black mass suspended on the precipitous side of the mountain right over their heads?
Thus they asked each other shudderingly and stood still, fixing their eyes on the black mass of rock and rubbish, which filled their hearts with wonder and dismay.
"Let us retrace our steps! Let us not penetrate farther into the defile," murmured the soldiers with trembling lips, but in so low a tone that the officers marching by their sides could not hear them.
But the officers, too, were filled with strange misgivings; they ordered the soldiers to halt, and hastened back to General Royer to report to him the mysterious words which they had heard, and to ask him whether they were to halt or retrace their steps.
"Advance at the double-quick!" commanded the general, sternly.
"Advance at the double-quick!" they repeated to their soldiers along the whole line; the latter, in obedience to this order, hurried on under the black mass which still hung threateningly over their heads.
All at once a powerful voice above shouted out: "Now, Hisel, in the name of the Holy Trinity, cut the ropes!" Thereupon they heard the strokes of two hatchets.
The soldiers, who were rushing forward in serried ranks, looked up again, and indescribable horror seized them. The black mass of rock and rubbish which had hitherto hung over them, commenced moving and rolling down with a terrible crash. A cloud of dust rose and filled the gloomy defile as with the smoke of powder. At the same time a heavy fire burst forth on all sides, and from amid the leafy screen the deadly bullets of the sharpshooters brought death with every discharge into the allied ranks. A death-like silence then ensued for a moment, for out of the depths rose the wails and lamentations of the hundreds of soldiers who had been crushed and mutilated by the "avalanche." The Tyrolese, filled with curiosity and compassion, looked down into the defile. The smoke and dust had disappeared, and they could distinctly survey the scene of horror, devastation, and death, in the gorge.
Happy those whom the falling "avalanche" had hurled from the narrow footpath into the foaming torrent! It is true, death had been in store for them there, but it had quickly put an end to their sufferings. But what was the agony of those who lay buried under the fragments of the rocks, their limbs fearfully mutilated! What were the sufferings of the hundreds of soldiers lying on the road, on this narrow, gory path, upon which the "avalanche" had thundered down!
It was a horrible sight; even the Tyrolese trembled on beholding this rubbish, these fragments, whence large numbers of bloody corpses protruded, and amidst which torn, mutilated limbs were moving, while here and there soldiers, covered all over with dust, and bleeding from fearful wounds, tried painfully to raise themselves from the ground.
Those of the Saxons who had not been struck by the terrible avalanche, fell back shuddering. When the Tyrolese saw this, their compassion at the cruel fate of the dead gave way, and with deafening shouts they burst forth from their concealment, and, mingling with the enemy, a frightful slaughter took place.
The Saxons rallied, however; courageous discipline presided over unskilled valor, and the column advanced slowly and painfully in the direction of the bridge, through a murderous fire, and surmounting the ruins which obstructed the road and covered the bodies of their comrades.
All at once exultant shouts and cheers resounded at the entrance of the defile, and the clarion-notes of martial music joined in these stirring acclamations. Fresh troops, re-enforcements of the Saxons, were coming up from the rear. The Bavarians had arrived with their artillery, which they had placed in a very favorable position; they had already taken the two farm-houses at the entrance of the gorge where the Tyrolese had taken position, and were now rushing into the defile. The Tyrolese, dismayed at this impetuous advance, retreated into the mountains.
For two days the struggle was continued in these gorges near Mittewald. For two days Saxons and Tyrolese opposed each other in this fratricidal contest, in which Germans fought against Germans in obedience to the behests of the tyrant who had subjugated all Germany, and to whom only the undaunted Tyrol still offered a stubborn resistance.
The victory was long undecided. Once the forces of the Duke of Dantsic succeeded at one extremity of the defile in driving back the sharpshooters under Joachim Haspinger, the Capuchin, and clearing a passage for the Saxons struggling in the gorge. But the Capuchin had retreated only to bring up fresh forces, dispatch messengers to Speckbacher, Peter Mayer, Andreas Hofer, and Anthony Wallner, sound the tocsin, and concentrate more armed peasants. And Speckbacher came up with his brave sharpshooters in the rear of the Saxons: Anthony Wallner and his men made their appearance like-wise; Peter Mayer brought up fresh forces; and Andreas Hofer sent word that he would be on hand speedily. But the Saxons were likewise re-enforced, both by the French, who moved up from Brixen, and the Bavarians, who approached from Sterzing.
The contest was continued with unabated violence, and both sides struggled obstinately for the victory. But the Tyrolese fought for their rights, their liberty, their German country; the Saxons and Bavarians fought for tyranny, for the foreign oppressor, and the subjugation of their countrymen. God granted victory to the Tyrolese, and in the defile of Mittewald upward of a thousand Saxons had to atone by their death for having fought at the bidding of the French conqueror on German soil against their German countrymen.
The Tyrolese fought for their rights, their liberty, their German country; and the Duke of Dantsic, the proud marshal of France, was defeated by the despised peasants; he had to flee from their wrath, and arrived without his cloak and hat, trembling and deathly pale, on his foaming horse at Sterzing, which he had left a few hours previously with the firm conviction that he would inflict a crushing defeat upon the "haughty peasant-rabble." Now this "haughty peasant- rabble" had defeated him.
God is with those who fight for the rights and liberty of Germany. God is with those who rise boldly against French tyranny and French arrogance!
CHAPTER XXXII.
THE FIFTEENTH OF AUGUST AT INNSPRUCK.
God is with those who fight for the rights and liberty of Germany.
He had granted another victory to the Tyrolese.
Animated by their brilliant successes, the patriots no longer stood on the defensive, but, flocking from all quarters to the standard of Hofer, assembled in great multitudes on Mount Isel, the scene of their former triumphs, and destined to be immortalized by a still more extraordinary victory. Lefebvre had collected his whole force, consisting of twenty-six thousand men, of whom two thousand were horse, with forty pieces of cannon, on the little plain which lies between Innspruck and the foot of the mountains on the southern side of the Inn. They were far from being animated, however, by their wonted spirit; the repeated defeats they had experienced had inspired them with that mysterious dread of the mountaineers with which regular troops are so often seized, when, contrary to expectation, they have been worsted by undisciplined bodies of men; and a secret feeling of the injustice of their cause, and the heroism with which they had been resisted, paralyzed many an arm which had never trembled before a regular army.
The Tyrolese consisted of eighteen thousand men, three hundred of whom were Austrian soldiers who had refused to follow their officers, and remained to share the fate of the inhabitants. They were tolerably supplied with ammunition, but had little provisions, in consequence of which several hundred peasants had already gone back to their homes.
Joseph Speckbacher commanded the right wing, whose line extended from the heights of Passberg to the bridges of Hall and Volders; Hofer was with the centre, and had his headquarters at the inn of Spade, on the Schoenberg; Haspinger directed the left, and advanced by Mutters.
At four in the morning, the brave Capuchin roused Hofer from sleep, and, having first united with him in fervent prayer, hurried out to communicate his orders to the outposts.
The battle commenced at six, and continued without intermission till midnight, the Bavarians constantly endeavoring to drive the Tyrolese from their position on Mount Isel, and they, in their turn, to force the enemy back into the town of Innspruck.
For a long time the contest was undecided, the superior discipline and admirable artillery of the enemy prevailing over the impetuous but disorderly assaults and deadly aim of the mountaineers; but toward nightfall the bridge of the Sill was carried after a desperate struggle, and their left flank being thus turned, the French and Bavarians gave way on all sides, and were pursued with great slaughter into the city. They lost six thousand men, of whom seventeen hundred wounded fell into the hands of the Tyrolese, while on the side of the latter not more than nine hundred had fallen. Lefebvre had to retreat hastily toward Salzburg, where his whole army was collected on the 20th.
This great victory was immediately followed by the liberation of the whole Tyrol; and when, on the morning of the 15th of August, the sun rose over Innspruck, Andreas Hofer and his victorious host stood on Mount Isel, gazing with profound emotion on the reeking, gory battle-field, on which, two days ago, war had raged with all its horrors, and on the city of Innspruck, whose smoking and burning houses betokened the last outburst of the rage of the fugitive French marshal. [Footnote: "Gallery of Heroes: Andreas Hofer," p. 126.]
"See how much blood it has cost, and how many wrongs had to be committed, that we might obtain our rights!" sighed Andreas Hofer, pointing to the battle-field. "My heart overflows with pity on seeing these horrors, and I implore you all to be merciful with the wounded and to treat the prisoners leniently. Among these prisoners are about one thousand Bavarians and Saxons. See, they are standing down yonder in dense groups, and our men surround them, mocking and abusing them. Go down to them, dear Secretary Doeninger; tell them to be merciful and compassionate, and to bear always in mind that the prisoners are no longer their enemies, but their German brethren; that they are Saxons and Bavarians, speak one and the same language with us, and are our countrymen. Repeat this to our men, Doeninger, and say to them in my name, 'Do not injure the prisoners; they are Saxons and Bavarians, and good and brave men!'" [Footnote: Andreas Hofer's own words.—Ibid., p. 125.]
"They are not exactly good men," said Speckbacher, who was standing on the right side of Andreas Hofer; "no, they are not exactly good men, Andy; otherwise they would not have fought against us, who are assuredly good men and have done nothing but defend our dear country."
Instead of replying to him, Andreas Hofer turned smilingly to the Capuchin, who was standing on his left side. "Brother Joachim," he said gently, "you ought to exhort our Joseph here a little, that he may comply with the Redeemer's precept and forgive his enemies. He is a very good, but very stubborn fellow; a brave and excellent soldier, but it would do him no harm if he were a better Christian."
"If we had been good Christians latterly we should never have defeated the enemy," growled the Capuchin, shaking his head. "If we were good Christians, we should have to love our enemies, do good to them that hate us, and pray for those who despitefully use us and persecute us. So long as we are soldiers, Andy, we cannot be good Christians; and I thank God for it that we fought like downright brave heathens. But after the enemy has been expelled from the country, and peace prevails again everywhere, and I have returned to my tedious convent at Seeben, I will become again a pious Capuchin, and exhort our dear brave Joseph Speckbacher to become as good a Christian as our Andreas Hofer."
"No, no, brother Joachim, we will not wait until then to show to the world that we are good Christians," exclaimed Andreas. "God stood by us in the battle of Mount Isel and made us victorious over our enemies. Let us thank Him, therefore, for His surpassing goodness and mercy; let us pray Him to bless our victory and grant a glorious resurrection to those who had to sacrifice their lives for it."
He drew his large rosary from his bosom, and, lifting his eyes devoutly to heaven, sank down on his knees.
"Yes, let us pray God to bless our victory," said Father Haspinger, bending his knees like Andreas Hofer; and Joseph Speckbacher followed his example.
And the pious Tyrolese, seeing their leaders kneeling on the height above, were filled with devout emotion; they knelt likewise; their cheers and Jodlers, their shouts and laughter died away; only prayers were heard from their lips, and, as an accompaniment to them, the melodious peals of the bells, with which the people of Innspruck were celebrating the departure of the French marshals, and the approach of the defenders of the country.
At this moment the sun burst forth from the clouds, and shed a radiant lustre on this whole sublime scene—the three kneeling heroes on the height above, and all around the Tyrolese, clad in their picturesque national costume, kneeling and thanking God, with tears in their eyes, for the victory He had vouchsafed to them.
The Bavarian and Saxon prisoners, carried away by this spectacle, knelt down like the Tyrolese, and prayed to God, like their enemies- -not thanking Him, as the latter did, for the victory, but for having made them prisoners, of good and pious victors. [Footnote: Mayer's "Joseph Speckbacher," p. 196.]
All at once this pious scene was interrupted by loud cheers, shouts, and Jodlers, and a long, imposing procession of singing, jubilant men ascended the mountain. The new-comers were the students of Innspruck, who came to congratulate Andreas Hofer on his brilliant victory, and accompany him on his triumphal entry into the city. Many persons followed them, and all shouted exultingly, "Where is Andreas Hofer, the savior of the country? Where is Andreas Hofer, the liberator?"
The band heading the procession of the students, struck up a ringing flourish on beholding Andrews, who had risen from his knees at their approach. But he raised his arm imperatively; the band ceased playing immediately, and the cheers died away on the lips of the students, who bowed respectfully to the tall, imposing form of the Barbone.
"Hush, hush," said Andreas, gravely; "pray! No cheers, no music!
Neither I nor any of us did it; all the glory is due to Him above!"
[Footnote: Andreas Hofer's own words, Ibid., p. 197.]
"But you helped the good God a little," said the speaker of the students, "and therefore you must submit to accept the thanks of the whole Tyrol, and to being called the savior and liberator of the country. We come to you as messengers of the capital of the Tyrol, and are instructed to request you to tarry no longer, but make your triumphal entry into the city."
"Yes, I will come," exclaimed Andreas, joyfully; "what I implored of the Lord as the highest boon has been realized now: we shall make our triumphal entry into the city, where the mean enemy behaved so shamefully. Return to Innspruck, my friends, and say to the inhabitants that we shall be in the city in the course of an hour— old Red-beard, Speckbacher, and I—and that we shall be glad to meet all our excellent friends there again."
And an hour afterward Andreas Hofer and his friends made their entry into Innspruck. He sat in a gorgeous carriage, drawn by four splendid white horses, which he himself had taken from a French colonel during his flight across the Brenner. By the side of the Sandwirth sat Joachim Haspinger, the Capuchin, and beside the carriage rode Joseph Speckbacher, with a radiant face, and his dark, fiery eyes beaming with triumphant joy, he was mounted on the proud magnificently-caparisoned charger that had borne the haughty Duke of Dantsic two days ago.
The carriage was preceded by a crowd of rejoicing peasants, and a band of fifers and fiddlers; carpets and banners hung from all the windows and balconies; ladies in beautiful attire greeted the conquering hero with waving handkerchiefs; and the people in the streets, the ladies on the balconies, and the boys on the roofs and in the trees, shouted enthusiastically, "Long live Andreas Hofer! Long live the commander-in-chief of the Tyrol!" And the bells pealed, the cannon posted on the market-place thundered, and the fifers and fiddlers made as much noise as possible.
"Listen, brother Haspinger," said Andreas Hofer, turning to the Capuchin, while the carriage was moving on slowly, "I should really dislike to enter the city always amid such fuss and noise; and I believe it is heavy work for princes always to look well pleased and cheerful when they are so much molested by the enthusiasm of the people. I looked forward with a great deal of joy to the day when we should make our entry into the city, and I thought it would be much more beautiful; but now I am greatly tired of the whole thing; I should be glad if they would cease fiddling, and clear a passage for the carriage to move on more rapidly. I am hungry, and I would I were already at the tavern of my dear friend Niederkircher."
"Well, you must learn to put on a pleasant face when the people cheer you," said Haspinger, laughing. "You have now become a prince too, and I think your people will love you dearly."
"What nonsense is that, brother?" asked Hofer, angrily.
"It is no nonsense at all, Andy; on the contrary, it is quite true.
Just listen to their acclamations."
"Long live Andreas Hofer!" shouted the crowd, which was dancing and singing around the carriage. "Long live the commander-in-chief of the Tyrol!"
"They call me commander-in-chief of the Tyrol," said Andreas, musingly. "Tell me, Joachim, is it necessary for me to assume that title?"
"Yes, it is. There must be a head of the state, a man to whom the people may look up as its star, and to whom it may apply as its comfort, support, and judge. And as the people have confidence in you and love you, you must be the man to hold the whole together, lest it should fall asunder. You shall be the head, and we others will be your hands and thoughts, and will work and fight, and think for you and the Tyrol. We must have a leader, a commander-in-chief of the Tyrol, and you are the man, Andy."
"If you say so, it must be so," said Andreas, nodding his head gently. "Well, then, I shall be commander-in-chief of the Tyrol until order and peace are restored, and until the enemy has been expelled from the country for evermore. But see, we have arrived in front of Niederkircher's tavern, and there is Niederkircher himself with his dear round face. God bless you, Niederkircher, why do you look at me so solemnly, and why have you dressed up so nicely? Why, you wear your holiday clothes, and yet I think this is neither Sunday nor a holiday."
"It is a great holiday," exclaimed Niederkircher, "the commander-in- chief of the Tyrol, the great Andreas Hofer, is making his triumphal entry into the city. That is why I have put on my Sunday clothes and look so solemn; for it would not be becoming for me to embrace the distinguished commander-in-chief of the Tyrol, as I should like to do under other circumstances."
"You are a fool, old fellow!" said Andreas, encircling his friend's neck with his arm; "if I am commander-in-chief before the world, I am, before my friends, always Andreas Hofer, the Sandwirth and humble peasant. Let us go into the house, my dear friend; and you Joachim, come with us. There! Take me to the small back room which I always occupy during my stay in the city."
"God forbid!" exclaimed the innkeeper; "you never must occupy the back room again; that would not be becoming for the commander-in- chief of the Tyrol. You must take my best room with the balcony opening on the street; besides, all is there in readiness for your reception."
"Must I take it, Joachim?" said Andreas to the Capuchin, almost anxiously.
"Yes, Andy, you must," replied the friar. "You must do honor to your new dignity, and to us all."
"It is a pity that I must do so," sighed Andreas. "I was so glad that I should soon be in the old back room, where it is so cozy and quiet, and where you do not hear any thing of the noise and shouting outside. But, if it cannot be helped, let us go to the best room; but pray, if it is possible, give us something to eat there. Some sound dumplings and a glass of native wine, friend Niederkircher."
"No, no, Andreas Hofer, that will not do today," replied the innkeeper; "I have had all my servants at work in the kitchen ever since sunrise, and you will have a dinner suitable for the commander-in-chief of the Tyrol."
"I should have preferred dumplings and native wine in the small back room," said Andreas Hofer, dolefully, while he ascended with the innkeeper and the Capuchin to the best room on the first floor.
This was a very fine room indeed, and even though it was not as cozy as the back room for which Hofer bad longed, it was at all events very agreeable to him to be once more under a hospitable roof, and enjoy a little rest and tranquillity. In the middle of the room stood a table handsomely festooned with flowers, and covered with bottles of wine, cake, and all sorts of fruit.
"Now, my distinguished friends, make yourselves as comfortable as possible," said Niederkircher, cheerfully; "lie down awhile on the silken divan and repose. Meanwhile I will go to the kitchen and order dinner to be served to the commander-in-chief and his two generals, Haspinger and Speckbacher."