After speaking of other trophies, he continues:

Leopold’s ingratitude was not confined to words. The promises and pledges which had been lavished to induce Sobieski to march to the relief of Vienna, were broken and neglected after the service had been rendered; and even worse than this, the Emperor refused to supply the Poles with provisions and beasts of burthen when proceeding to fight his own battles in Hungary. Sobieski recovered that kingdom which had been promised to him if he expelled the infidels, but he recovered it not for himself, but the Emperor. On October 12, a second victory, which he characterized as greater than that of Vienna, delivered it finally from the Ottoman yoke. The rejoicing of the Christian world was universal when the result of the campaign was known; for all, Catholic and Protestant, had been alike alarmed at the rapid and overpowering advance of the Turkish force. At Rome the rejoicings continued for a month, and the standard of the Prophet was borne in triumph from church to church, and from convent to convent, as the most glorious signal of the defeat and humiliation of the false religion.

It is melancholy to reflect that the close of this great man’s life was embittered by a factious nobility, an intriguing wife, and domestic discords. “Sick of the court, he fled into the forests, or wandered from one castle to another, or pitched his tent wherever a beautiful valley, picturesque landscapes, the mountain torrent, or any natural object attracted his attention. Sick, too, of the world, he sought for consolation in religion and philosophy. There might be something of pedantry in his manners, but he was sincerely attached to letters. He not only cultivated them with assiduity himself, but recommended the study of them to others, and patronized all who excelled in them.

“At length the end of this great man approached. The immediate cause of his death is wrapped in mystery. He had been recommended to take a strong dose of mercury (his infirmities for some time had been neither few nor light): was it too strong for his constitution to support? so at least some thought; so even he appeared to suspect.”[23] He died on the double anniversary of his birth and his accession to the throne, twenty-three years after the latter event, in 1697, in the 68th year of his age; and by a singular coincidence, his birth and death were each signalized by a tempest of uncommon and fearful violence.

One might suppose that the spirit of Leopold had descended on all Austrian statesmen. Within a century of the triumphal entry of Sobieski into Vienna, Poland ceased to be an independent kingdom, and the co-operation of Austria was rewarded with a third of her spoils. It seems vain to expect gratitude in international dealings; yet we might almost have supposed that the recollection of the deliverance of Vienna would have deterred Austria from sharing in so unprovoked and profligate an injustice. The situation and the policy of Europe have altered strangely since the period of which we speak. Poland has fallen before the arms of Russia, and Turkey preserves a precarious independence only by the policy of Christian powers, the supine witnesses or interested sharers in the spoliation of a Christian kingdom, which, having been the bulwark of Europe against Turkey as long as Turkey was formidable, would have formed an equally effectual barrier against the encroachments of Russia.

There is another class of battles, from which the reader will expect some to be selected for comparison with the great events of the Persian war; those memorable struggles in which a disparity of force which seemed to make resistance hopeless, has not deterred an invaded people from asserting its independence, nor secured the invader from total defeat. Among them the long series of battles by which the freedom of Switzerland was ascertained and secured claims a foremost place; and we are led to take our examples thence, rather than from other history, by a resemblance, perhaps not more than superficial, between the circumstances of the Cantons and of the Greek republics. In either case it was the same class who fought: the Swiss, like the Grecian armies, were composed not of mercenary men at arms, nor vassals bound to follow their lord in public or in private quarrel; but of citizens trained to the use of arms, and habituated to consider military service as a privilege. Among them none pleaded birth or wealth as excuses for not serving in the ranks, or disdained to fight except as the commander of others. We may also notice, that since the time of Charlemagne the infantry service had generally fallen into disrepute and neglect,[24] and the strength of armies was estimated by their heavy-armed cavalry, the only capacity in which a knight or noble would condescend to serve. As the Athenians were the first Greeks who endured the sight of the Median dress, and the men who wore it, so the Swiss were the first infantry who dared unsupported to abide the furious charge of the high-born and high-spirited nobility. Here the nature of their country was a valuable auxiliary; and the brilliant successes which they wrought, partly by advantage of ground, but chiefly by their courage, strength, and constancy, aided by a real though not apparent superiority in arms and discipline, led, in conjunction with the invention of gunpowder, to a revolution in war, and re-established the infantry service in its due superiority.

From a number of battles almost equally worthy of our attention, we select two—those fought at Morgarten and Sempach. That of Morgarten claims our notice as the first of the series, and as that in which the disproportion of the combatants is most striking. We take our account from a contemporary chronicler, whose father was a soldier in the Austrian army. The writer’s prejudices are obvious; still he is honest enough to let it appear that the Swiss had done all that was consistent with honour and independence to avoid a war. The parties were, on the one side, the whole power of Austria, on the other the three Waldstetten, or Forest Cantons (with which Lucern was afterwards associated as a fourth), Schwitz, Uri, and Underwalden. The pretended ground of invasion was a quarrel between these mountaineers and the wealthy and powerful Abbey of Einsiedlen, which solicited the Duke of Austria’s assistance: the real ground is to be found in that prince’s jealousy of the principles of liberty asserted by the Swiss, and recently acted on by Tell and his confederates.

“In the year of our Lord 1315, a rural tribe of certain valleys begirt with high mountains, called Schwitz, revolted from its allegiance, trusting in those mountains as its firmest bulwark, and withheld the tribute and service due to Duke Leopold; who being much angered, collected an army of 20,000 men, select soldiers, most skilful and bold in battle, to overcome, spoil, and subdue those rebel mountaineers. Therefore these soldiers met, as of one accord, to tame and humble the rustics, and, making very sure of the victory, and of the spoil and plunder of the land, they took ropes and halters to lead them away bound among their flocks and herds. The Schwitzers, hearing all this, were in much dread, and fortified the weaker passes into their country with walls and trenches, and commended themselves to God with prayers, fasting, and processions. Moreover they gave charge to various persons to go to the mountain paths, by which there was a way into their land, and there keep watch in the narrow straits. And all was done as had been ordered, and the whole people cried to God with much earnestness, and humbled their souls in fasting, men and women, and besought God with one voice that their herds might not be given as a prey, nor their wives as a booty, nor their homes be made a desolation, nor their honour and virtue a pollution. Therefore they prayed the Lord with their whole heart, that he would visit his people, saying, ‘Lord God of heaven and earth, behold these men’s pride, and have regard to our lowliness, and show that thou desertest not those who trust in thee, and humblest whosoever trusteth in himself, and boasteth his own valour.’ Then, repenting of their contumacy, they sought peace through the mediation of the Count of Toggenburg; but Duke Leopold was too much angered to receive their submission, and would hear of nothing but treading them under foot, and scattering them and their goods. So the Schwitzers took arms, and posted themselves in the narrow passes, and watched there day and night.”

Owing to the necessity of guarding the whole frontier, which was threatened on three points, only 1300 men could be collected to oppose the numerous and well-appointed army of Austria, of whom 600 belonged to Schwitz, 400 to Uri, and 300 to Underwalden. By the advice of Rudolph Reding, an aged veteran, whose judgment in such matters was considered decisive, they posted themselves near Morgarten, where a defile, bounded on one side by Lake Egeri, and on the other by Mount Sattel, presented a favourable situation for a small body of men to resist the attack of a far larger force.

“And on the day of St. Othmar (Oct. 25) Duke Leopold, endeavouring to pass into their country by a way between a mountain and lake, named Egrer Seu, was much hindered by the height and steepness of the mountain. For the knights on horseback, boiling with the desire of action, and crowding into the front ranks, entirely prevented the infantry from ascending, seeing that there was scarce room to fix or to preserve the footing. But the Schwitzers, knowing from the above-named Count of Toggenburg that the attack would be made there, and perceiving how much their enemy would be hampered by the difficulty of the way, went down against them from their lurking-places, animated and in high heart, and attacked them like a fish in a net, and slew them without resistance. For they wore, according to custom, certain iron instruments[25] in their shoes, with which they could walk easily upon mountains, though never so steep, where the enemy and their horses could not so much as plant their feet. And they carried certain deadly weapons, called helnbarts in the vulgar tongue, very terrible, with which they cut asunder the best armed men as with a razor. That was no battle, but rather a slaughter of Duke Leopold’s people, as of a flock led to sacrifice. They spared no one, and cared to take no prisoners, but smote all persons indifferently, even to the death. Such as were not slain by them were drowned in the lake, endeavouring to escape by swimming; some, even of the infantry, hearing that their best soldiers were so cruelly struck down by the Schwitzers, leapt into the lake from mere fear, choosing rather to sink under its depths than to fall into the hands of so dreadful a foe. Fifteen hundred men are said to have fallen by the edge of the sword, besides those who were drowned: and by reason of the number of knights who were lost there, knighthood was scarce in the surrounding country for a long time, for few perished save knights and other nobles, trained to arms from childhood. I myself, being then a school-boy, going out with others to meet my father with no small joy, saw Duke Leopold returning, like one half dead with sorrow. Well might he appear downcast and moody, for he there lost almost all the valour and strength of his army.”[26]

Fifty men, who had been banished from Schwitz in a period of civil discord, hearing of their country’s imminent danger, came to the frontier, and requested permission to serve in the army. The magistrates, whose uncalculating and resolute adherence to law, uninfluenced by expediency, has something noble in it, refused to sanction their appearance within the confines, and the exiles, equally determined in their patriotism, took post an an eminence beyond the frontier of the canton[27]. In this situation they contributed materially to the success of the day. They commenced the attack by rolling down rocks upon the Austrians as soon as they were entangled in the difficulties of the valley; and their countrymen, posted further on upon the mountain side, seized promptly on the favourable moment, and by the novel and unexpected manner of their attack, and the vigour with which they wielded their long and massive halberts, favoured by the difficulties of the ground, improved a temporary disorder into a total defeat. The disinterested bravery of the exiles was recompensed by restoration to their civil rights.

Two other attacks at other points of their frontier were defeated by these gallant mountaineers on the same day, which was ever after commemorated by the Forest Cantons as a festival, and the names of those who fell at Morgarten were recited annually by the Schwitzers in the field of Rutli, the venerated spot in which the overthrow of the Austrian tyranny was planned.

When the French invaded the Forest Cantons in 1798, Morgarten was the scene of a second struggle as brave, but less successful. They attacked simultaneously in three quarters. “On the north side Aloys Reding met them on the same ground where his ancestor, Rudolph Reding, had defeated the Austrians five hundred years before, and the narrow field of Morgarten was twice drenched with the blood of patriots and their oppressors. The women of Schwitz were employed during the whole night of the 1st of May in dragging cannon over rocks and precipices, and carrying fascines for entrenchments; many of them worked with young children on their left arm. Fires were burning on the tops of all the mountains. During the 1st and 2nd of May there was incessant firing both at Morgarten and about Arth; a militia composed of peasants and shepherds made head on this extended line against repeated attacks of regular troops four times their number without giving way, broke them several times with the bayonet, and remained masters of the field everywhere. The loss of the invaders was tenfold their own, but the latter was irreparable; a few such victories and they were annihilated; many of the men had no rest for three or four days and nights, and scarcely any food; some of the posts were only guarded by women. They were offered the free exercise of their religion, provided they adopted the Helvetic constitution, in which case the army was to leave the country immediately. Many were for fighting on; others, moved at the sight of their wives and children, wished to treat before it came to the worst. The general assembly, held on the 4th, was extremely agitated, and on the point of ending in bloodshed. At last a great majority decided in favour of the terms offered, and peace was signed on the 5th. The French loss was 2754 dead, exclusive of wounded; the people of Schwitz, 431 men and women.”[28]

Aloys Reding, a worthy descendant of a race of patriots, survived this battle some few years. Near the outlet of the Lake of Thun is a monument raised by private regard, with the single inscription, “To the memory of my friend, Aloys Reding,” which has given occasion to the following beautiful lines:

Around a wild and woody hill,
A gravelled pathway treading,

We reached a votive stone, that bears
The name of Aloys Reding.

Well judged the friend who placed it there
For silence and protection;

And haply with a finer care
Of dutiful affection.

The sun regards it from the west
Sinking in summer glory;

And while he sinks, affords a type
Of that pathetic story.

And oft he tempts the patriot Swiss
Amid the groves to linger,

Till all is dim, save this bright stone,
Touched by his golden finger[29].

The league of the three Cantons was successively joined by Lucern, Berne, and the rest of the Helvetic body, not without exciting the deep ill-will and jealousy of Austria and all the surrounding nobles, of whom some claimed feudal rights over the revolted districts, others dreaded lest the spirit should spread to their own vassals, and work, as in effect it did, the destruction of their hereditary power and privileges. Hostilities were constantly recurring between neighbours so ill-mated; and the battles of Laupen, Tafwyl, Sempach, Næfels, Morat, and others of less note, bear testimony to the steadiness of purpose with which the feudal chiefs strove to crush a rising power diametrically opposed to their own interests and prejudices, and to the skill, courage, and constancy with which the Swiss maintained a contest apparently most unequal. The most remarkable perhaps is that of Sempach, in which another Leopold of Austria advanced with no less confidence against the audacious burghers of the Alps than had his predecessor seventy-one years before. His standard was followed by 167 lords spiritual and temporal, and a numerous and well-appointed army. The four Forest Cantons, with Zuric, Zug, and Glaris, were opposed to this force. Berne, the most powerful of the confederates, being herself at peace with Austria, declined to take any part in their defence.

The Duke directed his main attack on Sempach, a small town, which, in anticipation of the contest, had revolted from him and joined the Swiss. At the same time a division of his army, under the Baron de Bonstetten, threatened Zuric. In addition to the burghers of the city, 1600 men of the Forest Cantons, Zug and Glaris, were collected there; but the enemy’s plan of operations rendered it necessary to divide their force: and leaving the men of Zug and Zuric to defend their own territory from invasion, the rest of the Swiss, about 1400 in number, marched to meet the Austrian prince.

“Sempach, a small town about nine miles from Lucern, lies at the head of a lake nearly six miles in length, the country round it rising into meadows, thence into corn-fields, and lastly into extensive woods which crowned the hills. The Confederates occupied these woods.

“Early on the 9th of July they reconnoitered the enemy’s army; they saw a numerous well-appointed host, each band led on by an illustrious baron, an avoyer, or one of the duke’s substitutes, whose pride or avarice had occasioned this war. A large body of cavalry, consisting entirely of nobles, who were emulous to achieve the reduction of the Swiss peasants without the aid of the infantry, bore the most formidable aspect. Among all the chiefs none was more conspicuous than Duke Leopold, at that time five-and-thirty years of age; manly, high-minded, full of martial ardour, elate with former victories, revengeful, and eager for the combat. It was harvest-time; his people reaped the corn: the nobles approached the walls of Sempach, and upbraided the citizens: one of them held up a halter, and said, ‘This is for your avoyer:’ others demanded that breakfast should be sent out to the reapers; these were answered, ‘The Swiss are bringing it.’ The duke seeing the Confederates on the eminences, forgot, or perhaps never knew, that cavalry attack with far greater advantage on an ascent than on a declivity; he unadvisedly ordered the nobles, whom their heavy armour rendered very unfit for the evolutions of infantry, to dismount, and sent their horses to a distance in the rear. He formed them in such close array that the long spears of the rear ranks reached the front of the line, and formed a thorny fence that was deemed impenetrable. John, Lord of Ochsenstein, commanded this formidable phalanx. The vanguard, consisting of fourteen hundred foot, headed by Frederick, Count of Zollern, was sent into the rear. If the duke actually meant to wait for the attack, he erroneously adopted the plan that becomes a commander who opposes a small to a superior force. To this he may have been induced by the romantic gallantry of his nobles, who scorned advantages gained by stratagem, or a manifest superiority of numbers, and deemed that a victory thus gained would leave the palm of valour undecided; and the bright qualities of Leopold fitted him much more for high feats of chivalry than for the command of an army.

“John, Baron de Hassenberg, an experienced veteran, after examining the position and appearance of the enemy, intimated to the nobles that presumptuous hardiness often proves fatal, and recommended that the Baron de Bonstetten might be sent for without delay; but they reprobated his caution: and thus also, when the duke was admonished that in all engagements unforeseen accidents do happen; that the province of a chief is to conduct the army, and of the army to defend its chief; and that the loss of a commander is often more ruinous than that of half his force, he at first answered with a smile of indifference; but being urged with still greater solicitude he replied with warmth, ‘Shall Leopold look on from afar and see how his brave knights combat and die for him? No; I will conquer here on this land, which of right is mine, or perish with you for the advantage of my subjects.’

“The Confederates drew up on the eminence under cover of the wood. As long as the knights were mounted, they thought it scarce possible to stand the brunt of their attack in the plain and open country, and deemed it safer to abide their approach in their present position. No sooner, however, did they see the nobles dismount, than, suspecting a stratagem which they might not be able to guard against in the wood, they advanced towards the plain. Their contracted line consisted of four hundred men from Lucern, nine hundred from the other Forest Cantons, and about one hundred from Glaris, Zug, Gersau, Entlibuch, and Rotenburg. Each band, under its proper banner, was commanded by the landamman of its valley, and the Lucerners by their avoyer: they were armed with short weapons; some held the halberts which their fathers had wielded at Morgarten; several instead of shields had small boards tied round their left arms. According to ancient custom they knelt and implored a blessing from on high. The nobles closed their helmets; the Duke created knights; the sun stood high; the day was sultry.

“The Swiss, after their devotion, ran full speed, and with loud clamour, across the plain, seeking an opening where they might break the line and spread havoc on each side of them; but they were opposed by a solid range of shields as by a wall, and by the numberless points of spears as by a thick fence of iron thorns. The men of Lucern, more exasperated than the rest at the unexpected impediments, made many fierce attempts to break the line, but all of them ineffectual. The knights moving with hideous rattle, attempted to bend their line into a crescent, meaning to outflank and surround the assailants. The banner of Lucern was now for a time in imminent danger, the avoyer having been severely wounded, and several of the principal leaders slain. Anthony du Port, a Milanese, who had settled in the valley of Uri, cried out, ‘Strike the poles of the spears, they are hollow:’ this was effected; but the broken spears were immediately replaced by fresh ones, and Du Port himself perished in the conflict. The knights, partly owing to their unskilfulness, and more to the unwieldiness of their armour, found it impracticable to form the intended crescent; but they stood firm and unshaken. The Confederates, who had now lost sixty men, became apprehensive of a movement of the vanguard from the rear, and did not think themselves altogether secure against a surprise from Bonstetten.

“This anxious suspense was at length decided by one heroic deed. Arnold Struthan de Winkelried, a knight of Underwalden, burst suddenly from the ranks. ‘I will open a passage,’ he cried, ‘into the enemy’s line. Provide for my wife and children, dear countrymen and confederates; honour my race!’ He threw himself instantly on the enemy’s pikes, grasped as many of them as he could reach, buried them in his bosom, and being tall and large of limb, bore them to the ground as he fell. His companions rushed over his body; the whole army of confederates followed, and their close files penetrated with irresistible force. The enemy, struck with amazement, fell one over another in endeavouring to avoid their shock; and the pressure, heat, and confusion thus produced proved fatal to many knights, who died without a wound, stifled by the weight of their armour. Others of the Swiss meanwhile had mustered in the woods, and now hastened to reinforce the conquerors.

“One of the first who fell in the Austrian army was Frederick, the bastard of Brandis, a bold and strong man, who alone inspired as much fear as twenty others; and near him was killed Frietzhend, called the Long, who boasted that he alone would resist the Confederates. The servants of the nobles, who had been left with the baggage, seeing the fortune of the day, saved themselves upon their masters’ horses. The banner of Austria dropped from the hands of Henri d’Escheloh. Ulrich d’Ortenburg fell upon the flag of the Tyrol. Ulrich d’Aarburg rushed to preserve the former. He held it aloft, and endeavoured to restore the day, but without success. He fell mortally wounded; and collected his remaining strength to exclaim, ‘Save it, Austria, save it!’ The Duke broke through the press, and received the banner from his dying hand. It soon re-appeared above the combatants, steeped in blood, and borne by Leopold himself. A crowd of gentlemen collected for his defence, and fell around him. At length he exclaimed, ‘Since so many lords are dead by my side, I also, like them, will die with honour.’ He sprang forth from among his friends, rushed into the thickest of the enemy, and there met his doom: he fell, and while weighed down by his ponderous armour and struggling in vain to raise himself, he was approached by a common man from Schwitz, who levelled a blow at him. Leopold called out, ‘I am the Duke of Austria;’ but the man either heard him not, believed him not, or thought that in a day of battle the highest rank conferred no privilege: the Duke received a mortal wound. Martin Malterer, the banneret of Friburg in Brisgau, saw the disaster: he stood appalled: the banner dropped from his hand: he threw himself upon the corpse of his slaughtered sovereign to preserve it from insult, and there met his own fate.

“The Austrian infantry now, looking round in vain for their Duke, betook themselves to flight. The nobles called loudly for their horses; but the dust they saw rising at a distance marked the road by which their faithless servants had long since led them away. Oppressed by their heavy armour, by heat, thirst, and fatigue, they still resolved to avenge their sovereign; and if they could not preserve their lives, at least not to fall easy victims to the resistless fury of their triumphant foes.

“Among the leaders of the Confederates fell Conrad, landamman of Uri; Sigrist, landamman of Underwalden above the Forest; and Peterman de Gundoldingen, the avoyer of Lucern. While the latter was bleeding to death, one of his townsmen approached him to learn his dying requests: he, unmindful of all private concerns, answered, ‘Tell our fellow-citizens never to continue an avoyer longer than one year in office; tell them that this is the last advice of Gundoldingen, who dies contented, wishing them repeated victories, and a long series of prosperous years;’ thus saying, he breathed his last. The banner of Hohenzollern was taken by a shepherd of Gersan. The services of the burghers of Bremgarten, who withdrew from the field covered with the blood of slaughtered foes, were so greatly prized by the Austrian princes, that they immortalized their valour by a change in the colours of their town livery. Nicholas Gutt, avoyer of Zoffingen, fell, together with twelve of his townsmen. Regardless of every concern but that of preventing his banner from falling into the hands of the enemy, he tore it into small pieces, and was found among the dead with the staff fast locked between his teeth. His successors in office have ever after been made to swear that they would maintain the banner ‘even as Nicholas Gutt had maintained it.’ Six hundred and fifty-six counts, lords, and knights, whose presence was wont to grace the court of Austria, were found among the slain; and it became proverbial among the Confederates, ‘that God had on this day sat in judgment on the wanton arrogance of the nobles.’”[30]

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