Chapter III: Part II: ◆ ◆ ◆ (3)

Helen’s relations listened to this declaration with no trifling regret: they would willingly have rewarded her for her past sufferings by the certainty, that the remainder of her life would be past in happiness with one of the noblest of Helvetian youths. But they had brought with them (for the purpose of persuading Helen to the proposed marriage) some of Torrenburg’s relations, to whom his passion for Amalberga was by no means so unpleasant a subject. She was now a rich heiress; as Count Donat’s only surviving daughter, she was entitled to the extensive domains of Carlsheim and Sargans, and consequently she was a much more advantageous match than Helen. This gave rise to some disputes between the friends of the different parties: but the solemn declaration of Count Donat’s widow, that she never would lay aside that name, at length silenced every opposition; and she obtained from them all a promise, that they would mutually exert themselves to accomplish the only wish, which she indulged on this side of the grave; namely, the union of Eginhart of Torrenburg with Amalberga of Sargans. They were informed by her, that according to Amabel’s letter the lady was concealed in the Convent of Engelberg, and thither they hastened to apprize her of the happiness, which awaited her.

I need not say, that they sought her there in vain; the Count of Torrenburg’s endeavours to discover her were also unsuccessful, till the arrival of Bloomberg, who assured him, that she must be in Landenberg’s power, and that the most likely place to look for her was the Fortress of Rassburg. The consequence of this information was a bond of union between Torrenburg and the Friends of Freedom against Landenberg and his brother in iniquity, the insolent Gessler; and the Count immediately accompanied Bloomberg to Stein, that he might consult with his new allies the best means for effecting Landenberg’s overthrow and Amalberga’s deliverance.

In the mean while William Tell’s plan, for throwing off the Governor’s yoke, and asserting the liberty of his beloved country, had been gradually ripening. The impression, which he and his friends, Walter Forest, Bernsdorf, and the two Melthals, had made upon the general mind was great, and their adherents were numerous; but the success of their enterprise still depended entirely upon its being kept a profound secret. Those men, whose plans were soon to burst out into flames terrible as the explosion of a volcano, and to give posterity an example of heroic devotion to the cause of Freedom, were as yet compelled to work in darkness, and arrange their vast designs in corners and by stealth.

It was not till the 28th of December (being the Festival of St. Alexander) that they ventured to muster their numbers in a large meadow near the Lake of the Four Cantons; this was to be their last conference, and even this they took the precaution of holding under covert of the night. The Count of Torrenburg and Edmund Bloomberg were also present; but the former by his impatience had nearly ruined the whole design. Conscious of his exalted station, and of the valour of his new allies, he could not endure the degrading idea of skulking about in darkness and concealment, as if he were plotting the execution of some crime. He insisted upon an instant declaration of hostility against Landenberg, and that an attempt to rescue his beloved should be made without delay: it was not without difficulty that William Tell convinced him, how impossible it would be to rescue Amalberga any other way than by artifice, without exposing her to the most imminent danger; and that he persuaded him to wait patiently till St. Sylvester’s Eve, when (it was determined) the tyrant should have an open and forcible attack made upon him; though in making that attack, there would still be an absolute necessity for conducting it with the utmost caution.

Amalberga’s friends had obtained some intelligence respecting her present situation. One of Arnold Melthal’s sons, a spirited lad, equally well adapted to daring enterprise and the winding paths of artifice, found means to enter the Fortress of Rassburg in disguise, and examine whether any thing could be attempted towards the rescue of the lady. During her abode on the banks of the Lake of Thun, her sweetness and humility of manners; her majestic air accompanied by the condescension of an angel; the little difference which she seemed to make between herself and the girls of the village, whom she honoured with the name of her companions; all these together had made her an universal favourite; and had not every appearance of a chain been hateful in the eyes of the sons of Freedom, it would have been easy for Amalberga to have established herself as the queen of one of the best people that the earth holds, and to have mounted Helvetia’s throne by general acclamation.

To an eager desire for rescuing this adored lady from the power of Landenberg, was now united the wish to gain possession of the strong Castle of Rassburg; which would secure to Helvetia the success of all those mighty plans, whose accomplishment still lay concealed within the bosom of futurity.

Alwyn, Arnold Melthal’s son, when he ventured to approach the fortress in disguise, was not aware, that his was one of those countenances, which cannot pass unobserved. Fortunately, the eyes, whose notice he attracted, were those of one, by whom features like his were seldom viewed with displeasure. Landenberg happened to be absent, and had left his fair prisoner to the charge of a female attendant, who had formerly stood high in his estimation for the sake of her own beauty, and who now preserved her influence with him by condescending to watch over those, who were in present possession of that heart, to which she was herself become indifferent. Well skilled in manly beauty, she no sooner saw Alwyn pass along with a bucket on his head (for he had obtained entrance into Rassburg under the disguise of a common water-carrier) than she was convinced of his being something better, than his dress denoted. She accosted, and questioned him. His affected simplicity could not deceive her; and he saw himself compelled either to adopt some artifice, or to be reduced to that suspicious silence, which in such a situation would have been scarcely better than a confession of the truth.

—“And so you continue to deny,” continued the girl, “that there is any secret reason for a man like you being here, habited in a manner to which, I am certain, you have never been accustomed? Young man, be frank with me! I should be sorry to give you over to some other questioner, who might use rough means to obtain an answer, or to order that you should be kept in custody, till the Governor returns. Then tell me honestly at once, who you are, and what motive has brought you hither?”—

Alwyn during this speech had examined the countenance of his new acquaintance, and fancied, that he could read in it marks of a partiality for him by no means doubtful. His resolution was taken in a moment, and he threw himself at her feet.

—“What brought me hither?” he exclaimed; “’twas Love, most beautiful of all earthly creatures! But who I am.... Ah! shall I dare to avow myself one of the lowliest among the inhabitants of yonder valley, and thus make it certain, that my suit will be rejected, and myself driven with scorn from the presence of her whom I adore?”—

—“And who is it that you adore?” demanded Ursula.

“You, lovely angel! you!” he exclaimed passionately, while he seized her hand, and prest upon it a thousand kisses; “my heart is devoted to you alone, and your cruelty will kill me!”—

The astonished and delighted Ursula forced herself from his embrace, and fled; but it was not long before she returned, anxious to convince herself, that her half-faded charms had really made so valuable a conquest. To make a woman’s vanity believe any thing flattering, Heaven knows, is no difficult task; and half an hour was sufficient to leave her no doubt of her triumph. She soon grew weary of playing the prude, and she gave him to understand, that he would not find her heart absolutely marble; and thus did the handsome Alwyn find himself involved in an amour, at whose termination he could not guess, and of which, while it lasted, he thought, that he had but little reason to be vain.

At present he reaped no great advantages from his artifice. It was impossible to get a sight of Amalberga, or convey to her a hint, that her friends in the valley were making preparations for her rescue. He was also soon compelled to retire by the return of the Governor, who was now frequently absent for days together from Rassburg on account of the popular disturbances, and who could only bestow a few isolated hours on the prosecution of his suit to the heiress of Sargans. As soon as the warder’s horn announced the Governor’s return, Ursula (who trembled, lest her supposed lover should be discovered by others, as he had been by her) requested him to be gone; yet still there was a secret means left for him to gain entrance into the fortress of the rock, which (disagreeable as it was) for Amalberga’s sake and the general advantage, he did not refuse to employ. At midnight his doating inamorata used to let a bucket down through a chasm in the wall; the rock was steep and flat; the unwilling Lover was then drawn up to the top, where he was obliged to purchase every little scrap of intelligence, which it was requisite for him to know, by a thousand lies and flattering speeches; every one of which, to an heart filled with Helvetian honesty, was scarcely less painful than the stab of a dagger.

He was rewarded, however, for this sacrifice by obtaining the important information, that hitherto Landenberg’s behaviour towards the Lady of Sargans had been restrained within the limits of the most respectful adoration: but that he had assured her with the most dreadful imprecations, that a period was fixed, beyond which he would no longer submit to be the patient victim of her severity. The first day of the ensuing year, he was determined, should make the cruel beauty completely his by fair means or by force. This intelligence induced Alwyn to be more frequent in his midnight visits; he repeated them, till every part of the fortress was become perfectly familiar, and till every little circumstance had been carefully gleaned by him, which might assist his friends in their design of storming the fort and rescuing the lovely captive.

By the Festival of St. Sylvester every necessary preparation was completed; and all the machines were ready to be worked at once in various parts of the country, which might secure the success of an enterprise, of whose views the release of an imprisoned damsel made but a very trifling part—those views were of the most extensive nature; yet if the plan had failed, in spite of the justice of Tell’s cause posterity would no doubt have branded him with the name of rebel, and confounded him with the common herd of unsuccessful adventurers, who have dared to attempt objects beyond their power to attain. But as his plan was arranged with the utmost foresight, and its execution was followed with the most prosperous issue, after-ages have viewed his deed with admiration, have reckoned it as the proudest triumph of the rights of nature over cruelty and oppression, and have bestowed on its author the title of a Hero: so certain is it, that actions are almost always weighed according to their result, and the most impartial judge (without being aware of it) is frequently induced to decide unfairly of events, dazzled by the lustre of the success with which they were attended.

Had nothing but the Count of Torrenburg’s inclination been consulted, the attempt, which was to decide upon his future happiness or despair, would not have been deferred till the latest day possible; neither when it _was_ made, would so small a number of men have been employed to carry it into effect. Perhaps in this respect something would have been sacrificed in consideration of the impatience natural to a lover; but Helvetia’s deliverers were not without a certain portion of that obstinacy, which so often accompanies valour and resolution. Torrenburg’s opinion would doubtless have had more influence with them, had he not been a nobleman and one who was able to bring so powerful a force either to their aid or against them. They considered the most distant trace of authority over them with abhorrence, and were determined, that every step, which they made in the service of liberty, should be taken of their own free will. It was certain, that the fortress was but ill garrisoned, and that its security consisted solely in its inaccessible situation: in spite therefore of Torrenburg’s entreaties and anger, they resolved, that no more than one hundred men should be allotted for this service; and among these the jealous Helvetians, who could not endure that any hands but their own should break their fetters, would not suffer one of Torrenburg’s warriors to be introduced. It was not without some difficulty, that the Count obtained permission to accompany the party himself, and to be the next to Alwyn Melthal, who should penetrate into the Castle of Rassburg.

Never did any summer’s day seem so long to the Count as St. Sylvester’s, while he waited with impatience for the departure of light. No sooner was it dark, than the allies began to assemble by twos and threes from different quarters. It was one of the most gloomy winter nights, that ever favoured a secret enterprise; and the glimmering taper, which was the usual signal for Alwyn to ascend the wall, was not yet discernible. Midnight was already past; still there was no token of Ursula’s approach; when suddenly the trampling of horses was heard, and the gleam of approaching torches showed them a body of soldiers coming from the Castle by a path, which was well guarded by sentinels and provided with several draw-bridges. Landenberg was at the head of the troop. Unmoved by her tears and fainting, he had just informed Amalberga, that he should return the next day to hear her final decision; and he was now bending his course to Sarno, in order to exact the usual new-year’s gift from the inhabitants of the Valley, and hear them renew the oath of submission to their Leige-Lord, the Emperor. It was an established custom of the vice-gerents to receive from the hands of the vassals on the first day of the new year, what little had escaped their extortion during the old one; in return for which they never failed to promise greater indulgence for the future, nor in spite of that promise to conduct themselves with increased oppression.

As he journeyed onwards, Landenberg recapitulated to himself the advantages, which this year had produced to him; the quantity of wealth which he had collected in gold, jewels, and other valuables; the possession of the lovely Amalberga, whom he already looked upon as his own; and above all, the power of throwing off the wearisome mask of hypocrisy, which he had at first been compelled to assume.

—“As to Gessler’s death,” said he to himself, “that has rather improved my situation, than done me any harm. It has relieved me from the rival of my greatness, and authorises me to exercise that severity, which is necessary for my own views, under the fair-sounding name of just revenge. These late unavailing efforts to oppose my will have convinced me, that I have to do with a weak, powerless people, who may be incensed indeed so far as to make some show of resistance at first, but whom firmness and chastisement will soon reduce within the limits of abject submission. There are not many Tells among them, God be thanked! He was the only man whom I feared, and luckily he is either dead, or a voluntary exile in some distant country; report says the former; but let him be where he will, so he be not here to spirit up my slaves against me with his poisonous influence. _My_ slaves? Right; they are mine, no other’s. The ensuing year will, I trust, make clear to the world, for _whom_ I am labouring, and whose advantage and peril are most implicated in the business! Then when I have attained the height at which I aim, doubtless my new dignity being shared with their adored Amalberga will have no slight influence in reconciling these people to my authority; and her popularity will induce them to protect her husband against the wrath of the deceived Emperor. The precious prize once secure, I shall then have no need of this assumed severity; the affection of my subjects will suffice to preserve them in obedience; I shall be at liberty to follow the bent of my inclinations by ruling with a gentle sway; and all of us will at once be made happy, Amalberga, myself, and the country which we govern.”—

Such was the subject of Landenberg’s reflections, many of which he occasionally imparted to some of his confidential attendants, as he rode along, totally unconscious of the foes so near him, and of the danger which threatened the speedy overthrow of all his ambitious hopes and projects. Here and there a sentence or two spoken in a louder voice than ordinary reached the hearing of the Helvetians, who were concealed among the various caverns Of the Castle-rock: and then was many a sword half drawn from the scabbard to impose eternal silence upon the insolent boaster. The vigilance of the prudent chiefs, however, and consideration for the public welfare compelled them to repress their unseasonable zeal. An over-hasty attack would have been sufficient to ruin every thing. Landenberg, it’s true, would probably have perished, but only to make room for a successor perhaps even worse than himself. The object here was not to make away with a single tyrant; no, it was to throw off a disgraceful yoke for ever, and to bequeath the precious treasure Liberty to their children, and to the children of their children even down to the latest posterity. Landenberg therefore was suffered to proceed with his attendants unmolested; nothing gave them warning of the danger, which lurked so near, except now and then a low whispering noise among the brambles, which made their hair stand an end, for it was now the ghostly hour; and as they dreaded its being something supernatural, the sound only served to make those who heard it pursue their course with the greater speed.

Scarcely had the last horseman disappeared in the farther part of the Valley, or rather scarcely had darkness dropt her thick curtain between the enemies; scarcely had the mountain-echoes ceased to reverberate the last sound of the hoofs of their steeds, when Alwyn’s guiding-star made its appearance: Ursula’s lamp was seen glimmering on the battlements above. A few hasty words were spoken among the confederates respecting the conduct of the enterprise; the last directions were given; and then young Melthal sprang into the bucket destined to convey him to her who expected him so impatiently, and whom he now met for the last time with expressions of pretended love. It was no trifling sacrifice, which poor Alwyn made on this occasion to the general welfare. To conceal the feelings of his honest guileless heart; to dissemble love for one who was totally indifferent to him; in many a rude tempestuous night to encounter dangers, such as nothing but the most sincere and ardent passion would have induced any other man to risk; and then at last to throw aside the mask, and to hear himself called a betrayer and a hypocrite, and called so with justice; this task was a most painful one, and keenly did Alwyn feel that his situation was disgraceful. Yet he thought, that even _this_ sacrifice was not too much to make for his native land; and duty and patriotism made him submit to do that, which was of all things the most cruel to his feelings, and repugnant to his nature; they made him submit to play the hypocrite.

Silently lamenting the ignominious character which he was obliged to sustain, Alwyn followed his supposed mistress to a retired chamber, where (she told him) they should be secure from disturbance till morning; for hitherto the fear of discovery had only suffered their interviews to last for a few minutes. But at the moment when she expected to receive the kiss of ardent love, and when she turned to her lover after having carefully closed the door, to her utter astonishment a gag was forced into her half-opened mouth; and then seizing her arms, her supposed admirer fastened them with strong cords to the bed-posts. It is true, that the general safety had been declared to require the death of this wretched creature; but the noble heart of Alwyn revolted at the idea. Even the precautions, which circumstances now made it absolutely necessary for him to take, caused his cheeks to burn with indignation against himself; he took care to confine Ursula’s hands in such a way, that the pressure of the bonds could give her no pain; nor could he resolve to leave even a creature, whom in his heart he despised, a prey to absolute despair.

—“Fear nothing, Ursula,” said he in a gentle voice, while quitting the room; “every thing shall be explained shortly, and on my soul no harm shall happen to you”—a promise, which was religiously fulfilled.

Alwyn now hastened back to the battlements, and drew up the Count of Torrenburg in the same manner, by which he had ascended himself; and anxious as Eginhart was to fly to Amalberga’s assistance, still did he not quit his station, till two more of the confederates were safely landed on the platform of the Castle. These in their turn rendered the same service to their companions, and a sufficient number were soon mustered within the wails to authorize their proceeding to more hazardous attempts. Half of them seized the sleeping sentinels, while the rest without noise made the best of their way to the great gate. They opened it, and the approach through the rock was soon made practicable for the remainder of their friends, whom time had not permitted to ascend in the bucket.

No slight expectations had been entertained by the Helvetians, that this midnight attack would have made them masters of Rassburg, without its costing them a single drop of blood; but they had miscounted the strength of the garrison. Sufficient opposition was made to compel the besiegers to purchase their conquest dearly. Many a brave Helvetian bit the dust, and shared the grave of the enemy, who had just expired at his feet. The dawn of morning discovered the walls of the Castle of the Rock dyed with the blood both of friends and foes. By the time that the sun was fully risen, the work was completed; Helvetia’s sons had achieved their object, and the sheaths once more received their bloody swords. The chiefs now employed themselves in giving orders and making dispositions to preserve their conquest, while Torrenburg flew to deliver his Amalberga. He found her in a stately chamber; she was on her knees praying for _him_. The noise of the combat had roused her from sleep; yet convinced that her situation could not alter for the worse, she experienced no alarm for herself, till as the clash of arms occasionally drew nearer to her chamber door, she heard the name of Torrenburg shouted, and concluded, that he was among the combatants: then _indeed_ she trembled, and sought refuge from her terrors in supplication to her Patron-Saint. The heart of the pious girl was full of confidence in the Divine justice: she doubted not, that the Ruler of all things had decreed every thing for the best; she knew, that neither herself nor Torrenburg had _merited_ to suffer, and she trusted, that Heaven would act towards her with gentleness. In her supplications therefore she rather spoke of the goodness of Providence, than implored its help: or if she prayed for any thing, it was that a speedy stop might be put to the shedding of blood, of whose flowing she was but too well convinced by the clashing of arms, and the dying groans of some, who were slaughtered at no great distance from her chamber.

A long and fearful silence now succeeded. Suddenly her door was thrown open, and a knight in complete armour entered the room. He hastened towards her, raised his visor, and well did she recollect the noble countenance of him, whose portrait was engraved on her heart in characters indelible: but she recollected also his engagements to Helen; she was conscious of her danger and the weakness of her heart, and attempted to force away the hand, which he had seized, and prest to his lips with passion. It was long, before she recovered from her surprise and confusion sufficiently to comprehend the whole extent of those delightful views, which were now presented before her by indulgent Fortune.

A Nun is but a sorry describer of love-scenes; and she, who traces this narrative, though she may not perhaps have always been a stranger to tender sentiments, still is unwilling to dwell longer than is necessary upon those, which filled the heart of the happy Amalberga, when she sank into her lover’s arms, and murmured—“Torrenburg, I am thine!”—I have since been assured, that in these first moments of rapture the name of Helen was not forgotten. In truth some trifling recollection, some little portion of gratitude at least was due to the unfortunate, who to procure the happiness of Amalberga and Torrenburg had not hesitated to immolate her own. The sacrifice was indeed a most difficult and painful one; but never did Helen once regret, that she had made it.

While the lovers forgot every thing in the contemplation of those flattering prospects, which futurity showed them on all sides; and while the Helvetians were employed in taking every possible precaution, that might preserve to them the Fortress, of which they had so valiantly obtained possession; the other Patriots (as had been previously arranged) were carrying their glorious designs into execution in different parts of the country.

Peregrine of Landenberg had reached Castle-Sarno before day-break. He slept for a few hours, and then rose to welcome the day, which, he was determined, should see him the husband of the Heiress of Sargans. He had commanded, that towards evening a strong guard should conduct her thither from Rassburg, when a Friar, belonging to the Abbot of St. Gall, and who was entirely devoted to the Governor, had engaged to perform the marriage ceremony between them: whether with her consent, or without it, the good father cared but little.

Anxious to give as creditable an appearance as possible to this most important transaction of his life, Landenberg thought it best for the general edification to open the day’s business by walking in solemn procession to the neighbouring church. For this purpose he was already descending the great staircase accompanied by a numerous train of courtiers, when he was informed, that the inhabitants of the adjacent districts had assembled in the valley below, each bringing the accustomed New-year’s offering.

Landenberg had great confidence in omens; he looked upon it as a pledge of future good fortune, that before he had set his foot without the Castle-walls, his course was impeded by presents. The procession to the church was deferred for awhile: part of his attendants were sent to take charge of the gifts, which had been brought to him; of the fatted oxen, the corn, the fruit, the cloth woven by the skilful hands of the industrious Helvetian housewives; the casks of wine; and here and there a few bags of coin, which were not the least welcome part of the offerings. In the mean while the Governor himself remained in the front-court, attended by a few of his most confidential attendants, and prepared for the reception of “the slaves of his servants,” as it was usual for him to term the brave Helvetians.

The deputation arrived. It consisted of fifty persons, with Henric Melthal at their head, Henric, on whose locks eighty winters had now shed their snows.

—“Lord Governor,” said the venerable man, approaching Landenberg, “the old year expired yesterday; the new one begins to-day. How you have sustained the character of Imperial Majesty among the opprest children of a free-born nation, that is _your_ affair. How we begin the new, is _our’s_! Be God the judge between you and us, Peregrine of Landenberg; God, who has already judged Gessler, as he will judge you! But as for you, my sons, do as ye see me do, nor hesitate to lay down your lives in the cause of liberty and justice.”—

It is inconceivable to me, how the daring old man was suffered to proceed so far in his speech. The Almighty must have struck a panic into the tyrant and his base dependents; but now recovering themselves, they hastily drew their side-weapons, which (from being rather intended for ornament than use, and able to do but little injury) were generally called “holy-swords.” Some, who were unprovided with even these weak instruments, hastened into the Castle in search of arms; in the mean while old Melthal and his trusty companions had drawn concealed pike-heads from under their cloaks, which they fixed dexterously and with promptitude on the tops of their long white staves; and now was the signal given for beginning a massacre, which once commenced was not concluded hastily. Among the first who fell was the Governor. The feeble arm of Henric Melthal, strengthened by Heaven and the justice of his cause, gave the decisive blow; and Edmund Bloomberg hastened to extricate his father-in-law from the crowd of those, who (now that they were recovered from their first consternation) prest on him to destroy the slayer of their chief. Landenberg cursed his fate, that he should fall so disgracefully by the arm of a dotard, and poured out his last breath in execrations. The combat became general. The Friends of Liberty were attacked by the Governor’s remaining attendants, who were now better armed; but this opposition was not of much avail, since at a given signal a second party of Helvetians, who were in waiting on the outside of the Castle, hastened to support their confederates.

The superiority of numbers being now on their side, the conquerors proclaimed quarter in the name of Henric Melthal. The loss of their chief had deprived the scanty band of his adherents of all their courage: they were glad to sheathe their weapons, and the conquering Helvetians took them under their protection, and conducted them uninjured to the boundaries. The gallant men were unwilling to stain their native soil with blood shed unnecessarily, and doubted not, that such a barbarous measure would have induced the Almighty to withdraw his blessing from their enterprise. They lost no time in taking measures for maintaining themselves in the possession of Castle-Sarno. Towards evening intelligence arrived, that Rassburg also had been attacked with success, and during the three or four succeeding days similar tidings were received from other parts of the country: Schwannau, Kussnach, Zinguri (which was not yet finished) and many other places of importance, had been wrested from the hands of Helvetia’s tyrants. Such universal success testified, that the arm of the Protector of innocence had fought in their cause; and they thought, the best means of showing their gratitude for such powerful aid to him, who detests unnecessary bloodshed, was to use their victory with mildness and moderation. They had expelled their enemies, and reinstated themselves in their natural rights: more they sought not, more they desired not; and it was this laudable moderation, which, by preventing them from aiming to obtain further advantages, enabled them to secure, what they had won already.

Peace after so long an absence returned once more to these happy vallies; and a firm fraternal union for offence and defence was established, which I pray, that God may grant to last, as long as the world exists.

Has not the ignorant Nun suffered herself to be enticed out of her proper sphere, while she described scenes of war and the efforts of Liberty? She, a weak defenceless woman, a slave bound in lasting fetters? Yet Heaven be thanked for it, those fetters are light: pious submission enables me to bear them, and they will ere long be loosened by the hand of Death.

Count Donat’s widow lived in tranquil seclusion at Zurich in the society of the Countess Urania; and their prayers were frequently offered up for the success of the honest Helvetians. They rejoiced to hear of their victories, of Amalberga’s rescue, and of her union with the Count of Torrenburg. But Helen did not wish to be herself a spectatress of their felicity; nor (when shortly after their marriage the happy pair visited her to express their mutual gratitude) could she be prevailed upon to pass more than one hour in their society; and many, many of the succeeding days were for her days of anguish. Poor Helen was but a weak mortal, no saint, no angel: and alas! to _forget_ is a task not so easy, as some may think!

Yet in recompence for her past sorrows Heaven had still reserved one pleasure for her future life. Oh! Blessed Virgin, what a pleasure was that! what a surprise! what an unexpected re-union!—But let me proceed regularly.

The good Domina of Zurich was dead; the Princess Euphemia had already been appointed Abbess of Tull, and therefore could not accept the vacant dignity. No persuasion could induce Urania, at her advanced age, to fill so laborious a situation, and the lot now fell upon Count Donat’s widow. She obeyed the general voice, and was well-pleased to have a means for exerting benevolence in a more extended circle. She became (what I say of her ought not to be counted to her as a merit, since she did but her duty) she became the mother of the opprest; and the man, who intrusted to her a daughter, a sister, or a mistress, knew, that she could be no where safer than in her arms. This was universally known; and many a knight, before he set out on some distant expedition, secured under her protection those treasures, which he valued dearer than all others, which the world contained.

One day a knight requested an audience of her: as soon as she saw him, it struck her, that his features were not altogether unknown to her.

—“Sir Knight,” said she, “it appears to me, that we have met before.”—

—“You say truly, holy mother,” answered he; “it was I, who by the Bishop of Coira’s command took the Castle of Sargans by storm, and afterwards conducted you to this Convent. Methinks, you placed but little confidence in me on that occasion, though perhaps it would have been for your advantage, had you shown more: but its true, you knew not my name; knew not, that never had any one reason to repent the trust, which he reposed in Herman of Werdenberg. I will not follow your example; I am now preparing to reveal to you my dearest secrets, and solicit you to become the guardian of my most precious treasure. Grief of heart some time ago drove me from my native land: my uncle’s death necessitated my return; and being once more in Germany, I suffered myself to be persuaded to remain there: nay, under a borrowed name I consented to act as the knight-protector of the new Bishop’s subjects, and to become the assertor of his rights and privileges.

“It was in this capacity, that I became acquainted with you, Lady, in the Castle of Sargans: report, and mysterious circumstances respecting your conduct, I confess, had not prejudiced me in your favour; and perhaps I did not treat you with so much respect and attention, as (I am now well convinced) was justly due to your merits. After escorting you hither, I returned to Sargans, being commissioned to defend the Castle against Landenberg and his associates, in the name of Count Donat’s daughters; whom the Bishop had adopted as his wards, and whom he publicly declared his intention of reinstating in their rights, as soon as the place of their concealment could be ascertained. It seems, the rebellious Landenberg thought, that this was the fit time for making himself master of all Rhœtia, while the Ten Jurisdictions were torn to pieces by the tumults and confusion, to which his artifices had given rise; but report must have already informed you, how soon those vain hopes were crushed by the noble efforts of the assertors of Liberty.

“In order that I might not be quite idle during my undisturbed residence at Sargans, the Bishop (who has no antipathy to gold) commissioned me to enquire into the truth of an old tradition very current among the people, that immense treasures lie buried in the foundation of that antient fortress. Upon asking some questions, I was conducted to an old and ruined well in a remote court, and assured that it contained wealth inexhaustible. The Bishop on this report desired me to cause the well to be cleared out; but its contents furnished nothing but venomous reptiles, filth, and some human bones, the melancholy memorials of former cruelties, whose commission Heaven no doubt had long since punished.

“Other places were afterwards pointed out to me as the repository of this buried wealth; but no better success attended their examination. At length I resolved to set my workmen to clear out that subterraneous passage, the falling-in of whose roof had so nearly proved your destruction. It seemed to me much more probable, that I should find here that of which I was in search, than in those places which I had already examined; but it was my full determination, in case of discovering the supposed treasures, not to give them up to the Bishop, but to reserve them for the heiress of Carlsheim and Sargans, who had lately been rescued from Landenberg’s power, and was now Countess of Torrenburg. It was however less my object to find wealth which I despised, than to furnish my followers with a harmless occupation, and by restoring the concealed passage (which in our turbulent times is absolutely necessary in every fortress) to render a trifling service to posterity. The work was difficult and tedious; however, I was just rejoicing in the reflection, that a few days would suffice to finish it, when the Bishop of Coira found it impossible to delay any longer with common decency the restoring of Sargans to the Countess Amalberga and her husband. One branch of the passage alone remained in ruins, and I would gladly have completed my task; but Count Eginhart was already at the gates of Sargans. I hastened to deliver up every thing, which had been committed to my custody, and we renewed our former friendship; a friendship, which in the earlier part of our lives had been most intimate.

“It was my intention to request his permission to finish the repairs of the subterraneous caverns: unluckily, as we sat conversing together, and recalling the events of former days over our flowing goblets, he mentioned the sister of his bride, who had once made upon my heart a very forcible impression; but my passion was not strong enough to make me consent to commit my honour to the keeping of a daughter of Count Donat. The Count painted in glowing colours the happiness, which he enjoyed with Amalberga; and he finally accused me of having treated the Lady Emmeline unworthily, and of having driven her into the jaws of perdition by my rigour and contempt. As her relations have always wrapt in mystery the latter scenes of Emmeline’s life, I am even at this moment ignorant, as to what is become of Her, who was once so dear to me; nor could I understand, to what the Count alluded in the conclusion of his speech. I could not, however, allow, that I had acted by her with injustice, and asserted, with that warmth which is natural to me, that no man of prudence and honour would have acted otherwise. Our conversation grew bitter; and at length we parted in such anger, that it was impossible for me to submit to asking of him as a favour, that I might prosecute my subterraneous labours.

“Perhaps you will be surprised at my being so anxious about such a trifle, as the repairs of these vaults; I must therefore confess to you, that the real motive of my wish to examine this passage thoroughly, was nothing more than a dream; but that dream was in truth a very remarkable one.

“The first time that I broke a lance at a public tournament, it was my fortune to obtain the prize, a ring apparently of considerable value. I was pleased both with the jewel, and with the manner in which I obtained it, and never failed to wear it on all solemn festivals; till a person well skilled in precious stones convinced me, that the diamond was false and the ring itself scarcely worth three golden shields[3]. Incensed at having been so grossly imposed upon, I snatched it from my finger, and threw it over the battlements: the circumstance of its having been the reward of my address soon made me wish to recover it; but though my squire was immediately dispatched, he returned without having been able to find it. I had quite forgotten this ring and all its circumstances; but on both the two nights preceding Torrenburg’s entry into the Castle of Sargans, I dreamt, that in traversing the subterraneous passage I found my lost ring, and that the false stone was changed into a diamond, which illuminated the whole cavern with its radiance.

Footnote 3:

A coin so called, from its bearing a shield imprest upon it.

“I cannot account for the strong impression, which this dream made upon my fancy; yet (Heaven knows!) I set but little store upon the treasures of this world, and were I possest of all the diamonds which the earth contains, I should only employ them to adorn our Redeemer’s cross; that cross, which it is my firm resolution to wear in future against the Saracens, and other enemies of our holy religion. Yet in spite of this contempt of wealth, and of the little faith which I put in omens, the repetition of this dream struck my imagination so forcibly, that I could not rest without ascertaining, whether the vaults did really contain the ring, which I had so long lost.

“My disagreement with Torrenburg had made it impossible for me to satisfy my doubts by means of the Castle-entrance: but I thought it by no means unlikely, that there might be some communication between the passage and the ruined Abbey of Curwald, which was situated at no great distance, and was just beginning to be rebuilt.

“I was well acquainted with Father John; a worthy man, who had lately been appointed the Superior of those few Monks, who had escaped from Count Donat’s barbarity. He readily acceded to my request, and I immediately began my work.

“For several days the ruins were examined without success: yet the assurance of one of the elder Monks, that he remembered having heard (but merely as a tradition) that a private communication had formerly existed between the Convent and Sargans, made me unwilling to give up the pursuit. It was frequently my custom after dismissing my labourers (wearied with their fruitless endeavours to discover that, which they were firmly persuaded had no existence) to wander by myself, and mark the melancholy contrast made by the slowly-rising walls of the new building, with the ruins of the old one which had not yet been removed. The vaults beneath the Convent being generally the scene of our enquiries, as affording us the best chance for finding the so much wished-for passage, I frequently loitered here alone, after my workmen had left me for the evening, A fixed melancholy had taken possession of my soul: in truth, it could not well be otherwise, surrounded as I was on all sides by memorials of mortality, and the marks of celestial judgments!

—“Where,” said I often to myself, “where are now the voluptuous pleasures of the Monks of Curwald? where the pride and power of the tyrants of Carlsheim and Sargans? The grave has swallowed them all; nothing remains of them, but the memory of their crimes and the detestation of posterity!—Herman, still preserve in your heart unshaken the love of virtue, and not less the hatred of vice: be at once the terror of the profligate and the friend of the innocent and the helpless. Bring equally before the world’s eye the rights of the opprest and the crimes of the oppressor, and unite in one person the protecting and the avenging angel.”—

“These ideas prest themselves upon my mind with more than ordinary force, as I sat one evening in one of the Convent-vaults upon a heap of stones. It was in the vault nearest to those of Sargans; and despairing of finding the old secret communication, I had at length resolved to employ my workmen in digging out a new one. They had already commenced their labours, and were retired after making no inconsiderable progress. The hour was late; darkness had closed round me, but an iron lamp was fixed against the wall and guided my steps, as I slowly traversed to and fro this abode of religious melancholy. The scene was congenial to the state of my feelings; I consecrated it to secret sorrow; and here it was that I offered up my prayers for the future, here it was that I poured forth my tears, while dwelling upon the past. Yes, holy Mother, my _tears_! The stern and haughty Herman of Werdenberg has wept frequently; has wept, when if any eye had witnessed the drops, his cheek would have blushed with shame at the unworthy cause of his sorrow; to _you_ alone, to the ear of indulgent pity, he scruples not to disclose the secret of his weakness.

“Lady, my tears streamed for having formed an early attachment for one, who deserved not my affection. I once adored Emmeline of Sargans; but I tore her from my heart, convinced that it was impossible for _her_ to be virtuous, who had been educated in the very lap of vice. Yet Amalberga, Emmeline’s sister, and who had been educated with her, was modest, pure, and irreproachable; then why not Emmeline? What had since happened to that unfortunate was unknown to me; and my disagreement with her brother-in-law prevented my obtaining that information from him, which I was now most anxious to obtain; for one of his expressions had cut me to the very soul, and I strove in vain to banish it from my memory. He told me, “that my rigour had driven Emmeline into the jaws of perdition;” and while his words lay heavy upon my heart, I could not but own, that it was possible for his accusation to be well-founded. An union with an honest man, such as Herman of Werdenberg boasts himself to be, would have been the best and most certain means of rescuing her from the power of her licentious father and the contagion of his example. Yet what could I do? Say, that I was mistaken in my judgment of Emmeline; still was it incumbent on me to run so great a risque to preserve her, as to entrust the care of my honour to one, who I feared would prove a wanton?

“But at all events, these considerations came too late. Nothing was now left for me but to banish recollections which, (Heaven only knows, why) intruded themselves upon me so forcibly, and which certainly were the most absurd and fruitless, with which I could have employed my mind. Yet still they _did_ employ it in spite of all my efforts, as I sat with my eyes sometimes fixed on the dark vaults which frowned above me, sometimes on the glimmerings of the distant lamp, without being conscious what it was, at which I was gazing. At length incensed at my own folly I started from my seat, and was quitting the vault abruptly, when a faint murmur struck my hearing.

“I stopped. It was not the first time, that I had heard something like a groan, while traversing these vaults; but I had always supposed the noise to be occasioned by the wind, or else to be the echo of my own heart-drawn sighs. But now it was not only more loud and more distinct, but I almost fancied, that it was followed by sounds resembling words spoken by one in agony.

“I hastened back to the place, which I had just quitted. I shouted, to observe whether an echo would answer me, but all was silent.—I removed to a distance; I came back again; I placed my head against the wall of the cavern; I knelt, and laid my ear to the ground; I heard the noise again. I endeavoured to trace it; still it continued, sometimes louder, sometimes weaker; till at length it conducted me to a small iron grating inserted in the ground, and from whence the wind, which blew upon me, seemed to be more heavy and chilling, than that which I breathed in the vaults above.

“And through this opening did a voice now reach me, whose melancholy tones seemed those of a female! It sounded so audibly, that all my doubts vanished at once, and all my sensations resolved themselves into the single eager enquiry—‘By what means I could assist the sufferer?’—

—“Are you then come at last?” answered the voice; “but speak louder, for I cannot understand what you say!—My senses are so confused ... and my brain seems to whirl round and round so rapidly!”—

“I repeated my enquiries, but with no better effect.”

—“I hear the sound of your voice, but not your words,” answered the captive; “and weakness prevents my dragging myself nearer to the grate—Do you bring me food?—Alas! it is so long since you last visited me!—I was afraid, that you had died suddenly—Afraid, did I say?—Oh! Heaven, who would have suspected, that I should ever have dreaded Luprian’s death!”—

“These words were pronounced slowly, and in broken sentences. I now stretched my voice to its utmost extent, and dwelt with peculiar emphasis on the words “Help” and “Liberty.”

—“Liberty?” she repeated; “no, Luprian; at your price it would be too dearly purchased. Urge me no more to be the partner of your flight: could I have ever stooped to disgrace, I need not have languished so long in this dreary dungeon. If I have no choice left but death or infamy, I prefer the former; leave me, and let me die!—And yet.... Oh! God in Heaven! To part with even the most miserable existence is so bitter.... Oh! it is still so bitter!”

“I saw, that it would be vain for me to labour any more at making myself understood; and the faint tone, in which these last words were uttered, alarmed me. Yet I spoke once again, but no answer was returned; I doubted not, that the unfortunate had fainted.

“How I might effect her delivery with the utmost celerity, I knew not; yet in my anguish and uncertainty I accidentally struck upon that, which was most prudent: I hastened to the small temporary building inhabited by Abbot John and his Monks; I related in a few words what had happened, and requested their advice.

“The Fraternity one and all hastened with me to the vault, every one bearing a mattock, a pick-axe, or some such instrument. They were holy benevolent men, resembling the original founders of their Order, and had escaped as it were by a miracle from the flames, in which their guilty brethren had perished. They were eager to redeem by their own conduct the slur, which the crimes of others had brought upon their Convent, and were as greedy of good actions, as most other Monks are of rich legacies and well-stored cellars.

“We were now near the vault, and already the beams of the distant lamp struck our eyes; but on our entrance, those among us who were best-sighted were aware, that the vault was not so totally unoccupied, as I had left it. By the glimmerings of a small lanthorn a tall dark figure was descried, kneeling on the before-mentioned grating. I sprang forward. The stranger heard my steps, started from the ground, and rushed by me so suddenly, that I attempted to stop him in vain. I called to the approaching Monks not to let him pass; but before they could reach him, his foot stumbled, and he fell prostrate on the ground.