Édition d'Élite

Historical Tales

The Romance of Reality

By

CHARLES MORRIS

_Author of "Half-Hours with the Best American Authors, " "Tales from theDramatists, " etc. _

IN FIFTEEN VOLUMES

Volume V

German

J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY

PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON

Copyright, 1893, by J. B. Lippincott Company. 

Copyright, 1904, by J. B. Lippincott Company. 

Copyright, 1908, by J. B. Lippincott Company. 

_CONTENTS_

 PAGE

HERMANN, THE HERO OF GERMANY 7

ALBION AND ROSAMOND 19

THE CAREER OF GRIMOALD 28

WITTEKIND, THE SAXON PATRIOT 37

THE RAIDS OF THE SEA-ROVERS 47

THE CAREER OF BISHOP HATTO 58

THE MISFORTUNES OF DUKE ERNST 64

THE REIGN OF OTHO II 69

THE FORTUNES OF HENRY THE FOURTH 77

THE ANECDOTES OF MEDIÆVAL GERMANY 92

FREDERICK BARBAROSSA AND MILAN 105

THE CRUSADE OF FREDERICK II 118

THE FALL OF THE GHIBELLINES 129

THE TRIBUNAL OF THE HOLY VEHM 138

WILLIAM TELL AND THE SWISS PATRIOTS 148

THE BLACK DEATH AND THE FLAGELLANTS 162

THE SWISS AT MORGARTEN 170

A MAD EMPEROR 176

SEMPACH AND ARNOLD WINKELRIED 187

ZISKA, THE BLIND WARRIOR 198

THE SIEGE OF BELGRADE 210

LUTHER AND THE INDULGENCES 217

SOLYMAN THE MAGNIFICENT AT GUNTZ 229

THE PEASANTS AND THE ANABAPTISTS 238

THE FORTUNES OF WALLENSTEIN 252

THE END OF TWO GREAT SOLDIERS 265

THE SIEGE OF VIENNA 277

THE YOUTH OF FREDERICK THE GREAT 288

VOLTAIRE AND FREDERICK THE GREAT 305

SCENES FROM THE SEVEN YEARS' WAR 315

THE PATRIOTS OF THE TYROL 328

THE OLD EMPIRE AND THE NEW 343

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

GERMAN. 

 PAGE

MAXIMILIAN RECEIVING VENETIAN DELEGATION 7

RETURN OF HERMANN AFTER HIS VICTORY OVER THE ROMANS 13

THE BAPTISM OF WITTEKIND 43

THE MOUSE-TOWER ON THE RHINE 61

PEASANT WEDDING PROCESSION 65

SCENE OF MONASTIC LIFE 78

THUSNELDA IN THE GERMANICUS TRIUMPH 94

THE AMPHITHEATRE AT MILAN 109

STATUE OF WILLIAM TELL 153

THE CASTLE OF PRAGUE 175

STATUE OF ARNOLD WINKELRIED 193

STATUE OF LUTHER AT WORMS 225

THE MOSQUE OF SOLYMAN, CONSTANTINOPLE 236

OLD HOUSES AT MÜNSTER 246

WALLENSTEIN 252

THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE IN VIENNA 278

STATUE OF FREDERICK THE GREAT, UNTER DEN LINDEN, BERLIN 289

SANS SOUCI, PALACE OF FREDERICK THE GREAT 315

THE LAST DAY OF ANDREAS HOFER 340

A GERMAN MILK WAGON 347

[Illustration: MAXIMILIAN RECEIVING VENETIAN DELEGATION. ]

_HERMANN, THE HERO OF GERMANY. _

In the days of Augustus, the emperor of Rome in its golden age ofprosperity, an earnest effort was made to subdue and civilize barbarianGermany. Drusus, the step-son of the emperor, led the first army ofinvasion into this forest-clad land of the north, penetrating deeplyinto the country and building numerous forts to guard his conquests. Hislast invasion took him as far as the Elbe. Here, as we are told, hefound himself confronted by a supernatural figure, in the form of awoman, who waved him back with lofty and threatening air, saying, "Howmuch farther wilt thou advance, insatiable Drusus? It is not thy lot tobehold all these countries. Depart hence! the term of thy deeds and ofthy life is at hand. " Drusus retreated, and died on his return. 

Tiberius, his brother, succeeded him, and went far to complete theconquest he had begun. Germany seemed destined to become a Romanprovince. The work of conquest was followed by efforts to civilize thefree-spirited barbarians, which, had they been conducted wisely, mighthave led to success. One of the Roman governors, Sentius, prefect of theRhine, treated the people so humanely that many of them adopted the artsand customs of Rome, and the work of overcoming their barbarism waswell begun. He was succeeded in this office by Varus, a friend andconfidant of the emperor, but a man of very different character, and onewho not only lacked military experience and mental ability, but utterlymisunderstood the character of the people he was dealing with. Theymight be led, they could not be driven into civilization, as the newprefect was to learn. 

All went well as long as Varus remained peacefully in his head-quarters, erecting markets, making the natives familiar with the attractive waresof Rome, instructing them in civilized arts, and taking their sons intothe imperial army. All went ill when he sought to hasten his work byacts of oppression, leading his forces across the Weser into the land ofthe Cherusci, enforcing there the rigid Roman laws, and chastising andexecuting free-born Germans for deeds which in their creed were notcrimes. Varus, who had at first made himself loved by his kindness, nowmade himself hated by his severity. The Germans brooded over theirwrongs, awed by the Roman army, which consisted of thirty thousandpicked men, strongly intrenched, their camps being impregnable to theirundisciplined foes. Yet the high-spirited barbarians felt that this armywas but an entering wedge, and that, if not driven out, their wholecountry would gradually be subdued. 

A patriot at length arose among the Cherusci, determined to free hiscountry from the intolerable Roman yoke. He was a handsome and athleticyouth, Arminius, or Hermann as the Germans prefer to name him, of nobledescent, and skilled alike in the arts of war and of oratory, hiseloquence being equal to his courage. He was one of the sons of theGermans who had served in the Roman armies, and had won there suchdistinction as to gain the honors of knighthood and citizenship. Now, perceiving clearly the subjection that threatened his countrymen, andfilled with an ardent love of liberty, he appeared among them, andquickly filled their dispirited souls with much of his own courage andenthusiasm. At midnight meetings in the depths of the forests aconspiracy against Varus and his legions was planned, Hermann being thechosen leader of the perilous enterprise. 

It was not long before this conspiracy was revealed. The German controlover the Cherusci had been aided by Segestus, a treacherous chief, whosebeautiful and patriotic daughter, Thusnelda, had given her hand inmarriage to Hermann, against her father's will. Filled with revengefulanger at this action, and hoping to increase his power, Segestus toldthe story of the secret meetings, which he had discovered, to Varus, andbade him beware, as a revolt against him might at any moment break out. He spoke to the wrong man. Pride in the Roman power and scorn of that ofthe Germans had deeply infected the mind of Varus, and he heard withincredulous contempt this story that the barbarians contemplated risingagainst the best trained legions of Rome. 

Autumn came, the autumn of the year 9 A. D. The long rainy season of theGerman forests began. Hermann decided that the time had arrived for theexecution of his plans. He began his work with a deceitful skill thatquite blinded the too-trusting Varus, inducing him to send bodies oftroops into different parts of the country, some to gather provisionsfor the winter supply of the camps, others to keep watch over sometribes not yet subdued. The Roman force thus weakened, the artful Germansucceeded in drawing Varus with the remainder of his men from theirintrenchments, by inducing one of the subjected tribes to revolt. 

The scheme of Hermann had, so far, been completely successful. Varus, trusting to his representations, had weakened his force, and nowprepared to draw the main body of his army out of camp. Hermann remainedwith him to the last, dining with him the day before the starting of theexpedition, and inspiring so much confidence in his faithfulness to Romethat Varus refused to listen to Segestus, who earnestly entreated him totake Hermann prisoner on the spot. He even took Hermann's advice, anddecided to march on the revolted tribe by a shorter than the usualroute, oblivious to the fact that it led through difficult mountainpasses, shrouded in forests and bordered by steep and rocky acclivities. 

The treacherous plans of the patriotic German had fully succeeded. Whilethe Romans were toiling onward through the straitened passes, Hermannhad sought his waiting and ambushed countrymen, to whom he gave thesignal that the time for vengeance had come. Then, as if the denseforests had borne a sudden crop of armed men, the furious barbarianspoured out in thousands upon the unsuspecting legionaries. 

A frightful storm was raging. The mountain torrents, swollen by thedownpour of rain, over--flowed their banks and invaded the passes, alongwhich the Romans, encumbered with baggage, were wearily dragging onwardin broken columns. Suddenly, to the roar of winds and waters, was addedthe wild war-cry of the Germans, and a storm of arrows, javelins, andstones hurtled through the disordered ranks, while the barbarians, breaking from the woods, and rushing downward from the heights, fellupon the legions with sword and battle-axe, dealing death with everyblow. 

Only the discipline of the Romans saved them from speedy destruction. With the instinct of their training they hastened to gather into largerbodies, and their resistance, at first feeble, soon became moreeffective. The struggle continued until night-fall, by which time thesurviving Romans had fought their way to a more open place, where theyhastily intrenched. But it was impossible for them to remain there. Their provisions were lost or exhausted, thousands of foes surroundedthem, and their only hope lay in immediate and rapid flight. 

Sunrise came. The soldiers had recovered somewhat from the fatigue ofthe day before. Setting fire to what baggage remained in their hands, they began a retreat fighting as they went, for the implacable enemydisputed every step. The first part of their route lay through an openplain, where they marched in orderly ranks. But there were mountainsstill to pass, and they quickly found themselves in a wooded andpathless valley, in whose rugged depths defence was almost impossible. Here they fell in thousands before the weapons of their foes. It was buta small body of survivors that at length escaped from that deadly defileand threw up intrenchments for the night in a more open spot. 

With the dawn of the next day they resumed their progress, and were atno great distance from their stronghold of Aliso when they found theirprogress arrested by fresh tribes, who assailed them with murderousfury. On they struggled, fighting, dying, marking every step of theroute with their dead. Varus, now reduced to despair, and seeing onlyslaughter or captivity before him, threw himself on his sword, and diedin the midst of those whom his blind confidence had led to destruction. Of the whole army only a feeble remnant reached Aliso, which fort theysoon after abandoned and fought their way to the Rhine. While this wasgoing on, the detachments which Varus had sent out in various directionswere similarly assailed, and met the same fate as had overtaken the mainbody of the troops. 

[Illustration: RETURN OF HERMANN AFTER HIS VICTORY OVER THE ROMANS. ]

No more frightful disaster had ever befallen the Roman arms. Manyprisoners had been taken, among them certain judges and lawyers, whowere the chief objects of Hermann's hate, and whom he devoted to apainful death. He then offered sacrifices to the gods, to whom heconsecrated the booty, the slain, and the leading prisoners, numbers ofthem being slain on the altars of his deities. These religiousceremonies completed, the prisoners who still remained were distributedamong the tribes as slaves. The effort of Varus to force Roman customsand laws upon the Germans had led to a fearful retribution. 

When the news of this dreadful event reached Rome, that city was filledwith grief and fear. The heart of Augustus, now an old man, was strickenwith dismay at the slaughter of the best soldiers of the empire. Withneglected dress and person he wandered about the rooms and halls of thepalace, his piteous appeal, "Varus, give me back my legions!" showinghow deeply the disaster had pierced his soul. Hasty efforts were at oncemade to prevent the possible serious consequences of the overthrow ofthe slain legions. The Romans on the Rhine intrenched themselves in allhaste. The Germans in the imperial service were sent to distantprovinces, and recruits were raised in all parts of the country, theirpurpose being to protect Gaul from an invasion by the triumphant tribes. Yet so great was the fear inspired by the former German onslaughts, andby this destructive outbreak, that only threats of death induced theRomans to serve. As it proved, this defensive activity was not needed. The Germans, satisfied, as it seemed, with expelling the Romans fromtheir country, destroyed their forts and military roads, and settledback into peace, with no sign of a desire to cross the Rhine. 

For six years peace continued. Augustus died, and Tiberius becameemperor of Rome. Then, in the year 14 A. D. , an effort was made toreconquer Germany, an army commanded by the son of Drusus, known tohistory under the name of Germanicus, attacking the Marsi, whenintoxicated and unarmed after a religious feast. Great numbers of thedefenceless tribesmen were slain, but the other tribes sprung to armsand drove the invader back across the Rhine. 

In the next year Hermann was again brought into the fray. Segestus hadrobbed him of his wife, the beautiful patriot Thusnelda, who hithertohad been his right hand in council in his plans against the Roman foe. Hermann besieged Segestus to regain possession of his wife, and pressedthe traitor so closely that he sent his son Sigismund to Germanicus, whowas again on the German side of the Rhine, imploring aid. The Romanleader took instant advantage of this promising opportunity. He advancedand forced Hermann to raise the siege, and himself took possession ofThusnelda, who was destined soon afterwards to be made the leadingfeature in a Roman triumph. Segestus was rewarded for his treason, andwas given lands in Gaul, his life being not safe among the people he hadbetrayed. As for the daughter whom he had yielded to Roman hands, herfate troubled little his base soul. 

Thusnelda is still a popular character in German legend, there beingvarious stories extant concerning her. One of these relates that, whenshe lay concealed in the old fort of Schellenpyrmont, she was warned bythe cries of a faithful bird of the coming of the Romans, who wereseeking stealthily to approach her hiding-place. 

The loss of his beloved wife roused Hermann's heroic spirit, and spreadindignation among the Germans, who highly esteemed the noble-heartedconsort of their chief. They rose hastily in arms, and Hermann was soonat the head of a large army, prepared to defend his country against theinvading hosts of the Romans. But as the latter proved too strong toface in the open field, the Germans retreated with their families andproperty, the country left by them being laid waste by the advancinglegions. 

Germanicus soon reached the scene of the late slaughter, and caused thebones of the soldiers of Varus to be buried. But in doing this he wasobliged to enter the mountain defiles in which the former army had metits fate. Hermann and his men watched the Romans intently from forestand hilltop. When they had fairly entered the narrow valleys, the adroitchief appeared before them at the head of a small troop, which retreatedas if in fear, drawing them onward until the whole army had entered thepass. 

Then the fatal signal was given, and the revengeful Germans fell uponthe legionaries of Germanicus as they had done upon those of Varus, cutting them down in multitudes. But Germanicus was a much bettersoldier than Varus. He succeeded in extricating the remnant of his men, after they had lost heavily, and in making an orderly retreat to hisships, which awaited him upon the northern coast whence he had enteredthe country. There were two other armies, one of which had invadedGermany from the coast of Friesland, and was carried away by a flood, narrowly escaping complete destruction. The third had entered from theRhine. This was overtaken by Hermann while retreating over the longbridges which the Romans had built across the marshes of Münsterland, and which were now in a state of advanced decay. Here it found itselfsurrounded by seemingly insuperable dangers, being, in part of itsroute, shut up in a narrow dell, into which the enemy had turned thewaters of a rapid stream. While defending their camp, the waters pouredupon the soldiers, rising to their knees, and a furious tempest at thesame time burst over their heads. Yet discipline, again prevailed. Theylost heavily, but succeeded in cutting their way through their enemiesand reaching the Rhine. 

In the next year, 17 A. D. , Germanicus again invaded Germany, sailingwith a thousand ships through the northern seas and up the Ems. Flavus, the brother of Hermann, who had remained in the service of Rome, waswith him, and addressed his patriotic brother from the river-side, seeking to induce him to desert the German cause, by painting inglowing colors the advantage of being a Roman citizen. Hermann, furiousat his desertion of his country, replied to him with curses, as the onlylanguage worthy to use to a traitor, and would have ridden across thestream to kill him, but that he was held back by his men. 

A battle soon succeeded, the Germans falling into an ambuscade artfullylaid by the Roman leader, and being defeated with heavy loss. Germanicusraised a stately monument on the spot, as a memorial of his victory. Thesight of this Roman monument in their country infuriated the Germans, and they attacked the Romans again, this time with such fury, and suchslaughter on both sides, that neither party was able to resume the fightwhen the next day dawned. Germanicus, who had been very severelyhandled, retreated to his ships and set sail. On his voyage the heavensappeared to conspire against him. A tempest arose in which most of thevessels were wrecked and many of the legionaries lost. When he returnedto Rome, shortly afterwards, a fort on the Taunus was the only one whichRome possessed in Germany. Hermann had cleared his country of the foe. Yet Germanicus was given a triumph, in which Thusnelda walked, ladenwith chains, to the capitol. 

The remaining events in the life of this champion of German liberty werefew. While the events described had been taking place in the north ofGermany, there were troubles in the south. Here a chieftain namedMarbodius, who, like Hermann, had passed his youth in the Roman armies, was the leader of several powerful tribes. He lacked the patriotism ofHermann, and sought to ally himself with the Romans, with the hope ofattaining to supreme power in Germany. 

Hermann sought to rouse patriotic sentiments in his mind, but in vain, and the movements of Marbodius having revealed his purposes, a coalitionwas formed against him, with Hermann at its head. He was completelydefeated, and southern Germany saved from Roman domination, as thenorthern districts had already been. 

Peace followed, and for several years Hermann remained general-in-chiefof the German people, and the acknowledged bulwark of their liberties. But envy arose; he was maligned, and accused of aiming at sovereignty, as Marbodius had done; and at length his own relations, growing to hateand fear him, conspired against and murdered him. 

Thus ignobly fell the noblest of the ancient Germans, the man whosepatriotism saved the realm of the Teutonic tribes from becoming aprovince of the empire of Rome. Had not Hermann lived, the history ofEurope might have pursued a different course, and the final downfall ofthe colossus of the south been long averted, Germany acting as itsbulwark of defence instead of becoming the nursery of its foes. 

_ALBOIN AND ROSAMOND. _

Of the Teutonic invaders of Italy none are invested with more interestthan the Lombards, --the Long Beards, to give them their original title. Legend yields us the story of their origin, a story of interest enoughto repeat. A famine had been caused in Denmark by a great flood, and thepeople, to avoid danger of starvation, had resolved to put all the oldmen and women to death, in order to save the food for the young andstrong. This radical proposition was set aside through the advice of awise woman, named Gambara, who suggested that lots should be drawn forthe migration of a third of the population. Her counsel was taken andthe migration began, under the leadership of her two sons. Thesemigrants wore beards of prodigious length, whence their subsequent name. 

They first entered the land of the Vandals, who refused them permissionto settle. This was a question to be decided at sword's point, and warwas declared. Both sides appealed to the gods for aid, Gambara prayingto Freya, while the Vandals invoked Odin, who answered that he wouldgrant the victory to the party he should first behold at the dawn of thecoming day. 

The day came. The sun rose. In front of the Danish host were stationedtheir women, who had loosened their long hair, and let it hang down overtheir faces. "Who are these with long beards?" demanded Odin, on seeingthese Danish amazons. This settled the question of victory, and alsogave the invaders a new name, that of Longobardi, --due, in this legend, to the long hair of the women instead of the long beards of the men. There are other legends, but none worth repeating. 

The story of their king Alboin, with whom we have particularly to deal, begins, however, with a story which may be in part legendary. They werenow in hostile relations with the Gepidæ, the first nation to throw offthe yoke of the Huns. Alboin, son of Audoin, king of the Longobardi, killed Thurismund, son of Turisend, king of the Gepidæ, in battle, butforgot to carry away his arms, and thus returned home without a trophyof his victory. In consequence, his stern father refused him a seat athis table, as one unworthy of the honor. Such was the ancient Lombardcustom, and it must be obeyed. 

The young prince acknowledged the justice of this reproof, anddetermined to try and obtain the arms which were his by right ofvictory. Selecting forty companions, he boldly visited the court ofTurisend, and openly demanded from him the arms of his son. It was adaring movement, but proved successful. The old king received himhospitably, as the custom of the time demanded, though filled with griefat the loss of his son. He even protected him from the anger of hissubjects, whom some of the Lombards had provoked by their insolence ofspeech. The daring youth returned to his father's court with the armsof his slain foe, and won the seat of honor of which he had beendeprived. 

Turisend died, and Cunimund, his son, became king. Audoin died, andAlboin became king. And now new adventures of interest occurred. In hisvisit to the court of Turisend, Alboin had seen and fallen in love withRosamond, the beautiful daughter of Cunimund. He now demanded her handin marriage, and as it was scornfully refused him, he revenged himselfby winning her honor through force and stratagem. War broke out inconsequence, and the Gepidæ were conquered, Rosamond falling to Alboinas part of the trophies of victory. 

We are told that in this war Alboin sought the aid of Bacan, chagan ofthe Avars, promising him half the spoil and all the land of the Gepidæin case of victory. He added to this a promise of the realm of theLongobardi, in case he should succeed in winning for them a new home inItaly, which country he proposed to invade. 

About fifteen years before, some of his subjects had made a warlikeexpedition to Italy. Their report of its beauty and fertility hadkindled a spirit of emulation in the new generation, and inspired theyoung and warlike king with ambitious hopes. His eloquence added totheir desire. He not only described to them in glowing words the land ofpromise which he hoped to win, but spoke to their senses as well, byproducing at the royal banquets the fairest fruits that grew in thatgarden land of Europe. His efforts were successful. No sooner was hisstandard erected, and word sent abroad that Italy was his goal, than theLongobardi found their strength augmented by hosts of adventurous youthsfrom the surrounding peoples. Germans, Bulgarians, Scythians, and othersjoined in ranks, and twenty thousand Saxon warriors, with their wivesand children, added to the great host which had flocked to the bannersof the already renowned warrior. 

It was in the year 568 that Alboin, followed by the great multitude ofadventurers he had gathered, and by the whole nation of the Longobardi, ascended the Julian Alps, and looked down from their summits on thesmiling plains of northern Italy to which his success was thenceforwardto give the name of Lombardy, the land of the Longobardi. 

Four years were spent in war with the Romans, city after city, districtafter district, falling into the hands of the invaders. The resistancewas but feeble, and at length the whole country watered by the Po, withthe strong city of Pavia, fell into the hands of Alboin, who divided theconquered lands among his followers, and reduced their former holders toservitude. Alboin made Pavia his capital, and erected strongfortifications to keep out the Burgundians, Franks, and other nationswhich were troubling his new-gained dominions. This done, he settleddown to the enjoyment of the conquest which he had so ably made and soskilfully defended. 

History tells us that the Longobardi cultivated their new lands soskilfully that all traces of devastation soon vanished, and the realmgrew rich in its productions. Their freemen distinguished themselvesfrom the other German conquerors by laboring to turn the waste anddesert tracts into arable soil, while their king, though unceasinglywatchful against his enemies, lived among his people with patriarchalsimplicity, procuring his supplies from the produce of his farms, andmaking regular rounds of inspection from one to another. It is a picturefitted for a more peaceful and primitive age than that turbulent periodin which it is set. 

But now we have to do with Alboin in another aspect, --his domesticrelations, his dealings with his wife Rosamond, and the tragic end ofall the actors in the drama of real life which we have set out to tell. The Longobardi were barbarians, and Alboin was no better than hispeople; a strong evidence of which is the fact that he had the skull ofCunimund, his defeated enemy and the father of his wife, set in gold, and used it as a drinking cup at his banquets. 

Doubtless this brutality stirred revengeful sentiments in the mind ofRosamond. An added instance of barbarian insult converted her outragedfeelings into a passion for revenge. Alboin had erected a palace nearVerona, one of the cities of his new dominion, and here he celebratedhis victories with a grand feast to his companions in arms. Wine flowedfreely at the banquet, the king emulating, or exceeding, his guests inthe art of imbibing. Heated with his potations, in which he had drainedmany cups of Rhætian or Falernian wine, he called for the choicestornament of his sideboard, the gold-mounted skull of Cunimund, and drankits full measure of wine amid the loud plaudits of his drunken guests. 

"Fill it again with wine, " he cried; "fill it to the brim; carry thisgoblet to the queen, and tell her that it is my desire and command thatshe shall rejoice with her father. "

Rosamond's heart throbbed with grief and rage on hearing this inhumanrequest. She took the skull in trembling hands, and murmuring in lowaccents, "Let the will of my lord be obeyed, " she touched it to herlips. But in doing so she breathed a silent prayer, and resolved thatthe unpardonable insult should be washed out in Alboin's blood. 

If she had ever loved her lord, she felt now for him only the bitternessof hate. She had a friend in the court on whom she could depend, Helmichis, the armor-bearer of the king. She called on him for aid inher revenge, and found him willing but fearful, for he knew too well thegreat strength and daring spirit of the chief whom he had so oftenattended in battle. He proposed, therefore, that they should gain theaid of a Lombard of unequalled strength, Peredeus by name. Thischampion, however, was not easily to be won. The project was broached tohim, but the most that could be gained from him was a promise ofsilence. 

Failing in this, more shameful methods were employed. Such wasRosamond's passion for revenge that the most extreme measures seemed toher justifiable. Peredeus loved one of the attendants of the queen. Rosamond replaced this frail woman, sacrificed her honor to hervengeance, and then threatened to denounce Peredeus to the king unlesshe would kill the man who had so bitterly wronged her. 

Peredeus now consented. He must kill the king or the king would killhim, for he felt that Rosamond was quite capable of carrying out herthreat. Having thus obtained the promise of the instruments of hervengeance, the queen waited for a favorable moment to carry out her darkdesign. The opportunity soon came. The king, heavy with wine, hadretired from the table to his afternoon slumbers. Rosamond, affectingsolicitude for his health and repose, dismissed his attendants, closedthe palace gates, and then, seeking her spouse, lulled him to rest byher tender caresses. 

Finding that he slumbered, she unbolted the chamber door, and urged herconfederates to the instant performance of the deed of blood. Theyentered the room with stealthy tread, but the quick senses of thewarrior took the alarm, he opened his eyes, saw two armed men advancingupon him, and sprang from his couch. His sword hung beside him, and heattempted to draw it, but the cunning hand of Rosamond had fastened itsecurely in the scabbard. The only weapon remaining was a smallfoot-stool. This he used with vigor, but it could not long protect himfrom the spears of his assailants, and he quickly fell dead beneaththeir blows. His body was buried beneath the stairway of the palace, andthus tragically ended the career of the founder of the kingdom ofLombardy. 

But the story of Rosamond's life is not yet at an end. The death ofAlboin was followed by another tragic event, which brought her guiltycareer to a violent termination. The wily queen had not failed toprepare for the disturbances which might follow the death of the king. The murder of Alboin was immediately followed by her marriage withHelmichis, whose ambition looked to no less a prize than the throne ofLombardy. The queen was surrounded by a band of faithful Gepidæ, withwhose aid she seized the palace and made herself mistress of Verona, theLombard chiefs flying in alarm. But the assassination of the king whohad so often led them to victory filled the Longobardi with indignation, the chiefs mustered their bands and led them against the stronghold ofthe guilty couple, and they in their turn, were forced to fly for theirlives. Helmichis and Rosamond, with her daughter, her faithful Gepidæ, and the spoils of the palace, took ship down the Adige and the Po, andwere transported in a Greek vessel to the port of Ravenna, where theyhoped to find shelter and safety. 

Longinus, the Greek governor of Ravenna, gave willing refuge to thefugitives, the more so as the great beauty of Rosamond filled him withadmiration. She had not been long there, indeed, before he offered herhis hand in marriage. Rosamond, moved by ambition or a return of hislove, accepted his offer. There was, it is true, an obstacle in the way. She was already provided with a husband. But the barbarian queen hadlearned the art of getting rid of inconvenient husbands. Having, perhaps, grown to detest the tool of her revenge, now that the purposeof her marriage with him had failed, she set herself to the task ofdisposing of Helmichis, this time using the cup instead of the sword. 

As Helmichis left the bath he received a wine-cup from the hands of histreacherous wife, and lifted it to his lips. But no sooner had he tastedthe liquor, and felt the shock that it gave his system, than he knewthat he was poisoned. Death, a speedy death, was in his veins, but hehad life enough left for revenge. Seizing his dagger, he pressed it tothe breast of Rosamond, and by threats of instant death compelled her todrain the remainder of the cup. In a few minutes both the guiltypartners in the death of Alboin had breathed their last. 

When Longinus was, at a later moment, summoned into the room, it was tofind his late guests both dead upon the floor. The poison had faithfullydone its work. Thus ended a historic tragedy than which the stagepossesses few of more striking dramatic interest and opportunities forhistrionic effect. 

_THE CAREER OF GRIMOALD. _

The Avars, led by Cacan, their king, crossed, in the year 611, themountains of Illyria and Lombardy, killed Gisulph, the grand duke, withall his adherents, in battle, and laid siege to the city of Friuli, behind whose strong walls Romilda, the widow of Gisulph, had takenrefuge. These events formed the basis of the romantic, and perhapslargely legendary, story we have to tell. 

One day, so we are told, Romilda, gazing from the ramparts of the city, beheld Cacan, the young khan of the Avars, engaged in directing thesiege. So handsome to her eyes appeared the youthful soldier that shefell deeply in love with him at sight, her passion growing until, indisregard of honor and patriotism, she sent him a secret message, offering to deliver up to him the city on condition of becoming hiswife. The khan, though doubtless despising her treachery to her people, was quick to close with the offer, and in a short time Friuli was in hishands. 

This accomplished, he returned to Hungary, taking with him Romilda andher children, of whom there were four sons and four daughters. Cacankept his compact with the traitress, marrying her with the primitiverites of the Hungarians. But her married life was of the shortest. Hehad kept his word, and such honor as he possessed was satisfied. Themorning after his marriage, moved perhaps by detestation of hertreachery, he caused the hapless Romilda to be impaled alive. It was adark end to a dark deed, and the perfidy of the woman had been matchedby an equal perfidy on the part of the man. 

The children of Romilda were left in the hands of the Avars. Of herdaughters, one subsequently married a duke of Bavaria and another a dukeof Allemania. The four sons, one of whom was Grimoald, the hero of ourstory, managed to escape from their savage captors, though they werehotly pursued. In their flight, Grimoald, the youngest, was taken upbehind Tafo, the oldest; but in the rapid course he lost his hold andfell from his brother's horse. 

Tafo, knowing what would be the fate of the boy should he be captured, turned and galloped upon him lance in hand, determined that he shouldnot fall alive into the hands of his cruel foes. But Grimoald'sentreaties and Tafo's brotherly affection induced him to change hisresolution, and, snatching up the boy, he continued his flight, thepursuing Avars being now close at hand. 

Not far had they ridden before the same accident occurred. Grimoaldagain fell, and Tafo was now obliged to leave him to his fate, thefierce pursuers being too near to permit him either to kill or save theunlucky boy. On swept Tafo, up swept the Avars, and one of them, halting, seized the young captive, threw him behind him on his horse, and rode on after his fellows. 

Grimoald's peril was imminent, but he was a child with the soul of awarrior. As his captor pushed on in the track of his companions, thebrave little fellow suddenly snatched a knife from his belt, and in aninstant had stabbed him to the heart with his own weapon Tossing thedead body from the saddle, Grimoald seized the bridle and rode swiftlyon, avoiding the Avars, and in the end rejoining his flying brothers. Itwas a deed worthy the childhood of one who was in time to become afamous warrior. 

The fugitives reached Lombardy, where Tafo was hospitably received bythe king, and succeeded his father as Grand Duke of Friuli. Grimoald wasadopted by Arigil, Duke of Benevento, in whose court he grew to manhood, and in whose service his courage and military ability were quicklyshown. There were wars between Benevento and the Greeks of southernItaly, and in these the young soldier so greatly distinguished himselfthat on the death of Arigil he succeeded him as Duke of Benevento. 

Meanwhile, troubles arose in Lombardy. Tafo had been falsely accused, byan enemy of the queen, of criminal relations with her, and was put todeath by the king. Her innocence was afterwards proved, and on the deathof Ariowald the Lombards treated her with the greatest respect, andraised Rotharis, her second husband, to the throne. He, too, died, andAribert, uncle of the queen, was next made king. On his death, his twosons, Bertarit and Godebert, disputed the succession. A struggle ensuedbetween the rival brothers, in the course of which Grimoald was broughtinto the dispute. 

The events here briefly described had taken place while Grimoald wasengaged in the Greek wars of his patron, Duke Arigil. When he succeededthe latter in the ducal chair, the struggle between Bertarit andGodebert was going on, and the new Duke of Benevento declared in favorof the latter, who was his personal friend. 

A scheme of treachery, of a singular character, put an end to theirfriendship and to the life of Godebert. A man who was skilled in thearts of dissimulation, and who was secretly in the pay of Bertarit, persuaded Godebert that his seeming friend, Duke Grimoald, was reallyhis enemy, and was plotting his destruction. He told the same story toGrimoald, making him believe that Godebert was his secret foe. In proofof his words he told each of them that the other wore armor beneath hisclothes, through fear of assassination by his assumed friend. 

The suspicion thus artfully aroused produced the very state of thingswhich the agent of mischief had declared to exist. Each of the friendsput on armor, as a protection against treachery from the other, and whenthey sought to test the truth of the spy's story it seemed fullyconfirmed. Each discovered that the other wore secret armor, withoutlearning that it had just been assumed. 

The two close friends were thus converted by a plotting Iago intodistrustful enemies, each fearing and on guard against assassination bythe other. The affair ended tragically. Grimoald was no sooner fullyconvinced of the truth of what had been told him than he slew hissupposed enemy, deeming it necessary to save his own life. The darkscheme had succeeded. Treason and falsehood had sown death between twofriends. 

Bertarit, his rival removed, deemed the throne now securely his. But thetruth underlying the tragedy we have described became known, and theLombards, convinced of the innocence of Grimoald, and scorning thetreachery by which he had been led on to murder, dismissed Bertarit'spretensions and placed Grimoald on the throne. His career had been astrange but highly successful one. From his childhood captivity to theAvars he had risen to the high station of King of Lombardy, a positionfairly earned by his courage and ability. 

We are not yet done with the story of this distinguished warrior. Bertarit had taken the field against him, and civil war desolatedLombardy, an unhappy state of affairs which was soon taken advantage ofby the foes of the distracted kingdom. The enemy who now appeared in thefield was Constans, the Greek emperor, who laid siege to Benevento, hoping to capture it while Grimoald was engaged in hostilities withBertarit in the north. 

Grimoald had left his son, Romuald, in charge of the city. On learningof the siege he despatched a trusty friend and officer, Sesuald byname, with some troops, to the relief of the beleaguered stronghold, proposing to follow quickly himself with the main body of his army. 

And now occurred an event nobly worthy of being recorded in the annalsof human probity and faithfulness, one little known, but deserving to beclassed with those that have become famous in history. When men erectmonuments to courage and virtue, the noble Sesuald should not beforgotten. 

This brave man fell into the hands of the emperor, who sought to use himin a stratagem to obtain possession of Benevento. He promised him anabundance of wealth and honors if he would tell Romuald that his fatherhad died in battle, and persuade him to surrender the city. Sesualdseems to have agreed, for he was led to the walls of the city that hemight hold the desired conference with Romuald. Instead, however, ofcarrying out the emperor's design, he cried out to the young chief, "Befirm, Grimoald approaches"; then, hastily telling him that he hadforfeited his life by those words, he begged him in return to protecthis wife and children, as the last service he could render him. 

Sesuald was right. Constans, furious at his words, had his headinstantly struck off; and then, with a barbarism worthy of the times, had it flung from a catapult into the heart of the city. The ghastlytrophy was brought to Romuald, who pressed it to his lips, and deeplydeplored the death of his father's faithful friend. 

This was the last effort of the emperor. Fearing to await the arrivalof Grimoald, he raised the siege and retreated towards Naples, hotlypursued by the Lombards. The army of Grimoald came up with theretreating Greeks, and a battle was imminent, when a Lombard warrior ofgiant size, Amalong by name, spurring upon a Greek, lifted him from thesaddle with his lance, and rode on holding him poised in the air. Thesight of this feat filled the remaining Greeks with such terror thatthey broke and fled, and their hasty retreat did not cease till they hadfound shelter in Sicily. 

After this event Bertarit, finding it useless to contend longer againsthis powerful and able opponent, submitted to Grimoald. Yet this did notend their hostile relations. The Lombard king, distrusting his late foe, of whose treacherous disposition he already had abundant evidence, laida plan to get rid of him by murdering him in his bed. This plot wasdiscovered by a servant of the imperilled prince, who aided his masterto escape, and, the better to secure his retreat, placed himself in hisbed, being willing to risk death in his lord's service. 

Grimoald discovered the stratagem of the faithful fellow, but, insteadof punishing him for it, he sought to reward him, attempting to attachhim to his own service as one whose fidelity would make him valuable toany master. The honest servant refused, however, to desert his old lordfor a new service, and entreated so earnestly for permission to joinhis master, who had taken refuge in France, that Grimoald set him free, doubtless feeling that such faithfulness was worthy of encouragement. 

In France Bertarit found an ally in Chlotar II. , who took up armsagainst the Lombards in his aid. Grimoald, however, defeated him by ashrewd stratagem. He feigned to retreat in haste, leaving his camp, which was well stored with provisions, to fall into the hands of theenemy. Deeming themselves victorious, the Franks hastened to enjoy thefeast of good things which the Lombards had left behind. But in themidst of their repast Grimoald suddenly returned, and, falling upon themimpetuously, put most of them to the sword. 

In the following year (666 A. D. ) he defeated another army by anotherstratagem. The Avars had invaded Lombardy, with an army which farout-numbered the troops which Grimoald could muster against them. Inthis state of affairs he artfully deceived his foes as to the strengthof his army by marching and countermarching his men within their view, each time dressed in uniform of different colors, and with variedstandards and insignia of war. The invaders, deeming that an armyconfronted them far stronger than their own, withdrew in haste, leavingGrimoald master of the field. 

We are further told of the king of the Lombards whose striking historywe have concisely given, that he gave many new laws to his country, andthat in his old age he was remarkable for his bald head and long whitebeard. He died in 671, sixty years after the time when his mother actedthe traitress, and suffered miserably for her crime. After his death, the exiled Bertarit was recalled to the throne of Lombardy, and Romualdsucceeded his father as Duke of Benevento, the city which he had held sobravely against the Greeks. 

_WITTEKIND, THE SAXON PATRIOT. _

As Germany, in its wars with the Romans, found its hero in the greatArminius, or Hermann; and as England, in its contest with the Normans, found a heroic defender in the valiant Hereward; so Saxony, in itsstruggle with Charlemagne, gave origin to a great soul, the indomitablepatriot Wittekind, who kept the war afoot years after the Saxons wouldhave yielded to their mighty foe, and, like Hereward, only gave up thestruggle when hope itself was at an end. 

The career of the defender of Saxony bears some analogy to that of thelast patriot of Saxon England. As in the case of Hereward, his origin isuncertain, and the story of his life overlaid with legend. He is said tohave been the son of Wernekind, a powerful Westphalian chief, brother-in-law of Siegfried, a king of the Danes; yet this is by nomeans certain, and his ancestry must remain in doubt. He came suddenlyinto the war with the great Frank conqueror, and played in it astrikingly prominent part, to sink again out of sight at its end. 

The attempt of Charlemagne to conquer Saxony began in 772. Religion wasits pretext, ambition its real cause. Missionaries had been sent to theSaxons during their great national festival at Marclo. They came backwith no converts to report. As the Saxons had refused to be converted bywords, fire and sword were next tried as assumed instruments forspreading the doctrines of Christ, but really as effective means forextending the dominion of the monarch of the Franks. 

In his first campaign in Saxony, Charlemagne marched victoriously as faras the Weser, where he destroyed the celebrated Irminsúl, a famousobject of Saxon devotion, perhaps an image of a god, perhaps a statue ofHermann that had become invested with divinity. The next year, Charlesbeing absent in Italy, the Saxons broke into insurrection, under theleadership of Wittekind, who now first appears in history. With him wasassociated another patriot, Alboin, Duke of Eastphalia. 

Charles returned in the succeeding year, and again swept in conqueringforce through the country. But a new insurrection called him once moreto Italy, and no sooner had he gone than the eloquent Wittekind wasamong his countrymen, entreating them to rise in defence of theirliberties. A general levy took place, every able man crowded to theranks, and whole forests were felled to form abatis of defence against amarching enemy. 

Again Charles came at the head of his army of veterans, and again thepoorly-trained Saxon levies were driven in defeat from his front. He nowestablished a camp in the heart of the country, and had a royalresidence built at Paderborn, where he held a diet of the great vassalsof the crown and received envoys from foreign lands. Hither camedelegates from the humbled Saxons, promising peace and submission, andpledging themselves by oaths and hostages to be true subjects of Charlesthe Great. But Wittekind came not. He had taken refuge at the court ofSiegfried, the pagan king of the Danes, where he waited an opportunityto strike a new blow for liberty. 

Not content with their pledges and promises, the conqueror sought to winover his new subjects by converting them to Christianity in thewholesale way in which this work was then usually performed. The Saxonswere baptized in large numbers, the proselyting method pursued being, aswe are told, that all prisoners of war _must_ be baptized, while of theothers all who were reasonable _would_ be baptized, and the inveteratelyunreasonable might be _bribed_ to be baptized. Doubtless, as a historianremarks, the Saxons found baptism a cool, cleanly, and agreeableceremony, while their immersion in the water had little effect inwashing out their old ideas and washing in new ones. 

The exigencies of war in his vast empire now called Charlemagne toSpain, where the Arabs had become troublesome and needed chastisement. Not far had he marched away when Wittekind was again in Saxony, passingfrom tribe to tribe through the forests of the land, and with fieryeloquence calling upon his countrymen to rise against the invaders andregain the freedom of which they had been deprived. Heedless of theirconversion, disregarding their oaths of allegiance, filled with thefree spirit which had so long inspired them, the chiefs and peoplelistened with approval to his burning words, seized their arms, and flewagain to war. The priests were expelled from the country, the churchesthey had built demolished, the castles erected by the Frank monarchtaken and destroyed, and the country was laid waste up to the walls ofCologne, its Christian inhabitants being exterminated. 

But unyielding as Wittekind was, his great antagonist was equallyresolute and persistent. When he had finished his work with the Arabs, he returned to Saxony with his whole army, fought a battle in 779 in thedry bed of the Eder, and in 780 defeated Wittekind and his followers intwo great battles, completely disorganizing and discouraging the Saxonbands, and again bringing the whole country under his control. Thisaccomplished, he stationed himself in their country, built numerousfortresses upon the Elbe, and spent the summer of 780 in missionarywork, gaining a multitude of converts among the seemingly subduedbarbarians. The better to make them content with his rule he treatedthem with great kindness and affability, and sent among themmissionaries of their own race, being the hostages whom he had taken inprevious years, and who had been educated in monasteries. All went well, the Saxons were to all appearance in a state of peaceful satisfaction, and Charles felicitated himself that he had finally added Saxony to hisempire. 

He deceived himself sadly. He did not know the spirit of the free-bornSaxons, or the unyielding perseverance of their patriotic leader. In thesilent depths of their forests, and in the name of their ancient gods, they vowed destruction to the invading Franks, and branded as traitorsall those who professed Christianity except as a stratagem to deceivetheir powerful enemy. Entertaining no suspicion of the true state ofaffairs, Charlemagne at length left the country, which he fancied to befully pacified and its people content. With complete confidence in hisnew subjects, he commissioned his generals, Geil and Adalgis, to marchupon the Slavonians beyond the Elbe, who were threatening France with anew barbarian invasion. 

They soon learned that there was other work to do. In a brief time theirrepressible Wittekind was in the field again, with a new levy ofSaxons at his back, and the tranquillity of the land, established atsuch pains, was once more in peril. Theoderic, one of Charlemagne'sprincipal generals, hastily marched towards them with what men he couldraise, and on his way met the army sent to repel the Slavonians. Theyapproached the Saxon host where it lay encamped on the Weser, behind theSundel mountain, and laid plans to attack it on both sides at once. Butjealousy ruined these plans, as it has many other well-laid schemes. Theleaders of the Slavonian contingent, eager to rob Theoderic of glory, marched in haste on the Saxons, attacked them in their camp, and were socompletely defeated and overthrown that but a moity of their armyescaped from the field. The appearance of these fugitives in the camp ofTheoderic was the first he knew of the treachery of his fellow generalsand their signal punishment. 

The story of this dreadful event was in all haste borne to Charlemagne. His army had been destroyed almost as completely as that of Varus on aformer occasion, and in nearly the same country. The distressing tidingsfilled his soul with rage and a bitter thirst for revenge. He had donehis utmost to win over the Saxons by lenity and kindness, but thiscourse now seemed to him useless, if not worse than useless. Hedetermined to adopt opposite measures and try the effect of cruelty andsevere retribution. Calling together his forces until he had a greatarmy under his command, he marched into Saxony torch and sword in hand, and swept the country with fire and steel. All who would not embraceChristianity were pitilessly exterminated. Thousands were driven intothe rivers to be baptized or drowned. Carnage, desolation, anddestruction marked the path of the conqueror. Never had a country beenmore frightfully devastated by the hand of war. 

All who were concerned in the rebellion were seized, so far as Charlescould lay hands on them. When questioned, they lay all the blame onWittekind. He was the culprit, they but his instruments. But Wittekindhad vanished, the protesting chiefs and people were in the conqueror'shands, and, bent on making an awful example, he had no less than fourthousand five hundred of them beheaded in one day. It was a frightfulact of vengeance, which has ever since remained an ineradicable blot onthe memory of the great king. 

[Illustration: THE BAPTISM OF WITTEKIND. ]

Its effect was what might have been anticipated. Instead of filling theSaxons with terror, it inspired them with revengeful fury. They rose asone man, Wittekind and Alboin at their head, and attacked the Frenchwith a fury such as they had never before displayed. The remorselesscruelty with which they had been treated was repaid in the blood of theinvaders, and in the many petty combats that took place the hardy andinfuriated barbarians proved invincible against their opponents. Even ina pitched battle, fought at Detmold, in which Wittekind led the Saxonsagainst the superior forces of Charlemagne, they held their own againstall his strength and generalship, and the victory remained undecided. But they were again brought to battle upon the Hase, and now thesuperior skill and more numerous army of the great conqueror prevailed. The Saxons were defeated with great slaughter, and the French advancedas far as the Elbe. The war continued during the succeeding year, by theend of which the Saxons had become so reduced in strength that furtherefforts at resistance would have been madness. 

The cruelty which Charlemagne had displayed, and which had proved sosignally useless, was now replaced by a mildness much more in conformitywith his general character; and the Saxons, exhausted with theirstruggles, and attracted by the gentleness with which he treated them, showed a general disposition to submit. But Wittekind and hisfellow-chieftain Alboin were still at large, and the astute conquerorwell knew that there was no security in his new conquest unless theycould be brought over. He accordingly opened negotiations with them, requesting a personal conference, and pledging his royal word that theyshould be dealt with in all faith and honesty. The Saxon chiefs, however, were not inclined to put themselves in the power of a kingagainst whom they had so long and desperately fought without strongerpledge than his bare word. They demanded hostages. Charlemagne, whofully appreciated the value of their friendship and submission, freelyacceded to their terms, sent hostages, and was gratified by having theindomitable chiefs enter his palace at Paderborn. 

Wittekind was well aware that his mission as a Saxon leader was at anend. The country was subdued, its warriors slain, terrorized, or wonover, and his single hand could not keep up the war with France. He, therefore, swore fealty to Charlemagne, freely consented to become aChristian, and was, with his companion, baptized at Attigny in France. The emperor stood his sponsor in baptism, received him out of the font, loaded him with royal gifts, and sent him back with the title of Duke ofSaxony, which he held as a vassal of France. Henceforward he seems tohave observed good faith to Charlemagne, for his name now vanishes fromhistory, silence in this case being a pledge of honor and peacefulness. 

But if history here lays him down, legend takes him up, and yields us anumber of stories concerning him not one of which has any evidence tosustain it, but which are curious enough to be worth repeating. It givesus, for instance, a far more romantic account of his conversion thanthat above told. This relates that, in the Easter season of 785, --theyear of his conversion, --Wittekind stole into the French camp in thegarb of a minstrel or a mendicant, and, while cautiously traversing it, bent on spying out its weaknesses, was attracted to a large tent withinwhich Charlemagne was attending the service of the mass. Led by anirresistible impulse, the pagan entered the tent, and stood gazing inspellbound wonder at the ceremony, marvelling what the strange andimpressive performance meant. As the priest elevated the host, thechief, with astounded eyes, beheld in it the image of a child, ofdazzling and unearthly beauty. He could not conceal his surprise fromthose around him, some of whom recognized in the seeming beggar thegreat Saxon leader, and took him to the emperor. Wittekind toldCharlemagne of his vision, begged to be made a Christian, and broughtover many of his countrymen to the fold of the true church by theshining example of his conversion. 

Legend goes on to tell us that he became a Christian of such hot zealas to exact a bloody atonement from the Frisians for their murder ofBoniface and his fellow-priests a generation before. It further tells usthat he founded a church at Enger, in Westphalia, was murdered byGerold, Duke of Swabia, and was buried in the church he had founded, andin which his tomb was long shown. In truth, the people came to honor himas a saint, and though there is no record of his canonization, a saint'sday, January 7, is given him, and we are told of miracles performed athis tomb. 

So much for the dealings of Christian legend with this somewhatunsaintly personage. Secular legend, for it is probably little more, hascontented itself with tracing his posterity, several families of Germanyderiving their descent from him, while he is held to have been theancestor of the imperial house of the Othos. Some French genealogists goso far as to trace the descent of Hugh Capet to this hero of the Saxonwoods. In truth, he has been made to some extent the Roland or theArthur of Saxony, though fancy has not gone so far in his case as inthat of the French paladin and the Welsh hero of knight-errantry, for, though he and his predecessor Hermann became favorite characters inGerman ballad and legend, the romance heroes of that land continued tobe the mythical Siegfried and his partly fabulous, partly historicalcompanions of the epical song of the Nibelung. 

_THE RAIDS OF THE SEA-ROVERS. _

While Central and Southern Europe was actively engaged in wars by land, Scandinavia, that nest of pirates, was as actively engaged in wars bysea, sending its armed galleys far to the south, to plunder and burnwherever they could find footing on shore. Not content with plunderingthe coasts, they made their way up the streams, and often suddenlyappeared far inland before an alarm could be given. Wherever they went, heaps of the dead and the smoking ruins of habitations marked theirruthless course. They did not hesitate to attack fortified cities, several of which fell into their hands and were destroyed. They alwaysfought on foot, but such was their strength, boldness, and activity thatthe heavy-armed cavalry of France and Germany seemed unable to enduretheir assault, and was frequently put to flight. If defeated, or indanger of defeat, they hastened back to their ships, from which theyrarely ventured far and rowed away with such speed that pursuit was invain. For a long period they kept the Atlantic and Mediterranean coastsof Europe in such terror that prayers were publicly read in the churchesfor deliverance from them, and the sight of their dragon beaked shipsfilled the land with terror. 

In 845 a party of them assailed and took Paris, from which they werebought off by the cowardly and ineffective method of ransom, seventhousand pounds of silver being paid them. In 853 another expedition, led by a leader named Hasting, one of the most dreaded of the Norsemen, again took Paris, marched into Burgundy, laying waste the country as headvanced, and finally took Tours, to which city much treasure had beencarried for safe-keeping. Charles the Bald, who had bought off theformer expedition with silver, bought off this one with gold, offeringthe bold adventurer a bribe of six hundred and eighty-five pounds of theprecious metal, to which he added a ton and a half of silver, to leavethe country. 

From France, Hasting set sail for Italy, where his ferocity was aided bya cunning which gives us a deeper insight into his character. Rome, afamous but mystical city to the northern pagans, whose imaginationsinvested it with untold wealth and splendor, was the proposed goal ofthe enterprising Norseman, who hoped to make himself fabulously wealthyfrom its plunder. With a hundred ships, filled with hardy Norse pirates, he swept through the Strait of Gibraltar and along the coasts of Spainand France, plundering as he went till he reached the harbor of Lucca, Italy. 

As to where and what Rome was, the unlettered heathen had but thedimmest conception. Here before him lay what seemed a great and richcity, strongly fortified and thickly peopled. This must be Rome, he toldhimself; behind those lofty walls lay the wealth which he so earnestlycraved; but how could it be obtained? Assault on those strongfortifications would waste time, and perhaps end in defeat. If the citycould be won by stratagem, so much the better for himself and his men. 

The shrewd Norseman quickly devised a promising plan within the depthsof his astute brain. It was the Christmas season, and the inhabitantswere engaged in the celebration of the Christmas festival, though, doubtless, sorely troubled in mind by that swarm of strange-shapedvessels in their harbor, with their stalwart crews of blue-eyedplunderers. 

Word was sent to the authorities of the city that the fleet had comethither from no hostile intent, and that all the mariners wished was toobtain the favor of an honorable burial-place for their chieftain, whohad just died. If the citizens would grant them this, they would engageto depart after the funeral without injury to their courteous andbenevolent friends. The message--probably not expressed in quite theabove phrase--was received in good faith by the unsuspecting Lombards, who were glad enough to get rid of their dangerous visitors on suchcheap terms, and gratified to learn that these fierce pagans wishedChristian burial for their chief. Word was accordingly sent to the shipsthat the authorities granted their request, and were pleased with theopportunity to oblige the mourning crews. 

Not long afterwards a solemn procession left the fleet, a coffin, drapedin solemn black, at its head, borne by strong carriers. As mournersthere followed a large deputation of stalwart Norsemen, seeminglyunarmed, and to all appearance lost in grief. With slow steps theyentered the gates and moved through the streets of the city, chantingthe death-song of the great Hasting, until the church was reached, andthey had advanced along its crowded aisle to the altar, where stood thepriests ready to officiate at the obsequies of the expired freebooter. 

The coffin was set upon the floor, and the priests were about to breakinto the solemn chant for the dead, when suddenly, to the surprise andhorror of the worshippers, the supposed corpse sprang to life, leaped upsword in hand, and with a fierce and deadly blow struck the officiatingbishop to the heart. Instantly the seeming mourners, who had been chosenfrom the best warriors of the fleet, flung aside their cloaks andgrasped their arms, and a carnival of death began in that crowdedchurch. 

It was not slaughter, however, that Hasting wanted, but plunder. Rushingfrom the church, the Norsemen assailed the city, looting with free hand, and cutting down all who came in their way. No long time was needed bythe skilful freebooters for this task, and before the citizens couldrecover from the mortal terror into which they had been thrown, thepagan plunderers were off again for their ships, laden with spoil, andtaking with them as captives a throng of women and maidens, the mostbeautiful they could find. 

This daring affair had a barbarous sequel. A storm arising whichthreatened the loss of his ships, the brutal Hasting gave orders thatthe vessels should be lightened by throwing overboard plunder andcaptives alike. Saved by this radical method, the sea-rovers quicklyrepaid themselves for their losses by sailing up the Rhone, and layingthe country waste through many miles of Southern France. 

The end of this phase of Hasting's career was a singular one. In theyear 860 he consented to be baptized as a Christian, and to swearallegiance to Charles the Bald of France, on condition of receiving thetitle of Count of Chartres, with a suitable domain. It was a wisermethod of disarming a redoubtable enemy than that of ransoming the land, which Charles had practised with Hasting on a previous occasion. He hadconverted a foe into a subject, upon whom he might count for defenceagainst those fierce heathen whom he had so often led to battle. 

While France, England, and the Mediterranean regions formed the favoritevisiting ground of the Norsemen, they did not fail to pay their respectsin some measure to Germany, and during the ninth century, their periodof most destructive activity, the latter country suffered considerablyfrom their piratical ravages. Two German warriors who undertook to guardthe coasts against their incursions are worthy of mention. One of these, Baldwin of the Iron Arm, Count of Flanders, distinguished himself byseducing Judith, daughter of Charles the Bald of France, who, young asshe was, was already the widow of two English kings, Ethelwolf and hisson Ethelbold. Charles was at first greatly enraged, but afterwardsaccepted Baldwin as his son-in-law, and made him lord of the district. The second was Robert the Strong, Count of Maine, a valiant defender ofthe country against the sea-kings. He was slain in a bloody battle withthem, near Anvers, in 866. This distinguished warrior was the ancestorof Hugh Capet, afterwards king of France. 

For some time after his death the Norsemen avoided Germany, paying theirattentions to England, where Alfred the Great was on the throne. About880 their incursions began again, and though they were several timesdefeated with severe slaughter, new swarms followed the old ones, andyear by year fresh fleets invaded the land, leaving ruin in their paths. 

Up the rivers they sailed, as in France, taking cities, devastating thecountry, doing more damage each year than could be repaired in a decade. Aix-la-Chapelle, the imperial city of the mighty Charlemagne, fell intotheir hands, and the palace of the great Charles, in little more thanhalf a century after his death, was converted by these marauders into astable. Well might the far-seeing emperor have predicted sorrow andtrouble for the land from these sea-rovers, as he is said to have done, on seeing their many-oared ships from a distance. Yet even his foresightcould scarcely have imagined that, before he was seventy years in thegrave, the vikings of the north would be stabling their horses in themost splendid of his palaces. 

The rovers attacked Metz, and Bishop Wala fell while bravely fightingthem before its gates. City after city on the Rhine was taken and burnedto the ground. The whole country between Liège, Cologne, and Mayence wasso ravaged as to be almost converted into a desert. The besom ofdestruction, in the hands of the sea-kings, threatened to sweep Germanyfrom end to end, as it had swept the greater part of France. 

The impunity with which they raided the country was due in great part tothe indolent character of the monarch. Charles the Fat, as he wasentitled, who had the ambitious project of restoring the empire ofCharlemagne, and succeeded in combining France and Germany under hissceptre, proved unable to protect his realm from the pirate rovers. Likehis predecessor, Charles the Bald of France, he tried the magic power ofgold and silver, as a more effective argument than sharpened steel, torid him of these marauders. Siegfried, their principal leader, wasbought off with two thousand pounds of gold and twelve thousand poundsof silver, to raise which sum Charles seized all the treasures of thechurches. In consideration of this great bribe the sea-rover consentedto a truce for twelve years. His brother Gottfried was bought off in adifferent method, being made Duke of Friesland and vassal of theemperor. 

These concessions, however, did not put an end to the depredations ofthe Norsemen. There were other leaders than the two formidable brothers, and other pirates than those under their control, and the country wassoon again invaded, a strong party advancing as far as the Moselle, where they took and destroyed the city of Treves. This marauding band, however, dearly paid for its depredations. While advancing through theforest of Ardennes, it was ambushed and assailed by a furious multitudeof peasants and charcoal-burners, before whose weapons ten thousand ofthe Norsemen fell in death. 

This revengeful act of the peasantry was followed by a treacherous deedof the emperor, which brought renewed trouble upon the land. Eager torid himself of his powerful and troublesome vassal in Friesland, Charlesinvited Gottfried to a meeting, at which he had the Norsementreacherously murdered, while his brother-in-law Hugo was deprived ofhis sight. It was an act sure to bring a bloody reprisal. No sooner hadnews of it reached the Scandinavian north than a fire of revengeful rageswept through the land, and from every port a throng of oared galleysput to sea, bent upon bloody retribution. Soon in immense hordes theyfell upon the imperial realm, forcing their way in mighty hosts up theRhine, the Maese, and the Seine, and washing out the memory ofGottfried's murder in torrents of blood, while the brand spread ruin farand wide. 

The chief attack was made on Paris, which the Norsemen invested andbesieged for a year and a half. The march upon Paris was made by sea andland, the marauders making Rouen their place of rendezvous. From thiscentre of operations Rollo--the future conqueror and Duke of Normandy, now a formidable sea-king--led an overland force towards the Frenchcapital, and on his way was met by an envoy from the emperor, no less apersonage than the Count of Chartres, the once redoubtable Hasting, nowa noble of the empire. 

"Valiant sirs, " he said to Rollo and his chiefs, "who are you that comehither, and why have you come?"

"We are Danes, " answered Rollo, proudly; "all of us equals, no man thelord of any other, but lords of all besides. We are come to punish thesepeople and take their lands. And you, by what name are you called?"

"Have you not heard of a certain Hasting, " was the reply, "a sea-kingwho left your land with a multitude of ships, and turned into a desert agreat part of this fair land of France?"

"We have heard of him, " said Rollo, curtly. "He began well and endedbadly. "

"Will you submit to King Charles?" asked the envoy, deeming it wise, perhaps, to change the subject. 

"We will submit to no one, king or chieftain. All that we gain by thesword we are masters and lords of. This you may tell to the king who hassent you. The lords of the sea know no masters on land. "

Hasting left with his message, and Rollo continued his advance to theSeine. Not finding here the ships of the maritime division of theexpedition, which he had expected to meet, he seized on the boats of theFrench fishermen and pursued his course. Soon afterwards a French forcewas met and put to flight, its leader, Duke Ragnold, being killed. Thisevent, as we are told, gave rise to a new change in the career of thefamous Hasting. A certain Tetbold or Thibaud, of Northman birth, came tohim and told him that he was suspected of treason, the defeat of theFrench having been ascribed to secret information furnished by him. Whether this were true, or a mere stratagem on the part of hisinformant, it had the desired effect of alarming Hasting, who quicklydetermined to save himself from peril by joining his old countrymen andbecoming again a viking chief. He thereupon sold his countship toTetbold, and hastened to join the army of Norsemen then besieging Paris. As for the cunning trickster, he settled down into his cheaply boughtcountship, and became the founder of the subsequent house of the Countsof Chartres. 

The siege of Paris ended in the usual manner of the Norseman invasionsof France, --that of ransom. Charles marched to its relief with a strongarmy, but, instead of venturing to meet his foes in battle, he boughtthem off as so often before, paying them a large sum of money, grantingthem free navigation of the Seine and entrance to Paris, and confirmingthem in the possession of Friesland. This occurred in 887. A yearafterwards he lost his crown, through the indignation of the nobles athis cowardice, and France and Germany again fell asunder. 

The plundering incursions continued, and soon afterwards the newemperor, Arnulf, nephew of Charles the Fat, a man of far superior energyto his deposed uncle, attacked a powerful force of the piraticalinvaders near Louvain, where they had encamped after a victory over theArchbishop of Mayence. In the heat of the battle that followed, thevigilant Arnulf perceived that the German cavalry fought at adisadvantage with their stalwart foes, whose dexterity as foot-soldierswas remarkable. Springing from his horse, he called upon his followersto do the same. They obeyed, the nobles and their men-at-arms leaping tothe ground and rushing furiously on foot upon their opponents. Theassault was so fierce and sudden that the Norsemen gave way, and werecut down in thousands, Siegfried and Gottfried--a new Gottfriedapparently--falling on the field, while the channel of the Dyle, acrosswhich the defeated invaders sought to fly, was choked with theircorpses. 

This bloody defeat put an end to the incursions of the Norsemen by wayof the Rhine. Thenceforward they paid their attention to the coast ofFrance, which they continued to invade until one of their great leaders, Rollo, settled in Normandy as a vassal of the French monarch, and servedas an efficient barrier against the inroads of his countrymen. 

As to Hasting, he appears to have returned to his old trade ofsea-rover, and we hear of him again as one of the Norse invaders ofEngland, during the latter part of the reign of Alfred the Great. 

_THE CAREER OF BISHOP HATTO. _

We have now to deal with a personage whose story is largely legendary, particularly that of his death, a highly original termination to hiscareer having arisen among the people, who had grown to detest him. ButBishop Hatto played his part in the history as well as in the legend ofGermany, and the curious stories concerning him may have been based onthe deeds of his actual life. It was in the beginning of the tenthcentury that this notable churchman flourished as Archbishop of Mayence, and the emperor-maker of his times. In connection with Otho, Duke ofSaxony, he placed Louis, surnamed the Child, --for he was but seven yearsof age, --on the imperial throne, and governed Germany in his name. Louisdied in 911, while still a boy, and with him ended the race ofCharlemagne in Germany. Conrad, Duke of Franconia, was chosen king tosucceed him, but the astute churchman still remained the power behindthe throne. 

In truth, the influence and authority of the church at that time wasenormous, and many of its potentates troubled themselves more about theaffairs of the earth than those of heaven. Hatto, while a zealouschurchman, was a bold, energetic, and unscrupulous statesman, andraised himself to an almost unlimited power in France and SouthernGermany by his arts and influence, Otho of Saxony aiding him in hisprogress to power. Two of his opponents, Henry and Adelhart, ofBabenberg, took up arms against him, and came to their deaths inconsequence. Adalbert, the opponent of the Norsemen, was his nextantagonist, and Hatto, through his influence in the diet, had him putunder the ban of the empire. 

Adalbert, however, vigorously resisted this decree, taking up arms inhis own defence, and defeating his opponent in the field. But soon, being closely pressed, he retired to his fortress of Bamberg, which wasquickly invested and besieged. Here he defended himself with such energythat Hatto, finding that the outlawed noble was not to be easily subduedby force, adopted against him those spiritual weapons, as he probablyconsidered them, in which he was so trained an adept. 

Historians tell us that the priest, with a pretence of friendly purpose, offered to mediate between Adalbert and his enemies, promising him, ifhe would leave his stronghold to appear before the assembled nobles ofthe diet, that he should have a free and safe return. Adalbert acceptedthe terms, deeming that he could safely trust the pledged word of a highdignitary of the church. Leaving the gates of his castle, he was met ata short distance beyond by the bishop, who accosted him in hisfriendliest tone, and proposed that, as their journey would be somewhatlong, they should breakfast together within the castle before starting. 

Adalbert assented and returned to the fortress with his smooth-tonguedcompanion, took breakfast with him, and then set out with him for thediet. Here he was sternly called to answer for his acts of opposition tothe decree of the ruling body of Germany, and finding that the tide offeeling was running strongly against him, proposed to return to hisfortress in conformity with the plighted faith of Bishop Hatto. Hatto, with an aspect of supreme honesty, declared that he had alreadyfulfilled his promise. He had agreed that Adalbert should have a freeand safe return to his castle. This had been granted him. He hadreturned there to breakfast without opposition of any sort. The word ofthe bishop had been fully kept, and now, as a member of the diet, hefelt free to act as he deemed proper, all his obligations to the accusedhaving been fulfilled. Just how far this story accords with the actualfacts we are unable to say, but Adalbert, despite his indignant protest, was sentenced to death and beheaded. 

Hatto had reached his dignity in the church by secular instead ofecclesiastic influence, and is credited with employing his power in thisand other instances with such lack of honor and probity that he becamean object of the deepest popular contempt and execration. His name wasderided in the popular ballads, and he came to be looked upon as thescapegoat of the avarice and licentiousness of the church in thatirreligious mediæval age. Among the legends concerning him is onerelating to Henry, the son of his ally, Otho of Saxony, who died in 912. Henry had long quarrelled with the bishop, and the fabulous story goesthat, to get rid of his high-spirited enemy, the cunning churchman senthim a gold chain, so skilfully contrived that it would strangle itswearer. 

[Illustration: THE MOUSE-TOWER ON THE RHINE. ]

The most famous legend about Hatto, however, is that which tells themanner of his death. The story has been enshrined in poetry byLongfellow, but we must be content to give it in plain prose. It tellsus that a famine occurred in the land, and that a number of peasantscame to the avaricious bishop to beg for bread. By his order they wereshut up in a great barn, which then was set on fire, and its miserableoccupants burned to death. 

And now the cup of Hatto's infamy was filled, and heaven sent himretribution. From the ruins of the barn issued a myriad of mice, whichpursued the remorseless bishop, ceaselessly following him in his everyeffort to escape their avenging teeth. At length the wretched sinner, driven to despair, fled for safety to a strong tower standing in themiddle of the Rhine, near Bingen, with the belief that the water wouldprotect him from his swarming foes. But the mice swam the stream, invaded the tower, and devoured the miserable fugitive. As evidence ofthe truth of this story we are shown the tower, still standing, andstill known as the Mäusethurm, or Mouse Tower. It must be said, however, that this tradition probably refers to another Bishop Hatto, ofsomewhat later date. Its utterly fabulous character, of course, will berecognisable by all. 

So much for Bishop Hatto and his fate. It may be said, in conclusion, that his period was one of terror and excitement in Germany, sufficientperhaps to excuse the overturning of ideas, and the replacement ofconceptions of truth and honor by their opposites. The wild Magyars hadinvaded and taken Hungary, and were making savage inroads into Germanyfrom every quarter. The resistance was obstinate, the Magyars weredefeated in several severe battles, yet still their multitudes swarmedover the borders, and carried terror and ruin wherever they came. Theseinvaders were as ferocious in disposition, as fierce in their onsets, asinvincible through contempt of death, and as formidable through theirskilful horsemanship, as the Huns had been before them. So rapid weretheir movements, and so startling the suddenness with which they wouldappear in and vanish from the heart of the country, that the terrifiedpeople came to look upon them as possessed of supernatural powers. Theirinhuman love of slaughter and their destructive habits added to theterror with which they were viewed. They are said to have been sobloodthirsty, that in their savage feasts after victory they used astables the corpses of their enemies slain in battle. It is further saidthat it was their custom to bind the captured women and maidens withtheir own long hair as fetters, and drive them, thus bound, in flocksto Hungary. 

We may conclude with a touching story told of these unquiet andmisery-haunted times. Ulrich, Count of Linzgau, was, so the story goes, taken prisoner by the Magyars, and long held captive in their hands. Wendelgarde, his beautiful wife, after waiting long in sorrow for hisreturn, believed him to be dead, and resolved to devote the remainder ofher life to charity and devotion. Crowds of beggars came to her castlegates, to whom she daily distributed alms. One day, while she was thusengaged, one of the beggars suddenly threw his arms around her neck andkissed her. Her attendants angrily interposed, but the stranger wavedthem aside with a smile, and said, --

"Forbear, I have endured blows and misery enough during my imprisonmentwithout needing more from you; I am Ulrich, your lord. "

Truly, in this instance, charity brought its reward. 

_THE MISFORTUNES OF DUKE ERNST. _

In the reign of Conrad II. , Emperor of Germany, took place the eventwhich we have now to tell, one of those interesting examples of romancewhich give vitality to history. On the death of Henry II. , the last ofthe great house of the Othos, a vast assembly from all the states of theempire was called together to decide who their next emperor should be. From every side they came, dukes, margraves, counts and barons, attendedby hosts of their vassals; archbishops, bishops, abbots, and otherchurchmen, with their proud retainers; Saxons, Swabians, Bavarians, Bohemians, and numerous other nationalities, great and small; allmarching towards the great plain between Worms and Mayence, where theygathered on both sides of the Rhine, until its borders seemed covered bya countless multitude of armed men. The scene was a magnificent one, with its far-spreading display of rich tents, floating banners, showyarmor, and everything that could give honor and splendor to theoccasion. 

We are not specially concerned with what took place. There were twocompetitors for the throne, both of them Conrad by name. By birth theywere cousins, and descendants of the emperor Conrad I. The younger ofthese, but the son of the elder brother, and the most distinguished forability, was elected, and took the throne as Conrad II. He was to proveone of the noblest sovereigns that ever held the sceptre of the Germanempire. The election decided, the great assembly dispersed, and back totheir homes marched the host of warriors who had collected for once withpeaceful purpose. 

[Illustration: PEASANT WEDDING PROCESSION. ]

Two years afterwards, in 1026, Conrad crossed the Alps with an army, andmarched through Italy, that land which had so perilous an attraction forGerman emperors, and so sadly disturbed the peace and progress of theTeutonic realm. Conrad was not permitted to remain there long. Troublesin Germany recalled him to his native soil. Swabia had broken out in hottroubles. Duke Ernst, step-son of Conrad, claimed Burgundy as hisinheritance, in opposition to the emperor himself, who had the betterclaim. He not only claimed it, but attempted to seize it. With him wereunited two Swabian counts of ancient descent, Rudolf Welf, or Guelph, and Werner of Kyburg. 

Swabia was in a blaze when Conrad returned. He convoked a great diet atUlm, as the legal means of settling the dispute. Thither Ernst came, atthe head of his Swabian men-at-arms, and still full of rebelliousspirit, although his mother, Gisela, the empress, begged him to submitand to return to his allegiance. 

The angry rebel, however, soon learned that his followers were notwilling to take up arms against the emperor. They declared that theiroath of allegiance to their duke did not release them from their higherobligations to the emperor and the state, that if their lord was at feudwith the empire it was their duty to aid the latter, and that if theirchiefs wished to quarrel with the state, they must fight for themselves. 

This defection left the rebels powerless. Duke Ernst was arrested andimprisoned on a charge of high treason. Eudolf was exiled. Werner, whotook refuge in his castle, was besieged there by the imperial troops, against whom he valiantly defended himself for several months. Atlength, however, finding that his stronghold was no longer tenable, hecontrived to make his escape, leaving the nest to the imperialists emptyof its bird. 

Three years Ernst remained in prison. Then Conrad restored him toliberty, perhaps moved by the appeals of his mother Gisela, and promisedto restore him to his dukedom of Swabia if he would betray the secret ofthe retreat of Werner, who was still at large despite all efforts totake him. 

This request touched deeply the honor of the deposed duke. It was muchto regain his ducal station; it was more to remain true to the fugitivewho had trusted and aided him in his need. 

"How can I betray my only true friend?" asked the unfortunate duke, withtouching pathos. 

His faithfulness was not appreciated by the emperor and his nobles. Theyplaced Ernst under the ban of the empire, and thus deprived him of rank, wealth, and property, reducing him by a word from high estate to abjectbeggary. His life and liberty were left him, but nothing more, and, driven by despair, he sought the retreat of his fugitive friend Werner, who had taken refuge in the depths of the Black Forest. 

Here the two outlaws, deprived of all honest means of livelihood, becamerobbers, and entered upon a life of plunder, exacting contributions fromall subjects of the empire who fell into their hands. They soon found afriend in Adalbert of Falkenstein, who gave them the use of his castleas a stronghold and centre of operations, and joined them with hisfollowers in their freebooting raids. 

For a considerable time the robber chiefs maintained themselves in theirnew mode of life, sallying from the castle, laying the country far andwide under contribution, and returning to the fortress for safety frompursuit. Their exactions became in time so annoying, that the castle wasbesieged by a strong force of Swabians, headed by Count Mangold ofVeringen, and the freebooters were closely confined within their walls. Impatient of this, a sally in force was made by the garrison, headed bythe two robber chiefs, and an obstinate contest ensued. The struggleended in the death of Mangold on the one side and of Ernst and Werner onthe other, with the definite defeat and dispersal of the robber band. 

Thus ended an interesting episode of mediæval German history. But thevalor and misfortunes of Duke Ernst did not die unsung. He became apopular hero, and the subject of many a ballad, in which numerousadventures were invented for him during his career as an opponent of theemperor and an outlaw in the Black Forest. For the step-son of anemperor to be reduced to such a strait was indeed an event likely toarouse public interest and sympathy, and for centuries the doings of therobber duke were sung. 

In the century after his death the imagination of the people went toextremes in their conception of the adventures of Duke Ernst, mixing upideas concerning him with fancies derived from the Crusades, the wholetaking form in a legend which is still preserved in the popular balladliterature of Germany. This strange conception takes Ernst to the East, where he finds himself opposed by terrific creatures in human and bruteform, they being allegorical representations of his misfortunes. Eachmonster signifies an enemy. He reaches a black mountain, whichrepresents his prison. He is borne into the clouds by an old man; thisis typical of his ambition. His ship is wrecked on the Magnet mountain;a personification of his contest with the emperor. The nails fly out ofthe ship and it falls to pieces; an emblem of the falling off of hisvassals. There are other adventures, and the whole circle of legends isa curious one, as showing the vagaries of imagination, and the stronginterest taken by the people in the fortunes and misfortunes of theirchieftains. 

_THE REIGN OF OTHO II. _

Otho II. , Emperor of Germany, --Otho the Red, as he was called, from hisflorid complexion, --succeeded to the Western Empire in 973, when in hiseighteenth year of age. His reign was to be a short and active one, andattended by adventures and fluctuations of fortune which render itworthy of description. Few monarchs have experienced so many of the upsand downs of life within the brief period of five years, through whichhis wars extended. 

As heir to the imperial title of Charlemagne, he was lord of the ancientpalace of the great emperor, at Aix-la-Chapelle, and here held court atthe feast of St. John in the year 978. All was peace and festivitywithin the old imperial city, all war and threat without it. While Othoand his courtiers, knights and ladies, lords and minions, were enjoyinglife with ball and banquet, feast and frivolity, in true palatialfashion, an army was marching secretly upon them, with treacherousintent to seize the emperor and his city at one full swoop. Lothaire, King of France, had in haste and secrecy collected an army, and, withouta declaration of hostilities, was hastening, by forced marches, uponAix-la-Chapelle. 

It was an act of treachery utterly undeserving of success. But it is notalways the deserving to whom success comes, and Otho heard of the rapidapproach of this army barely in time to take to flight, with hisfear-winged flock of courtiers at his heels, leaving the city an easyprey to the enemy. Lothaire entered the city without a blow, plunderedit as if he had taken it by storm, and ordered that the imperial eagle, which was erected in the grand square of Charles the Great, should haveits beak turned westward, in token that Lorraine now belonged to France. 

Doubtless the great eagle turned creakingly on its support, thus movedby the hand of unkingly perfidy, and impatiently awaited for time andthe tide of affairs to turn its beak again to the east. It had not longto wait. The fugitive emperor hastily called a diet of the princes andnobles at Dortmund, told them in impassioned eloquence of the faithlessact of the French king, and called upon them for aid against thetreacherous Lothaire. Little appeal was needed. The honor of Germany wasconcerned. Setting aside all the petty squabbles which rent the land, the indignant princes gathered their forces and placed them under Otho'scommand. By the 1st of October the late fugitive found himself at thehead of a considerable army, and prepared to take revenge on hisperfidious enemy. 

Into France he marched, and made his way with little opposition, byRheims and Soissons, until the French capital lay before his eyes. Herethe army encamped on the right bank of the Seine, around Montmartre, while their cavalry avenged the plundering of Aix-la-Chapelle by layingwaste the country for many miles around. The French were evidently aslittle prepared for Otho's activity as he had been for Lothaire'streachery, and did not venture beyond the walls of their city, leavingthe country a defenceless prey to the revengeful anger of the emperor. 

The Seine lay between the two armies, but not a Frenchman ventured tocross its waters; the garrison of the city, under Hugh Capet, --Count ofParis, and soon to become the founder of a new dynasty of Frenchkings, --keeping closely within its walls. These walls proved too strongfor the Germans, and as winter was approaching, and there was muchsickness among his troops, the emperor retreated, after havingdevastated all that region of France. But first he kept a vow that hehad made, that he would cause the Parisians to hear a _Te Deum_ such asthey had never heard before. In pursuance of this vow, he gathered uponthe hill of Montmartre all the clergymen whom he could seize, and forcedthem to sing his anthem of victory with the full power of their lungs. Then, having burned the suburbs of Paris, and left his lance quiveringin the city gate, he withdrew in triumph, having amply punished thetreacherous French king. Aix-la-Chapelle fell again into his hands; theeyes of the imperial eagle were permitted once more to gaze uponGermany, and in the treaty of peace that followed Lorraine was declaredto be forever a part of the German realm. 

Two years afterwards Otho, infected by that desire to conquer Italywhich for centuries afterwards troubled the dreams of German emperors, and brought them no end of trouble, crossed the Alps and descended uponthe Italian plains, from which he was never to return. Northern Italywas already in German hands, but the Greeks held possessions in thesouth which Otho claimed, in view of the fact that he had marriedTheophania, the daughter of the Greek emperor at Constantinople. Toenforce this claim he marched upon the Greek cities, which in their turnmade peace with the Arabs, with whom they had been at war, and gatheredgarrisons of these bronzed pagans alike from Sicily and Africa. 

For two years the war continued, the advantage resting with Otho. In 980he reached Rome, and there had a secret interview with Hugh Capet, whomhe sustained in his intention to seize the throne of France, still heldby his old enemy Lothaire. In 981 he captured Naples, Taranto, and othercities, and in a pitched battle near Cotrona defeated the Greeks andtheir Arab allies. Abn al Casem, the terror of southern Italy, andnumbers of his Arab followers, were left dead upon the field. 

On the 13th of July, 982, the emperor again met the Greeks and theirArab allies in battle, and now occurred that singular adventure andreverse of fortune which has made this engagement memorable. The battletook place at a point near the sea-shore, in the vicinity of Basantello, not far from Taranto, and at first went to the advantage of theimperial forces. They attacked the Greeks with great impetuosity, and, after a stubborn defence, broke through their ranks, and forced theminto a retreat, which was orderly conducted. 

It was now mid-day. The victors, elated with their success and theirhopes of pillage, followed the retreating columns along the banks of theriver Corace, feeling so secure that they laid aside their arms andmarched leisurely and confidently forward. It was a fatal confidence. Atone point in their march the road led between the river and a ridge ofserried rocks, which lay silent beneath the mid-day sun. But silent asthey seemed, they were instinct with life. An ambuscade of Arabscrouched behind them, impatiently waiting the coming of the unsuspectingGermans. 

Suddenly the air pealed with sound, the "Allah il Allah!" of thefanatical Arabs; suddenly the startled eyes of the imperialists saw therugged rocks bursting, as it seemed, into life; suddenly a horde ofdusky warriors poured down upon them with scimitar and javelin, surrounding them quickly on all sides, cutting and slashing their waydeeply into the disordered ranks. The scattered troops, stricken withdismay, fell in hundreds. In their surprise and confusion they becameeasy victims to their agile foes, and in a short time nearly the wholeof that recently victorious army were slain or taken prisoners. Of theentire force only a small number broke through the lines of theirenvironing foes. 

The emperor escaped almost by miracle. His trusty steed bore himunharmed through the crowding Arabs. He was sharply pursued, but theswift animal distanced the pursuers, and before long he reached thesea-shore, over whose firm sands he guided his horse, though with littlehope of escaping his active foes. Fortunately, he soon perceived a Greekvessel at no great distance from the shore, a vision which held out tohim a forlorn hope of escape. The land was perilous; the sea might bemore propitious; he forced his faithful animal into the water, and swamtowards the vessel, in the double hope of being rescued and remainingunknown. 

He was successful in both particulars. The crew willingly took him onboard, ignorant of his high rank, but deeming him to be a knight ofdistinction, from whom they could fairly hope for a handsome ransom. Hissituation was still a dangerous one, should he become known, and hecould not long hope to remain incognito. In truth, there was a slave onboard who knew him, but who, for purposes of his own, kept the periloussecret. He communicated by stealth with the emperor, told him of hisrecognition, and arranged with him a plan of escape. In pursuance ofthis he told the Greeks that their captive was a chamberlain of theemperor, a statement which Otho confirmed, and added that he hadvaluable treasures at Rossano, which, if they would sail thither, theymight take on board as his ransom. 

The Greek mariners, deceived by the specious tale, turned their vessel'sprow towards Rossano, and on coming near that city, shifted theircourse towards the shore. Otho had been eagerly awaiting thisopportunity. When they had approached sufficiently near to the land, hesuddenly sprang from the deck into the sea, and swam ashore with astrength and swiftness that soon brought him to the strand. In a shorttime afterwards he entered Rossano, then held by his forces, and joinedhis queen, who had been left in that city. 

This singular adventure is told with a number of variations by theseveral writers who have related it, most of them significant of thelove of the marvellous of the old chroniclers. One writer tells us thatthe escaping emperor was pursued and attacked by the Greek boatmen, andthat he killed forty of them with the aid of a soldier, named Probus, whom he met on the shore. By another we are told that the Greeksrecognized him, that he enticed them to the shore by requesting them totake on board his wife and treasures, which had been left at Rossano, and that he sent young men on board disguised as female attendants ofhis wife, by whose aid he seized the vessel. All the stories agree, however, in saying that Theophania jeeringly asked the emperor whetherher countrymen had not put him in mortal fear, --a jest for which theGermans never forgave her. 

To return to the domain of fact, we have but further to tell that theemperor, full of grief and vexation at the loss of his army, and theslaughter of many of the German and Italian princes and nobles who hadaccompanied him, returned to upper Italy, with the purpose of collectinganother army. 

All his conquests in the south had fallen again into the hands of theenemy, and his work remained to be done over again. He held a grandassembly in Verona, in which he had his son Otho, three years old, elected as his successor. From there he proceeded to Rome, in which cityhe was attacked by a violent fever, brought on by the grief andexcitement into which his reverses had thrown his susceptible andimpatient mind. He died December 7, 983, and was buried in the church ofSt. Peter, at Rome. 

The fancy of the chroniclers has surrounded his death with legends, which are worth repeating as curious examples of what mediæval writersoffered and mediæval readers accepted as history. One of them tells thestory of a naval engagement between Otho and the Greeks, in which thefight was so bitter that the whole sea around the vessels was stainedred with blood. The emperor won the victory, but received a mortalwound. 

Another story, which does not trouble itself to sail very close to thecommonplace, relates that Otho met his end by being whipped to death onMount Garganus by the angels, among whom he had imprudently venturedwhile they were holding a conclave there. These stories will serve asexamples of the degree of credibility of many of the ancient chroniclesand the credulity of their readers. 

_THE FORTUNES OF HENRY THE FOURTH. _

At the festival of Easter, in the year 1062, a great banquet was givenin the royal palace at Kaiserswerth, on the Rhine. The Empress Agnes, widow of Henry III. , and regent of the empire, was present, with herson, then a boy of eleven. A pious and learned woman was the empress, but she lacked the energy necessary to control the unquiet spirits ofher times. Gentleness and persuasion were the means by which she hopedto influence the rude dukes and haughty archbishops of the empire, butqualities such as these were wasted on her fierce subjects, and servedbut to gain her the contempt of some and the dislike of others. A plotto depose the weakly-mild regent and govern the empire in the name ofthe youthful monarch was made by three men, Otto of Norheim, thegreatest general of the state, Ekbert of Meissen, its most valiantknight, and Hanno, Archbishop of Cologne, its leading churchman. Thesethree men were present at the banquet, which they had fixed upon as theoccasion for carrying out their plot. 

The feast over, the three men rose and walked with the boy monarch to awindow of the palace that overlooked the Rhine. On the waters beforethem rode at anchor a handsome vessel, which the child looked upon witheyes of delight. 

[Illustration: SCENE OF MONASTIC LIFE. ]

"Would you like to see it closer?" asked Hanno. "I will take you onboard, if you wish. "

"Oh, will you?" pleaded the boy. "I shall be so glad. "

The three conspirators walked with him to the stream, and rowed out tothe vessel, the empress viewing them without suspicion of their design. But her doubts were aroused when she saw that the anchor had been raisedand that the sails of the vessel were being set. Filled with suddenalarm she left the palace and hastened to the shore, just as thekidnapping craft began to move down the waters of the stream. 

At the same moment young Henry, who had until now been absorbed ingazing delightedly about the vessel, saw what was being done, and heardhis mother's cries. With courage and resolution unusual for his years hebroke, with a cry of anger, from those surrounding him, and leaped intothe stream, with the purpose of swimming ashore. But hardly had hetouched the water when Count Ekbert sprang in after him, seized himdespite his struggles, and brought him back to the vessel. 

The empress entreated in pitiful accents for the return of her son, butin vain; the captors of the boy were not of the kind to let pityinterfere with their plans; on down the broad stream glided the vessel, the treacherous vassals listening in silence to the agonized appeals ofthe distracted mother, and to the mingled prayers and demands of theyoung emperor to be taken back. The country people, furious on learningthat the emperor had been stolen, and was being carried away beforetheir eyes, pursued the vessel for some distance on both sides of theriver. But their cries and threats were of no more avail than had beenthe mother's tears and prayers. The vessel moved on with increasingspeed, the three kidnappers erect on its deck, their only words beingthose used to cajole and quiet their unhappy prisoner, whom they didtheir utmost to solace by promises and presents. 

The vessel continued its course until it reached Cologne, where theimperial captive was left under the charge of the archbishop, his twoconfederates fully trusting him to keep close watch and ward over theirprecious prize. The empress was of the same opinion. After vainlyendeavoring to regain her lost son from his powerful captors, sheresigned the regency and retired with a broken heart to an Italianconvent, in which the remainder of her sad life was to be passed. 

The unhappy boy soon learned that his new lot was not to be one ofpleasure. He had a life of severe discipline before him. Bishop Hannowas a stern and rigid disciplinarian, destitute of any of the softnessto which the lad had been accustomed, and disposed to rule all under hiscontrol with a rod of iron. He kept his youthful captive strictlyimmured in the cloister, where he had to endure the severest discipline, while being educated in Latin and the other learning of the age. 

The regency given up by Agnes was instantly assumed by the ambitiouschurchman, and a decree to that effect was quickly passed by the lordsof the diet, on the grounds that Hanno was the bishop of the diocese inwhich the emperor resided. The character of Hanno is variouslyrepresented by historians. While some accuse him of acts of injusticeand cruelty, others speak of him as a man of energy, yet one whose holylife, his paternal care for his see, and his zealous reformation ofmonasteries and foundation of churches, gained him the character of asaint. 

Young Henry remained but a year or two in the hands of this sterntaskmaster. An imperative necessity called Hanno to Italy, and he wasobliged to leave the young monarch under the charge of Adalbert, Archbishop of Bremen, a personage of very different character fromhimself. Adalbert, while a churchman of great ability, was a courtierfull of ambitious views. He was one of the most polished and learned menof his time, at once handsome, witty, and licentious, his characterbeing in the strongest contrast to the stern harshness of Hanno and thecoarse manners of the nobles of that period. 

It would have been far better, however, for Henry could he have remainedunder the control of Hanno, with all his severity. It is true that thekindness and gentleness of Adalbert proved a delightful change to thegrowing boy, and the unlimited liberty he now enjoyed was in pleasantcontrast to his recent restraint, while the gravity and severe study ofHanno's cloister were agreeably replaced by the gay freedom ofAdalbert's court, in which the most serious matters were treated aslightly as a jest. But the final result of the change was that the boy'scharacter became thoroughly corrupted. Adalbert surrounded his youthfulcharge with constant alluring amusements, using the influence thusgained to obtain new power in the state for himself, and places of honorand profit for his partisans. He inspired him also with a contempt forthe rude-mannered dukes of the empire, and for what he called the stupidGerman people, while he particularly filled the boy's mind with adislike for the Saxons, with whom the archbishop was at feud. All thiswas to have an important influence on the future life of the growingmonarch. 

It was more Henry's misfortune than his fault that he grew up to manhoodas a compound of sensuality, levity, malice, treachery, and other meanqualities, for his nature had in it much that was good, and in hisafter-life he displayed noble qualities which had been long hidden underthe corrupting faults of his education. The crime of the ambitiousnobles who stole him from his pious and gentle mother went far to ruinhis character, and was the leading cause of the misfortunes of his life. 

As to the character of the youthful monarch, and its influence upon thepeople, a few words may suffice. His licentious habits soon became ascandal and shame to the whole empire, the more so that the mistresseswith whom he surrounded himself were seen in public adorned with goldand precious stones which had been taken from the consecrated vessels ofthe church. His dislike of the Saxons was manifested in the scorn withwhich he treated this section of his people, and the taxes and enforcedlabors with which they were oppressed. 

The result of all this was an outbreak of rebellion. Hanno, who hadbeheld with grave disapproval the course taken by Adalbert, now exertedhis great influence in state affairs, convoked an assembly of theprinces of the empire, and cited Henry to appear before it. On hisrefusal, his palace was surrounded and his person seized, while Adalbertnarrowly escaped being made prisoner. He was obliged to remain inconcealment during the three succeeding years, while the indignantSaxons, taking advantage of the opportunity for revenge, laid waste hislands. 

The licentious young ruler found his career of open vice brought to asudden end. The stern Hanno was again in power. Under his orders thedissolute courtiers were dispersed, and Henry was compelled to lead amore decorous life, a bride being found for him in the person of Bertha, daughter of the Italian Margrave of Susa, to whom he had at an earlierdate been affianced. She was a woman of noble spirit, but, unfortunately, was wanting in personal beauty, in consequence of whichshe soon became an object of extreme dislike to her husband, a dislikewhich her patience and fidelity seemed rather to increase than todiminish. 

The feeling of the young monarch towards his dutiful wife was overcomein a singular manner, which is well worth describing. Henry at first waseager to free himself from the tie that bound him to the unloved Bertha, a resolution in which he was supported by Siegfried, Archbishop ofMayence, who offered to assist him in getting a divorce. At a diet heldat Worms, Henry demanded a separation from his wife, to whom heprofessed an unconquerable aversion. His efforts, however, werefrustrated by the pope's legate, who arrived in Germany during theseproceedings, and the licentious monarch, finding himself foiled in theselegal steps, sought to gain his end by baser means. He caused beautifulwomen and maidens to be seized in their homes and carried to his palaceas ministers to his pleasure, while he exposed the unhappy empress tothe base solicitations of his profligate companions, offering them largesums if they could ensnare her, in her natural revulsion at hisshameless unfaithfulness. 

But the virtue of Bertha was proof against all such wiles, and the storygoes that she turned the tables on her vile-intentioned husband in anamusing and decisive manner. On one occasion, as we are informed, theempress appeared to listen to the solicitations of one of the would-beseducers, and appointed a place and time for a secret meeting with thisprofligate. The triumphant courtier duly reported his success to Henry, who, overjoyed, decided to replace him in disguise. At the hour fixed heappeared and entered the chamber named by Bertha, when he suddenly foundhimself assailed by a score of stout servant-maids, armed with rods, which they laid upon his back with all the vigor of their arms. Thesurprised Lothario ran hither and thither to escape their blows, cryingout that he was the king. In vain his cries; they did not or would notbelieve him; and not until he had been most soundly beaten, and theirarms were weary with the exercise, did they open the door of theapartment and suffer the crest-fallen reprobate to escape. 

This would seem an odd means of gaining the affection of a truanthusband, but it is said to have had this effect upon Henry, his wrongedwife from that moment gaining a place in his heart, into which she hadfairly cudgelled herself. The man was really of susceptible disposition, and her invincible fidelity had at length touched him, despite himself. From that moment he ceased his efforts to get rid of her, treated herwith more consideration, and finally settled down to the fact that abeautiful character was some atonement for a homely face, and thatBertha was a woman well worthy his affection. 

We have now to describe the most noteworthy event in the life of HenryIV. , and the one which has made his name famous in history, --his contestwith the great ecclesiastic Hildebrand, who had become pope under thetitle of Gregory VII. Though an aged man when raised to the papacy, Gregory's vigorous character displayed itself in a remarkable activityin the enhancement of the power of the church. His first important stepwas directed against the scandals of the priesthood in the matter ofcelibacy, the marriage of priests having become common. A second decreeof equal importance followed. Gregory forbade the election of bishops bythe laity, reserving this power to the clergy, under confirmation by thepope. He further declared that the church was independent of the state, and that the extensive lands held by the bishops were the property ofthe church, and free from control by the monarch. 

These radical decrees naturally aroused a strong opposition, in thecourse of which Henry came into violent controversy with the pope. Gregory accused Henry openly of simony, haughtily bade him to come toRome, and excommunicated the bishops who had been guilty of the sameoffence. The emperor, who did not know the man with whom he had to deal, retorted by calling an assembly of the German bishops at Worms, in whichthe pope was declared to be deposed from his office. 

The result was very different from that looked for by the volatile youngruler. The vigorous and daring pontiff at once placed Henry himselfunder interdict, releasing his subjects from their oath of allegiance, and declaring him deprived of the imperial dignity. The scorn with whichthe emperor heard of this decree was soon changed to terror when heperceived its effect upon his people. The days were not yet come inwhich the voice of the pope could be disregarded. With the exception ofthe people of the cities and the free peasantry, who were opposed tothe papal dominion, all the subjects of the empire deserted Henry, avoiding him as though he were infected with the plague. The Saxons flewto arms; the foreign garrisons were expelled; the imprisoned princeswere released; all the enemies whom Henry had made rose against him; andin a diet, held at Oppenheim, the emperor was declared deposed while theinterdict continued, and the pope was invited to visit Augsburg; inorder to settle the affairs of Germany. The election of a successor toHenry was even proposed, and, to prevent him from communicating with thepope, his enemies passed a decree that he should remain in closeresidence at Spires. 

The situation of the recently great monarch had suddenly becomedesperate. Never had a decree of excommunication against a crowned rulerbeen so completely effective. The frightened emperor saw but one hopeleft, to escape to Italy before the princes could prevent him, andobtain release from the interdict at any cost, and with whateverhumiliation it might involve. With this end in view he at once took toflight, accompanied by Bertha, his infant son, and a single knight, andmade his way with all haste towards the Alps. 

The winter was one of the coldest that Germany had ever known, the Rhineremaining frozen from St. Martin's day of 1076 to April, 1077. AboutChristmas of this severe winter the fugitives reached the snow-coveredAlps, having so far escaped the agents of their enemies, and crossedthe mountains by the St. Bernard pass, the difficulty of the journeybeing so great that the empress had to be slid down the precipitouspaths by ropes in the hands of guides, she being wrapped in an ox-hidefor protection. 

Italy was at length reached, after the greatest dangers and hardshipshad been surmounted. Here Henry, much to his surprise, found prevailinga very different spirit from that which he had left behind him. Thenobles, who cordially hated Gregory, and the bishops, many of whom wereunder interdict, hailed his coming with joy, with the belief "that theemperor was coming to humiliate the haughty pope by the power of thesword. " He might soon have had an army at his back, but that he was toothoroughly downcast to think of anything but conciliation, and to thedisgust of the Italians insisted on humiliating himself before thepowerful pontiff. 

Gregory was little less alarmed than the emperor on learning of Henry'ssudden arrival in Italy. He was then on his way to Augsburg, and, indoubt as to the intentions of his enemy, took hasty refuge in the castleof Canossa, then held by the Countess Matilda, recently a widow, and themost powerful and influential princess in Italy. 

But the alarmed pope was astonished and gratified when he learned thatthe emperor, instead of intending an armed assault upon him, had appliedto the Countess Matilda, asking her to intercede in his behalf with thepontiff. Gregory's acute mind quickly perceived the position in whichHenry stood, and, with great severity, he at first refused to speak of areconciliation, but referred all to the diet; then, on renewedentreaties, he consented to receive Henry at Canossa, if he would comealone, and as a penitent. The castle was surrounded with three walls, within the second of which Henry was admitted, his attendants being leftwithout. He had laid aside every badge of royalty, being clothed inpenitential dress and barefoot, and fasting and praying from morning toevening. For a second and even a third day was he thus kept, and notuntil the fourth day, moved at length by the solicitations of Matildaand those about him, did Gregory grant permission for Henry to enter hispresence. An interview now took place, in which the pope consented torelease the penitent emperor from the interdict. One of the conditionsof this release was he should leave to Gregory the settlement of affairsin Germany, and to give up all exercise of his imperial power until heshould be granted permission to exercise it again. 

This agreement was followed by a solemn mass, after which Gregory spoketo the following effect: As regarded the crimes of which Henry hadaccused him, he could easily bring evidence in disproof of the chargesmade, but he would invoke the judgment of God alone. "May the body ofJesus Christ, which I am about to receive, " he said, "be the witness ofmy innocence. I beseech the Almighty thus to dispel all suspicions, ifI am innocent; to strike me dead on the spot, if guilty. "

He then received one-half the Sacred Host, and turning to the king, offered him the remaining half, bidding him to follow his example, if heheld himself to be guiltless. Henry refused the ordeal, doubtlessbecause he did not dare to risk the penalty, and was glad enough toescape from the presence of the pope, a humble penitent. 

This ended Henry's career of humiliation. It was followed by a period oftriumph. On leaving the castle of Canossa he found the people ofLombardy so indignant at his cowardice, that their scorn induced him tobreak the oath he had just taken, gather an army, and assail the castle, in which he shut up the pope so closely that he could neither proceed toAugsburg nor return to Rome. 

This siege, however, was not of long continuance. Henry soon foundhimself recalled to Germany, where his enemies had elected Rudolf, Dukeof Swabia, emperor in his stead. A war broke out, which continued forseveral years, at the end of which Gregory, encouraged by a temporarysuccess of Rudolf's party, pronounced in his favor, invested him withthe empire as a fief of the papacy, and once more excommunicated Henry. It proved a false move. Henry had now learned his own power, and ceasedto fear the pope. He had strong support in the cities and among theclergy, whom Gregory's severity had offended, and immediately convoked acouncil, by which the pope was again deposed, and the Archbishop ofRavenna elected in his stead, under the title of Clement III. 

In this year, 1080, a battle took place in which Rudolf was mortallywounded, and the party opposed to Henry left without a leader, thoughthe war continued. And now Henry, seeing that he could trust his causein Germany to the hands of his lieutenants, determined to march upon hispontifical foe in Italy, and take revenge for his bitter humiliation atCanossa. 

He crossed the Alps, defeated the army which Matilda had raised in thepope's cause, and laid siege to Rome, a siege which continued withoutsuccess for the long period of three years. At length the city wastaken, Wilprecht von Groitsch, a Saxon knight, mounting the walls, andmaking his way with his followers into the city, aided by treachery fromwithin. Gregory hastily shut himself up in the castle of St. Angelo, inwhich he was besieged by the Romans themselves, and from which he badedefiance to Henry with the same inflexible will as ever. Henry offeredto be reconciled with him if he would crown him, but the vigorous oldpontiff replied that, "He could only communicate with him when he hadgiven satisfaction to God and the church. " The emperor, thereupon, called the rival pope, Clement, to Rome, was crowned by him, andreturned to Germany, leaving Clement in the papal chair and Gregorystill shut up in St. Angelo. 

But a change quickly took place in the fortunes of the indomitable oldpope. Robert Guiscard, Duke of Normandy, who had won for himself aprincipality in lower Italy, now marched to the relief of his friendGregory, stormed and took the city at the head of his Normanfreebooters, and at once began the work of pillage, in disregard ofGregory's remonstrances. The result was an unusual one. The citizens ofRome, made desperate by their losses, gathered in multitudes and drovethe plunderers from their city, and Gregory with them. The Normans, thusexpelled, took the pope to Salerno, where he died the following year, 1085, his last words being, "I have loved justice and hated iniquity, therefore do I die in exile. "

As for his imperial enemy, the remainder of his life was one ofincessant war. Years of battle were needed to put down his enemies inthe state, and his triumph was quickly followed by the revolt of his ownson, Henry, who reduced his father so greatly that the old emperor wasthrown into prison and forced to sign an abdication of the throne. It issaid that he became subsequently so reduced that he was forced to sellhis boots to obtain means of subsistence, but this story may reasonablybe doubted. Henry died in 1106, again under excommunication, so that hewas not formally buried in consecrated ground until 1111, the interdictbeing continued for five years after his death. 

_ANECDOTES OF MEDIÆVAL GERMANY. _

THE WIVES OF WEINSBERG. 

In the year of grace 1140 a German army, under Conrad III. , emperor, laid siege to the small town of Weinsberg, the garrison of whichresisted with a most truculent and disloyal obstinacy. Germany, whichfor centuries before and after was broken into warring factions, to suchextent that its emperors could truly say, "uneasy lies the head thatwears a crown, " was then divided between the two strong parties of theWelfs and the Waiblingers, --or the Guelphs and the Ghibellines, aspronounced by the Italians and better known to us. The Welfs were anoble family whose ancestry could be traced back to the days ofCharlemagne. The Waiblingers derived their name from the town ofWaiblingen, which belonged to the Hohenstaufen family, of which theEmperor Conrad was a representative. 

And now, as often before and after, the Guelphs, and Ghibellines were atwar, Duke Welf holding Weinsberg vigorously against his foes of theimperial party, while his relative, Count Welf of Altorf, marched to hisrelief. A battle ensued between emperor and count, which ended in thetriumph of the emperor and the flight of the count. And this battle isworthy of mention, as distinguished from the hundreds of battles whichare unworthy of mention, from the fact that in it was first heard awar-cry which continued famous for centuries afterwards. The Germanwar-cry preceding this period had been "Kyrie Eleison" ("Lord, havemercy upon us!" a pious invocation hardly in place with men who hadlittle mercy upon their enemies). But now the cry of the warringfactions became "Hie Weif, " "Hie Waiblinger, " softened in Italy into"The Guelph, " "The Ghibelline, " battle-shouts which were long afterwardsheard on the field of German war, and on that of Italy as well, for thefactions of Germany became also the factions of this southern realm. 

So much for the origin of Guelph and Ghibelline, of which we may furthersay that a royal representative of the former party still exists, inKing Edward VII. Of England, who traces his descent from the GermanWelfs. And now to return to the siege of Weinsberg, to which Conradreturned after having disposed of the army of relief. The garrison stillwere far from being in a submissive mood, their defence being soobstinate, and the siege so protracted, that the emperor, incensed bytheir stubborn resistance, vowed that he would make their city afrightful example to all his foes, by subjecting its buildings to thebrand and its inhabitants to the sword. Fire and steel, he said, shouldsweep it from the face of the earth. 

[Illustration: THUSNELDA IN THE GERMANICUS TRIUMPH. ]

Weinsberg at length was compelled to yield, and Conrad, hot with anger, determined that his cruel resolution should be carried out to theletter, the men being put to the sword, the city given to the flames. This harsh decision filled the citizens with terror and despair. Adeputation was sent to the angry emperor, humbly praying for pardon, buthe continued inflexible, the utmost concession he would make being thatthe women might withdraw, as he did not war with them. As for the men, they had offended him beyond forgiveness, and the sword should be theirlot. On further solicitation, he added to the concession a proviso thatthe women might take away with them all that they could carry of theirmost precious possessions, since he did not wish to throw them destituteupon the world. 

The obdurate emperor was to experience an unexampled surprise. When thetime fixed for the departure of the women arrived, and the city gateswere thrown open for their exit, to the astonishment of Conrad, and theadmiration of the whole army, the first to appear was the duchess, who, trembling under the weight, bore upon her shoulders Duke Welf, herhusband. After her came a long line of other women, each bending beneaththe heavy burden of her husband, or some dear relative among thecondemned citizens. 

Never had such a spectacle been seen. So affecting an instance ofheroism was it, and so earnest and pathetic were the faces appealinglyupturned to him, that the emperor's astonishment quickly changed toadmiration, and he declared that women like these had fairly earnedtheir reward, and that each should keep the treasure she had borne. There were those around him with less respect for heroic deeds, whosought to induce him to keep his original resolution, but Conrad, whohad it in him to be noble when not moved by passion, curtly silencedthem with the remark, "An emperor keeps his word. " He was so moved bythe scene, indeed, that he not only spared the men, but the whole city, and the doom of sword and brand, vowed against their homes, waswithdrawn through admiration of the noble act of the worthy wives ofWeinsberg. 

A KING IN A QUANDARY. 

From an old chronicle we extract the following story, which is at oncecurious and interesting, as a picture of mediæval manners and customs, though to all seeming largely legendary. 

Henry, the bishop of Utrecht, was at sword's point with two lords, thoseof Aemstel and Woerden, who hated him from the fact that a kinsman oftheirs, Goswin by name, had been deposed from the same see, through theaction of a general chapter. In reprisal these lords, in alliance withthe Count of Gebria, raided and laid waste the lands of the bishopric. Time and again they visited it with plundering bands, Henry manfullyopposing them with his followers, but suffering much from theirincursions. At length the affair ended in a peculiar compact, in whichboth sides agreed to submit their differences to the wager of war, in apitched battle, which was to be held on a certain day in the greenmeadows adjoining Utrecht. 

When the appointed day came both sides assembled with their vassals, thelords full of hope, the bishop exhorting his followers to humble thearrogance of these plundering nobles. The Archbishop of Cologne was inthe city of Utrecht at the time, having recently visited it. He, aswarlike in disposition as the bishop himself, gave Henry a preciousring, saying to him, --

"My son, be courageous and confident, for this day, through theintercession of the holy confessor St. Martin, and through the virtue ofthis ring, thou shalt surely subdue the pride of thy adversaries, andobtain a renowned victory over them. In the meantime, while thou artseeking justice, I will faithfully defend this city, with its priestsand canons, in thy behalf, and will offer up prayers to the Lord ofHosts for thy success. "

Bishop Henry, his confidence increased by these words, led from thegates a band of fine and well armed warriors to the sound of warliketrumpets, and marched to the field, where he drew them up before thebands of the hostile lords. 

Meanwhile, tidings of this fray had been borne to William, king of theRomans, who felt it his duty to put an end to it, as such privatewarfare was forbidden by law. Hastily collecting all the knights andmen-at-arms he could get together without delay, he marched with allspeed to Utrecht, bent upon enforcing peace between the rival bands. Asit happened, the army of the king reached the northern gate of the cityjust as the bishop's battalion had left the southern gate, the one partymarching in as the other marched out. 

The archbishop, who had undertaken the defence of the city, and as yetknew nothing of this royal visit, after making an inspection of the cityunder his charge, gave orders to the porters to lock and bar all thegates, and keep close guard thereon. 

King William was not long in learning that he was somewhat late, thebishop having left the city. He marched hastily to the southern gate topursue him, but only to find that he was himself in custody, the gatesbeing firmly locked and the keys missing. He waited awhile impatiently. No keys were brought. Growing angry at this delay, he gave orders thatthe bolts and bars should be wrenched from the gates, and efforts to dothis were begun. 

While this was going on, the archbishop was in deep affliction. He hadjust learned that the king was in Utrecht with an army, and imaginedthat he had come with hostile purpose, and had taken the city throughthe carelessness of the porters. Followed by his clergy, he hastened towhere the king was trying to force a passage through the gates, andaddressed him appealingly, reminding him that justice and equity weredue from kings to subjects. 

"Your armed bands, I fear, have taken this city, " he said, "and you haveordered the locks to be broken that you may expel the inhabitants, andreplace them with persons favorable to your own interests. If youpropose to act thus against justice and mercy, you injure me, yourchancellor, and lessen your own honor. I exhort you, therefore, torestore me the city which you have unjustly taken, and relieve theinhabitants from violence. "

The king listened in silence and surprise to this harangue, which wasmuch longer than we have given it. At its end, he said, --

"Venerable pastor and bishop, you have much mistaken my errand inUtrecht. I come here in the cause of justice, not of violence. You knowthat it is the duty of kings to repress wars and punish the disturbersof peace. It is this that brings us here, to put an end to the privatewar which we learn is being waged. As it stands, we have not conqueredthe city, but it has conquered us. To convince you that no harm is meantto Bishop Henry and his good city of Utrecht, we will command our men torepair to their hostels, lay down their arms, and pass their time infestivity. But first the purpose for which we have come must beaccomplished, and this private feud be brought to an end. "

That the worthy archbishop was delighted to hear these words, need notbe said. His fears had not been without sound warrant, for those weredays in which kings were not to be trusted, and in which the citiesmaintained a degree of political independence that often provedinconvenient to the throne. As may be imagined, the keys were quicklyforthcoming and the gates thrown open, the king being relieved from hisinvoluntary detention, and given an opportunity to bring the bishop'sbattle to an end. 

He was too late; it had already reached its end. While King William wasstriving to get out of the city, which he had got into with such ease, the fight in the green meadows between the bishops and the lords hadbeen concluded, the warlike churchman coming off victor. Many of thelords' vassals had been killed, more put to flight, and themselves takenprisoners. At the vesper-bell Henry entered the city with his captives, bound with ropes, and was met at the gates by the king and thearchbishop. At the request of King William he pardoned and released hisprisoners, on their promise to cease molesting his lands, and all endedin peace and good will. 

COURTING BY PROXY. 

Frederick von Stauffen, known as the One-eyed, being desirous ofproviding his son Frederick (afterwards the famous emperor FrederickBarbarossa) with a wife, sent as envoy for that purpose a handsome youngman named Johann von Würtemberg, whose attractions of face and mannerhad made him a general favorite. It was the beautiful daughter of Rudolfvon Zähringen who had been selected as a suitable bride for the futureemperor, but when the handsome ambassador stated the purpose of hisvisit to the father, he was met by Rudolf with the joking remark, "Whydon't you court the damsel for yourself?"

The suggestion was much to the taste of the envoy. He took it seriously, made love for himself to the attractive Princess Anna, and won her loveand the consent of her father, who had been greatly pleased with hishandsome and lively visitor, and was quite ready to confirm in earnestwhat he had begun in jest. 

Frederick, the One-eyed, still remained to deal with, but that worthypersonage seems to have taken the affair as a good joke, and looked upanother bride for his son, leaving to Johann the maiden he had won. Thisstory has been treated as fabulous, but it is said to be well founded. It has been repeated in connection with other persons, notably in thecase of Captain Miles Standish and John Alden, in which case the fairmaiden herself is given the credit of admonishing the envoy to court forhimself. It is very sure, however, that this latter story is a fable. Itwas probably founded on the one we have given. 

THE BISHOP'S WINE-CASKS. 

Adalbert of Treves was a bandit chief of note who, in the true fashionof the robber barons of mediæval Germany, dwelt in a strong-walledcastle, which was garrisoned by a numerous band of men-at-arms, as fondof pillage as their leader, and equally ready to follow him on hisplundering expeditions and to defend his castle against his enemies. Our noble brigand paid particular heed to the domain of Peppo, Bishop ofTreves, whose lands he honored with frequent unwelcome visits, despoiling lord and vassal alike, and hastening back from his raids tothe shelter of his castle walls. 

This was not the most agreeable state of affairs for the worthy bishop, though how it was to be avoided did not clearly appear. It probably didnot occur to him to apply to the emperor, Henry II. , the mediæval Germanemperors having too much else on hand to leave them time to attend tomatters of minor importance. Peppo therefore naturally turned to his ownkinsmen, friends, and vassals, as those most likely to afford him aid. 

Bishop Peppo could wield sword and battle-axe with the best bishop, which is almost equivalent to saying with the best warrior, of his day, and did not fail to use, when occasion called, these carnal weapons. Butsomething more than the battle-axes of himself and vassals was needed tobreak through the formidable walls of Adalbert's stronghold, whichfrowned defiance to the utmost force the bishop could muster. Forcealone would not answer, that was evident. Stratagem was needed to giveeffect to brute strength. If some way could only be devised to getthrough the strong gates of the robber's stronghold, and reach himbehind his bolts and bars, all might be well; otherwise, all was ill. 

In this dilemma, a knightly vassal of the bishop, Tycho by name, undertook to find a passage into the castle of Adalbert, and to punishhim for his pillaging. One day Tycho presented himself at the gate ofthe castle, knocked loudly thereon, and on the appearance of the guard, asked him for a sup of something to drink, being, as he said, overcomewith thirst. 

He did not ask in vain. It is a pleasant illustration of the hospitalityof that period to learn that the traveller's demand was unhesitatinglycomplied with at the gate of the bandit stronghold, a brimming cup ofwine being brought for the refreshment of the thirsty wayfarer. 

"Thank your master for me, " said Tycho, on returning the cup, "and tellhim that I shall certainly repay him with some service for his goodwill. "

With this Tycho journeyed on, sought the bishopric, and told Peppo whathe had done and what he proposed to do. After a full deliberation adefinite plan was agreed upon, which the cunning fellow proceeded to putinto action. The plan was one which strongly reminds us of that adoptedby the bandit chief in the Arabian story of the "Forty Thieves, " thechief difference being that here it was true men, not thieves, who wereto be benefited. 

Thirty wine casks of capacious size were prepared, and in each wasplaced instead of its quota of wine a stalwart warrior, fully armed withsword, shield, helmet, and cuirass. Each cask was then covered with alinen cloth, and ropes were fastened to its sides for the convenience ofthe carriers. This done, sixty other men were chosen as carriers, anddressed as peasants, though really they were trained soldiers, and eachhad a sword concealed in the cask he helped to carry. 

The preparations completed, Tycho, accompanied by a few knights and bythe sixty carriers and their casks, went his way to Adalbert's castle, and, as before, knocked loudly at its gates. The guard again appeared, and, on seeing the strange procession, asked who they were and for whatthey came. 

"I have come to repay your chief for the cup of wine he gave me, " saidTycho. "I promised that he should be well rewarded for his good will, and am here for that purpose. "

The warder looked longingly at the array of stout casks, and hastenedwith the message to Adalbert, who, doubtless deeming that the gods wereraining wine, for his one cup to be so amply returned, gave orders thatthe strangers should be admitted. Accordingly the gates were opened, andthe wine-bearers and knights filed in. 

Reaching the castle hall, the casks were placed on the floor beforeAdalbert and his chief followers, Tycho begging him to accept them as apresent in return for his former kindness. As to receive something fornothing was Adalbert's usual mode of life, he did not hesitate to acceptthe lordly present, and Tycho ordered the carriers to remove thecoverings. In a very few seconds this was done, when out sprang thearmed men, the porters seized their swords from the casks, and in aminute's time the surprised bandits found themselves sharply attacked. The stratagem proved a complete success. Adalbert and his men fellvictims to their credulity, and the fortress was razed to the ground. 

The truth of this story we cannot vouch for. It bears too suspicious aresemblance to the Arabian tale to be lightly accepted as fact. But itsantiquity is unquestionable, and it may be offered as a faithful pictureof the conditions of those centuries of anarchy when every man's handwas for himself and might was right. 

_FREDERICK BARBAROSSA AND MILAN. _

A proud old city was Milan, heavy with its weight of years, rich andpowerful, arrogant and independent, the capital of Lombardy and the lordof many of the Lombard cities. For some twenty centuries it had existed, and now had so grown in population, wealth, and importance, that itcould almost lay claim to be the Rome of northern Italy. But its day ofpride preceded not long that of its downfall, for a new emperor had cometo the German throne, Frederick the Red-bearded, one of the ablest, noblest, and greatest of all that have filled the imperial chair. 

Not long had he been on the throne before, in the long-establishedfashion of German emperors, he began to interfere with affairs in Italy, and demanded from the Lombard cities recognition of his supremacy asEmperor of the West. He found some of them submissive, others not so. Milan received his commands with contempt, and its proud magistrateswent so far as to tear the seal from the imperial edict and trample itunderfoot. 

In 1154 Frederick crossed the Alps and encamped on the Lombardian plain. Soon deputations from some of the cities came to him with complaintsabout the oppression of Milan, which had taken Lodi, Como, and othertowns, and lorded it over them exasperatingly. Frederick bade the proudMilanese to answer these complaints, but in their arrogance they refusedeven to meet his envoys, and he resolved to punish them severely fortheir insolence. 

But the time was not yet. He had other matters to attend to. Four yearspassed before he was able to devote some of his leisure to the Milanese. They had in the meantime managed to offend him still more seriously, having taken the town of Lodi and burnt it to the ground, for no othercrime than that it had yielded him allegiance. After him marched apowerful army, nearly one hundred and twenty thousand strong, at thevery sight of whose myriad of banners most of the Lombard citiessubmitted without a blow. Milan was besieged. Its resistance was by nomeans obstinate. The emperor's principal wish was to win it over to hisside, and probably the authorities of the city were aware of his lenientdisposition, for they held out no long time before his besiegingmultitude. 

All that the conqueror now demanded was that the proud municipalityshould humble itself before him, swear allegiance, and promise not tointerfere with the freedom of the smaller cities. On the 6th ofSeptember a procession of nobles and churchmen defiled before him, barefooted and clad in tattered garments, the consuls and patricianswith swords hanging from their necks, the others with ropes round theirthroats, and thus, with evidence of the deepest humility, they bore tothe emperor the keys of the proud city. 

"You must now acknowledge that it is easier to conquer by obedience thanwith arms, " he said. Then, exacting their oaths of allegiance, placingthe imperial eagle upon the spire of the cathedral, and taking with himthree hundred hostages, he marched away, with the confident belief thatthe defiant resistance of Milan was at length overcome. 

He did not know the Milanese. When, in the following year, he attemptedto lay a tax upon them, they rose in insurrection and attacked hisrepresentatives with such fury that they could scarcely save theirlives. On an explanation being demanded, they refused to give any, andwere so arrogantly defiant that the emperor pronounced their cityoutlawed, and wrathfully vowed that he would never place the crown uponhis head again until he had utterly destroyed this arrant nest ofrebels. 

It was not to prove so easy a task. Frederick began by besiegingCremona, which was in alliance with Milan, and which resisted him soobstinately that it took him seven months to reduce it to submission. Inhis anger he razed the city to the ground and scattered its inhabitantsfar and wide. 

Then came the siege of Milan, which was so vigorously defended thatthree years passed before starvation threw it into the emperor's hands. So virulent were the citizens that they several times tried to ridthemselves of their imperial enemy by assassination. On one occasion, when Frederick was performing his morning devotions in a solitary spotupon the river Ada, a gigantic fellow attacked him and tried to throwhim into the stream. The emperor's cries for help brought his attendantsto the spot, and the assailant, in his turn, was thrown into the river. On another occasion an old, misshapen man glided into the camp, bearingpoisoned wares which he sought to dispose of to the emperor. Frederick, fortunately, had been forewarned, and he had the would-be assassinseized and executed. 

It was in the spring of 1162 that the city yielded, hunger at lengthforcing it to capitulate. Now came the work of revenge. Frederickproceeded to put into execution the harsh vow he had made, aftersubjecting its inhabitants to the greatest humiliations which he coulddevise. 

For three days the consuls and chief men of the city, followed by thepeople, were obliged to parade before the imperial camp, barefooted anddressed in sackcloth, with tapers in their hands and crosses, swords, and ropes about their necks. On the third day more than a hundred of thebanners of the city were brought out and laid at the emperor's feet. Then, in sign of the most utter humiliation, the great banner of theirpride, the Carocium--a stately iron tree with iron leaves, drawn on acart by eight oxen--was brought out and bowed before the emperor. Frederick seized and tore down its fringe, while the whole people castthemselves on the ground, wailing and imploring mercy. 

The emperor was incensed beyond mercy, other than to grant them theirlives. He ordered that a part of the wall should be thrown down, androde through the breach into the city. Then, after deliberation, hegranted the inhabitants their lives, but ordered their removal to fourvillages, several miles away, where they were placed under the care ofimperial functionaries. As for Milan, he decided that it should belevelled with the ground, and gave the right to do this, at theirrequest, to the people of Lodi, Cremona, Pavia, and other cities whichhad formerly been oppressed by proud Milan. 

[Illustration: THE AMPHITHEATRE AT MILAN. ]

The city was first pillaged, and then given over to the hands of theLombards, who--such was the diligence of hatred--are said to have donemore in six days than hired workmen would have done in as many months. The walls and forts were torn down, the ditches filled up, and the oncesplendid city reduced to a frightful scene of ruin and desolation. Then, at a splendid banquet at Pavia, in the Easter festival, the triumphantemperor replaced the crown upon his head. 

His triumph was not to continue, nor the humiliation of Milan to remainpermanent. Time brings its revenges, as the proud Frederick was tolearn. For five years Milan lay in ruins, a home for owls and bats, ascene of desolation to make all observers weep; and then arrived itsseason of retribution. Frederick's downfall came from the hand of God, not of man. A frightful plague broke out in the ranks of the Germanarmy, then in Rome, carrying off nobles and men alike in such numbersthat it looked as if the whole host might be laid in the grave. Thousands died, and the emperor was obliged to retire to Pavia with buta feeble remnant of his numerous army, nearly the whole of it havingbeen swept away. In the following spring he was forced to leave Italylike a fugitive, secretly and in disguise, and came so nearly fallinginto the hands of his foes, that he only escaped by one of hiscompanions placing himself in his bed, to be seized in his stead, whilehe fled under cover of the night. 

Immediately the humbled cities raised their heads. An alliance wasformed between them, and they even ventured to conduct the Milanese backto their ruined homes. At once the work of rebuilding was begun. Theditches, walls, and towers were speedily restored, and then each manwent to work on his own habitation. So great was the city that the workof destruction had been but partial. Most of the houses, all thechurches, and portions of the walls remained, and by aid of the othercities Milan soon regained its old condition. 

In 1174 Frederick reappeared in Italy, with a new army, and with hostileintentions against the revolted cities. The Lombards had built a newcity, in a locality surrounded by rivers and marshes, and had enclosedit with walls which they sought to make impregnable. This they namedAlexandria, in honor of the pope and in defiance of the emperor, andagainst this Frederick's first assault was made. For seven months hebesieged it, and then broke into the very heart of the place, through asubterranean passage which the Germans had excavated. To all appearancethe city was lost, yet chance and courage saved it. The brave defendersattacked the Germans, who had appeared in the market-place; the tunnel, through great good fortune, fell in; and in the end the emperor wasforced to raise the siege in such haste that he set fire to his ownencampment in his precipitate retreat. 

On May 29, 1176, a decisive battle was fought at Lignano, in which Milanrevenged itself on its too-rigorous enemy. The Carocium was placed inthe middle of the Lombard army, surrounded by three hundred youths, whohad sworn to defend it unto death, and by a body of nine hundred pickedcavalry, who had taken a similar oath. 

Early in the battle one wing of the Lombard army wavered under the sharpattack of the Germans, and threw into confusion the Milanese ranks. Taking advantage of this, the emperor pressed towards their centre, seeking to gain the Carocium, with the expectation that its capturewould convert the disorder of the Lombards into a rout. On pushed theGermans until the sacred standard was reached, and its decorations torndown before the eyes of its sworn defenders. 

This indignity to the treasured emblem of their liberties gave renewedcourage to the disordered band. Their ranks re-established, they chargedupon the Germans with such furious valor as to drive them back indisorder, cut through their lines to the emperor's station, kill hisstandard-bearer by his side, and capture the imperial standard. Frederick, clad in a splendid suit of armor, rushed against them at thehead of a band of chosen knights. But suddenly he was seen to fall fromhis horse and vanish under the hot press of struggling warriors thatsurged back and forth around the standard. 

This dire event spread instant terror through the German ranks. Theybroke and fled in disorder, followed by the death-phalanx of theCarocium, who cut them down in multitudes, and drove them back incomplete disorder and defeat. For two days the emperor was mourned asslain, his unhappy wife even assuming the robes of widowhood, whensuddenly he reappeared, and all was joy again. He had not been seriouslyhurt in his fall, and had with a few friends escaped in the tumult ofthe defeat, and, under the protection of night, made his way withdifficulty back to Pavia. 

This defeat ended the efforts of Frederick against Milan, which had, through its triumph over the great emperor, regained all its old proudposition and supremacy among the Lombard cities. The war ended with thebattle of Lignano, a truce of six years being concluded between thehostile parties. For the ensuing eight years Frederick was fullyoccupied in Germany, in wars with Henry the Lion, of the Guelph faction. At the end of that time he returned to Italy, where Milan, which he hadsought so strenuously to humiliate and ruin, now became the seat of thegreatest honor he could bestow. The occasion was that of the marriage ofhis son Henry to Constanza, the last heiress of Naples and Sicily of theroyal Norman race. This ceremony took place in Milan, in which city theemperor caused the iron crown of the Lombards to be placed upon the headof his son and heir, and gave him away in marriage with the utmost pompand festivity. Milan had won in its great contest for life and death. 

We may fitly conclude with the story of the death of the greatFrederick, who, in accordance with the character of his life, died inharness. In his old age, having put an end to the wars in Germany andItaly, he headed a crusade to the Holy Land, from which he was never toreturn. It was the most interesting in many of its features of all thecrusades, the leaders of the host being, in addition to FrederickBarbarossa, Richard Coeur de Lion of England, the hero of romance, thewise Philip Augustus of France, and various others of the leadingpotentates of Europe. 

It is with Frederick alone that we are concerned. In 1188 he set out, atthe head of one hundred and fifty thousand trained soldiers, on what wasdestined to prove a disastrous expedition. Entering Hungary, he met witha friendly reception from Bela, its king. Reaching Belgrade, he heldthere a magnificent tournament, hanged all the robber Servians he couldcapture for their depredations upon his ranks, and advanced into Greekterritory, where he punished the bad faith of the emperor, Isaac, byplundering his country. Several cities were destroyed in revenge for theassassination of pilgrims and of sick and wounded German soldiers bytheir inhabitants. This done, Frederick advanced on Constantinople, whose emperor, to save his city from capture, hastened to place hiswhole fleet at the disposal of the Germans, glad to get rid of thesetruculent visitors at any price. 

Reaching Asia Minor, the troubles of the crusaders began. They wereassailed by the Turks, and had to cut their way forward at every step. Barbarossa had never shown himself a greater general. On one occasion, when hard pressed by the enemy, he concealed a chosen band of warriorsin a large tent, the gift of the Queen of Hungary, while the rest of thearmy pretended to fly. The Turks entered the camp and began pillaging, when the ambushed knights broke upon them from the tent, the flyingsoldiers turned, and the confident enemy was disastrously defeated. 

But as the army advanced its difficulties increased. A Turkish prisonerwho was made to act as a guide, being driven in chains before the army, led the Christians into the gorges of almost impassable mountains, sacrificing his life for his cause. Here, foot-sore and weary, andtormented by thirst and hunger, they were suddenly attacked by ambushedfoes, stones being rolled upon them in the narrow gorges, and arrows andjavelins poured upon their disordered ranks. Peace was here offeredthem by the Turks, if they would pay a large sum of money for theirrelease. In reply the indomitable emperor sent them a small silver coin, with the message that they might divide this among themselves. Then, pressing forward, he beat off the enemy, and extricated his army fromits dangerous situation. 

As they pushed on, the sufferings of the army increased. Water was notto be had, and many were forced to quench their thirst by drinking theblood of their horses. The army was now divided. Frederick, the son ofthe emperor, led half of it forward at a rapid march, defeated the Turkswho sought to stop him, and fought his way into the city of Iconium. Here all the inhabitants were put to the sword, and the crusaders gainedan immense booty. 

Meanwhile the emperor, his soldiers almost worn out with hunger andfatigue, was surrounded with the army of the sultan. He believed thathis son was lost, and tears of anguish flowed from his eyes, while allaround him wept in sympathy. Suddenly rising, he exclaimed, "Christstill lives, Christ conquers!" and putting himself at the head of hisknights, he led them in a furious assault upon the Turks. The result wasa complete victory, ten thousand of the enemy falling dead upon thefield. Then the Christian army marched to Iconium, where they foundrelief from their hunger and weariness. 

After recruiting they marched forward, and on June 10, 1190, reachedthe little river Cydnus, in Cilicia. Here the road and the bridge overthe stream were so blocked up with beasts of burden that the progress ofthe army was greatly reduced. The bold old warrior, impatient to rejoinhis son Frederick, who led the van, would not wait for the bridge to becleared, but spurred his war-horse forward and plunged into the stream. Unfortunately, he had miscalculated the strength of the current. Despitethe efforts of the noble animal, it was borne away by the swift stream, and when at length assistance reached the aged emperor he was found tobe already dead. 

Never was a man more mourned than was the valiant Barbarossa by hisarmy, and by the Germans on hearing of his death. His body was borne bythe sorrowing soldiers to Antioch, where it was buried in the church ofSt. Peter. His fate was, perhaps, a fortunate one, for it prevented himfrom beholding the loss of the army, which was almost entirely destroyedby sickness at the city in which his body was entombed. His sonFrederick died at the siege of Acre, or Ptolemais. 

As regards the Germans at home, they were not willing to believe thattheir great emperor could be dead. Their superstitious faith gave riseto legendary tales, to the effect that the valiant Barbarossa was stillalive, and would, some day, return to yield Germany again a dynasty ofmighty sovereigns. The story went that the noble emperor lay asleep in adeep cleft of Kylfhaüser Berg, on the golden meadow of Thuringia. Here, his head resting on his arm, he sits by a granite block, through which, in the lapse of time, his red beard has grown. Here he will sleep untilthe ravens no longer fly around the mountain, when he will awake torestore the golden age to the world. 

Another legend tells us that the great Barbarossa sits, wrapped in deepslumber, in the Untersberg, near Salzberg. His sleep will end when thedead pear-tree on the Walserfeld, which has been cut down three timesbut ever grows anew, blossoms. Then will he come forth, hang his shieldon the tree, and begin a tremendous battle, in which the whole worldwill join, and in whose end the good will overcome the wicked, and thereign of virtue return to the earth. 

_THE CRUSADE OF FREDERICK II. _

A remarkable career was that of Frederick II. Of Germany, grandson ofthe great Barbarossa, crowned in 1215 under the immediate auspices ofthe papacy, yet during all the remainder of his life in constant andbitter conflict with the popes. He was, we are told, of strikingpersonal beauty, his form being of the greatest symmetry, his faceunusually handsome, and marked by intelligence, benevolence, andnobility. Born in a rude age, his learning would have done honor to ourown. Son of an era in which poetry was scarcely known, he cultivated thegay science, and was one of the earliest producers of the afterwardsfavorite form known as the sonnet. An emperor of Germany, nearly hiswhole life was spent in Sicily. Though ruler of a Christian realm, helived surrounded by Saracens, studying diligently the Arabian learning, dwelling in what was almost a harem of Arabian beauties, and hesitatingnot to give expression to the most infidel sentiments. The leader of acrusade, he converted what was ordinarily a tragedy into a comedy, obtained possession of Jerusalem without striking a blow or shedding adrop of blood, and found himself excommunicated in the holy city whichhe had thus easily restored to Christendom. Altogether we may repeatthat the career of Frederick II. Was an extraordinary one, and amplyworthy our attention. 

The young monarch had grown up in Sicily, of which charming island hebecame guardian after the death of his mother, Constanza. He was crownedat Aix-la-Chapelle, having defeated his rival, Otho IV. ; but spent thegreater part of his life in the south, holding his pleasure-loving courtat Naples and Palermo, where he surrounded himself with all therefinements of life then possessed by the Saracens, but of which theChristians of Europe were lamentably deficient. 

It was in 1220 that Frederick returned from Germany to Italy, leavinghis northern kingdom in the hands of the Archbishop of Cologne, asregent. At Rome he received the imperial crown from the hands of thepope, and, his first wife dying, married Yolinda de Lusignan, daughterof John, ex-king of Jerusalem, in right of whom he claimed the kingdomof the East. 

Shortly afterwards a new pope came to the papal chair, the gloomyGregory IX. , whose first act was to order a crusade, which he desiredthe emperor to lead. Despite the fact that he had married the heiress ofJerusalem, Frederick was very reluctant to seek an enforcement of hisclaim upon the holy city. He had pledged himself when crowned atAix-la-Chapelle, and afterwards on his coronation at Rome, to undertakea crusade, but Honorius III. , the pope at that time, readily granted himdelay. Such was not the case with Gregory, who sternly insisted on animmediate compliance with his pledge, and whose rigid sense of decorumwas scandalized by the frivolities of the emperor, no less than was hisreligious austerity by Frederick's open intercourse with the SicilianSaracens. 

The old contest between emperor and pope threatened to be opened againwith all its former virulence. It was deferred for a time by Frederick, who, after exhausting all excuses for delay, at length yielded to theexhortations of the pope and set sail for the Holy Land. The crusadethus entered upon proved, however, to be simply a farce. In three daysthe fleet returned, Frederick pleading illness as his excuse, and thewhole expedition came to an end. 

Gregory was no longer to be trifled with. He declared that the illnesswas but a pretext, that Frederick had openly broken his word to thechurch, and at once proceeded to launch upon the emperor the thunders ofthe papacy, in a bull of excommunication. 

Frederick treated this fulmination with contempt, and appealed from thepope to Christendom, accusing Rome of avarice, and declaring that herenvoys were marching in all directions, not to preach the word of God, but to extort money from the people. 

"The primitive church, " he said, "founded on poverty and simplicity, brought forth numberless saints. The Romans are now rolling in wealth. What wonder that the walls of the church are undermined to the base, andthreaten utter ruin. "

For this saying the pope launched against him a more tremendousexcommunication. In return the partisans of Frederick in Rome, raisingan insurrection, expelled the pope from that city. And now thefree-thinking emperor, to convince the world that he was not triflingwith his word, set sail of his own accord for the East, with as numerousan army as he was able to raise. 

A remarkable state of affairs followed, justifying us in speaking ofthis crusade as a comedy, in contrast with the tragic character of thosewhich had preceded it. Frederick had shrewdly prepared for success, bynegotiations, through his Saracen friends, with the Sultan of Egypt. Onreaching the Holy Land he was received with joy by the German knightsand pilgrims there assembled, but the clergy and the Knight Templars andHospitallers carefully kept aloof from him, for Gregory had despatched aswift-sailing ship to Palestine, giving orders that no intercourseshould be held with the imperial enemy of the church. 

It was certainly a strange spectacle, for a man under the ban of thechurch to be the leader in an expedition to recover the holy city. Itsprogress was as strange as its inception. Had Frederick been the leaderof a Mohammedan army to recover Jerusalem from the Christians, his campcould have been little more crowded with infidel delegates. He wore aSaracen dress. He discussed questions of philosophy with Saracenvisitors. He received presents of elephants and of dancing-girls fromhis friend the sultan, to whom he appealed: "Out of your goodness, andyour friendship for me, surrender to me Jerusalem as it is, that I maybe able to lift up my head among the kings of Christendom. "

Camel, the sultan, consented, agreeing to deliver up Jerusalem and itsadjacent territory to the emperor, on the sole condition that Mohammedanpilgrims might have the privilege of visiting a mosque within the city. These terms Frederick gladly accepted, and soon after marched into theholy city at the head of his armed followers (not unarmed, as in thecase of Coeur de Lion), took possession of it with formal ceremony, allowed the Mohammedan population to withdraw in peace, and repeopledthe city with Christians, A. D. 1229. 

He found himself in the presence of an extraordinary condition ofaffairs. The excommunication against him was not only maintained, butthe pope actually went so far as to place Jerusalem and the HolySepulchre under interdict. So far did the virulence of priestlyantipathy go that the Templars even plotted against Frederick's life. Emissaries sent by them gave secret information to the sultan of wherehe might easily capture the emperor. The sultan, with a noblefriendliness, sent the letter to Frederick, cautioning him to beware ofhis foes. 

The break between emperor and pope had now reached its highest pitch ofhostility. Frederick proclaimed his signal success to Europe. Gregoryretorted with bitter accusations. The emperor, he said, had presented tothe sultan of Babylon the sword given him for the defence of the faith;he had permitted the Koran to be preached in the Holy Temple itself; hehad even bound himself to join the Saracens, in case a Christian armyshould attempt to cleanse the city and temple from Mohammedandefilements. 

In addition to these charges, accusations of murder and other crimeswere circulated against him, and a false report of his death wasindustriously circulated. Frederick found it necessary to return homewithout delay. He crowned himself at Jerusalem, as no ecclesiastic couldbe found who would perform the ceremony, and then set sail for Italy, leaving Richard, his master of the horse, in charge of affairs inPalestine. 

Reaching Italy, he soon brought his affairs into order. He had under hiscommand an army of thirty thousand Saracen soldiers, with whom it wasimpossible for his enemies to tamper. A bitter recrimination took placewith the pope, in which the emperor managed to bring the generalsentiment of Europe to his side, offering to convict Gregory of himselfentering into negotiations with the infidels. Gregory, finding that hewas getting the worst of the controversy with his powerful and alertenemy, now prudently gave way, having a horror of the shedding of blood. Peace was made in 1230, the excommunication removed from the emperor, and for nine years the conflict between him and the papacy was at anend. 

We have told the story of Frederick's crusade, but the remainder of hislife is of sufficient interest to be given in epitome. In his governmentof Sicily he showed himself strikingly in advance of the politicalopinions of his period. He enacted a system of wise laws, institutedrepresentative parliaments, asserted the principle of equal rights andequal duties, and the supremacy of the law over high and low alike. Allreligions were tolerated, Jews and Mohammedans having equal freedom ofworship with Christians. All the serfs of his domain were emancipated, private war was forbidden, commerce was regulated, cheap justice for thepoor was instituted, markets and fairs were established, large librariescollected, and other progressive institutions organized. He establishedmenageries for the study of natural history, founded in Naples a greatuniversity, patronized medical study, provided cheap schools, aided thedevelopment of the arts, and in every respect displayed a remarkablepublic spirit and political foresight. 

Yet splendid as was his career of development in secular affairs, hisprivate life, as well as his public conduct, was stained with flagrantfaults, and there was much in his doings that was frowned upon by thepope. New quarrels arose; new wars broke out; the emperor was againexcommunicated; the unfortunate closing years of Frederick's careerbegan. Again there were appeals to Christendom; again Frederick'sSaracens marched through Italy; such was their success that the popeonly escaped by death from falling into the hands of his foe. But with anew pope the old quarrel was resumed, Innocent IV. Flying to France toget out of reach of the emperor's hands, and desperately combating himfrom this haven of refuge. 

The incessant conflict at length bowed down the spirit of the emperor, now growing old. His good fortune began to desert him. In 1249 his sonEnzio, whom he had made king of Sicily, and who was the most chivalrousand handsome of his children, was taken prisoner by the Bolognese, whorefused to accept ransom for him, although his father offered in returnfor his freedom a silver ring equal in circumference to their city. Inthe following year his long-tried friend and councillor, Peter deVincis, who had been the most trusted man in the empire, was accused ofhaving joined the papal party and of attempting to poison the emperor. He offered Frederick a beverage, which he, growing suspicious, did notdrink, but had it administered to a criminal, who instantly expired. 

Whether Peter was guilty or not, his seeming defection was a sore blowto his imperial patron. "Alas!" moaned Frederick, "I am abandoned by mymost faithful friends; Peter, the friend of my heart, on whom I leanedfor support, has deserted me and sought my destruction. Whom can Itrust? My days are henceforth doomed to pass in sorrow and suspicion. "

His days were near their end. Not long after the events narrated, whileagain in the field at the head of a fresh army of Saracens, he wassuddenly seized with a mortal illness at Firenzuola, and died there onthe 13th of December, 1250, becoming reconciled with the church on hisdeathbed. He was buried at Palermo. 

Thus died one of the most intellectual, progressive, free-thinking, andpleasure-loving emperors of Germany, after a long reign over a realm inwhich he seldom appeared, and an almost incessant period of warfareagainst the head of a church of which he was supposed to be the imperialprotector. Seven crowns were his, --those of the kingdom of Germany andof the Roman empire, the iron diadem of Lombardy, and those of Burgundy, Sicily, Sardinia, and Jerusalem. But of all the realms under his rulethe smiling lands of Sicily and southern Italy were most to his liking, and the scene of his most constant abode. Charming palaces were built byhim at Naples, Palermo, Messina, and several other places, and in thesehe surrounded himself with the noblest bards and most beautiful women ofthe empire, and by all that was attractive in the art, science, andpoetry of his times. Moorish dancing-girls and the arts and learning ofthe East abounded in his court. The Sultan Camel presented him with arare tent, in which, by means of artfully contrived mechanism, themovements of the heavenly bodies were represented. Michael Scott, hisastrologer, translated Aristotle's "History of Animals. " Frederickstudied ornithology, on which he wrote a treatise, and possessed amenagerie of rare animals, including a giraffe, and other strangecreatures. The popular dialect of Italy owed much to him, being elevatedinto a written language by his use of it in his love-sonnets. Of thepoems written by himself, his son Enzio, and his friends, several havebeen preserved, while his chancellor, Peter de Vincis, is said to haveoriginated the sonnet. 

We have already spoken of his reforms in his southern kingdom. It washis purpose to introduce similar reforms into the government of Germany, abolishing the feudal system, and creating a centralized and organizedstate, with a well-regulated system of finance. But ideas such as thesewere much too far in advance of the age. State and church alike opposedthem, and Frederick's intelligent views did not long survive him. History must have its evolution, political systems their growth, and thedevelopment of institutions has never been much hastened or checked byany man's whip or curb. 

In 1781, when the tomb of Frederick was opened, centuries after hisdeath, the institutions he had advocated were but in process of beingadopted in Europe. The body of the great emperor was found within themausoleum, wrapped in embroidered robes, the feet booted and spurred, the imperial crown on its head, in its hand the ball and sceptre, on itsfinger a costly emerald. For five centuries and more Frederick hadslept in state, awaiting the verdict of time on the ideas in defence ofwhich his life had been passed in battle. The verdict had been given, the ideas had grown into institutions, time had vouchsafed thefar-seeing emperor his revenge. 

_THE FALL OF THE GHIBELLINES. _

The death of Frederick II. , in 1250, was followed by a series ofmisfortunes to his descendants, so tragical as to form a story full ofpathetic interest. His son Enzio, a man of remarkable beauty and valor, celebrated as a Minnesinger, and of unusual intellectual qualities, hadbeen taken prisoner, as we have already told, by the Bolognese, andcondemned by them to perpetual imprisonment, despite the prayers of hisfather and the rich ransom offered. For twenty-two years he continued atenant of a dungeon, and in this gloomy scene of death in life survivedall the sons and grandsons of his father, every one of whom perished bypoison, the sword, or the axe of the executioner. It is this dread storyof the fate of the Hohenstauffen imperial house which we have now totell. 

No sooner had Frederick expired than the enemies of his house arose onevery side. Conrad IV. , his eldest son and successor, found Germany sofilled with his foes that he was forced to take refuge in Italy, wherehis half-brother, Manfred, Prince of Taranto, ceded to him thesovereignty of the Italian realm, and lent him his aid to secure it. Theroyal brothers captured Capua and Naples, where Conrad signalized hissuccess by placing a bridle in the mouth of an antique colossal horse'shead, the emblem of the city. This insult made the inhabitants hisimplacable foes. His success was but temporary. He died suddenly, asalso did his younger brother Henry, poisoned by his half-brotherManfred, who succeeded to the kingship of the South. But with theGuelphs in power in Germany, and the pope his bitter foe in Italy, hewas utterly unable to establish his claim, and was forced to cede alllower Italy, except Taranto, to the pontiff. But a new and lessimplacable pope being elected, the fortunes of Manfred suddenly changed, and he was unanimously proclaimed king at Palermo in 1258. 

But the misfortunes of his house were to pursue him to the end. Innorthern Italy, the Guelphs were everywhere triumphant. Ezzelino, one ofFrederick's ablest generals, was defeated, wounded, and taken prisoner. He soon after died. His brother Alberich was cruelly murdered, beingdragged to death at a horse's tail. The other Ghibelline chiefs weresimilarly butchered, the horrible scenes of bloodshed so working on thefeelings of the susceptible Italians that many of them did penance atthe grave of Alberich, arrayed in sackcloth. From this circumstancearose the sect of the Flagellants, who ran through the streets, lamenting, praying, and wounding themselves with thongs, as an atonementfor the sins of the world. 

In southern Italy, Manfred for a while was successful. In 1259 hemarried Helena, the daughter of Michael of Cyprus and Ætolia, a maidenof seventeen years, and famed far and wide for her loveliness. Sobeautiful were the bridal pair, and such were the attractions of theircourt, which, as in Frederick's time, was the favorite resort ofdistinguished poets and lovely women, that a bard of the times declared, "Paradise has once more appeared upon earth. "

Manfred, like his father and his brother Enzio, was a poet, beingclassed among the Minnesingers. His marriage gave him the alliance ofGreece, and the marriage of Constance, his daughter by a former wife, toPeter of Aragon, gained him the friendship of Spain. Strengthened bythese alliances, he was able to send aid to the Ghibellines in Lombardy, who again became victorious. 

The Guelphs, alarmed at Manfred's growing power, now raised a Frenchmanto the papal throne, who induced Charles of Anjou, the brother of theFrench monarch, to strike for the crown of southern Italy. Charles, agloomy, cold-blooded and cruel prince, gladly accepted the pope'ssuggestions, and followed by a powerful body of French knights andsoldiers of fortune, set sail for Naples in 1266. Manfred had unluckilylost the whole of his fleet in a storm, and was not able to oppose thisthreatening invasion, which landed in Italy in his despite. 

Nor was he more fortunate with his land army. The clergy, in theinterest of the Guelph faction, tampered with his soldiers and sowedtreason in his camp. No sooner had Charles landed, than a mountain passintrusted to the defence of Riccardo di Caseta was treacherouslyabandoned, and the French army allowed to advance unmolested as far asBenevento, where the two armies met. 

In the battle that followed, Manfred defended himself gallantly, but, despite all his efforts, was worsted, and threw himself desperately intothe thick of the fight, where he fell, covered with wounds. The bigotedvictor refused him honorable burial, on the score of heresy, but theFrench soldiers, nobler-hearted than their leader, and touched by thebeauty and valor of their unfortunate opponent, cast each of them astone upon his body, which was thus buried under a mound which thenatives still know as the "rock of roses. "

The wife and children of Manfred met with a pitiable fate. On learningof the sad death of her husband Helena sought safety in flight, with herdaughter Beatrice and her three infant sons, Henry, Frederick, andAnselino; but she was betrayed to Charles, who threw her into a dungeon, in which she soon languished and died. Of her children, her daughterBeatrice was afterwards rescued by Peter of Aragon, who exchanged forher a son of Charles of Anjou, whom he held prisoner; but the three boyswere given over to the cruellest fate. Immured in a narrow dungeon, andloaded with chains, they remained thus half-naked, ill-fed, and untaughtfor the period of thirty-one years. Not until 1297 were they releasedfrom their chains and allowed to be visited by a priest and a physician. Charles of Anjou, meanwhile, filled with the spirit of cruelty andambition, sought to destroy every vestige of the Hohenstauffen rule insouthern Italy, the scene of Frederick's long and lustrous reign. 

The death of Manfred had not extinguished all the princes of Frederick'shouse. There remained another, Conradin, son of Conrad IV. , Duke ofSwabia, a youthful prince to whom had descended some of the intellectualpowers of his noted grand-sire. He had an inseparable friend, Frederick, son of the Margrave of Baden, of his own age, and like him enthusiasticand imaginative, their ardent fancies finding vent in song. One ofConradin's ballads is still extant. 

As the young prince grew older, the seclusion to which he was subjectedby his guardian, Meinhard, Count von Görtz, became so irksome to himthat he gladly accepted a proposal from the Italian Ghibellines to puthimself at their head. In 1267 he set out, in company with Frederick, and with a following of some ten thousand men, and crossed the Alps toLombardy, where he met with a warm welcome at Verona by the Ghibellinechiefs. 

Treachery accompanied him, however, in the presence of his guardianMeinhard and Louis of Bavaria, who persuaded him to part with his Germanpossessions for a low price, and then deserted him, followed by thegreater part of the Germans. Conradin was left with but three thousandmen. 

The Italians proved more faithful. Verona raised him an army; Pisasupplied him a large fleet; the Moors of Luceria took up arms in hiscause; even Rome rose in his favor, and drove out the pope, whoretreated to Viterbo. For the time being the Ghibelline cause was in theascendant. Conradin marched unopposed to Rome, at whose gates he was metby a procession of beautiful girls, bearing flowers and instruments ofmusic, who conducted him to the capitol. His success on land was matchedby a success at sea, his fleet gaining a signal victory over that of theFrench, and burning a great number of their ships. 

So far all had gone well with the youthful heir of the Hohenstauffens. Henceforth all was to go ill. Conradin marched from Rome to lower Italy, where he encountered the French army, under Charles, at Scurcola, drovethem back, and broke into their camp. Assured of victory, the Germansgrew careless, dispersing through the camp in search of booty, whilesome of them even refreshed themselves by bathing. 

While thus engaged, the French reserve, who had watched their movements, suddenly fell upon them and completely put them to rout. Conradin andFrederick, after fighting bravely, owed their escape to the fleetness oftheir steeds. They reached the sea at Astura, boarded a vessel, and wereabout setting sail for Pisa, when they were betrayed into the hands oftheir pursuers, taken prisoners, and carried back to Charles of Anjou. 

They had fallen into fatal hands; Charles was not the man to considerjustice or honor in dealing with a Hohenstauffen. He treated Conradinas a rebel against himself, under the claim that he was the onlylegitimate king, and sentenced both the princes, then but sixteen yearsof age, to be publicly beheaded in the market-place at Naples. 

Conradin was playing at chess in prison when the news of this unjustsentence was brought to him. He calmly listened to it, with the couragenative to his race. On October 22, 1268, he, with Frederick and hisother companions, was conducted to the scaffold erected in themarket-place, passing through a throng of which even the Frenchcontingent looked on the spectacle with indignation. So greatly werethey wrought up, indeed, by the outrage, that Robert, Earl of Flanders, Charles's son-in-law, drew his sword, and cut down the officercommissioned to read in public the sentence of death. 

"Wretch!" he cried, as he dealt the blow, "how darest thou condemn sucha great and excellent knight?"

Conradin met his fate with unyielding courage, saying, in his address tothe people, --

"I cite my judge before the highest tribunal. My blood, shed on thisspot, shall cry to heaven for vengeance. Nor do I esteem my Swabians andBavarians, my Germans, so low as not to trust that this stain on thehonor of the German nation will be washed out by them in French blood. "

Then, throwing his glove to the ground, he charged him who should raiseit to bear it to Peter, King of Aragon, to whom, as his nearestrelative, he bequeathed all his claims. The glove was raised by Henry, Truchsess von Waldberg, who found in it the seal ring of the unfortunatewearer. Thence-forth he bore in his arms the three black lions of theStauffen. 

In a minute more the fatal axe of the executioner descended, and thehead of the last heir of the Hohenstauffens rolled upon the scaffold. His friend, Frederick, followed him to death, nor was the bloodthirstyCharles satisfied until almost every Ghibelline in his hands had fallenby the hand of the executioner. 

Enzio, the unfortunate son of Frederick who was held prisoner by theBolognese, was involved in the fate of his unhappy nephew. On learningof the arrival of Conradin in Italy he made an effort to escape fromprison, which would have been successful but for an unlucky accident. Hehad arranged to conceal himself in a cask, which was to be borne out ofthe prison by his friends, but by an unfortunate chance one of his long, golden locks fell out of the air-hole which had been made in the side ofthe cask, and revealed the stratagem to his keepers. 

During his earlier imprisonment Enzio had been allowed some alleviation, his friends being permitted to visit him and solace him in hisseclusion; but after this effort to escape he was closely confined, somesay, in an iron cage, until his death in 1272. 

Thus ended the royal race of the Hohenstauffen, a race marked byunusual personal beauty, rich poetical genius, and brilliant warlikeachievements, and during whose period of power the mediæval age and itsinstitutions attained their highest development. 

As for the ruthless Charles of Anjou, he retained Apulia, but lost hispossessions in Sicily through an event which has become famous as the"Sicilian Vespers. " The insolence and outrages of the French had soexasperated the Sicilians that, on the night of March 30, 1282, ageneral insurrection broke out in this island, the French beingeverywhere assassinated. Constance, the grand-daughter of their oldruler, and Peter of Aragon, her husband, were proclaimed theirsovereigns by the Sicilians, and Charles, the son of Charles of Anjou, fell into their hands. 

Constance was generous to the captive prince, and on hearing him remarkthat he was happy to die on a Friday, the day on which Christ suffered, she replied, --

"For love of him who suffered on this day I will grant thee thy life. "

He was afterwards exchanged for Beatrice, the daughter of the unhappyHelena, whose sons, the last princes of the Hohenstauffen race, died inthe prison in which they had lived since infancy. 

_THE TRIBUNAL OF THE HOLY VEHM. _

The ideas of law and order in mediæval Germany were by no means what wenow understand by those terms. The injustice of the strong and thesuffering of the weak were the rule; and men of noble lineage did nothesitate to turn their castles into dens of thieves. The title "robberbaron, " which many of them bore, sufficiently indicates their mode oflife, and turbulence and outrage prevailed throughout the land. 

But wrong did not flourish with complete impunity; right had notentirely vanished; justice still held its sword, and at times struckswift and deadly blows that filled with terror the wrong-doer, and gavesome assurance of protection to those too weak for self-defence. It wasno unusual circumstance to behold, perhaps in the vicinity of somebaronial castle, perhaps near some town or manorial residence, a groupof peasants gazing upwards with awed but triumphant eyes; the spectaclethat attracted their attention being the body of a man hanging from thelimb of a tree above their heads. 

Such might have been supposed to be some act of private vengeance orbold outrage, but the exulting lookers-on knew better. For theyrecognized the body, perhaps as that of the robber baron of theneighboring castle, perhaps that of some other bold defier of law andjustice, while in the ground below the corpse appeared an object thattold a tale of deep meaning to their experienced eyes. This was a knife, thrust to the hilt in the earth. As they gazed upon it they muttered themysterious words, "_Vehm gericht_, " and quickly dispersed, none daringto touch the corpse or disturb the significant signal of the vengeanceof the executioners. 

But as they walked away they would converse in low tones of a dreadsecret tribunal, which held its mysterious meetings in remote places, caverns of the earth or the depths of forests, at the dread hour ofmidnight, its members being sworn by frightful oaths to utter secrecy. Before these dark tribunals were judged, present or absent, thewrong-doers of the land, and the sentence of the secret Vehm once given, there was no longer safety for the condemned. The agents of vengeancewould be put upon his track, while the secret of his death sentence wascarefully kept from his ears. The end was sure to be a sudden seizure, arope to the nearest tree, a writhing body, the signal knife of theexecutioners of the Vehm, silence and mystery. 

Such was the visible outcome of the workings of this dreaded court, ofwhose sessions and secrets the common people of the land had exaggeratedconceptions, but whose sudden and silent deeds in the interest ofjustice went far to repress crime in that lawless age. We have seen thecompletion of the sentence, let us attend a session of this mysteriouscourt. 

Seeking the Vehmic tribunal, we do not find ourselves in a midnightforest, nor in a dimly-lighted cavern or mysterious vault, as peasanttraditions would tell us, but in the hall of some ancient castle, or ona hill-top, under the shade of lime-trees, and with an open view of thecountry for miles around. Here, on the seat of justice, presides thegraf or count of the district, before him the sword, the symbol ofsupreme justice, its handle in the form of the cross, while beside itlies the _Wyd_, or cord, the sign of his power of life or death. Aroundhim are seated the _Schöffen_, or ministers of justice, bareheaded andwithout weapons, in complete silence, none being permitted to speakexcept when called upon in the due course of proceedings. 

The court being solemnly opened, the person cited to appear before itsteps forward, unarmed and accompanied by two sureties, if he has any. The complaint against him is stated by the judge, and he is called uponto clear himself by oath taken on the cross of the sword. If he takesit, he is free. "He shall then, " says an ancient work, "take a farthingpiece, throw it at the feet of the court, turn round and go his way. Whoever attacks or touches him, has then, which all freemen know, brokenthe king's peace. "

This was the ancient custom, but in later times witnesses were examined, and the proceedings were more in conformity with those of moderncourts. If sentence of death was passed, the criminal was hanged atonce on the nearest tree. The minor punishments were exile and fine. Ifthe defendant refused to appear, after being three times cited, thesentence of the Vehm was pronounced against him, a dreadful sentence, ending in, --

"And I hereby curse his flesh and his blood; and may his body neverreceive burial, but may it be borne away by the wind, and may the ravensand crows, and wild birds of prey, consume and destroy him. And Iadjudge his neck to the rope, and his body to be devoured by the birdsand beasts of the air, sea, and land; but his soul I commend to our dearLord, if He will receive it. "

These words spoken, the judge cast forth the rope beyond the limits ofthe court, and wrote the name of the condemned in the book of blood, calling on the princes and nobles of the land, and all the inhabitantsof the empire, to aid in fulfilling this sentence upon the criminal, without regard to relationship or any ties of kindred or affectionwhatever. 

The condemned man was now left to the work of the ministers of justice, the Schöffen of the court. Whoever should shelter or even warn him washimself to be brought before the tribunal. The members of the court werebound by a terrible oath, to be enforced by death, not to reveal thesentence of the Holy Vehm, except to one of the initiated, and not towarn the culprit, even if he was a father or a brother. Wherever thecondemned was found, whether in a house, a street, the high-road, or theforest, he was seized and hanged to the nearest tree or post, if theservants of the court could lay hands on him. As a sign that he wasexecuted by the Holy Vehm, and not slain by robbers, nothing was takenfrom his body, and the knife was thrust into the ground beneath him. Wemay further say that any criminal taken in the act by the Vehmicofficers of justice did not need to be brought before the court, butmight be hanged on the spot, with the ordinary indications that he was avictim to the secret tribunal. 

A citation to appear before the Vehm was executed by two Schöffen, whobore the letter of the presiding count to the accused. If they could notreach him because he was living in a city or a fortress which they couldnot safely enter, they were authorized to execute their missionotherwise. They might approach the castle in the night, stick theletter, enclosing a farthing piece, in the panel of the castle gate, cutoff three chips from the gate as evidence to the count that they hadfulfilled their mission, and call out to the sentinel on leaving thatthey had deposited there a letter for his lord. If the accused had noregular dwelling-place, and could not be met, he was summoned at fourdifferent cross-roads, where was left at the east, west, north, andsouth points a summons, each containing the significant farthing coin. 

It must not be supposed that the administration of justice in Germanywas confined to this Vehmic court. There were open courts of justicethroughout the land. But what were known as _Freistuhls, _ or freecourts, were confined to the duchy of Westphalia. Some of the sessionsof these courts were open, some closed, the Vehm constituting theirsecret tribunal. 

Though complaints might be brought and persons cited to appear fromevery part of Germany, a free court could only be held on Westphalianground, on the red earth, as it was entitled. Even the emperor could notestablish a free court outside of Westphalia. When the Emperor Wenceslastried to establish one in Bohemia, the counts of the empire decreed thatany one who should take part in it would incur the penalty of death. Themembers of these courts consisted of Schöffen, nominated by the graf, orpresiding judge, and composed of ordinary members and the Wissenden orWitan, the higher membership. The initiation of these members was asingular and impressive ceremony. It could only take place upon the redearth, or within the boundaries of Westphalia. Bareheaded and ungirt, the candidate was conducted before the tribunal, and strictly questionedas to his qualifications to membership. He must be free-born, ofTeutonic ancestry, and clear of any accusation of crime. 

This settled, a deep and solemn oath of fidelity was administered, thecandidate swearing by the Holy Law to guard the secrets of the Holy Vehmfrom wife and child, father and mother, sister and brother, fire andwater, every creature on whom rain falls or sun shines, everythingbetween earth and heaven; to tell to the tribunal all offences known tohim, and not to be deterred therefrom by love or hate, gold, silver, orprecious stones. He was now intrusted with the very ancient password andsecret grip or other sign of the order, by which the members couldreadily recognize each other wherever meeting, and was warned of thefrightful penalty incurred by those who should reveal the secrets of theVehm. This penalty was that the criminal should have his eyes bound andbe cast upon the earth, his tongue torn out through the back of hisneck, and his body hanged seven times higher than ordinary criminals. Inthe history of the court there is no instance known of the oath ofinitiation being broken. For further security of the secrets of theVehm, no mercy was given to strangers found within the limits of thecourt. All such intruders were immediately hung. 

The number of the Schöffen, or members of the free courts, was verygreat. In the fourteenth century it exceeded one hundred thousand. Persons of all ranks joined them, princes desiring their ministers, cities their magistrates, to apply for membership. The emperor was thesupreme presiding officer, and under him his deputy, the stadtholder ofthe duchy of Westphalia, while the local courts, of which there were oneor more in each district of the duchy, were under the jurisdiction ofthe grafs or counts of their districts. 

The Vehm could consider criminal actions of the greatest diversity, cases of mere slander or defamation of character being sometimes broughtbefore it. Any violation of the ten commandments was within itsjurisdiction. It particularly devoted itself to secret crimes, such asmagic, witchcraft, or poisoning. Its agents of justice were bound tomake constant circuits, night and day, with the privilege, as we havesaid, if they caught a thief or murderer in the act, or obtained hisconfession, to hang him at once on the nearest tree, with the knife assignal of their commission. 

Of the origin of this strange court we have no certain knowledge. Tradition ascribes it to Charlemagne, but that needs confirmation. Itseems rather to have been an outgrowth of an old Saxon system, whichalso left its marks in the systems of justice of Saxon England, whereexisted customs not unlike those of the Holy Vehm. 

Mighty was the power of these secret courts, and striking the traditionsto which they have given rise, based upon their alleged nocturnalassemblies, their secret signs and solemn oaths, their mysteriouscustoms, and the implacable persistency with which their sentencessought the criminal, pursuing him for years, and in whatever corner ofthe empire he might take refuge, while there were none to call itsministers of justice to account for their acts if the terrible knife hadbeen left as evidence of their authority. 

Such an association, composed of thousands of men of all classes, fromthe highest to the lowest, --for common freemen, mechanics, and citizensshared the honor of membership with knights and even princes, --boundtogether by a band of inviolable secrecy, and its edicts carried out somysteriously and ruthlessly, could not but attain to a terrible power, and produce a remarkable effect upon the imagination of the people. "Theprince or knight who easily escaped the judgment of the imperial court, and from behind his fortified walls defied even the emperor himself, trembled when in the silence of the night he heard the voices of the_Freischöffen_ at the gate of his castle, and when the free countsummoned him to appear at the ancient _malplatz_, or plain, under thelime-tree, or on the bank of a rivulet upon that dreaded soil, theWestphalian or red ground. And that the power of those free courts wasnot exaggerated by the mere imagination, excited by terror, nor inreality by any means insignificant, is proved by a hundred undeniableexamples, supported by records and testimonies, that numerous princes, counts, knights, and wealthy citizens were seized by these Schöffen ofthe secret tribunal, and, in execution of its sentence, perished bytheir hands. "

An institution so mysterious and wide-spread as this could not existwithout some degree of abuse of power. Unworthy persons would attainmembership, who would use their authority for the purpose of privatevengeance. This occasional injustice of the Vehmic tribunal became morefrequent as time went on, and by the end of the fifteenth century manycomplaints arose against the free courts, particularly among the clergy. Civilization was increasing, and political institutions becoming moredeveloped, in Germany; the lords of the land grew restive under thesubjection of their people to the acts of a secret and strange tribunal, no longer supported by imperial power. Alliances of princes, nobles, andcitizens were made against the Westphalian courts, and their powerfinally ceased, without any formal decree of abrogation. 

In the sixteenth century the Vehm still possessed much strength; in theseventeenth it had grown much weaker; in the eighteenth only a fewtraces of it remained; at Gehmen, in Münster, the secret tribunal wasonly finally extinguished by a decree of the French legislature in 1811. Even to the present day there are peasants who have taken the oath ofthe Schöffen, whose secrecy they persistently maintain, and who meetannually at the site of some of the old free courts. The principal signsof the order are indicated by the letters S. S. G. G. , signifying _stock, stein, gras, grein_ (stick, stone, grass, tears), though no one has beenable to trace the mysterious meaning these words convey as symbols ofthe mystic power of the ancient _Vehm gericht_. 

_WILLIAM TELL AND THE SWISS PATRIOTS. _

"In the year of our Lord 1307, " writes an ancient chronicler, "theredwelt a pious countryman in Unterwald beyond the Kernwald, whose namewas Henry of Melchthal, a wise, prudent, honest man, well to do and ingood esteem among his country-folk, moreover, a firm supporter of theliberties of his country and of its adhesion to the Holy Roman Empire, on which account Beringer von Landenberg, the governor over the whole ofUnterwald, was his enemy. This Melchthaler had some very fine oxen, andon account of some trifling misdemeanor committed by his son, Arnold ofMelchthal, the governor sent his servant to seize the finest pair ofoxen by way of punishment, and in case old Henry of Melchthal saidanything against it, he was to say that it was the governor's opinionthat the peasants should draw the plough themselves. The servantfulfilled his lord's commands. But as he unharnessed the oxen, Arnold, the son of the countryman, fell into a rage, and striking him with astick on the hand, broke one of his fingers. Upon this Arnold fled, forfear of his life, up the country towards Uri, where he kept himself longsecret in the country where Conrad of Baumgarten from Altzelen lay hidfor having killed the governor of Wolfenschiess, who had insulted hiswife, with a blow of his axe. The servant, meanwhile, complained to hislord, by whose order old Melchthal's eyes were torn out. This tyrannicalaction rendered the governor highly unpopular, and Arnold, on learninghow his good father had been treated, laid his wrongs secretly beforetrusty people in Uri, and awaited a fit opportunity for avenging hisfather's misfortune. "

Such was the prologue to the tragic events which we have now to tell, events whose outcome was the freedom of Switzerland and the formation ofthat vigorous Swiss confederacy which has maintained itself until thepresent day in the midst of the powerful and warlike nations which havesurrounded it. The prologue given, we must proceed with the main scenesof the drama, which quickly followed. 

As the story goes, Arnold allied himself with two other patriots, WernerStauffacher and Walter Fürst, bold and earnest men, the three meetingregularly at night to talk over the wrongs of their country and considerhow best to right them. Of the first named of these men we are told thathe was stirred to rebellion by the tyranny of Gessler, governor of Uri, a man who forms one of the leading characters of our drama. The rule ofGessler extended over the country of Schwyz, where in the town ofSteinen, in a handsome house, lived Werner Stauffacher. As the governorpassed one day through this town he was pleasantly greeted by Werner, who was standing before his door. 

"To whom does this house belong?" asked Gessler. 

Werner, fearing that some evil purpose lay behind this question, cautiously replied, --

"My lord, the house belongs to my sovereign lord the king, and is yourand my fief. "

"I will not allow peasants to build houses without my consent, " returnedGessler, angered at this shrewd reply, "or to live in freedom as if theywere their own masters. I will teach you better than to resist myauthority. "

So saying, he rode on, leaving Werner greatly disturbed by histhreatening words. He returned into his house with heavy brow and suchevidence of discomposure that his wife eagerly questioned him. Learningwhat the governor had said, the good lady shared his disturbance, andsaid, --

"My dear Werner, you know that many of the country-folk complain of thegovernor's tyranny. In my opinion, it would be well for some of you, whocan trust one another, to meet in secret, and take counsel how to throwoff his wanton power. "

This advice seemed so judicious to Werner that he sought his friendWalter Fürst, and arranged with him and Arnold that they should meet andconsider what steps to take, their place of meeting being at Rütli, asmall meadow in a lonely situation, closed in on the land side by highrocks, and opening on the Lake of Lucerne. Others joined them in theirpatriotic purpose, and on the night of the Wednesday before Martinmas, in the year 1307, each of the three led to the place of meeting tenothers, all as resolute and liberty-loving as themselves. Thesethirty-three good and true men, thus assembled at the midnight hour inthe meadow of Rütli, united in a solemn oath that they would devotetheir lives and strength to the freeing of their country from itsoppressors. They fixed the first day of the coming year for thebeginning of their work, and then returned to their homes, where theykept the strictest secrecy, occupying themselves in housing their cattlefor the winter and in other rural labors, with no indication that theycherished deeper designs. 

During this interval of secrecy another event, of a nature highlyexasperating to the Swiss, is said to have happened. It is true thatmodern critics declare the story of this event to be solely a legend andthat nothing of the kind ever took place. However that be, it has eversince remained one of the most attractive of popular tales, and theverdict of the critics shall not deter us from telling again thisoft-repeated and always welcome story. 

We have named two of the many tyrannical governors of Switzerland, thedeputies there of Albert of Austria, then Emperor of Germany, whosepurpose was to abolish the privileges of the Swiss and subject the freecommunes to his arbitrary rule. The second named of these, Gessler, governor of Uri and Schwyz, whose threats had driven Werner toconspiracy, occupied a fortress in Uri, which he had built as a place ofsafety in case of revolt, and a centre of tyranny. "Uri's prison" hecalled this fortress, an insult to the people of Uri which roused theirindignation. Perceiving their sullenness, Gessler resolved to give thema salutary lesson of his power and their helplessness. 

On St. Jacob's day he had a pole erected in the market-place at Altdorf, under the lime-trees there growing, and directed that his hat should beplaced on its top. This done, the command was issued that all who passedthrough the market-place should bow and kneel to this hat as to the kinghimself, blows and confiscation of property to be the lot of all whorefused. A guard was placed around the pole, whose duty was to take noteof every man who should fail to do homage to the governor's hat. 

On the Sunday following, a peasant of Uri, William Tell by name, who, aswe are told, was one of the thirty-three sworn confederates, passedseveral times through the market-place at Altdorf without bowing orbending the knee to Gessler's hat. This was reported to the governor, who summoned Tell to his presence, and haughtily asked him why he haddared to disobey his command. 

"My dear lord, " answered Tell, submissively, "I beg you to pardon me, for it was done through ignorance and not out of contempt. If I wereclever, I should not be called Tell. I pray your mercy; it shall nothappen again. "

[Illustration: STATUE OF WILLIAM TELL. ]

The name Tell signifies dull or stupid, a meaning in consonance with hisspeech, though not with his character. Yet stupid or bright, he had thereputation of being the best archer in the country, and Gessler, knowingthis, determined on a singular punishment for his fault. Tell hadbeautiful children, whom he dearly loved. The governor sent for these, and asked him, --

"Which of your children do you love the best?"

"My lord, they are all alike dear to me, " answered Tell. 

"If that be so, " said Gessler, "then, as I hear that you are a famousmarksman, you shall prove your skill in my presence by shooting an appleoff the head of one of your children. But take good care to hit theapple, for if your first shot miss you shall lose your life. "

"For God's sake, do not ask me to do this!" cried Tell in horror. "Itwould be unnatural to shoot at my own dear child. I would rather diethan do it. "

"Unless you do it, you or your child shall die, " answered the governorharshly. 

Tell, seeing that Gessler was resolute in his cruel project, and thatthe trial must be made or worse might come, reluctantly agreed to it. Hetook his cross-bow and two arrows, one of which he placed in the bow, the other he stuck behind in his collar. The governor, meanwhile, hadselected the child for the trial, a boy of not more than six years ofage, whom he ordered to be placed at the proper distance, and himselfselected an apple and placed it on the child's head. 

Tell viewed these preparations with startled eyes, while prayinginwardly to God to shield his dear child from harm. Then, bidding theboy to stand firm and not be frightened, as his father would do his bestnot to harm him, he raised the perilous bow. 

The legend deals too briefly with this story. It fails to picture thescene in the market-place. But there, we may be sure, in addition toGessler and his guards, were most of the people of Uri, their heartsburning with sympathy for their countryman and hatred of the tyrant, their feelings almost wrought up to the point of attacking Gessler andhis guards, and daring death in defence of their liberties. There alsowe may behold in fancy the brave child, scarcely old enough toappreciate the magnitude of his peril, but looking with simple faithinto the kind eyes of his father, who stands firm of frame but tremblingin heart before him, the death-dealing bow in his hand. 

In a minute more the bow is bent, Tell's unerring eye glances along theshaft, the string twangs sharply, the arrow speeds through the air, andthe apple, pierced through its centre, is borne from the head of theboy, who leaps forward with a glad cry of triumph, while the unnervedfather, with tears of joy in his eyes, flings the bow to the ground andclasps his child to his heart. 

"By my faith, Tell, that is a wonderful shot!" cried the astonishedgovernor. "Men have not belied you. But why have you stuck another arrowin your collar?"

"That is the custom among marksmen, " Tell hesitatingly answered. 

"Come, man, speak the truth openly and without fear, " said Gessler, whonoted Tell's hesitancy. "Your life is safe; but I am not satisfied withyour answer. "

"Then, " said Tell, regaining his courage, "if you would have the truth, it is this. If I had struck my child with the first arrow, the other wasintended for you; and with that I should not have missed my mark. "

The governor started at these bold words, and his brow clouded withanger. 

"I promised you your life, " he exclaimed, "and will keep my word; but, as you cherish evil intentions against me, I shall make sure that youcannot carry them out. You are not safe to leave at large, and shall betaken to a place where you can never again behold the sun or the moon. "

Turning to his guards, he bade them seize the bold marksman, bind hishands, and take him in a boat across the lake to his castle at Küssnach, where he should do penance for his evil intentions by spending theremainder of his life in a dark dungeon. The people dared not interferewith this harsh sentence; the guards were too many and too well armed. Tell was seized, bound, and hurried to the lake-side, Gessleraccompanying. 

The water reached, he was placed in a boat, his cross-bow being alsobrought and laid beside the steersman. As if with purpose to make sureof the disposal of his threatening enemy, Gessler also entered theboat, which was pushed off and rowed across the lake towards Brunnen, from which place the prisoner was to be taken overland to the governor'sfortress. 

Before they were half-way across the lake, however, a sudden and violentstorm arose, tossing the boat so frightfully that Gessler and all withhim were filled with mortal fear. 

"My lord, " cried one of the trembling rowers to the governor, "we willall go to the bottom unless something is done, for there is not a manamong us fit to manage a boat in this storm. But Tell here is a skilfulboatman, and it would be wise to use him in our sore need. "

"Can you bring us out of this peril?" asked Gessler, who was no lessalarmed than his crew. "If you can, I will release you from your bonds. "

"I trust, with God's help, that I can safely bring you ashore, " answeredTell. 

By Gessler's order his bonds were then removed, and he stepped aft andtook the helm, guiding the boat through the storm with the skill of atrained mariner. He had, however, another object in view, and had nointention to let the tyrannical governor bind his free limbs again. Hebade the men to row carefully until they reached a certain rock, whichappeared on the lake-side at no great distance, telling them that hehoped to land them behind its shelter. As they drew near the spotindicated, he turned the helm so that the boat struck violently againstthe rock, and then, seizing the cross-bow which lay beside him, hesprang nimbly ashore, and thrust the boat with his foot back into thetossing waves. The rock on which he landed is, says the chronicler, still known as Tell's Rock, and a small chapel has been built upon it. 

The story goes on to tell us that the governor and his rowers, aftergreat danger, finally succeeded in reaching the shore at Brunnen, atwhich point they took horse and rode through the district of Schwyz, their route leading through a narrow passage between the rocks, the onlyway by which they could reach Küssnach from that quarter. On they went, the angry governor swearing vengeance against Tell, and laying planswith his followers how the runaway should be seized. The deepest dungeonat Küssnach, he vowed, should be his lot. 

He little dreamed what ears heard his fulminations and what deadly perilthreatened him. On leaving the boat, Tell had run quickly forward to thepassage, or hollow way, through which he knew that Gessler must pass onhis way to the castle. Here, hidden behind the high bank that borderedthe road, he waited, cross-bow in hand, and the arrow which he haddesigned for the governor's life in the string, for the coming of hismortal foe. 

Gessler came, still talking of his plans to seize Tell, and without adream of danger, for the pass was silent and seemed deserted. Butsuddenly to his ears came the twang of the bow he had heard before thatday; through the air once more winged its way a steel-barbed shaft, theheart of a tyrant, not an apple on a child's head, now its mark. In aninstant more Gessler fell from his horse, pierced by Tell's fatal shaft, and breathed his last before the eyes of his terrified servants. On thatspot, the chronicler concludes, was built a holy chapel, which isstanding to this day. 

Such is the far-famed story of William Tell. How much truth and how muchmere tradition there is in it, it is not easy to say. The feat ofshooting an apple from a person's head is told of others before Tell'stime, and that it ever happened is far from sure. But at the same timeit is possible that the story of Tell, in its main features, may befounded on fact. Tradition is rarely all fable. 

We are now done with William Tell, and must return to the doings of thethree confederates to whom fame ascribes the origin of the liberty ofSwitzerland. In the early morning of January 1, 1308, the date they hadfixed for their work to begin, as Landenberg was leaving his castle toattend mass at Sarnen, he was met by twenty of the mountaineers ofUnterwald, who, as was their custom, brought him a new-year's gift ofcalves, goats, sheep, fowls, and hares. Much pleased with the present, he asked the men to take the animals into the castle court, and went onhis way towards Sarnen. 

But no sooner had the twenty men passed through the gates than a hornwas loudly blown, and instantly each of them drew from beneath hisdoublet a steel blade, which he fixed upon the end of his staff. At thesound of the horn thirty other men rushed from a neighboring wood, andmade for the open gates. In a very few minutes they joined theircomrades in the castle, which was quickly theirs, the garrison beingoverpowered. 

Landenberg fled in haste on hearing the tumult, but was pursued andtaken. But as the confederates had agreed with each other to shed noblood, they suffered this arch villain to depart, after making him swearto leave Switzerland and never return to it. The news of the revoltspread rapidly through the mountains, and so well had the confederateslaid their plans, that several other castles were taken by stratagembefore the alarm could be given. Their governors were sent beyond theborders. Day by day news was brought to the head-quarters of thepatriots, on Lake Lucerne, of success in various parts of the country, and on Sunday, the 7th of January, a week from the first outbreak, theleading men of that part of Switzerland met and pledged themselves totheir ancient oath of confederacy. In a week's time they had driven outthe Austrians and set their country free. 

It must be admitted that there is no contemporary proof of this story, though the Swiss accept it as authentic history, and it has not beendisproved. The chief peril to the new confederacy lay with Albert ofAustria, the dispossessed lord of the land, but the patriotic Swissfound themselves unexpectedly relieved from the execution of histhreats of vengeance. His harshness and despotic severity had made himenemies alike among people and nobles, and when, in the spring of 1308, he sought the borders of Switzerland, with the purpose of reducing andpunishing the insurgents, his career was brought to a sudden and violentend. 

A conspiracy had been formed against him by his nephew, the Duke ofSwabia, and others who accompanied him in this journey. On the 1st ofMay they reached the Reuss River at Windisch, and, as the emperorentered the boat to be ferried across, the conspirators pushed into itafter him, leaving no room for his attendants. Reaching the oppositeshore, they remounted their steeds and rode on while the boat returnedfor the others. Their route lay through the vast cornfields at the baseof the hills whose highest summit was crowned by the great castle ofHapsburg. 

They had gone some distance, when John of Swabia suddenly rushed uponthe emperor, and buried his lance in his neck, exclaiming, "Such is thereward of injustice!" Immediately two others rode upon him, Rudolph ofBalm stabbing him with his dagger, while Walter of Eschenbach clove hishead in twain with his sword. This bloody work done, the conspiratorsspurred rapidly away, leaving the dying emperor to breathe his last withhis head supported in the lap of a poor woman, who had witnessed themurder and hurried to the spot. 

This deed of blood saved Switzerland from the vengeance which theemperor had designed. The mountaineers were given time to cement thegovernment they had so hastily formed, and which was to last forcenturies thereafter, despite the efforts of ambitious potentates toreduce the Swiss once more to subjection and rob them of the libertythey so dearly loved. 

_THE BLACK DEATH AND THE FLAGELLANTS. _

The middle of the fourteenth century was a period of extraordinaryterror and disaster to Europe. Numerous portents, which sadly frightenedthe people, were followed by a pestilence which threatened to turn thecontinent into an unpeopled wilderness. For year after year there weresigns in the sky, on the earth, in the air, all indicative, as menthought, of some terrible coming event. In 1337 a great comet appearedin the heavens, its far-extending tail sowing deep dread in the minds ofthe ignorant masses. During the three succeeding years the land wasvisited by enormous flying armies of locusts, which descended in myriadsupon the fields, and left the shadow of famine in their track. In 1348came an earthquake of such frightful violence that many men deemed theend of the world to be presaged. Its devastations were widely spread. Cyprus, Greece, and Italy were terribly visited, and it extended throughthe Alpine valleys as far as Bâsle. Mountains sank into the earth. InCarinthia thirty villages and the tower of Villach were ruined. The airgrew thick and stifling. There were dense and frightful fogs. Winefermented in the casks. Fiery meteors appeared in the skies. A giganticpillar of flame was seen by hundreds descending upon the roof of thepope's palace at Avignon. In 1356 came another earthquake, whichdestroyed almost the whole of Bâsle. What with famine, flood, fog, locust swarms, earthquakes, and the like, it is not surprising that manymen deemed the cup of the world's sins to be full, and the end of thekingdom of man to be at hand. 

An event followed that seemed to confirm this belief. A pestilence brokeout of such frightful virulence that it appeared indeed as if man was tobe swept from the earth. Men died in hundreds, in thousands, in myriads, until in places there were scarcely enough living to bury the dead, andthese so maddened with fright that dwellings, villages, towns, weredeserted by all who were able to fly, the dying and dead being lefttheir sole inhabitants. It was the pestilence called the "Black Death, "the most terrible visitation that Europe has ever known. 

This deadly disease came from Asia. It is said to have originated inChina, spreading over the great continent westwardly, and descending inall its destructive virulence upon Europe, which continent it swept aswith the besom of destruction. The disease appears to have been a verymalignant type of what is known as the plague, a form of pestilencewhich has several times returned, though never with such virulence as onthat occasion. It began with great lassitude of the body, and rapidswellings of the glands of the groin and armpits, which soon becamelarge boils. Then followed, as a fatal symptom, large black ordeep-blue spots over the body, from which came the name of "BlackDeath. " Some of the victims became sleepy and stupid; others wereincessantly restless. The tongue and throat grew black; the lungsexhaled a noisome odor; an insatiable thirst was produced. Death came intwo or three days, sometimes on the very day of seizure. Medical aid wasof no avail. Doctors and relatives fled in terror from what they deemeda fatally contagious disease, and the stricken were left to die alone. Villages and towns were in many places utterly deserted, no livingthings being left, for the disease was as fatal to dogs, cats, and swineas to men. There is reason to believe that this, and other lessdestructive visitations of plague, were due to the action of some ofthose bacterial organisms which are now known to have so much to do withinfectious diseases. This particular pestilence-breeder seems to haveflourished in filth, and the streets of the cities of Europe of that dayformed a richly fertile soil for its growth. Men prayed to God forrelief, instead of cleaning their highways and by-ways, and relief camenot. 

Such was its character, what were its ravages? Never before or since hasa pestilence brought such desolation. Men died by millions. At Bâsle itfound fourteen thousand victims; at Strasburg and Erfurt, sixteenthousand; in the other cities of Germany it flourished in likeproportion. In Osnabrück only seven married couples remained unseparatedby death. Of the Franciscan Minorites of Germany, one hundred andtwenty-five thousand died. 

Outside of Germany the fury of the pestilence was still worse; from eastto west, from north to south, Europe was desolated. The mortality inAsia was fearful. In China there are said to have been thirteen millionvictims to the scourge; in the rest of Asia twenty-four millions. Theextreme west was no less frightfully visited. London lost one hundredthousand of its population; in all England a number estimated at fromone-third to one-half the entire population (then probably numberingfrom three to five millions) were swept into the grave. If we takeEurope as a whole, it is believed that fully a fourth of its inhabitantswere carried away by this terrible scourge. For two years the pestilenceraged, 1348 and 1349. It broke out again in 1361-62, and once more in1369. 

The mortality caused by the plague was only one of its disturbingconsequences. The bonds of society were loosened; natural affectionseemed to vanish; friend deserted friend, mothers even fled from theirchildren; demoralization showed itself in many instances in recklessdebauchery. An interesting example remains to us in Boccaccio's"Decameron, " whose stories were told by a group of pleasure-lovers whohad fled from plague-stricken Florence. 

In many localities the hatred of the Jews by the people led to frightfulexcesses of persecution against them, they being accused by theirenemies of poisoning the wells. From Berne, where the city councilsgave orders for the massacre, it spread over the whole of Switzerlandand Germany, many thousands being murdered. At Mayence it is said thattwelve thousand Jews were massacred. At Strasburg two thousand wereburned in one pile. Even the orders of the emperor failed to put an endto the slaughter. All the Jews who could took refuge in Poland, wherethey found a protector in Casimir, who, like a second Ahasuerus, extended his aid to them from love for Esther, a beautiful Jewess. Fromthat day to this Poland has swarmed with Jews. 

This persecution was discountenanced by Pope Clement VI. In two bulls, in the first of which he ordered that the Jews should not be made thevictims of groundless charges or injured in person or property withoutthe sentence of a lawful judge. The second affirmed the innocence of theJews in the persecution then going on and ordered the bishops toexcommunicate all those who should continue it. 

Of the beneficial results of the religious excitement may be named theearnest labors of the order of Beguines, an association of women for thepurpose of attending the sick and dying, which had long been inexistence, but was particularly active and useful during this period. Wemay name also the Beghards and Lollards, whose extravagances were tosome extent outgrowths of earnest piety, and their lives stronglycontrasted with the levity and luxury of the higher ecclesiastics. Thesesocieties of poor and mendicant penitents were greatly increased by thereligious excitement of the time, which also gave special vitality toanother sect, the Flagellants, which, as mentioned in a former article, first arose in 1260, during the excesses of bloodshed of the Guelphs ofnorthern Italy, and thence spread over Europe. After a period ofdecadence they broke out afresh in 1349, as a consequence of the deadlypestilence. 

The members of this sect, seeing no hope of relief from human action, turned to God as their only refuge, and deemed it necessary topropitiate the Deity by extraordinary sacrifices and self-tortures. Theflame of fanaticism, once started, spread rapidly and widely. Hundredsof men, and even boys, marched in companies through the roads andstreets, carrying heavy torches, scourging their naked shoulders withknotted whips, which were often loaded with lead or iron, singingpenitential hymns, parading in bands which bore banners and weredistinguished by white hats with red crosses. 

Women as well as men took part in these fanatical exercises, marchingabout half-naked, whipping each other frightfully, flinging themselveson the earth in the most public places of the towns and scourging theirbare backs and shoulders till the blood flowed. Entering the churches, they would prostrate themselves on the pavement, with their armsextended in the form of a cross, chanting their rude hymns. Of thesehymns we may quote the following example:

 "Now is the holy pilgrimage. Christ rode into Jerusalem, And in his hand he bore a cross; May Christ to us be gracious. Our pilgrimage is good and right. "

The Flagellants did not content themselves with these publicmanifestations of self-sacrifice. They formed a regular religious order, with officers and laws, and property in common. At night, beforesleeping, each indicated to his brothers by gestures the sins whichweighed most heavily on his conscience, not a word being spoken untilabsolution was granted by one of them in the following form:

 "For their dear sakes who torture bore, Rise, brother, go and sin no more. "

Had this been all they might have been left to their own devices, butthey went farther. The day of judgment, they declared, was at hand. Aletter had been addressed from Jerusalem by the Creator to his sinningcreatures, and it was their mission to spread this through Europe. Theypreached, confessed, and forgave sins, declared that the blood shed intheir flagellations had a share with the blood of Christ in atoning forsin, that their penances were a substitute for the sacraments of thechurch, and that the absolution granted by the clergy was of no avail. They taught that all men were brothers and equal in the sight of God, and upbraided the priests for their pride and luxury. 

These doctrines and the extravagances of the Flagellants alarmed thepope, Clement VI. , who launched against the enthusiasts a bull ofexcommunication, and ordered their persecution as heretics. This course, at first, roused their enthusiasm to frenzy. Some of them even pretendedto be the Messiah, one of these being burnt as a heretic at Erfurt. Gradually, however, as the plague died away, and the occasion for thisfanatical outburst vanished, the enthusiasm of the Flagellants went withit, and they sunk from sight. In 1414 a troop of them reappeared inThuringia and Lower Saxony, and even surpassed their predecessors inwildness of extravagance. With the dying out of this manifestation thisstrange mania of the middle ages vanished, probably checked by thegrowing intelligence of mankind. 

_THE SWISS AT MORGARTEN_

On a sunny autumn morning, in the far-off year 1315, a gallant band ofhorsemen wound slowly up the Swiss mountains, their forest of spears andlances glittering in the ruddy beams of the new-risen sun, and extendingdown the hill-side as far as the eye could reach. In the vanguard rodethe flower of the army, a noble cavalcade of knights, clad in completearmor, and including nearly the whole of the ancient nobility ofAustria. At the head of this group rode Duke Leopold, the brother ofFrederick of Austria, and one of the bravest knights and ablest generalsof the realm. Following the van came a second division, composed of theinferior leaders and the rank and file of the army. 

Switzerland was to be severely punished, and to be reduced again to thecondition from which seven years before it had broken away; such was thedictum of the Austrian magnates. With the army came Landenberg, theoppressive governor who had been set free on his oath never to return toSwitzerland. He was returning in defiance of his vow. With it are alsosaid to have been several of the family of Gessler, the tyrant who fellbeneath Tell's avenging arrow. The birds of prey were flying back, eagerto fatten on the body of slain liberty in Switzerland. 

Up the mountains wound the serried band, proud in their panoply, confident of easy victory, their voices ringing out in laughter anddisdain as they spoke of the swift vengeance that was about to fall onthe heads of the horde of rebel mountaineers. The duke was as gay andconfidant as any of his followers, as he proudly bestrode his noblewar-horse, and led the way up the mountain slopes towards the districtof Schwyz, the head-quarters of the base-born insurgents. He wouldtrample the insolent boors under his feet, he said, and had providedhimself with an abundant supply of ropes with which to hang the leadersof the rebels, whom he counted on soon having in his power. 

All was silent about them as they rode forward; the sun shonebrilliantly; it seemed like a pleasure excursion on which they werebound. 

"The locusts have crawled to their holes, " said the duke, laughingly;"we will have to stir them out with the points of our lances. "

"The poor fools fancied that liberty was to be won by driving out onegovernor and shooting another, " answered a noble knight. "They will findthat the eagle of Hapsburg does not loose its hold so easily. "

Their conversation ceased as they found themselves at the entrance to apass, through which the road up the mountains wound, a narrow avenue, wedged in between hills and lakeside. The silence continued unbrokenaround the rugged scene as the cavalry pushed in close ranks through thepass, filling it, as they advanced, from side to side. They pushedforward; beyond this pass of Morgarten they would find open land againand the villages of the rebellious peasantry; here all was solitude anda stillness that was almost depressing. 

Suddenly the stillness was broken. From the rugged cliffs which borderedthe pass came a loud shout of defiance. But more alarming still was thesound of descending rocks, which came plunging down the mountain side, and in an instant fell with a sickening thud on the mail-clad andcrowded ranks below. Under their weight the iron helmets of the knightscracked like so many nut-shells; heads were crushed into shapelessmasses, and dozens of men, a moment before full of life, hope, andambition, were hurled in death to the ground. 

Down still plunged the rocks, loosened by busy hands above, sent ontheir errand of death down the steep declivities, hurling destructionupon the dense masses below. Escape was impossible. The pass was filledwith horsemen. It would take time to open an avenue of flight, and stillthose death-dealing rocks came down, smashing the strongest armor likepasteboard, strewing the pass with dead and bleeding bodies. 

And now the horses, terrified, wounded, mad with pain and alarm, beganto plunge and rear, trebling the confusion and terror, crushing fallenriders under their hoofs, adding their quota to the sum of death anddismay. Many of them rushed wildly into the lake which bordered one sideof the pass, carrying their riders to a watery death. In a few minutes'time that trim and soldierly array, filled with hope of easy victory anddisdain of its foes, was converted into a mob of maddened horses andfrightened men, while the rocky pass beneath their feet was strewnthickly with the dying and the dead. 

Yet all this had been done by fifty men, fifty banished patriots, whohad hastened back on learning that their country was in danger, andstationing themselves among the cliffs above the pass, had loosened andsent rolling downwards the stones and huge fragments of rock which layplentifully there. 

While the fifty returned exiles were thus at work on the height ofMorgarten, the army of the Swiss, thirteen hundred in number, was postedon the summit of the Sattel Mountain opposite, waiting its opportunity. The time for action had come. The Austrian cavalry of the vanguard wasin a state of frightful confusion and dismay. And now the mountaineersdescended the steep hill slopes like an avalanche, and precipitatedthemselves on the flank of the invading force, dealing death with theirhalberds and iron-pointed clubs until the pass ran blood. 

On every side the Austrian chivalry fell. Escape was next to impossible, resistance next to useless. Confined in that narrow passage, confused, terrified, their ranks broken by the rearing and plunging horses, knights and men-at-arms falling with every blow from their vigorousassailants, it seemed as if the whole army would be annihilated, and nota man escape to tell the tale. 

Numbers of gallant knights, the flower of the Austrian, nobility, fellunder those vengeful clubs. Numbers were drowned in the lake. Ahalberd-thrust revenged Switzerland on Landenberg, who had come back tohis doom. Two of the Gesslers were slain. Death held high carnival inthat proud array which had vowed to reduce the free-spiritedmountaineers to servitude. 

Such as could fled in all haste. The van of the army, which had passedbeyond those death-dealing rocks, the rear, which had not yet come up, broke and fled in a panic of fear. Duke Leopold narrowly escaped fromthe vengeance of the mountaineers, whom he had held in such contempt. Instead of using the ropes he had brought with him to hang their chiefs, he fled at full speed from the victors, who were now pursuing thescattered fragments of the army, and slaying the fugitives in scores. With difficulty the proud duke escaped, owing his safety to a peasant, who guided him through narrow ravines and passes as far as Winterthur, which he at length reached in a state of the utmost dejection andfatigue. The gallantly-arrayed army which he had that morning led, withblare of trumpets and glitter of spears, with high hope and proudassurance of victory, up the mountain slopes, was now in great part agory heap in the rocky passes, the remainder a scattered host of weariedand wounded fugitives. Switzerland had won its freedom. 

The day before the Swiss confederates, apprised of the approach of theAustrians, had come together, four hundred men from Uri, three hundredfrom Unterwald, the remainder from Schwyz. They owed their success toRudolphus Redin, a venerable patriot, so old and infirm that he couldscarcely walk, yet with such reputation for skill and prudence in warthat the warriors halted at his door in their march, and eagerly askedhis advice. 

[Illustration: THE CASTLE OF PRAGUE. ]

"Our grand aim, my sons, " said he, "as we are so inferior in numbers, must be to prevent Duke Leopold from gaining any advantage by hissuperior force. "

He then advised them to occupy the Morgarten and Sattel heights, andfall on the Austrians when entangled in the pass, cutting their force intwo, and assailing it right and left. They obeyed him implicitly, withwhat success we have seen. The fifty men who had so efficiently begunthe fray had been banished from Schwyz through some dispute, but onlearning their country's danger had hastily returned to sacrifice theirlives, if need be, for their native land. 

Thus a strong and well-appointed army, fully disciplined and led bywarriors famed for courage and warlike deeds, was annihilated by a smallband of peasants, few of whom had ever struck a blow in war, but whowere animated by the highest spirit of patriotism and love of liberty, and welcomed death rather than a return to their old state of slaveryand oppression. The short space of an hour and a half did the work. Austria was defeated and Switzerland was free. 

_A MAD EMPEROR. _

If genius to madness is allied, the same may be said of eccentricity, and certainly Wenceslas, Emperor of Germany and King of Bohemia, had aneccentricity that approached the vagaries of the insane. The oldest sonof Charles IV. , he was brought up in pomp and luxury, and was soaddicted to sensual gratification that he left the empire largely totake care of itself, while he gave his time to the pleasures of thebottle and the chase. Born to the throne, he was crowned King of Bohemiawhen but three years of age, was elected King of the Romans at fifteen, and two years afterwards, in 1378, became Emperor of Germany, when stillbut a boy, with regard for nothing but riot and rude frolic. 

So far as affairs of state were concerned, the volatile youth eithertotally neglected them or treated them with a ridicule that was worsethan neglect. Drunk two-thirds of his time, he now dismissed the mostserious matters with a rude jest, now met his councillors with brutalfits of rage. The Germans deemed him a fool, and were not far amiss intheir opinion; but as he did not meddle with them, except in holding anoccasional useless diet at Nuremberg, they did not meddle with him. TheBohemians, among whom he lived, his residence being at Prague, found hisrule much more of a burden. They were exposed to his savage caprices, and regarded him as a brutal and senseless tyrant. 

That there was method in his madness the following anecdote willsufficiently show. Former kings had invested the Bohemian nobles withpossessions which he, moved by cupidity, determined to have back. Thisis the method he took to obtain them. All the nobles of the land wereinvited to meet him at Willamow, where he received them in a black tent, which opened on one side into a white, and on the other into a red one. Into this tent of ominous hue the waiting nobles were admitted, one at atime, and were here received by the emperor, who peremptorily bade themdeclare what lands they held as gifts from the crown. 

Those who gave the information asked, and agreed to cede these landsback to the crown, were led into the white tent, where an ample feastawaited them. Those who refused were dismissed with frowns into the redtent, where they found awaiting them the headsman's fatal block and axe. The hapless guests were instantly seized and beheaded. 

This ghastly jest, if such it may be considered, proceeded for some timebefore the nobles still waiting learned what was going on. When atlength a whisper of the frightful mystery of the red tent was borne totheir ears, there were no longer any candidates for its favors. Theemperor found them eagerly willing to give up the ceded lands, and allthat remained found their way to the white tent and the feast. 

The emperor's next act of arbitrary tyranny was directed against theJews. One of that people had ridiculed the sacrament, in consequence ofwhich three thousand Jews of Prague were massacred by the populace ofthat city. Wenceslas, instead of punishing the murderers, as justicewould seem to have demanded, solaced his easy conscience by punishingthe victims, declaring all debts owed by Christians to Jews to be nulland void. 

His next act of injustice and cruelty was perpetrated in 1393, and arosefrom a dispute between the crown and the church. One of the royalchamberlains had caused two priests to be executed on the accusation ofcommitting a flagrant crime. This action was resented by the Archbishopof Prague, who declared that it was an encroachment upon the prerogativeof the church, which alone had the right to punish an ecclesiastic. He, therefore, excommunicated the chamberlain. 

This action of the daring churchman threw the emperor into such aparoxysm of rage that the archbishop, knowing well the man he had todeal with, took to flight, saving his neck at the expense of hisdignity. The furious Wenceslas, finding that the chief offender hadescaped, vented his wrath on the subordinates, several of whom wereseized. One of them, the dean, moved by indignation, dealt the emperorso heavy a blow on the head with his sword-knot as to bring the blood. It does not appear that he was made to suffer for his boldness, but twoof the lower ecclesiastics, John of Nepomuk and Puchnik, were put tothe rack to make them confess facts learned by them in the confessional. They persistently refused to answer. Wenceslas, infuriated by theirobstinacy, himself seized a torch and applied it to their limbs to makethem speak. They were still silent. The affair ended in his orderingJohn of Nepomuk to be flung headlong, during the night, from the greatbridge over the Moldau into the stream. A statue now marks the spotwhere this act of tyranny was performed. 

The final result of the emperor's cruelty was one which he could nothave foreseen. He had made a saint of Nepomuk. The church, appreciatingthe courageous devotion of the murdered ecclesiastic to his duty inkeeping inviolate the secrets of the confessional, canonized him as amartyr, and made him the patron saint of Bohemia. 

Puchnik escaped with his life, and eventually with more than his life. The tyrant's wrath was followed by remorse, --a feeling, apparently, which rarely troubled his soul, --and he sought to atone for his crueltyto one churchman by loading the other with benefits. But his mad furychanged to as mad a benevolence, and he managed to make a jest of hisgratuity. Puchnik was led into the royal treasury, and the emperorhimself, thrusting his royal hands into his hoards of gold, filled thepockets, and even the boots, of the late sufferer with the preciouscoin. This done, Puchnik attempted to depart, but in vain. He foundhimself nailed to the floor, so weighed down with gold that he wasunable to stir. Before he could move he had to disgorge much of hisnew-gained wealth, a proceeding to which churchmen in that age do notseem to have been greatly given. Doubtless the remorseful Wenceslasbeheld this process with a grim smile of royal humor on his lips. 

The emperor had a brother, Sigismund by name, a man not of any highdegree of wisdom, but devoid of his wild and immoderate temper. Brandenburg was his inheritance, though he had married the daughter ofthe King of Hungary and Poland, and hoped to succeed to those countries. There was a third brother, John, surnamed "Von Görlitz. " Sigismund wasby no means blind to his brother's folly, or to the ruin in which itthreatened to involve his family and his own future prospects. This lastexploit stirred him to action. Concerting with some other princes of theempire, he suddenly seized Wenceslas, carried him to Austria, andimprisoned him in the castle of Wiltberg, in that country. 

A fair disposal, this, of a man who was scarcely fit to run at large, most reasonable persons would say; but all did not think so. John vonGörlitz, the younger brother of the emperor, fearing public scandal fromsuch a transaction, induced the princes who held him to set him free. Itproved a fatal display of kindness and family affection for himself. Theimperial captive was no sooner free than, concealing the wrath which hefelt at his incarceration, he invited to a banquet certain Bohemiannobles who had aided in it. They came, trusting to the fact that thetiger's claws seemed sheathed. They had no sooner arrived than the clawswere displayed. They were all seized, by the emperor's order, andbeheaded. Then the dissimulating madman turned on his benevolent brotherJohn, who had taken control of affairs in Bohemia during hisimprisonment, and poisoned him. It was a new proof of the old adage, itis never safe to warm a frozen adder. 

The restoration of Wenceslas was followed by other acts of folly. In thefollowing year, 1395, he sold to John Galcazzo Visconti, of Milan, thedignity of a duke in Lombardy, a transaction which exposed him togeneral contempt. At a later date he visited Paris, and here, in adrunken frolic, he played into the hands of the King of France by cedingGenoa to that country, and by recognizing the antipope at Avignon, instead of Boniface IX. At Rome. These acts filled the cup of his folly. The princes of the empire resolved to depose him. A council was called, before which he was cited to appear. He refused to come, and wasformally deposed, Rupert, of the Palatinate, being elected in his stead. Ten years afterwards, in 1410, Rupert died, and Sigismund became Emperorof Germany. 

Meanwhile, Wenceslas remained King of Bohemia, in spite of his brotherSigismund, who sought to oust him from this throne also. He took himprisoner, indeed, but trusted him to the Austrians, who at once set himfree, and the Bohemians replaced him on the throne. Some yearsafterwards, war continuing, Wenceslas sought to get rid of his brotherSigismund in the same manner as he had disposed of his brother John, bypoison. He was successful in having it administered to Sigismund and hisally, Albert of Austria, in their camp before Zuaym. Albert died, butSigismund was saved by a rude treatment which seems to have been invogue in that day. He was suspended by the feet for twenty-four hours, so that the poison ran out of his mouth. 

The later events in the life of Wenceslas have to do with the mostfamous era in the history of Bohemia, the reformation in that country, and the stories of John Huss and Ziska. The fate of Huss is well known. Summoned before the council at Constance, and promised a safe-conduct bythe Emperor Sigismund, he went, only to find the emperor faithless tohis word and himself condemned and burnt as a heretic. This base act oftreachery was destined to bring a bloody retribution. It infuriated thereformers in Bohemia, who, after brooding for several years over theirwrongs, broke out into an insurrection of revenge. 

The leader of this outbreak was an officer of experience, named JohnZiska, a man who had lost one eye in childhood, and who bitterly hatedthe priesthood for a wrong done to one of his sisters. The martyrdom ofHuss threw him into such deep and silent dejection, that one day theking, in whose court he was, asked him why he was so sad. 

"Huss is burnt, and we have not yet avenged him, " replied Ziska. 

"I can do nothing in that direction, " said Wenceslas; adding, carelessly, "you might attempt it yourself. "

This was spoken as a jest, but Ziska took it in deadly earnest. He, aided by his friends, roused the people, greatly to the alarm of theking, who ordered the citizens to bring their arms to the royal castleof Wisherad, which commanded the city of Prague. 

Ziska heard the command, and obeyed it in his own way. The arms werebrought, but they came in the hands of the citizens, who marched in longfiles to the fortress, and drew themselves up before the king, Ziska attheir head. 

"My gracious and mighty sovereign, here we are, " said the bold leader;"we await your commands; against what enemy are we to fight?"

Wenceslas looked at those dense groups of armed and resolute men, andconcluded that his purpose of disarming them would not work. Assuming acheerful countenance, he bade them return home and keep the peace. Theyobeyed, so far as returning home was concerned. In other matters theyhad learned their power, and were bent on exerting it. 

Nicolas of Hussinez, Huss's former lord, and Ziska's seconder in thisoutbreak, was banished from the city by the king. He went, but tookforty thousand men with him, who assembled on a mountain which wasafterwards known by the biblical name of Mount Tabor. Here severalhundred tables were spread for the celebration of the Lord's Supper, July 22, 1419. 

Wenceslas, in attempting to put a summary end to the disturbance in thecity, quickly made bad worse. He deposed the Hussite city council in theNeustadt, the locality of greatest disturbance, and replaced it by a newone in his own interests. This action filled Prague with indignation, which was redoubled when the new council sent two clamorous Hussites toprison. On the 30th of July Ziska led a strong body of his partisansthrough the streets to the council-house, and sternly demanded that theprisoners should be set free. 

The councillors hesitated, --a fatal hesitation. A stone was flung fromone of the windows. Instantly the mob stormed the building, rushed intothe council-room, and seized the councillors, thirteen of whom, Germansby birth, were flung out of the windows. They were received on the pikesof the furious mob below, and the whole of them murdered. 

This act of violence was quickly followed by others. The dwelling of apriest, supposed to have been that of the seducer of Ziska's sister, wasdestroyed and its owner hanged; the Carthusian monks were draggedthrough the streets, crowned with thorns, and other outrages perpetratedagainst the opponents of the party of reform. 

A few days afterwards the career of Wenceslas, once Emperor of Germany, now King of Bohemia, came to an abrupt end. On August 16 he suddenlydied, --by apoplexy, say some historians, while others say that he wassuffocated in his palace by his own attendants. The latter would seem afitting end for a man whose life had been marked by so many acts oftyrannous violence, some of them little short of insanity. 

Whatever its cause, his death removed the last restraint from the mob. On the following day every church and monastery in Prague was assailedand plundered, their pictures were destroyed, and the robes of thepriests were converted into flags and dresses. Many of these buildingsare said to have been splendidly decorated, and the royal palace, whichwas also destroyed, had been adorned by Wenceslas and his father withthe richest treasures of art. We are told that on the walls of a gardenbelonging to the palace the whole of the Bible was written. While thework of destruction went on, a priest formed an altar in the street ofthree tubs, covered by a broad table-top, from which all day long hedispensed the sacrament in both forms. 

The excesses of this outbreak soon frightened the wealthier citizens, who dreaded an assault upon their wealth, and, in company with Sophia, the widow of Wenceslas, they sent a deputation to the emperor, askinghim to make peace. He replied by swearing to take a fearful revenge onthe insurgents. The insurrection continued, despite this action of thenobles and the threats of the emperor. Ziska, finding the citizens toomoderate, invited into the city the peasants, who were armed withflails, and committed many excesses. 

Forced by the moderate party to leave the city, Ziska led his newadherents to Mount Tabor, which he fortified and prepared to defend. They called themselves the "people of God, " and styled their Catholicopponents "Moabites, " "Amalekites, " etc. , declaring that it was theirduty to extirpate them. Their leader entitled himself "John Ziska, ofthe cup, captain, in the hope of God, of the Taborites. "

But having brought the story of the Emperor Wenceslas to an end, we muststop at this point. The after-life of John Ziska was of such stir andinterest, and so filled with striking events, that we shall deal with itby itself, in a sequel to the present story. 

_SEMPACH AND ARNOLD WINKELRIED. _

Seventy years had passed since the battle of Morgarten, through whichfreedom came to the lands of the Swiss. Throughout that long periodAustria had let the liberty-loving mountaineers alone, deterred by thefrightful lesson taught them in the bloody pass. In the interval theconfederacy had grown more extensive. The towns of Berne, Zurich, Soleure, and Zug had joined it; and now several other towns andvillages, incensed by the oppression and avarice of their Austrianmasters, threw off the foreign yoke and allied themselves to the Swissconfederacy. It was time for the Austrians to be moving, if they wouldretain any possessions in the Alpine realm of rocks. 

Duke Leopold of Austria, a successor to the Leopold who had learned sowell at Morgarten how the Swiss could strike for liberty, and as boldand arrogant as he, grew incensed at the mountaineers for taking intotheir alliance several towns which were subject to him, and vowed notonly to chastise these rebels, but to subdue the whole country, and putan end to their insolent confederacy. His feeling was shared by theAustrian nobles, one hundred and sixty-seven of whom joined in hiswarlike scheme, and agreed to aid him in putting down the defiantmountaineers. 

War resolved upon, the Austrians laid a shrewd plan to fill the Swissconfederates with terror in advance of their approach. Letters declaringwar were sent to the confederate assembly by twenty distinct expresses, with the hope that this rapid succession of threats would overwhelm themwith fear. The separate nobles followed with their declarations. On St. John's day a messenger arrived from Würtemberg bearing fifteendeclarations of war. Hardly had these letters been read when nine morearrived, sent by John Ulric of Pfirt and eight other nobles. Othersquickly followed; it fairly rained declarations of war; the members ofthe assembly had barely time to read one batch of threateningfulminations before another arrived. Letters from the lords of Thurncame after those named, followed by a batch from the nobles ofSchaffhausen. This seemed surely enough, but on the following day therain continued, eight successive messengers arriving, who bore no lessthan forty-three declarations of war. 

It seemed as if the whole north was about to descend in a cyclone ofbanners and spears upon the mountain land. The assembly sat breathlessunder this torrent of threats. Had their hearts been open to theinvasion of terror they must surely have been overwhelmed, and havewaited in the supineness of fear for the coming of their foes. 

But the hearts of the Swiss were not of that kind. They were too full ofcourage and patriotism to leave room for dismay. Instead of awaitingtheir enemies with dread, a burning impatience animated their souls. Ifliberty or death were the alternatives, the sooner the conflict beganthe more to their liking it would be. The cry of war resounded throughthe country, and everywhere, in valley and on mountain, by lake-side andby glacier's rim, the din of hostile preparation might have been heard, as the patriots arranged their affairs and forged and sharpened theirweapons for the coming fray. 

Far too impatient were they to wait for the coming of Leopold and hisarmy. There were Austrian nobles and Austrian castles within their land. No sooner was the term of the armistice at an end than the armedpeasantry swarmed about these strongholds, and many a fortress, long theseat of oppression, was taken and levelled with the ground. The war-cryof Leopold and the nobles had inspired a different feeling from thatcounted upon. 

It was not long before Duke Leopold appeared. At the head of a large andwell-appointed force, and attended by many distinguished knights andnobles, he marched into the mountain region and advanced upon Sempach, one of the revolted towns, resolved, he said, to punish its citizenswith a rod of iron for their daring rebellion. 

On the 9th of July, 1386, the Austrian cavalry, several thousands innumber, reached the vicinity of Sempach, having distanced thefoot-soldiers in the impatient haste of their advance. Here they foundthe weak array of the Swiss gathered on the surrounding heights, and aseager as themselves for the fray. It was a small force, no strongerthan that of Morgarten, comprising only about fourteen hundredpoorly-armed men. Some carried halberds, some shorter weapons, whilesome among them, instead of a shield, had only a small board fastened tothe left arm. It seemed like madness for such a band to dare contendwith the thousands of well-equipped invaders. But courage and patriotismgo far to replace numbers, as that day was to show. 

Leopold looked upon his handful of foes, and decided that it would befolly to wait for the footmen to arrive. Surely his host of nobles andknights, with their followers, would soon sweep these peasants, like somany locusts, from their path. Yet he remembered the confusion intowhich the cavalry had been thrown at Morgarten, and deeming thathorsemen were ill-suited to an engagement on those wooded hill-sides, heordered the entire force to dismount and attack on foot. 

The plan adopted was that the dismounted knights and soldiers shouldjoin their ranks as closely as possible, until their front presented anunbroken wall of iron, and thus arrayed should charge the enemy spear inhand. Leaving their attendants in charge of their horses, the serriedcolumn of footmen prepared to advance, confident of sweeping their foesto death before their closely-knit line of spears. 

Yet this plan of battle was not without its critics. The Baron ofHasenburg, a veteran soldier, looked on it with disfavor, as contrastedwith the position of vantage occupied by the Swiss, and cautioned theduke and his nobles against undue assurance. 

"Pride never served any good purpose in peace or war, " he said. "We hadmuch better wait until the infantry come up. "

This prudent advice was received with shouts of derision by the nobles, some of whom cried out insultingly, --

"Der Hasenburg hat ein Hasenherz" ("Hasenburg has a hare's heart, " aplay upon the baron's name). 

Certain nobles, however, who had not quite lost their prudence, tried topersuade the duke to keep in the rear, as the true position for aleader. He smiled proudly in reply, and exclaimed with impatience, --

"What! shall Leopold be a mere looker-on, and calmly behold his knightsdie around him in his own cause? Never! here on my native soil with youI will conquer or perish with my people. " So saying, he placed himselfat the head of the troops. 

And now the decisive moment was at hand. The Swiss had kept to theheights while their enemy continued mounted, not venturing to face sucha body of cavalry on level ground. But when they saw them forming asfoot-soldiers, they left the hills and marched to the plain below. Soonthe unequal forces confronted each other; the Swiss, as was theircustom, falling upon their knees and praying for God's aid to theircause; the Austrians fastening their helmets and preparing for the fray. The duke even took the occasion to give the honor of knighthood toseveral young warriors. 

The day was a hot and close one, the season being that of harvest, andthe sun pouring down its unclouded and burning rays upon the combatants. This sultriness was a marked advantage to the lightly-dressedmountaineers as compared with the armor-clad knights, to whom the heatwas very oppressive. 

The battle was begun by the Swiss, who, on rising from their knees, flung themselves with impetuous valor on the dense line of spears thatconfronted them. Their courage and fury were in vain. Not a man in theAustrian line wavered. They stood like a rock against which the waves ofthe Swiss dashed only to be hurled back in death. The men of Lucerne, inparticular, fought with an almost blind rage, seeking to force a paththrough that steel-pointed forest of spears, and falling rapidly beforethe triumphant foe. 

Numbers of the mountaineers lay dead or wounded. The line of spearsseemed impenetrable. The Swiss began to waver. The enemy, seeing this, advanced the flanks of his line so as to form a half-moon shape, withthe purpose of enclosing the small body of Swiss within a circle ofspears. It looked for the moment as if the struggle were at an end, themountaineers foiled and defeated, the fetters again ready to be lockedupon the limbs of free Switzerland. 

But such was not to be. There was a man in that small band of patriotswho had the courage to accept certain death for his country, one ofthose rare souls who appear from time to time in the centuries and winundying fame by an act of self-martyrdom. Arnold of Winkelried was hisname, a name which history is not likely soon to forget, for by animpulse of the noblest devotion this brave patriot saved the libertiesof his native land. 

[Illustration: STATUE OF ARNOLD WINKELRIED. ]

Seeing that there was but one hope for the Swiss, and that death must bethe lot of him who gave them that hope, he exclaimed to his comrades, ina voice of thunder, --

"Faithful and beloved confederates, I will open a passage to freedom andvictory! Protect my wife and children!"

With these words, he rushed from his ranks, flung himself upon theenemy's steel-pointed line, and seized with his extended arms as many ofthe hostile spears as he was able to grasp, burying them in his body, and sinking dead to the ground. 

His comrades lost not a second in availing themselves of this act ofheroic devotion. Darting forward, they rushed over the body of themartyr to liberty into the breach he had made, forced others of thespears aside, and for the first time since the fray began reached theAustrians with their weapons. 

A hasty and ineffective effort was made to close the breach. It onlyadded to the confusion which the sudden assault had caused. The line ofhurrying knights became crowded and disordered. The furious Swiss brokethrough in increasing numbers. Overcome with the heat, many of theknights fell from exhaustion, and died without a wound, suffocated intheir armor. Others fell below the blows of the Swiss. The line ofspears, so recently intact, was now broken and pierced at a dozenpoints, and the revengeful mountaineers were dealing death upon theirterrified and feebly-resisting foes. 

The chief banner of the host had twice sunk and been raised again, andwas drooping a third time, when Ulric, a knight of Aarburg, seized andlifted it, defending it desperately till a mortal blow laid him low. 

"Save Austria! rescue!" he faltered with his dying breath. 

Duke Leopold, who was pushing through the confused throng, heard him andcaught the banner from his dying hand. Again it waved aloft, but nowcrimsoned with the blood of its defender. 

The Swiss, determined to capture it, pressed upon its princely bearer, surrounded him, cut down on every side the warriors who sought to defendhim and the standard. 

"Since so many nobles and knights have ended their days in my cause, letme honorably follow them, " cried the despairing duke, and in a moment herushed into the midst of the hostile ranks, vanishing from the eyes ofhis attendants. Blows rained on his iron mail. In the pressure of thecrowd he fell to the earth. While seeking to raise himself again in hisheavy armor, he cried, in his helpless plight, to a Swiss soldier, whohad approached him with raised weapon, --

"I am the Prince of Austria. "

The man either heard not his words, or took no heed of princes. Theweapon descended with a mortal blow. Duke Leopold of Austria was dead. 

The body of the slain duke was found by a knight, Martin Malterer, whobore the banner of Freiburg. On recognizing him, he stood like onepetrified, let the banner fall from his hand, and then threw himself onthe body of the prince, that it might not be trampled under foot by thecontending forces. In this position he soon received his owndeath-wound. 

By this time the state of the Austrians was pitiable. The signal forretreat was given, and in utter terror and dismay they fled for theirhorses. Alas, too late! The attendants, seeing the condition of theirmasters, and filled with equal terror, had mounted the horses, and werealready in full flight. 

Nothing remained for the knights, oppressed with their heavy armor, exhausted with thirst and fatigue, half suffocated with the scorchingheat, assailed on every side by the light-armed and nimble Swiss, but tosell their lives as dearly as possible. In a short time more all was atan end. The last of the Austrians fell. On that fatal field there hadmet their death, at the hands of the small body of Swiss, no less thansix hundred and fifty-six knights, barons, and counts, together withthousands of their men-at-arms. 

Thus ended the battle of Sempach, with its signal victory to the Swiss, one of the most striking which history records, if we consider the greatdisproportion in numbers and in warlike experience and militaryequipment of the combatants. It secured to Switzerland the liberty forwhich they had so valiantly struck at Morgarten seventy years before. 

But all Switzerland was not yet free, and more blows were needed to winits full liberty. The battle of Næfels, in 1388, added to the width ofthe free zone. In this the peasants of Glarus rolled stones on theAustrian squadrons, and set fire to the bridges over which they fled, two thousand five hundred of the enemy, including a great number ofnobles, being slain. In the same year the peasants of Valais defeatedthe Earl of Savoy at Visp, putting four thousand of his men to thesword. The citizens of St. Gall, infuriated by the tyranny of thegovernor of the province of Schwendi, broke into insurrection, attackedthe castle of Schwendi, and burnt it to the ground. The governorescaped. All the castles in the vicinity were similarly dealt with, andthe whole district set free. 

Shortly after 1400 the citizens of St. Gall joined with the peasantsagainst their abbot, who ruled them with a hand of iron. The Swabiancities were asked to decide the dispute, and decided that cities couldonly confederate with cities, not with peasants, thus leaving theAppenzellers to their fate. At this decision the herdsmen rose in arms, defeated abbot and citizens both, and set their country free, all theneighboring peasantry joining their band of liberty. A few years laterthe people of this region joined the confederation, which now includednearly the whole of the Alpine country, and was strong enough tomaintain its liberty for centuries thereafter. It was not again subdueduntil the legions of Napoleon trod over its mountain paths. 

_ZISKA, THE BLIND WARRIOR. _

Sigismund, Emperor of Germany, had sworn to put an end to the Hussiterebellion in Bohemia, and to punish the rebels in a way that would makeall future rebels tremble. But Sigismund was pursuing the old policy ofcooking the hare before it was caught. He forgot that the indomitableJohn Ziska and the iron-flailed peasantry stood between him and his vow. He had first to conquer the reformers before he could punish them, andthis was to prove no easy task. 

The dreadful work of religious war began with the burning of Hussitepreachers who had ventured from Bohemia into Germany. This was anargument which Ziska thoroughly understood, and he retorted bydestroying the Bohemian monasteries, and burning the priests alive inbarrels of pitch. "They are singing my sister's wedding song, " exclaimedthe grim barbarian, on hearing their cries of torture. Queen Sophia, widow of Wenceslas, the late king, who had garrisoned all the royalcastles, now sent a strong body of troops against the reformers. Thearmy came up with the multitude, which was largely made up of women andchildren, on the open plain near Pilsen. The cavalry charged upon theseemingly helpless mob. But Ziska was equal to the occasion. He orderedthe women to strew the ground with their gowns and veils, and thehorses' feet becoming entangled in these, numbers of the riders werethrown, and the trim lines of the troops broken. 

Seeing the confusion into which they had been thrown, Ziska gave theorder to charge, and in a short time the army that was to defeat him wasflying in a panic across the plain, a broken and beaten mob. Anotherarmy marched against him, and was similarly defeated; and the citizensof Prague, finding that no satisfactory terms could be made with theemperor, recalled Ziska, and entered into alliance with him. Theone-eyed patriot was now lord of the land, all Bohemia being at his beckand call. 

Meanwhile Sigismund, the emperor, was slowly gathering his forces toinvade the rebellious land. The reign of cruelty continued, each sidetreating its prisoners barbarously. The Imperialists branded theirs witha cup, the Hussites theirs with a cross, on their foreheads. Thecitizens of Breslau joined those of Prague, and emulated them byflinging their councillors out of the town-house windows. In return theGerman miners of Kuttenberg threw sixteen hundred Hussites down themines. Such is religious war, the very climax of cruelty. 

In June, 1420, the threatened invasion came. Sigismund led an army, onehundred thousand strong, into the revolted land, fulminating vengeanceas he marched. He reached Prague and entered the castle of Wisherad, which commanded it. Ziska fortified the mountain of Witlow (now calledZiskaberg), which also commanded the city. Sigismund, finding that hehad been outgeneralled, and that his opponent held the controllingposition, waited and temporized, amusing himself meanwhile by assumingthe crown of Bohemia, and sowing dissension in his army by paying theSlavonian and Hungarian troops with the jewels taken from the royalpalaces and the churches, while leaving the Germans unpaid. The Germans, furious, marched away. The emperor was obliged to follow. Theostentatious invasion was at an end, and scarcely a blow had beenstruck. 

But Sigismund had no sooner gone than trouble arose in Prague. Thecitizens, the nobility, and Ziska's followers were all at odds. TheTaborites--those strict republicans and religious reformers who had madeMount Tabor their head-quarters--were in power, and ruled the city witha rod of iron, destroying all the remaining splendor of the churches andsternly prohibiting every display of ostentation by the people. Deathwas named as the punishment for such venial faults as dancing, gambling, or the wearing of rich attire. The wine-cellars were rigidly closed. Church property was declared public property, and it looked as ifprivate wealth would soon be similarly viewed. The peasants declaredthat it was their mission to exterminate sin from the earth. 

This tyranny so incensed the nobles and citizens that they rose inself-defence, and Ziska, finding that Prague had grown too hot to holdhim, deemed it prudent to lead his men away. Sigismund took immediateadvantage of the opportunity by marching on Prague. But, quick as hewas, there were others quicker. The more moderate section of thereformers, the so-called Horebites, --from Mount Horeb, another place ofassemblage, --entered the city, led by Hussinez, Huss's former lord, andlaid siege to the royal fortress, the Wisherad. Sigismund attempted tosurprise him, but met with so severe a repulse that he fled intoHungary, and the Wisherad was forced to capitulate, this ancient palaceand its church, both splendid works of art, being destroyed. Step bystep the art and splendor of Bohemia were vanishing in this despoticstruggle between heresy and the papacy. 

As the war went on, Ziska, its controlling spirit, grew steadily moreabhorrent of privilege and distinction, more bitterly fanatical. Theancient church, royalty, nobility, all excited his wrath. He wasrepublican, socialist, almost anarchist in his views. His idea ofperfection lay in a fraternity composed of the children of God, while hetrusted to the strokes of the iron flail to bear down all opposition tohis theory of society. The city of Prachaticz treated him with mockery, and was burnt to the ground, with all its inhabitants. The Bishop ofNicopolis fell into his hands, and was flung into the river. As timewent on, his war of extermination against sinners--that is, all whorefused to join his banner--grew more cruel and unrelenting. Each citythat resisted was stormed and ruined, its inhabitants slaughtered, itspriests burned. Hussite virtue had degenerated into tyranny of the worsttype. Yet, while thus fanatical himself, Ziska would not permit hisfollowers to indulge in insane excesses of religious zeal. A party arosewhich claimed that the millennium was at hand, and that it was theirduty to anticipate the coming of the innocence of Paradise, by goingnaked, like Adam and Eve. These Adamites committed the maddest excesses, but found a stern enemy in Ziska, who put them down with an unsparinghand. 

In 1421 Sigismund again roused himself to activity, incensed by theHussite defiance of his authority. He incited the Silesians to invadeBohemia, and an army of twenty thousand poured into the land, killingall before them, --men, women, and children. Yet such was the terror thatthe very name of Ziska now excited, that the mere rumor of his approachsent these invaders flying across the borders. 

But, in the midst of his career of triumph, an accident came to theBohemian leader which would have incapacitated any less resolute manfrom military activity. During the siege of the castle of Raby asplinter struck his one useful eye and completely deprived him of sight. It did not deprive him of power and energy. Most men, under suchcircumstances, would have retired from army leadership, but John Ziskawas not of that calibre. He knew Bohemia so thoroughly that the wholeland lay accurately mapped out in his mind. He continued to lead hisarmy, to marshal his men in battle array, to command them in the fieldand the siege, despite his blindness, always riding in a carriage, closeto the great standard, and keeping in immediate touch with all themovements of the war. 

Blind as he was, he increased rather than diminished the severity of hisdiscipline, and insisted on rigid obedience to his commands. As aninstance of this we are told that, on one occasion, having compelled histroops to march day and night, as was his custom, they murmured andsaid, --

"Day and night are the same to you, as you cannot see; but they are notthe same to us. "

"How!" he cried. "You cannot see! Well, set fire to a couple ofvillages. "

The blind warrior was soon to have others to deal with than his Bohemianfoes. Sigismund had sent forward another army, which, in September, 1421, invaded the country. It was driven out by the mere rumor ofZiska's approach, the soldiers flying in haste on the vague report ofhis coming. But in November the emperor himself came, leading a horde ofeighty thousand Hungarians, Servians, and others, savage fellows, whoseapproach filled the moderate party of the Bohemians with terror. Ziska'smen had such confidence in their blind chief as to be beyond terror. They were surrounded by the enemy, and enclosed in what seemed a trap. But under Ziska's orders they made a night attack on the foe, brokethrough their lines, and, to the emperor's discomfiture, were once morefree. 

On New Year's day, 1422, the two armies came face to face near Zollin. Ziska drew up his men in battle array and confidently awaited the attackof the enemy. But the inflexible attitude of his men, the terror of hisname, or one of those inexplicable influences which sometimes affectarmies, filled the Hungarians with a sudden panic, and they vanishedfrom the front of the Bohemians without a blow. Once more the emperorand the army which he had led into the country with such high confidenceof success were in shameful flight, and the terrible example which hehad vowed to make of Bohemia was still unaccomplished. 

The blind chief vigorously and relentlessly pursued, overtaking thefugitives on January 8 near Deutschbrod. Terrified at his approach, theysought to escape by crossing the stream at that place on the ice. Theice gave way, and numbers of them were drowned. Deutschbrod was burnedand its inhabitants slaughtered in Ziska's cruel fashion. 

This repulse put an end to invasions of Bohemia while Ziska lived. Therewere intestine disturbances which needed to be quelled, and then thearmy of the reformers was led beyond the boundaries of the country andassailed the imperial dominions, but the emperor held aloof. He had hadenough of the blind terror of Bohemia, the indomitable Ziska and hisiron-flailed peasants. New outbreaks disturbed Bohemia. Ambitious noblesaspired to the kingship, but their efforts were vain. The army of theiron flail quickly put an end to all such hopes. 

In 1423 Ziska invaded Moravia and Austria, to keep his troops employed, and lost severely in doing so. In 1424 his enemies at home again madehead against him, led an army into the field, and pursued him toKuttenberg. Here he ordered his men to feign a retreat, then, while thefoe were triumphantly advancing, he suddenly turned, had hisbattle-chariot driven furiously down the mountain-side upon their lines, and during the confusion thus caused ordered an attack in force. Theenemy were repulsed, their artillery was captured, and Kuttenberg set inflames, as Ziska's signal of triumph. 

Shortly afterwards, his enemies at home being thoroughly beaten, theindomitable blind chief marched upon Prague, the head-quarters of hisfoes, and threatened to burn this city to the ground. He might have doneso, too, but for his own men, who broke into sedition at the threat. 

Procop, Ziska's bravest captain, advised peace, to put an end to thedisasters of civil war. His advice was everywhere re-echoed, the demandfor peace seemed unanimous, Ziska alone opposing it. Mounting a cask, and facing his discontented followers, he exclaimed, --

"Fear internal more than external foes. It is easier for a few, whenunited, to conquer, than for many, when disunited. Snares are laid foryou; you will be entrapped, but it will not be my fault. "

Despite his harangue, however, peace was concluded between thecontending factions, and a large monument raised in commemorationthereof, both parties heaping up stones. Ziska entered the city insolemn procession, and was met with respect and admiration by thecitizens. Prince Coribut, the leader of the opposite party and theaspirant to the crown, came to meet him, embraced him, and called himfather. The triumph of the blind chief over his internal foes wascomplete. 

It seemed equally complete over his external foes. Sigismund, unable toconquer him by force of arms, now sought to mollify him by offers ofpeace, and entered into negotiations with the stern old warrior. ButZiska was not to be placated. He could not trust the man who had brokenhis plighted word and burned John Huss, and he remained immovable in hishostility to Germany. Planning a fresh attack on Moravia, he began hismarch thither. But now he met a conquering enemy against whose armsthere was no defence. Death encountered him on the route, and carriedhim off October 12, 1424. 

Thus ends the story of an extraordinary man, and the history of a seriesof remarkable events. Of all the peasant outbreaks, of which there wereso many during the mediæval period, the Bohemian was the only one--if weexcept the Swiss struggle for liberty--that attained measurable success. This was due in part to the fact that it was a religious instead of anindustrial revolt, and thus did not divide the country into sharp ranksof rich and poor; and in greater part to the fact that it had an ableleader, one of those men of genius who seem born for great occasions. John Ziska, the blind warrior, leading his army to victory aftervictory, stands alone in the gallery of history. There were none likehim, before or after. 

He is pictured as a short, broad-shouldered man, with a large, round, and bald head. His forehead was deeply furrowed, and he wore a longmoustache of a fiery red hue. This, with his blind eye and his finalcomplete blindness, yields a well-defined image of the man, thatfanatical, remorseless, indomitable, and unconquerable avenger of themartyred Huss, the first successful opponent of the doctrines of thechurch of Rome whom history records. 

The conclusion of the story of the Hussites may be briefly given. Foryears they held their own, under two leaders, known as Procop Holy andProcop the Little, defying the emperor, and at times invading theempire. The pope preached a crusade against them, but the army ofinvasion was defeated, and Silesia and Austria were invaded in reprisalby Procop Holy. 

Seven years after the death of Ziska an army of invasion again enteredBohemia, so strong in numbers that it seemed as if that war-drenchedland must fall before it. In its ranks were one hundred and thirtythousand men, led by Frederick of Brandenburg. Their purposes were seenin their actions. Every village reached was burned, till two hundred hadbeen given to the flames. Horrible excesses were committed. On August14, 1431, the two armies, the Hussite and the Imperialist, came face toface near Tauss. The disproportion in numbers was enormous, and itlooked as if the small force of Bohemians would be swallowed up in themultitude of their foes. But barely was the Hussite banner seen in thedistance when the old story was told over again, the Germans broke intosudden panic, and fled _en masse_ from the field. The Bavarians were thefirst to fly, and all the rest speedily followed. Frederick ofBrandenburg and his troops took refuge in a wood. The Cardinal Julian, who had preached a crusade against Bohemia, succeeded for a time inrallying the fugitives, but at the first onset of the Hussites theyagain took to flight, suffering themselves to be slaughtered withoutresistance. The munitions of war were abandoned to the foe, includingone hundred and fifty cannon. 

It was an extraordinary affair, but in truth the flight was less due toterror than to disinclination of the German soldiers to fight theHussites, whose cause they deemed to be just and glorious, and theinfluence of whose opinions had spread far beyond the Bohemian border. Rome was losing its hold over the mind of northern Europe outside thelimits of the land of Huss and Ziska. 

Negotiations for peace followed. The Bohemians were invited to Bâsle, being granted a safe-conduct, and promised free exercise of theirreligion coming and going, while no words of ridicule or reproach wereto be permitted. On January 9, 1433, three hundred Bohemians, mounted onhorseback, entered Bâsle, accompanied by an immense multitude. It was avery different entrance from that of Huss to Constance, nearly twentyyears before, and was to have a very different termination. Procop Holyheaded the procession, accompanied by others of the Bohemian leaders. Asignal triumph had come to the party of religious reform, after twentyyears of struggle. 

For fifty days the negotiations continued. Neither side would yield. Inthe end, the Bohemians, weary of the protracted and fruitless debate, took to their horses again, and set out homewards. This brought theirenemies to terms. An embassy was hastily sent after them, and all theirdemands were conceded, though with certain reservations that might proveperilous in the future. They went home triumphant, having won freedom ofreligious worship according to their ideas of right and truth. 

They had not long reached home when dissensions again broke out. Theemperor took advantage of them, accepted the crown of Bohemia, enteredPrague, and at once reinstated the Catholic religion. The fanatics flewto arms, but after a desperate struggle were annihilated. The Bohemianstruggle was at an end. In the following year the emperor Sigismunddied, having lived just long enough to win success in his long conflict. The martyrdom of Huss, the valor and zeal of Ziska, appeared to havebeen in vain. Yet they were not so, for the seeds they had sown borefruit in the following century in a great sectarian revolt whichaffected all Christendom and permanently divided the Church. 

_THE SIEGE OF BELGRADE_

The empire of Rome finally reached its end, not in the fifth century, asordinarily considered, but in the fifteenth; not at Rome, but atConstantinople, where the Eastern empire survived the Western for athousand years. At length, in 1453, the Turks captured Constantinople, set a broad foot upon the degenerate empire of the East, and crushed outthe last feeble remnants of life left in the pygmy successor of thecolossus of the past. 

And now Europe, which had looked on with clasped hands while the Turksswept over the Bosphorus and captured Constantinople, suddenly awoke tothe peril of its situation. A blow in time might have saved the Greekempire. The blow had not been struck, and now Europe had itself to save. Terror seized upon the nations which had let their petty intrigues standin the way of that broad policy in which safety lay, for they could notforget past instances of Asiatic invasion. The frightful ravages wroughtby the Huns and the Avars were far in the past, but no long time hadelapsed since the coming of the Magyars and the Mongols, and now herewas another of those hordes of murderous barbarians, hanging like acloud of war on the eastern skirt of Europe, and threatening to raindeath and ruin upon the land. The dread of the nations was not amiss. They had neglected to strengthen the eastern barrier to the Turkishavalanche. Now it threatened their very doors, and they must meet it athome. 

The Turks were not long in making their purpose evident. Within twoyears after the fall of Constantinople they were on the march again, andhad laid siege to Belgrade, the first obstacle in their pathway touniversal conquest. The Turkish cannons were thundering at the doors ofEurope. Belgrade fallen, Vienna would come next, and the march of thebarbarians might only end at the sea. 

And yet, despite their danger, the people of Germany remained supine. Hungary had valiantly defended itself against the Turks ten yearsbefore, without aid from the German empire. It looked now as if Belgrademight be left to its fate. The brave John Hunyades and his faithfulHungarians were the only bulwarks of Europe against the foe, for thepeople seemed incapable of seeing a danger a thousand miles away. Thepope and his legate John Capistrano, general of the Capuchins, were theonly aids to the valiant Hunyades in his vigorous defence. They preacheda crusade, but with little success. Capistrano traversed Germany, eloquently calling the people to arms against the barbarians. The resultwas similar to that on previous occasions, the real offenders wereneglected, the innocent suffered. The people, instead of arming againstthe Turks, turned against the Jews, and murdered them by thousands. Whatever happened in Europe, --a plague, an invasion, a famine, afinancial strait, --that unhappy people were in some way heldresponsible, and mediæval Europe seemed to think it could, at any time, check the frightful career of a comet or ward off pestilence byslaughtering a few thousands of Jews. It cannot be said that it workedwell on this occasion; the Jews died, but the Turks surrounded Belgradestill. 

Capistrano found no military ardor in Germany, in princes or people. Theprinces contented themselves with ordering prayers and ringing theTurkish bells, as they were called. The people were as supine as theirprinces. He did, however, succeed, by the aid of his earnest eloquence, in gathering a force of a few thousands of peasants, priests, scholars, and the like; a motley host who were chiefly armed with iron flails andpitchforks, but who followed him with an enthusiasm equal to his own. With this shadow of an army he joined Hunyades, and the combined forcemade its way in boats down the Danube into the heart of Hungary, andapproached the frontier fortress which Mahomet II. Was besieging with ahost of one hundred and sixty thousand men, and which its defender, thebrother-in-law of John Hunyades, had nearly given up for lost. 

On came the flotilla, --the peasants with their flails and forks andHunyades with his trained soldiers, --and attacked the Turkish fleet withsuch furious energy that it was defeated and dispersed, and the alliedforces made their way into the beleaguered city. Capistrano and hisfollowers were full of enthusiasm. He was a second Peter the Hermit, his peasant horde were crusaders, fierce against the infidels, disdaining death in God's cause; neither leader nor followers had agrain of military knowledge or experience, but they had, what issometimes better, courage and enthusiasm. 

John Hunyades _had_ military experience, and looked with cold disfavoron the burning and blind zeal of his new recruits. He was willing thatthey should aid him in repelling the furious attacks of the Turks, butto his trained eyes an attack on the well-intrenched camp of the enemywould have been simple madness, and he sternly forbade any such suicidalcourse, even threatening death to whoever should attempt it. 

In truth, his caution seemed reasonable. An immense host surrounded thecity on the land side, and had done so on the water side, also, untilthe Christian flotilla had sunk, captured, and dispersed its boats. Faras the eye could see, the gorgeously-embellished tents of the Turkisharmy, with their gilded crescents glittering in the sun, filled thefield of view. Cannon-mounted earthworks threatened the walls from everyquarter. Squadrons of steel-clad horsemen swept the field. The crowdingthousands of besiegers pressed the city day and night. Even defenceseemed useless. Assault on such a host appeared madness to experiencedeyes. Hunyades seemed wise in his stern disapproval of such an idea. 

Yet military knowledge has its limitations, when it fails to take intoaccount the power of enthusiasm. Blind zeal is a force whosepossibilities a general does not always estimate. It is capable ofperforming miracles, as Hunyades was to learn. His orders, his threatsof death, had no restraining effect on the minds of the crusaders. Theyhad come to save Europe from the Turks, and they were not to be stayedby orders or threats. What though the enemy greatly outnumbered them, and had cannons and scimitars against their pikes and flails, had theynot God on their side, and should God's army pause to consider numbersand cannon-balls? They were not to be restrained; attack they would, andattack they did. 

The siege had made great progress. The reinforcement had come barely intime. The walls were crumbling under the incessant bombardment. Convinced that he had made a practicable breach, Mahomet, the sultan, ordered an assault in force. The Turks advanced, full of barbariancourage, climbed the crumbled walls, and broke, as they supposed, intothe town, only to find new walls frowning before them. The vigorousgarrison had built new defences behind the old ones, and thedisheartened assailants learned that they had done their work in vain. 

This repulse greatly discouraged the sultan. He was still morediscouraged when the crusaders, irrepressible in their hot enthusiasm, broke from the city and made a fierce attack upon his works. Capistrano, seeing that they were not to be restrained, put himself at their head, and with a stick in one hand and a crucifix in the other, led them tothe assault. It proved an irresistible one. The Turks could not sustainthemselves against these flail-swinging peasants. One intrenchment afteranother fell into their hands, until three had been stormed and taken. Their success inspired Hunyades. Filled with a new respect for hispeasant allies, and seeing that now or never was the time to strike, hecame to their aid with his cavalry, and fell so suddenly and violentlyupon the Turkish rear that the invaders were put to rout. 

Onward pushed the crusaders and their allies; backward went the Turks. The remaining intrenchments were stubbornly defended, but that storm ofiron flails, those pikes and pitchforks, wielded by the zeal ofenthusiasts, were not to be resisted, and in the end all that remainedof the Turkish army broke into panic flight, the sultan himself beingwounded, and more than twenty thousand of his men left dead upon thefield. 

It was a signal victory. Miraculous almost, when one considers the greatdisproportion of numbers. The works of the invaders, mounted with threehundred cannon, and their camp, which contained an immense booty, fellinto the hands of the Christians, and the power of Mahomet II. Was socrippled that years passed before he was in condition to attempt asecond invasion of Europe. 

The victors were not long to survive their signal triumph. The valiantHunyades died shortly after the battle, from wounds received in theaction or from fatal disease. Capistrano died in the same year (1456). Hunyades left two sons, and the King of Hungary repaid his services byoppressing both, and beheading one of these sons. But the king himselfdied during the next year, and Matthias Corvinus, the remaining son ofHunyades, was placed by the Hungarians on their throne. They had giventheir brave defender the only reward in their power. 

If the victory of Hunyades and Capistrano--the nobleman and themonk--had been followed up by the princes of Europe, the Turks mighthave been driven from Constantinople, Europe saved from future peril attheir hands, and the tide of subsequent history gained a cleaner andpurer flow. But nothing was done; the princes were too deeply interestedin their petty squabbles to entertain large views, and the Turks weresuffered to hold the empire of the East, and quietly to recruit theirforces for later assaults. 

_LUTHER AND THE INDULGENCES. _

Late in the month of April, in the year 1521, an open wagon containingtwo persons was driven along one of the roads of Germany, the horsebeing kept at his best pace, while now and then one of the occupantslooked back as if in apprehension. This was the man who held the reins. The other, a short but presentable person, with pale, drawn face, lit bykeen eyes, seemed too deeply buried in thought to be heedful ofsurrounding affairs. When he did lift his eyes they were directed ahead, where the road was seen to enter the great Thuringian forest. Dressed inclerical garb, the peasants who passed probably regarded him as a monkon some errand of mercy. The truth was that he was a fugitive, fleeingfor his life, for he was a man condemned, who might at any moment bewaylaid and seized. 

On entering the forest the wagon was driven on until a shaded and lonelydell was reached, seemingly a fitting place for deeds of violence. Suddenly from the forest glades rode forth four armed and masked men, who stopped the wagon, sternly bade the traveller to descend and mount aspare horse they had with them, and rode off with him, a seemingcaptive, through the thick woodland. 

As if in fear of pursuit, the captors kept at a brisk pace, not drawingrein until the walls of a large and strong castle loomed up near theforest border. The gates flew open and the drawbridge fell at theirdemand, and the small cavalcade rode into the powerful stronghold, theentrance to which was immediately closed behind them. It was the castleof Wartburg, near Eisenach, Saxony, within whose strong walls the manthus mysteriously carried off was to remain hidden from the world forthe greater part of the year that followed. 

The monk-like captive was just then the most talked of man in Germany. His seemingly violent capture had been made by his friends, not by hisfoes, its purpose being to protect him from his enemies, who were manyand threatening. Of this he was well aware, and welcomed the castle as aplace of refuge. He was, in fact, the celebrated Martin Luther, who hadjust set in train a religious revolution of broad aspect in Germany, andthough for the time under the protection of a safe-conduct from theemperor Charles V. , had been deemed in imminent danger of falling intoan ambush of his foes instead of one of his friends. 

That he might not be recognised by those who should see him at Wartburg, his ecclesiastic robe was exchanged for the dress of a knight, he worehelmet and sword instead of cassock and cross and let his beard growfreely. Thus changed in appearance, he was known as Junker George(Chevalier George) to those in the castle, and amused himself at timesby hunting with his knightly companions in the neighborhood. Thegreater part of his time, however, was occupied in a difficult literarytask, that of translating the Bible into German. The work thus done byhim was destined to prove as important in a linguistic as in atheological sense, since it fixed the status of the German language forthe later period to the same extent as the English translation of theBible in the time of James I. Aided to fix that of English speech. 

Leaving Luther, for the present, in his retreat at Wartburg Castle, wemust go back in his history and tell the occasion of the events justnarrated. No man, before or after his time, ever created so great adisturbance in German thought, and the career of this fugitive monk isone of great historical import. 

A peasant by birth, the son of a slate-cutter named Hans Luther, he sodistinguished himself as a scholar that his father proposed to make hima lawyer, but a dangerous illness, the death of a near friend, and theexhortations of an eloquent preacher, so wrought upon his mind that heresolved instead to become a monk, and after going through the necessarycourse of study and mental discipline was ordained priest in May, 1507. The next year he was appointed a professor in the university ofWittenberg. There he remained for the next ten years of his life, whenan event occurred which was to turn the whole current of his career andgive him a prominence in theological history which few other men haveever attained. 

In 1517 Pope Leo X. Authorized an unusually large issue of indulgences, a term which signifies a remission of the temporal punishment due tosin, either in this life or the life to come; the condition being thatthe recipient shall have made a full confession of his sins and by hispenitence and purpose of amendment fitted himself to receive the pardonof God, through the agency of the priest. He was also required toperform some service in the aid of charity or religion, such as thegiving of alms. 

At the time of the Crusades the popes had granted to all who took partin them remission from church penalties. At a later date the sameindulgence was granted to penitents who aided the holy wars with moneyinstead of in person. At a still later date remission from the penaltiesof sin might be obtained by pious work, such as building churches, etc. When the Turks threatened Europe, those who fought against them obtainedindulgence. In the instance of the issue of indulgences by Leo X. Thepious work required was the giving of alms in aid of the completion ofthe great cathedral of St. Peter's at Rome. 

This purpose did not differ in character from others for whichindulgences had previously been granted, and there is nothing to showthat any disregard of the requisite conditions was authorized by thepope; but there is reason to believe that some of the agents for thedisposal of these indulgences went much beyond the intention of thedecree. This was especially the case in the instance of a Dominicanmonk named Tetzel, who is charged with openly asserting what few or noother Catholics appear to have ever claimed, that the indulgences notonly released the purchasers from the necessity of penance, but absolvedthem from all the consequences of sin in this world or the next. 

We shall not go into the details of the venalities charged againstTetzel, whose field of labor was in Saxony, but they seem to have beensufficient to cause a strong feeling of dissatisfaction, which at lengthfound a voice in Martin Luther, who preached vigorously against Tetzeland his methods and wrote to the princes and bishops begging them torefuse this irreligious dealer in indulgences a passage through theirdominions. 

The near approach of Tetzel to Wittenberg roused Luther to more decidedaction. He now wrote out ninety-five propositions in which he set forthin the strongest language his reasons for opposing and his view of thepernicious effects of Tetzel's doctrine of indulgences. These he nailedto the door of the Castle church of Wittenberg. The effect produced bythem was extraordinary. The news of the protest spread with the greatestrapidity and within a fortnight copies of it had been distributedthroughout Germany. Within five or six weeks it was being read over agreat part of Europe. On all sides it aroused a deep public interest andexcitement and became the great sensation of the day. 

We cannot go into the details of what followed. Luther's propositionswere like a thunderbolt flung into the mind of Germany. Everywhere deepthought was aroused and a host of those who had been displeased withTetzel's methods sustained him in his act. Other papers from his penfollowed in which his revolt from the Church of Rome grew wider anddeeper. His energetic assault aroused a number of opponents and anactive controversy ensued; ending in Luther's being cited to appearbefore Cajetan, the pope's legate, at Augsburg. From this meeting nodefinite result came. After a heated argument Cajetan ended thecontroversy with the following words:

"I can dispute no longer with this beast; it has two wicked eyes andmarvellous thoughts in its head. "

Luther's view of the matter was much less complimentary. He said of thelegate, --

"He knows no more about the Word than a donkey knows of harp-playing. "

In the next year, 1519, a discussion took place at Leipzig, betweenLuther on the one hand, aided by his friends Melanchthon and Carlstadt, and a zealous and talented ecclesiastic, Dr. Eck, on the other. Eck wasa vigorous debater, --in person, in voice, and in opinion, --but as Lutherwas not to be silenced by his argument, he ended by calling him "agentile and publican, " and wending his way to Borne, where he expressedhis opinion of the new movement, demanded that the heretic should bemade to feel the heavy hand of church discipline. 

Back he came soon to Germany, bearing a bull from the pope, in whichwere extracts from Luther's writings stated to be heretical, and whichmust be publicly retracted within sixty days under threat ofexcommunication. This the ardent agent tried to distribute throughGermany, but to his surprise he found that Germany was in no humor toreceive it. Most of the magistrates forbade it to be made public. Whereit was posted upon the walls of any town, the people immediately tore itdown. In truth, Luther's heresy had with extraordinary rapidity becomethe heresy of Germany, and he found himself with a nation at his back, anation that admired his courage and supported his opinions. 

His most decisive step was taken on the 10th of December, 1520. On thatday the faculty and students of the University of Wittenberg, convokedby him, met at the Elster gate of the town. Here a funeral pile wasbuilt up by the students, one of the magistrates set fire to it, andLuther, amid approving shouts from the multitude, flung into the flamesthe pope's bull, and with it the canonical law and the writings of Dr. Eck. In this act he decisively broke loose from and defied the Church ofRome, sustained in his radical step of revolt apparently by allWittenberg, and by a large body of converts to his views throughoutGermany. 

The bold reformer found friends not only among the lowly, but among thepowerful. The Elector of Saxony was on his side, and openly accused thepope of acting the unjust judge, by listening to one side and not theother, and of needlessly agitating the people by his bull. Ulrich vonHutten, a favorite popular leader, was one of the zealous proselytes ofthe new doctrines. Franz von Sickingen, a knight of celebrity, wasanother who offered Luther shelter, if necessary, in his castles. 

And now came a turning-point in Luther's career, the most dangerouscrisis he was to reach, and the one that needed the utmost courage andmost inflexible resolution to pass it in safety. It was that which hasbecome famous as the "Diet of Worms. " Germany had gained a new emperor, Charles V. , under whose sceptre the empire of Charlemagne was in greatpart restored, for his dominions included Germany, Spain, and theNetherlands. This young monarch left Spain for Germany in 1521, and wasno sooner there than he called a great diet, to meet at Worms, that theaffairs of the empire might be regulated, and that in particular thisreligious controversy, which was troubling the public mind, should besettled. 

Thither came the princes and potentates of the realm, thither greatdignitaries of the church, among them the pope's legate, CardinalAlexander, who was commissioned to demand that the emperor and theprinces should call Luther to a strict account, and employ against himthe temporal power. But to the cardinal's astonishment he found that thepeople of Germany had largely seceded from the papal authority. Everywhere he met with writings, songs, and pictures in which the holyfather was treated with contempt and mockery. Even himself, as thepope's representative, was greeted with derision, and his life at timeswas endangered, despite the fact that he came in the suite of theemperor. 

[Illustration: STATUE OF LUTHER AT WORMS. ]

The diet assembled, the cardinal, as instructed, demanded that severemeasures should be taken against the arch-heretic: the Elector ofSaxony, on the contrary, insisted that Luther should be heard in his owndefence; the emperor and the princes agreed with him, silencing thecardinal's declaration that the diet had no right or power to questionthe decision of the pope, and inviting Luther to appear before theimperial assembly at Worms, the emperor granting him a safe-conduct. 

Possibly Charles thought that the insignificant monk would fear to comebefore that august body, and the matter thus die out. Luther's friendsstrongly advised him not to go. They had the experience of John Huss tooffer as argument. But Luther was not the man to be stopped by dread ofdignitaries or fear of penalties. He immediately set out from Wittenbergfor Worms, saying to his protesting friends, "Though there were as manydevils in the city as there are tiles on the roofs, still I would go. "

His journey was an ovation. The people flocked by thousands to greet andapplaud him. On his arrival at Worms two thousand people gathered andaccompanied him to his lodgings. When, on the next day, April 18, 1521, the grand-marshal of the empire conducted him to the diet, he wasobliged to lead him across gardens and through by-ways to avoid thethrong that filled the streets of the town. 

When entering the hall, he was clapped on the shoulder by a famousknight and general of the empire, Georg von Frundsberg, who said, "Monk, monk, thou art in a strait the like of which myself and many leaders, inthe most desperate battles, have never known. But if thy thoughts arejust, and thou art sure of thy cause, go on, in God's name; and be ofgood cheer; He will not forsake thee. "

Luther was not an imposing figure as he stood before the proud assemblyin the imperial hall. He had just recovered from a severe fever, and waspale and emaciated. And standing there, unsupported by a single friend, before that great assembly, his feelings were strongly excited. Theemperor remarked to his neighbor, "This man would never succeed inmaking a heretic of _me_. "

But though Luther's body was weak, his mind was strong. His air quicklybecame calm and dignified. He was commanded to retract the charges hehad made against the church. In reply he acknowledged that the writingsproduced were his own, and declared that he was not ready to retractthem, but said that "If they can convince me from the Holy Scripturesthat I am in error, I am ready with my own hands to cast the whole of mywritings into the flames. "

The chancellor replied that what he demanded was retraction, notdispute. This Luther refused to give. The emperor insisted on a simplerecantation, which Luther declared he could not make. For several daysthe hearing continued, ending at length in the threatening declarationof the emperor, that "he would no longer listen to Luther, but dismisshim at once from his presence, and treat him as he would a heretic. "

There was danger in this, the greatest danger. The emperor's word hadbeen given, it is true; but an emperor had broken his word with JohnHuss, and his successor might with Martin Luther. Charles was, indeed, importuned to do so, but replied that his imperial word was sacred, evenif given to a heretic, and that Luther should have an extension of thesafe-conduct for twenty-one days, during his return home. 

Luther started home. It was a journey by no means free from danger. Hehad powerful and unscrupulous enemies. He might be seized and carriedoff by an ambush of his foes. How he was saved from peril of this sortwe have described. It was his friend and protector, Frederick, theElector of Saxony, who had placed the ambush of knights, his purposebeing to put Luther in a place of safety where he could lie concealeduntil the feeling against him had subsided. Meanwhile, at Worms, whenthe period of the safe-conduct had expired, Luther was declared out ofthe ban of the empire, an outlaw whom no man was permitted to shelter, his works were condemned to be burned wherever found, and he wasadjudged to be seized and held in durance subject to the will of theemperor. 

What had become of the fugitive no one knew. The story spread that hehad been murdered by his enemies. For ten months he remained inconcealment and when he again appeared it was to combat a horde offanatical enthusiasts who had carried his doctrines to excess and werestirring up all Germany by their wild opinions. The outbreak drew Lutherback to Wittenberg, where for eight days he preached with greateloquence against the fanatics and finally succeeded in quelling thedisturbance. 

From that time forward Luther continued the guiding spirit of theProtestant revolt and was looked upon with high consideration by most ofthe princes of Germany, his doctrines spreading until, during hislifetime, they extended to Moravia, Bohemia, Denmark and Sweden. Then, in 1546, he died at Eisleben, near the castle in which he had dweltduring the most critical period of his life. 

_SOLYMAN THE MAGNIFICENT AT GUNTZ. _

Solyman the Magnificent, Sultan of Turkey, had collected an army ofdimensions as magnificent as his name, and was on his march to overwhelmAustria and perhaps subject all western Europe to his arms. A few yearsbefore he had swept Hungary with his hordes, taken and plundered itscities of Buda and Pesth, and made the whole region his own. Belgrade, which had been so valiantly defended against his predecessor, had falleninto his infidel hands. The gateways of western Europe were his; he hadbut to open them and march through; doubtless there had come to himglorious dreams of extending the empire of the crescent to the westernseas. And yet the proud and powerful sultan was to be checked in hiscourse by an obstacle seemingly as insignificant as if the sting of ahornet should stop the career of an elephant. The story is a remarkableone, and deserves to be better known. 

Vast was the army which Solyman raised. He had been years in gatheringmen and equipments. Great work lay before him, and he needed great meansfor its accomplishment. It is said that three hundred thousand menmarched under his banners. So large was the force, so great the quantityof its baggage and artillery, that its progress was necessarily a slowone, and sixty days elapsed during its march from Constantinople toBelgrade. 

Here was time for Ferdinand of Austria to bring together forces for thedefence of his dominions against the leviathan which was slowly movingupon them. He made efforts, but they were not of the energetic sortwhich the crisis demanded, and had the Turkish army been less unwieldlyand more rapid, Vienna might have fallen almost undefended intoSolyman's hands. Fortunately, large bodies move slowly, and the sultanmet with an obstacle that gave the requisite time for preparation. 

On to Belgrade swept the grand army, with its multitude of standards andall the pomp and glory of its vast array. The slowness with which itcame was due solely to its size, not in any sense to lack of energy inthe warlike sultan. An anecdote is extant which shows his manner ofdealing with difficulties. He had sent forward an engineer with ordersto build a bridge over the river Drave, to be constructed at a certainpoint, and be ready at a certain time. The engineer went, surveyed therapid stream, and sent back answer to the sultan that it was impossibleto construct a bridge at that point. 

But Solyman's was one of those magnificent souls that do not recognizethe impossible. He sent the messenger back to the engineer, in his handa linen cord, on his lips this message:

"Your master, the sultan, commands you, without consideration of thedifficulties, to complete the bridge over the Drave. If it be not readyfor him on his arrival, he will have you strangled with this cord. "

The bridge was built. Solyman had learned the art of overcoming theimpossible. He was soon to have a lesson in the art of overcoming thedifficult. 

Belgrade was in due time reached. Here the sultan embarked his artilleryand heavy baggage on the Danube, three thousand vessels being employedfor that purpose. They were sent down the stream, under sufficientescort, towards the Austrian capital, while the main army, lightened ofmuch of its load, prepared to march more expeditiously than heretoforethrough Hungary towards its goal. 

Ferdinand of Austria, alarmed at the threatening approach of the Turks, had sent rich presents and proposals of peace to Solyman at Belgrade;but those had the sole effect of increasing his pride and making himmore confidant of victory. He sent an insulting order to the ambassadorsto follow his encampment and await his pleasure, and paid no furtherheed to their pacific mission. 

The Save, an affluent of the Danube, was crossed, and the army lostsight of the great stream, and laid its course by a direct route throughSclavonia towards the borders of Styria, the outlying Austrian provincein that direction. It was the shortest line of march available, thedistance to be covered being about two hundred miles. On reaching theStyrian frontier, the Illyrian mountain chain needed to be crossed, andwithin it lay the obstacle with which Solyman had to contend. 

The route of the army led through a mountain pass. In this pass was apetty and obscure town, Guntz by name, badly fortified, and garrisonedby a mere handful of men, eight hundred in all. Its principal means ofdefence lay in the presence of an indomitable commander, NicholasJurissitz, a man of iron nerve and fine military skill. 

Ibrahim Pasha, who led the vanguard of the Turkish force, ordered theoccupation of this mountain fortress, and learned with anger andmortification that Guntz had closed its gates and frowned defiance onhis men. Word was sent back to Solyman, who probably laughed in hisbeard at the news. It was as if a fly had tried to stop an ox. 

"Brush it away and push onward, " was probably the tenor of his orders. 

But Guntz was not to be brushed away. It stood there like an awkwardfact, its guns commanding the pass through which the army must march, aridiculous obstacle which had to be dealt with however time might press. 

The sultan sent orders to his advance-guard to take the town and marchon. Ibrahim Pasha pushed forward, assailed it, and found that he had notmen enough for the work. The little town with its little garrison hadthe temper of a shrew, and held its own against him valiantly. A fewmore battalions were sent, but still the town held out. The sultan, enraged at this opposition, now despatched what he considered anoverwhelming force, with orders to take the town without delay, and topunish the garrison as they deserved for their foolish obstinacy. Butwhat was his surprise and fury to receive word that the pigmy still heldout stubbornly against the leviathan, that all their efforts to take itwere in vain, and that its guns commanded and swept the pass so that itwas impossible to advance under its storm of death-dealing balls. 

Thundering vengeance, Solyman now ordered his whole army to advance, sweep that insolent and annoying obstacle from the face of the earth, and then march on towards the real goal of their enterprise, the stilldistant city of Vienna, the capital and stronghold of the Christiandogs. 

Upon Guntz burst the whole storm of the war, against Guntz it thundered, around Guntz it lightened; yet still Guntz stood, proud, insolent, defiant, like a rock in the midst of the sea, battered by the waves ofwar's tempest, yet rising still in unyielding strength, and dashing backthe bloody spray which lashed its walls in vain. 

Solyman's pride was roused. That town he must and would have. He mighthave marched past it and left it in the rear, though not without greatloss and danger, for the pass was narrow and commanded by the guns ofGuntz, and he would have had to run the gantlet of a hailstorm of ironballs. But he had no thought of passing it; his honor was involved. Guntz must be his and its insolent garrison punished, or how couldSolyman the Magnificent ever hold up his head among monarchs andconquerors again?

On every side the town was assailed; cannon surrounded it and pouredtheir balls upon its walls; they were planted on the hills in its rear;they were planted on lofty mounds of earth which overtopped its wallsand roofs; from every direction they thundered threat; to everydirection Guntz thundered back defiance. 

An attempt was made to undermine the walls, but in vain; the commandant, Jurissitz, was far too vigilant to be reached by burrowing. Breach afterbreach was made in the walls, and as quickly repaired, or new wallsbuilt. Assault after assault was made and hurled back. Every effort wasbaffled by the skill, vigor, and alertness of the governor and theunyielding courage of his men, and still the days went by and stillGuntz stood. 

Solyman, indignant and alarmed, tried the effect of promises, bribes, and threats. Jurissitz and his garrison should be enriched if theyyielded; they should die under torture if they persisted. These effortsproved as useless as cannon-balls. The indomitable Jurissitz resistedpromises and threats as energetically as he had resisted shot and balls. 

The days went on. For twenty-eight days that insignificant fortress andits handful of men defied the great Turkish army and held it back inthat mountain-pass. In the end the sultan, with all his pride and allhis force, was obliged to accept a feigned submission and leaveJurissitz and his men still in possession of the fortress they had heldso long and so well. 

They had held it long enough to save Austria, as it proved. While thesultan's cannon were vainly bombarding its walls, Europe was gatheringaround Vienna in defence. From every side troops hurried to thesalvation of Austria from the Turks. Italy, the Netherlands, Bohemia. Poland, Germany, sent their quotas, till an army of one hundred andthirty thousand men were gathered around Vienna, thirty thousand of thembeing cavalry. 

Solyman was appalled at the tidings brought him. It had become aquestion of arithmetic to his barbarian intellect. If Guntz, with lessthan a thousand men, could defy him for a month, what might not Viennado with more than a hundred thousand? Winter was not far away. It wasalready September. He was separated from his flotilla of artillery. Wasit safe to advance? He answered the question by suddenly striking campand retreating with such haste that his marauding horsemen, who were outin large numbers, were left in ignorance of the movement, and werenearly all taken or cut to pieces. 

Thus ingloriously ended one of the most pretentious invasions of Europe. For three years Solyman had industriously prepared, gathering theresources of his wide dominion to the task and fulminating infinitedisaster to the infidels. Yet eight hundred men in a petty mountain townhad brought this great enterprise to naught and sent back the mightyarmy of the grand Turk in inglorious retreat. 

[Illustration: THE MOSQUE OF SOLYMAN, CONSTANTINOPLE. ]

The story of Guntz has few parallels in history; the courage and abilityof its commander were of the highest type of military worthiness; yetits story is almost unknown and the name of Jurissitz is not classedamong those of the world's heroes. Such is fame. 

There is another interesting story of the doings of Solyman and thegallant defence of a Christian town, which is worthy of telling as anappendix to that just given. The assault at Guntz took place in the year1532. In 1566, when Solyman was much older, though perhaps not muchwiser, we find him at his old work, engaged in besieging the smallHungarian town of Szigeth, west of Mohacs and north of the river Drave, a stronghold surrounded by the small stream Almas almost as by thewaters of a lake. It was defended by a Croatian named Zrinyr and agarrison of twenty-five hundred men. 

Around this town the Turkish army raged and thundered in its usualfashion. Within it the garrison defended themselves with all the spiritand energy they could muster. Step by step the Turks advanced. Theoutskirts of the town were destroyed by fire and the assailants werewithin its walls. The town being no longer tenable, Zrinyr took refuge, with what remained of the garrison, in the fortress, and still badedefiance to his foes. 

Solyman, impatient at the delay caused by the obstinacy of the defender, tried with him the same tactics he had employed with Jurissitz manyyears before, --those of threats and promises. Tempting offers of wealthproving of no avail, the sultan threatened the bold commander with themurder of his son George, a prisoner in his hands. This proved equallyunavailing, and the siege went on. 

It went on, indeed, until Solyman was himself vanquished, and by anenemy he had not taken into account in his thirst for glory--the grimwarrior Death. Temper killed him. In a fit of passion he suddenly died. But the siege went on. The vizier concealed his death and kept thebatteries at work, perhaps deeming it best for his own fortunes to beable to preface the announcement of the sultan's death with a victory. 

The castle walls had been already crumbling under the storm of balls. Soon they were in ruins. The place was no longer tenable. Yet Zrinyr wasas far as ever from thoughts of surrender. He dressed himself in hismost magnificent garments, filled his pockets with gold, "that theymight find something on his corpse, " and dashed on the Turks at the headof what soldiers were left. He died, but not unrevenged. Only after hisdeath was the Turkish army told that their great sultan was no more andthat they owed their victory to the shadow of the genius of Solyman theMagnificent. 

THE PEASANTS AND THE ANABAPTISTS. 

Germany, in great part, under the leadership of Martin Luther, hadbroken loose from the Church of Rome, the ball which he had set rollingbeing kept in motion by other hands. The ideas of many of those whofollowed him were full of the spirit of fanaticism. The pendulum ofreligious thought, set in free swing, vibrated from the one extreme ofauthority to the opposite extreme of license, going as far beyond Lutheras he had gone beyond Rome. There arose a sect to which was given thename of Anabaptists, from its rejection of infant baptism, a sect with astrange history, which it now falls to us to relate. 

The new movement, indeed, was not confined to matters of religion. Theidea of freedom from authority once set afloat, quickly went furtherthan its advocates intended. If men were to have liberty of thought, whyshould they not have liberty of action? So argued the peasantry, and notwithout the best of reasons, for they were pitifully oppressed by thenobility, weighed down with feudal exactions to support the luxury ofthe higher classes, their crops destroyed by the horses and dogs ofhunting-parties, their families ill-treated and insulted by themen-at-arms who were maintained at their expense, their flight fromtyranny to the freedom of the cities prohibited by nobles and citizensalike, everywhere enslaved, everywhere despised, it is no wonder theyjoined with gladness in the revolutionary sentiment and made a vigorousdemand for political liberty. 

As a result of all this an insurrection broke out, --a doubleinsurrection in fact, --here of the peasantry for their rights, there ofthe religious fanatics for their license. Suddenly all Germany wasupturned by the greatest and most dangerous outbreak of the laboringclasses it had ever known, a revolt which, had it been ably led, mighthave revolutionized society and founded a completely new order ofthings. 

In 1522 the standard of revolt was first raised, its signal a goldenshoe, with the motto, "Whoever will be free let him follow this ray oflight. " In 1524 a fresh insurrection broke out, and in the spring of thefollowing year the whole country was aflame, the peasants of southernGermany being everywhere in arms and marching on the strongholds oftheir oppressors. 

Their demands were by no means extreme. They asked for a board ofarbitration, to consist of the Archduke Ferdinand, the Elector ofSaxony, Luther, Melanchthon, and several preachers, to consider theirproposed articles of reform in industrial and political concerns. Thesearticles covered the following points. They asked the right to choosetheir own pastors, who were to preach the word of God from the Bible;the abolition of dues, except tithes to the clergy; the abolition ofvassalage; the rights of hunting and fishing, and of cutting wood in theforests; reforms in rent, in the administration of justice, and in themethods of application of the laws; the restoration of communal propertyillegally seized; and several other matters of the same generalcharacter. 

They asked in vain. The princes ridiculed the idea of a court in whichLuther should sit side by side with the archduke. Luther refused tointerfere. He admitted the oppression of the peasantry, severelyattacked the princes and nobility for their conduct, but deprecated theexcesses which the insurgents had already committed, and saw no safetyfrom worse evils except in putting down the peasantry with a stronghand. 

The rejection of the demands of the rebellious peasants was followed bya frightful reign of license, political in the south, religious in thenorth. Everywhere the people were in arms, destroying castles, burningmonasteries, and forcing numbers of the nobles to join them, under painof having their castles plundered and burned. The counts of Hohenlohewere made to enter their ranks, and were told, "Brother Albert andbrother George, you are no longer lords but peasants, and we are thelords of Hohenlohe. " Other nobles were similarly treated. VariousSwabian nobles fled for safety, with their families and treasures, tothe city and castle of Weinsberg. The castle was stormed and taken, andthe nobles, seventy in number, were forced to run the gantlet betweentwo lines of men armed with spears, who stabbed them as they passed. Itwas this deed that brought out a pamphlet from Luther, in which hecalled on all the citizens of the empire to put down "the furiouspeasantry, to strangle, to stab them, secretly and openly, as they can, as one would kill a mad dog. "

There was need for something to be done if Germany was to be saved froma revolution. The numbers of the insurgents steadily increased. Many ofthe cities were in league with them, several of the princes entered innegotiation concerning their demands; in Thuringia the Anabaptists, under the lead of a fanatical preacher named Thomas Münzer, were in fullrevolt; in Saxony, Hesse, and lower Germany the peasantry were in arms;there was much reason to fear that the insurgents and fanatics wouldjoin their forces and pour like a rushing torrent through the wholeempire, destroying all before them. Of the many peasant revolts whichthe history of mediævalism records this was the most threatening anddangerous, and called for the most strenuous exertions to save theinstitutions of Germany from a complete overthrow. 

At the head of the main body of insurgents was a knight of notoriouscharacter, the famed Goetz von Berlichingen, --Goetz with the Iron Hand, as he is named, --a robber baron whose history had been one of feud andcontest, and of the plunder alike of armed foes and unarmed travellers. Goethe has honored him by making him the hero of a drama, and thepeasantry sought to honor him by making him the leader of their march ofdestruction. This worthy had lost his hand during youth, and replaced itwith a hand of iron. He was bold, daring, and unscrupulous, but scarcelyfitted for generalship, his knowledge of war being confined to thetactics of highway robbery. Nor can it be said that his leadership ofthe peasants was voluntary. He was as much their prisoner as theirgeneral, his service being an enforced one. 

With the redoubtable Goetz at their head the insurgents poured onward, spreading terror before them, leaving ruin behind them. Castles andmonasteries were destroyed, until throughout Thuringia, Franconia, Swabia, and along the Rhine as far as Lorraine the homes of lords andclergy were destroyed, and a universal scene of smoking ruins replacedthe formerly stately architectural piles. 

We cannot go further into the details of this notable outbreak. Therevolt of the southern peasantry was at length brought to an end by anarmy collected by the Swabian league, and headed by George Truchsess ofWaldburg. Had they marched against him in force he could not havewithstood their onset. But they occupied themselves in sieges, disregarding the advice of their leaders, and permitted themselves to beattacked and beaten in detail. Seeing that all was at an end, Goetz vonBerlichingen secretly fled from their ranks and took refuge in hiscastle. Many of the bodies of peasantry dispersed. Others made headagainst the troops and were beaten with great slaughter. All was at anend. 

Truchsess held a terrible court of justice in the city of Würzburg, inwhich his jester Hans acted as executioner, and struck off the heads ofnumbers of the prisoners, the bloody work being attended with laughterand jests, which added doubly to its horror. All who acknowledged thatthey had read the Bible, or even that they knew how to read and write, were instantly beheaded. The priest of Schipf, a gouty old man who hadvigorously opposed the peasants, had himself carried by four of his mento Truchsess to receive thanks for his services. Hans, fancying that hewas one of the rebels, slipped up behind him, and in an instant his headwas rolling on the floor. 

"I seriously reproved my good Hans for his untoward jest, " was the easycomment of Truchsess upon this circumstance. 

Throughout Germany similar slaughter of the peasantry and wholesaleexecutions took place. In many places the reprisal took the dimensionsof a massacre, and it is said that by the end of the frightful strugglemore than a hundred thousand of the peasants had been slain. As for itspolitical results, the survivors were reduced to a deeper state ofservitude than before. Thus ended a great struggle which had only neededan able leader to make it a success and to free the people from feudalbonds. It ended like all the peasant outbreaks, in defeat and renewedoppression. As for the robber chief Goetz, while he is said by severalhistorians to have received a sentence of life imprisonment, Menzelstates that he was retained in prison for two years only. 

In Thuringia, as we have said, the revolt was a religious one, it beingcontrolled by Thomas Münzer, a fanatical Anabaptist. He pretended thathe had the gift of receiving divine revelations, and claimed to bebetter able to reveal Christian truth than Luther. God had created theearth, he said, for believers, all government should be regulated by theBible and revelation, and there was no need of princes, priests, ornobles. The distinction between rich and poor was unchristian, since inGod's kingdom all should be alike. Nicholas Storch, one of Münzer'spreachers, surrounded himself with twelve apostles and seventy-twodisciples, and claimed that an angel brought him divine messages. 

Driven from Saxony by the influence of Luther, Münzer went to Thuringia, and gained such control by his preaching and his doctrines over thepeople of the town of Mülhausen that all the wealthy people were drivenaway, their property confiscated, and the sole control of the place fellinto his hands. 

So great was the disturbance caused by his fanatical teachings and theexertions of his disciples that Luther again bestirred himself, andcalled on the princes for the suppression of Münzer and his fanaticalhorde. A division of the army was sent into Thuringia, and came up witha large body of the Anabaptists near Frankenhausen, on May 15, 1525. Münzer was in command of the peasants. The army officers, hoping tobring them to terms by lenient measures, offered to pardon them if theywould give up their leaders and peacefully retire to their homes. Thisoffer might have been effective but for Münzer, who, foreseeing dangerto himself, did his utmost to awaken the fanaticism of his followers. 

It happened that a rainbow appeared in the heavens during thediscussion. This, he declared, was a messenger sent to him from God. Hisignorant audience believed him, and for the moment were stirred up to amad enthusiasm which banished all thoughts of surrender. Rushing intheir fury on the ambassadors of peace and pardon, they stabbed them todeath, and then took shelter behind their intrenchments, where theyprepared for a vigorous defence. 

Their courage, however, did not long endure the vigorous assault made bythe troops of the elector. In vain they looked for the host of angelswhich Münzer had promised would come to their aid. Not the glimpse of anangel's wing appeared in the sky. Münzer himself took to flight, and hisinfatuated followers, their blind courage vanished, fell an easy prey tothe swords of the soldiers. 

The greater part of the peasant horde were slain, while Münzer, who hadconcealed himself from pursuit in the loft of a house in Frankenhausen, was quickly discovered, dragged forth, put to the rack, and beheaded, his death putting an end to that first phase of the Anabaptist outbreak. 

[Illustration: OLD HOUSES AT MÜNSTER. ]

After this event, several years passed during which the Anabaptists keptquiet, though their sect increased. Then came one of the most remarkablereligious revolts which history records. Persecution in Germany hadcaused many of the new sectarians to emigrate to the Netherlands, wheretheir preachings were effective, and many new members were gained. Butthe persecution instigated by Charles V. Against heretics in theNetherlands fell heavily upon them and gave rise to a new emigration, great numbers of the Anabaptists now seeking the town of Münster, thecapital of Westphalia. The citizens of this town had expelled theirbishop, and had in consequence been treated with great severity byLuther, in his effort to keep the cause of religious reform separatefrom politics. The new-comers were received with enthusiasm, and thepeople of Münster quickly fell under the influence of two of theirfanatical preachers, John Matthiesen, a baker, of Harlem, and JohnBockhold, or Bockelson, a tailor, of Leyden. 

Münster soon became the seat of an extraordinary outburst of profligacy, fanaticism, and folly. The Anabaptists took possession of the town, drove out all its wealthy citizens, elected two of themselves--aclothier named Knipperdolling and one Krechting--as burgomasters, andstarted off in a remarkable career of self-government under Anabaptistauspices. 

A community of property was the first measure inaugurated. Every personwas required to deposit all his possessions, in gold, silver, and otherarticles of value, in a public treasury, which fell under the control ofBockelson, who soon made himself lord of the city. All the images, pictures, ornaments, and books of the churches, except their Bibles, were publicly burned. All persons were obliged to eat together at publictables, all made to work according to their strength and without regardto their former station, and a general condition of communism wasestablished. Bockelson gave himself out as a prophet, and quickly gainedsuch influence over the people that they were ready to support him inthe utmost excesses of folly and profligacy. 

One of the earliest steps taken was to authorize each man to possessseveral wives, the number of women who had sought Münster being sixtimes greater than the men. John Bockelson set the example by marryingthree at once. His licentious example was quickly followed by others, and for a full year the town continued a scene of unbridled profligacyand mad license. One of John's partisans, claiming to have received adivine communication, saluted him as monarch of the whole globe, the"King of Righteousness, " his title of royalty being "John of Leyden, "and declared that heaven had chosen him to restore the throne of David. Twenty-eight apostles were selected and sent out, charged to preach thenew gospel to the whole earth and to bring its inhabitants toacknowledge the divinely-commissioned king. Their success was notgreat, however. Wherever they came they were seized and immediatelyexecuted, the earth showing itself very unwilling to accept John ofLeyden as its king. 

In August, 1534, an army, led by Francis of Waldeck, the expelledbishop, who was supported by the landgrave of Hesse and several otherprinces, advanced and laid siege to the city, which the Anabaptistsdefended with furious zeal. In the first assault, which was made onAugust 30, the assailants were repulsed with severe loss. They thensettled down to the slower but safer process of siege, considering iteasier to starve out than to fight out their enthusiastic opponents. 

One of the two leaders of the citizens, John Matthiesen, made a sortieagainst the troops with only thirty followers, filled with the idea thathe was a second Gideon, and that God would come to his aid to defeat theoppressors of His chosen people. The aid expected did not come, andMatthiesen and his followers were all cut down. His death left John ofLeyden supreme. He claimed absolute authority in the new "Zion, "received daily fresh visions from heaven, which his followers implicitlybelieved and obeyed, and indulged in wild excesses which only the insaneenthusiasm of his followers kept them from viewing with disgust. Amonghis mad freaks was that of running around the streets naked, shouting, "The King of Zion is come. " His lieutenant Knipperdolling, not to beoutdone in fanaticism, followed his example, shouting, "Every high placeshall be brought low. " Immediately the mob assailed the churches andpulled down all the steeples. Those who ventured to resist the monarch'sdecrees were summarily dealt with, the block and axe, withKnipperdolling as headsman, quickly disposing of all doubters andrebels. 

Such was the doom of Elizabeth, one of the prophet's wives, who declaredthat she could not believe that God had condemned so many people to dieof hunger while their king was living in abundance. John beheaded herwith his own hands in the market-place, and then, in insane frenzy, danced around her body in company with his other wives. Her loss wasspeedily repaired. The angels were kept busy in picking out new wivesfor the inspired tailor, till in the end he had seventeen in all, one ofwhom, Divara by name, gained great influence by her spirit and beauty. 

While all this was going on within the city, the army of besiegers layencamped about it, waiting patiently till famine should subdue thestubborn courage of the citizens. Numbers of nobles flocked thither byway of pastime, in the absence of any other wars to engage theirattention. Nor were the citizens without aid from a distance. Parties oftheir brethren from Holland and Friesland sought to relieve them, but invain. All their attempts were repelled, and the siege grew straiter thanever. 

The defence from within was stubborn, women and boys being enlisted inthe service. The boys stood between the men and fired arrows effectivelyat the besiegers. The women poured lime and melted pitch upon theirheads. So obstinate was the resistance that the city might have held outfor years but for the pinch of famine. The effect of this wastemporarily obviated by driving all the old men and the women who couldbe spared beyond the walls; but despite this the grim figure ofstarvation came daily nearer and nearer, and the day of surrender ordeath steadily approached. 

A year at length went by, the famine growing in virulence with thepassing of the days. Hundreds perished of starvation, yet still thepeople held out with a fanatical courage that defied assault, stilltheir king kept up their courage by divine revelations, and still hecontrived to keep himself sufficiently supplied with food amid hisstarving dupes. 

At length the end came. Some of the despairing citizens betrayed thetown by night to the enemy. On the night of June 25, 1535, two of themopened the gates to the bishop's army, and a sanguinary scene ensued. The betrayed citizens defended themselves desperately, and were notvanquished until great numbers of them had fallen and the work of faminehad been largely completed by the sword. John of Leyden was madeprisoner, together with his two chief men, --Knipperdolling, hisexecutioner, and Krechting, his chancellor, --they being reserved for aslower and more painful fate. 

For six months they were carried through Germany, enclosed in ironcages, and exhibited as monsters to the people. Then they were takenback to Münster, where they were cruelly tortured, and at length put todeath by piercing their hearts with red-hot daggers. 

Their bodies were placed in iron cages, and suspended on the front ofthe church of St. Lambert, in the market-place of Münster, while theCatholic worship was re-established in that city. The cages, and theinstruments of torture, are still preserved, probably as salutaryexamples to fanatics, or as interesting mementos of Münster's pasthistory. 

The Münster madness was the end of trouble with the Anabaptists. Theycontinued to exist, in a quieter fashion, some of them that fled frompersecution in Germany and Holland finding themselves exposed to almostas severe a persecution in England. As a sect they have long sincevanished, while the only trace of their influence is to be seen in thoserecent sects that hold the doctrine of adult baptism. 

The history of mankind presents no parallel tale to that we have told. It was an instance of insanity placed in power, of lunacy ruling overignorance and fanaticism; and the doings of John of Leyden in Münstermay be presented as an example alike of the mad extremes to whichunquestioned power is apt to lead, and the vast capabilities of faithand trust which exist in uneducated man. 

_THE FORTUNES OF WALLENSTEIN. _

[Illustration: WALLENSTEIN. ]

Wallenstein was in power, Wallenstein the mysterious, the ambitious, thevictorious; soldier of fortune and arbiter of empires; reader of thestars and ally of the powers of darkness; poor by birth and rich bymarriage and imperial favor; an extraordinary man, surrounded by mysteryand silence, victorious through ability and audacity, rising fromobscurity to be master of the emperor, and falling at length by the handof assassination. In person he was tall and thin, in countenance sallowand lowering, his eyes small and piercing, his forehead high andcommanding, his hair short and bristling, his expression dark andsinister. Fortune was his deity, ambition ruled him with the sway of atyrant; he was born with the conquering instinct, and in the end handedover all Germany, bound and captive, to his imperial master, and retiredto brood new conquests. 

Albert von Wallenstein was Bohemian by birth, Prague being his nativecity. His parents were Lutherans, but they died, and he was educated asa Catholic. He travelled with an astrologer, and was taught cabalisticlore and the secrets of the stars, which he ever after believed tocontrol his destiny. His fortune began in his marriage to an aged butvery wealthy widow, who almost put an end to his career byadministering to him a love-potion. He had already served in the army, fought against the Turks in Hungary, and with his wife's money raised aregiment for the wars in Bohemia. A second marriage with a rich countessadded to his wealth; he purchased, at a fifth of their value, aboutsixty estates of the exiled Bohemian nobility, and paid for them indebased coin; the emperor, in recognition of his services, made him Dukeof Friedland, in which alone there were nine towns and fifty-sevencastles and villages; his wealth, through these marriages, purchases, and gifts, steadily increased till he became enormously rich, and thewealthiest man in Germany, next to the emperor. 

This extraordinary man was born in an extraordinary time, a periodadmirably calculated for the exercise of his talents, and sadly suitedto the suffering of mankind in consequence. It was the period of thefrightful conflict known as the Thirty Years' War. A century had passedsince the Diet of Worms, in which Protestantism first boldly lifted itshead against Catholicism. During that period the new religious doctrineshad gained a firm footing in Germany. Charles V. Had done his utmost toput them down, and, discouraged by his failure, had abdicated thethrone. In his retreat he is said to have amused his leisure in seekingto make two watches go precisely alike. The effort proved as vain asthat to make two people think alike, and he exclaimed, "Not even twowatches, with similar works, can I make to agree, and yet, fool that Iwas, I thought I should be able to control like the works of a watchdifferent nations, living under diverse skies, in different climes, andspeaking varied languages. " Those who followed him were to meet with asimilar result. 

The second effort to put down Protestantism by arms began in 1618, andled to that frightful outbreak of human virulence, the Thirty Years'War, which made Germany a desert, but left religion as it found it. Theemperor, Ferdinand II. , a rigid Catholic, bitterly opposed to the spreadof Protestantism, had ordered the demolition of two new churches builtby the Bohemian Protestants. His order led to instant hostilities. CountThurn, a fierce Bohemian nobleman, had the emperor's representatives, Slawata and Martinitz by name, flung out of the window of thecouncil-chamber in Prague, a height of seventy or more feet, and theirsecretary Fabricius flung after them. It was a terrible fall, but theyescaped, for a pile of litter and old papers lay below. Fabricius fellon Martinitz, and, polite to the last, begged his pardon for coming downupon him so rudely. This act of violence, which occurred on May 23, 1618, is looked upon as the true beginning of the dreadful war. 

Matters moved rapidly. Bohemia was conquered by the imperial armies, itsnobles exiled or executed, its religion suppressed. This victory gained, an effort was made to suppress Lutheranism in Upper Austria. It led to arevolt, and soon the whole country was in a flame of war. Tilly andPappenheim, the imperial commanders, swept all before them, until theysuddenly found themselves opposed by a man their equal in ability, CountMansfeld, who had played an active part in the Bohemian wars. 

A diminutive, deformed, sickly-looking man was Mansfeld, but he had thesoul of a soldier in his small frame. No sooner was his standard raisedthan the Protestants flocked to it, and he quickly found himself at thehead of twenty thousand men. But as the powerful princes failed tosupport him he was compelled to subsist his troops by pillage, anexample which was followed by all the leaders during that dreadfulcontest. 

And now began a frightful struggle, a game of war on the chess-board ofa nation, in which the people were the helpless pawns and suffered alikefrom friends and foes. Neither side gained any decisive victory, butboth sides plundered and ravaged, the savage soldiery, unrestrained andunrestrainable, committing cruel excesses wherever they came. 

Such was the state of affairs which preceded the appearance ofWallenstein on the field of action. The soldiers led by Tilly were thoseof the Catholic League; Ferdinand, the emperor, had no troops of his ownin the field; Wallenstein, discontented that the war should be going onwithout him, offered to raise an imperial army, paying the most of itsexpenses himself, but stipulating, in return, that he should haveunlimited control. The emperor granted all his demands, and made himDuke of Friedland as a preliminary reward, Wallenstein agreeing to raiseten thousand men. 

No sooner was his standard raised than crowds flocked to it, and an armyof forty thousand soldiers of fortune were soon ready to follow him toplunder and victory. His fame as a soldier, and the free pillage whichhe promised, had proved irresistible inducements to war-lovingadventurers of all nations and creeds. In a few months the army wasraised and fully equipped, and in the autumn of 1625 took the field, growing as it marched. 

Christian IV. , the Lutheran king of Denmark, had joined in the war, andTilly, jealous of Wallenstein, vigorously sought to overcome his newadversaries before his rival could reach the field of conflict. Hesucceeded, too, in great measure, reducing many of the Protestant townsand routing the army of the Danish king. 

Meanwhile, Wallenstein came on, his army growing until sixty thousandmen--a wild and undisciplined horde--followed his banners. Mansfeld, whohad received reinforcements from England and Holland, opposed him, butwas too weak to face him successfully in the field. He was defeated onthe bridge of Dessau, and marched rapidly into Silesia, whitherWallenstein, much to his chagrin, was compelled to follow him. 

From Silesia, Mansfeld marched into Hungary, still pursued byWallenstein. Here he was badly received, because he had not brought themoney expected by the king. His retreat cut off, and without the meansof procuring supplies in that remote country, the valiant warrior foundhimself at the end of his resources. Return was impossible, forWallenstein occupied the roads. In the end he was forced to sell hisartillery and ammunition, disband his army, and proceed southwardtowards Venice, whence he hoped to reach England and procure a newsupply of funds. But on arriving at the village of Urakowitz, in Bosnia, his strength, worn out by incessant struggles and fatigues, gave way, and the noble warrior, the last hope of Protestantism in Germany, as itseemed, breathed his last, a disheartened fugitive. 

On feeling the approach of death, he had himself clothed in his militarycoat, and his sword buckled to his side. Thus equipped, and standingbetween two friends, who supported him upright, the brave Mansfeldbreathed his last. His death left his cause almost without a supporter, for the same year his friend, Duke Christian of Brunswick, expired, andwith them the Protestants lost their only able leaders; King Christianof Denmark, their principal successor, being greatly wanting in therequisites of military genius. 

Ferdinand seemed triumphant and the cause of his opponents lost. Allopposition, for the time, was at an end. Tilly, whose purposes were thecomplete restoration of Catholicism in Germany, held the provincesconquered by him with an iron hand. Wallenstein, who seemingly had inview the weakening of the power of the League and the raising of theemperor to absolutism, broke down all opposition before his irresistiblemarch. 

His army had gradually increased till it numbered one hundred thousandmen, --a host which it cost him nothing to support, for it subsisted onthe devastated country. He advanced through Silesia, driving all hisenemies before him; marched into Holstein, in order to force the King ofDenmark to leave Germany; invaded and devastated Jutland and Silesia;and added to his immense estate the duchy of Sagan and the whole ofMecklenburg, which latter was given him by the emperor in payment of hisshare of the expenses of the war. This raised him to the rank of prince. As for Denmark, he proposed to get rid of its king and have Ferdinandelected in his stead. 

The career of this incomprehensible man had been strangely successful. Not a shadow of reverse had met him. What he really intended no oneknew. As his enemies decreased he increased his forces. Was it theabsolutism of the emperor or of himself that he sought? Several of theprinces appealed to Ferdinand to relieve their dominions from theoppressive burden of war, but the emperor was weaker than his general, and dared not act against him. The whole of north Germany lay prostratebeneath the powerful warrior, and obeyed his slightest nod. He lived ina style of pomp and ostentation far beyond that of the emperor himself. His officers imitated him in extravagance. Even his soldiers lived inluxury. To support this lavish display many thousands of human beingslanguished in misery, starvation threatened whole provinces, anddestitution everywhere prevailed. 

From Mecklenburg, Wallenstein fixed his ambitious eyes on Pomerania, which territory he grew desirous of adding to his dominions. Here was animportant commercial city, Stralsund, a member of the Hanseatic League, and one which enjoyed the privilege of self-government. It hadcontributed freely to the expenses of the imperial army, butWallenstein, in furtherance of his designs upon Pomerania, nowdetermined to place in it a garrison of his own troops. 

This was an interference with their vested rights which roused the wrathof the citizens of Stralsund. They refused to receive the troops sentthem: Wallenstein, incensed, determined to teach the insolent burghers alesson, and bade General Arnim to march against and lay siege to theplace, doubting not that it would be quickly at his mercy. 

He was destined to a disappointment. Stralsund was to put the firstcheck upon his uniformly successful career. The citizens defended theirwalls with obstinate courage. Troops, ammunition, and provisions weresent them from Denmark and Sweden, and they continued to oppose asuccessful resistance to every effort to reduce them. 

This unlooked for perversity of the Stralsunders filled the soul ofWallenstein with rage. It seemed to him unexampled insolence that thesemerchants should dare defy his conquering troops. "Even if thisStralsund be linked by chains to the very heavens above, " he declared, "still I swear it shall fall!"

He advanced in person against the city and assailed it with his wholearmy, bringing all the resources at his command to bear against itswalls. But with heroic courage the citizens held their own. Weekspassed, while he continued to thunder upon it with shot and shell. TheStralsunders thundered back. His most furious assaults were met by themwith a desperate valor which in time left his ranks twelve thousand menshort. In the end, to his unutterable chagrin, he was forced to raisethe siege and march away, leaving the valiant burghers lords of theirhomes. 

The war now seemingly came to its conclusion. The King of Denmark askedfor peace, which the emperor granted, and terms were signed at Lübeck onMay 12, 1629. The contest was, for the time being, at an end, for therewas no longer any one to oppose the emperor. For twelve years it hadcontinued, its ravages turning rich provinces into deserts, and makingbeggars and fugitives of wealthy citizens. The opposition of theProtestants was at an end, and there were but two disturbing elements ofthe seemingly pacific situation. 

One of these was the purpose which the Catholic party soon showed tosuppress Protestantism and bring what they considered the hereticalprovinces again under the dominion of the pope. The other was the armyof Wallenstein, whose intolerable tyranny over friends and foes alikehad now passed the bounds of endurance. From all sides complaintsreached the emperor's ears, charges of pillage, burnings, outrages, andshameful oppressions of every sort inflicted by the imperial troops uponthe inhabitants of the land. So many were the complaints that it wasimpossible to disregard them. The whole body of princes--every one ofwhom cordially hated Wallenstein--joined in the outcry, and in the endFerdinand, with some hesitation, yielded to their wishes, and bade thegeneral to disband his forces. 

Would he obey? That was next to be seen. The mighty chief was in aposition to defy princes and emperor if he chose. The plundering bandswho followed him were his own, not the emperor's soldiers; they knew butone master and were ready to obey his slightest word; had he given theorder to advance upon Vienna and drive the emperor himself from histhrone, there is no question but that they would have obeyed. As may beimagined, then, the response of Wallenstein was awaited in fear andanxiety. Should ambition counsel him to revolution, the very foundationsof the empire might be shaken. What, then, was the delight of princesand people when word came that he had accepted the emperor's commandwithout a word, and at once ordered the disbanding of his troops. 

The stars were perhaps responsible for this. Astrology was his passion, and the planetary conjunctions seemed then to be in favor of submission. The man was superstitious, with all his clear-sighted ability, andpermitted himself to be governed by influences which have long sincelost their force upon men's minds. 

"I do not complain against or reproach the emperor, " he said to theimperial deputies; "the stars have already indicated to me that thespirit of the Elector of Bavaria holds sway in the imperial councils. But his majesty, in dismissing his troops, is rejecting the mostprecious jewel of his crown. "

The event which we have described took place in September, 1630. Wallenstein, having paid off and dispersed his great army to the fourwinds, retired to his duchy of Friedland, and took up his residence atGitschen, which had been much enlarged and beautified by his orders. Here he quietly waited and observed the progress of events. 

He had much of interest to observe. The effort of Ferdinand and hisadvisers to drive Protestantism out of Germany had produced an effectwhich none of them anticipated. The war, which had seemed at an end, wasquickly afoot again, with a new leader of the Protestant cause, newarmies, and new fortunes. Gustavus Adolphus, King of Sweden, had come tothe rescue of his threatened fellow-believers, and before the army ofWallenstein had been dissolved the work of the peace-makers was setaside, and the horrors of war returned. 

The dismissed general had now left Gitschen for Bohemia, where he dweltupon his estates in a style of regal luxury, and in apparent disregardof the doings of emperors and kings. His palace in Prague was royal inits adornments, and while his enemies were congratulating themselves onhaving forced him into retirement, he had Italian artists at workpainting on the walls of this palace his figure in the character of aconqueror, his triumphal car drawn by four milk-white steeds, while astar shone above his laurel-crowned head. Sixty pages, of noble birth, richly attired in blue and gold velvet, waited upon him, while some ofhis officers and chamberlains had served the emperor in the same rank. In his magnificent stables were three hundred horses of choice breeds, while the daily gathering of distinguished men in his halls was notsurpassed by the assemblies of the emperor himself. 

Yet in his demeanor there was nothing to show that he entertained ashadow of his former ambition. He affected the utmost ease andtranquillity of manner, and seemed as if fully content with his presentstate, and as if he cared no longer who fought the wars of the world. 

But inwardly his ambition had in no sense declined. He beheld theprogress of the Swedish conqueror with secret joy, and when he saw Tillyoverthrown at Leipsic, and the fruits of twelve years of war wrestedfrom the emperor at a single blow, his heart throbbed high with hope. His hour of revenge upon the emperor had come. Ferdinand must humiliatehimself and come for aid to his dismissed general, for there was notanother man in the kingdom capable of saving it from the triumphant foe. 

He was right. The emperor's deputies came. He was requested, begged, tohead again the imperial armies. He received the envoys coldly. Urgentpersuasions were needed to induce him to raise an army of thirtythousand men. Even then he would not agree to take command of it. Hewould raise it and put it at the emperor's disposal. 

He planted his standard; the men came; many of them his old followers. Plenty and plunder were promised, and thousands flocked to his tents. ByMarch of 1632 the thirty thousand men were collected. Who should commandthem? There was but one, and this the emperor and Wallenstein alikeknew. They would follow only the man to whose banner they had flocked. 

The emperor begged him to take command. He consented, but only onconditions to which an emperor has rarely agreed. Wallenstein was tohave exclusive control of the army, without interference of any kind, was to be given irresponsible control over all the provinces he mightconquer, was to hold as security a portion of the Austrian patrimonialestates, and after the war might choose any of the hereditary estates ofthe empire for his seat of retirement. The emperor acceded, andWallenstein, clothed with almost imperial power, marched to war. Hissubsequent fortunes the next narrative must declare. 

_THE END OF TWO GREAT SOLDIERS. _

Two armies faced each other in central Bavaria, two armies on which thefate of Germany depended, those of Gustavus Adolphus, the right hand ofProtestantism, and of Wallenstein, the hope of Catholic imperialism. Gustavus was strongly intrenched in the vicinity of Nuremberg, with anarmy of but sixteen thousand men. Wallenstein faced him with an army ofsixty thousand, yet dared not attack him in his strong position. Heoccupied himself in efforts to make his camp as impregnable as that ofhis foeman, and the two great opponents lay waiting face to face, whilefamine slowly decimated their ranks. 

It was an extraordinary position. Both sides depended for food onforaging, and between them they had swept the country clean. Thepeasantry fled in every direction from Wallenstein's pillaging troops, who destroyed all that they could not carry away. It had become aquestion with the two armies which could starve the longest, and forthree months they lay encamped, each waiting until famine should drivethe other out. Surely such a situation had never before been known. 

What had preceded this event? A few words will tell. Ferdinand theemperor had, with the aid of Tilly and Wallenstein, laid all Germanyprostrate at his feet. Ferdinand the zealot had, by this effort toimpose Catholicism on the Protestant states, speedily undone the work ofhis generals, and set the war on foot again. Gustavus Adolphus, the heroof Sweden, had come to the aid of the oppressed Protestants of Germany, borne down all before him, and quickly won back northern Germany fromthe oppressor's hands. 

And now the cruelty of that savage war reached its culminating point. When Germany submitted to the emperor, one city did not submit. Magdeburg still held out. All efforts to subdue it proved fruitless, andit continued free and defiant when all the remainder of Germany layunder the emperor's control. 

It was to pay dearly for the courage of its citizens. When the war brokeout again, Magdeburg was besieged by Tilly with his whole force. After amost valiant defence it was taken by storm, and a scene of massacre andruin followed without a parallel in modern wars. When it ended, Magdeburg was no more. Of its buildings all were gone, except thecathedral and one hundred and thirty-seven houses. Of its inhabitantsall had perished, except some four thousand who had taken refuge in thecathedral. Man, woman, and child, the sword had slain them all, Tillybeing in considerable measure responsible for the massacre, for he wasdilatory in ordering its cessation. When at length he did act there waslittle to save. All Europe thrilled with horror at the dreadful news, and from that day forward fortune fled from the banners of Count Tilly. 

On September 7, 1631, the armies of Gustavus and Tilly met at Leipsic, and a terrible battle ensued, in which the imperialists were completelydefeated and all the fruits of their former victories torn from theirhands. In the following year Tilly had his thigh shattered by acannon-ball at the battle of the Lech, and died in excruciating agonies. 

Such were the preludes to the scene we have described. The Lutheranprinces everywhere joined the victorious Gustavus; Austria itself wasthreatened by his irresistible arms; and the emperor, in despair, calledWallenstein again to the command, yielding to the most extreme demandsof this imperious chief. 

The next scene was that we have described, in which the armies ofGustavus and Wallenstein lay face to face at Nuremberg, each waitinguntil starvation should force the other to fight or to retreat. 

Gustavus had sent for reinforcements, and his army steadily grew. Thatof Wallenstein dwindled away under the assaults of famine andpestilence. A large convoy of provisions intended for Wallenstein wasseized by the Swedes. Soon afterwards Gustavus was so stronglyreinforced that his army grew to seventy thousand men. At his back layNuremberg, his faithful ally, ready to aid him with thirty thousandfighting men besides. As his force grew that of Wallenstein shrank, until by the end of the siege pestilence and want had reduced his armyto twenty-four thousand men. 

The Swedes were the first to yield in this game of starvation. As theirnumbers grew their wants increased, and at length, furious with famine, they made a desperate assault upon the imperial camp. They were drivenback, with heavy loss. Two weeks more Gustavus waited, and then, despairing of drawing his opponent from his works, he broke camp andmarched with sounding trumpets past his adversary's camp, who quietlylet him go. The Swedes had lost twenty thousand men, and Nuremberg tenthousand of her inhabitants, during this period of hunger and slaughter. 

This was in September, 1632. In November of the same year the two armiesmet again, on the plain of Lützen, in Saxony, not far from the scene ofTilly's defeat, a year before. Wallenstein, on the retreat of Gustavus, had set fire to his own encampment and marched away, burning thevillages around Nuremberg and wasting the country as he advanced, withSaxony as his goal. Gustavus, who had at first marched southward intothe Catholic states, hastened to the relief of his allies. On the 15thof November the two great opponents came once more face to face, prepared to stake the cause of religious freedom in Germany on the issueof battle. 

Early in the morning of the 16th Gustavus marshalled his forces, determined that that day should settle the question of victory ordefeat. Wallenstein had weakened his ranks by sending Count Pappenheimsouth on siege duty, and the Swedish king, without waiting forreinforcements, decided on an instant attack. 

Unluckily for him the morning dawned in fog. The entire plain layshrouded. It was not until after eleven o'clock that the mist rose andthe sun shone on the plain. During this interval Count Pappenheim, forwhom Wallenstein had sent in haste the day before, was speeding north byforced marches, and through the chance of the fog was enabled to reachthe field while the battle was at its height. 

The troops were drawn up in battle array, the Swedes singing to theaccompaniment of drums and trumpets Luther's stirring hymn, and an odecomposed by the king himself: "Fear not, thou little flock. " They werestrongly contrasted with the army of their foe, being distinguished bythe absence of armor, light colored (chiefly blue) uniforms, quicknessof motion, exactness of discipline, and the lightness of theirartillery. The imperialists, on the contrary, wore old-fashioned, close-fitting uniforms, mostly yellow in color, cuirasses, thigh-pieces, and helmets, and were marked by slow movements, absence of discipline, and the heaviness and unmanageable character of their artillery. Thebattle was to be, to some extent, a test of excellence between the newand the old ideas in war. 

At length the fog rose and the sun broke out, and both sides made readyfor the struggle. Wallenstein, though suffering from a severe attack ofhis persistent enemy, the gout, mounted his horse and prepared histroops for the assault. His infantry were drawn up in squares, with thecavalry on their flanks, in front a ditch defended by artillery. Hispurpose was defensive, that of Gustavus offensive. The Swedish kingmounted in his turn, placed himself at the head of his right wing, and, brandishing his sword, exclaimed, "Now, onward! May our God direct us!Lord! Lord! help me this day to fight for the glory of Thy name!" Then, throwing aside his cuirass, which annoyed him on account of a slightwound he had recently received, he cried, "God is my shield!" and ledhis men in a furious charge upon the cannon-guarded ditch. 

The guns belched forth their deadly thunders, many fell, but theremainder broke irresistibly over the defences and seized the battery, driving the imperialists back in disorder. The cavalry, which hadcharged the black cuirassiers of Wallenstein, was less successful. Theywere repulsed, and the cuirassiers fiercely charged the Swedish infantryin flank, driving it back beyond the trenches. 

This repulse brought on the great disaster of the day. Gustavus, seeinghis infantry driven back, hastened to their aid with a troop of horse, and through the disorder of the field became separated from his men, only a few of whom accompanied him, among them Francis, Duke ofSaxe-Lauenburg. His short-sightedness, or the foggy condition of theatmosphere, unluckily brought him too near a party of the blackcuirassiers, and in an instant a shot struck him, breaking his left arm. 

"I am wounded; take me off the field, " he said to the Duke of Lauenburg, and turned his horse to retire from the perilous vicinity. 

As he did so a second ball struck him in the back. "My God! My God!" heexclaimed, falling from the saddle, while his horse, which had beenwounded in the neck, dashed away, dragging the king, whose foot wasentangled in the stirrup, for some distance. 

The duke fled, but Luchau, the master of the royal horse, shot theofficer who had wounded the king. The cuirassiers advanced, whileLeubelfing, the king's page, a boy of eighteen, who had alone remainedwith him, was endeavoring to raise him up. 

"Who is he?" they asked. 

The boy refused to tell, and was shot and mortally wounded. 

"I am the King of Sweden!" Gustavus is said to have exclaimed to hisfoes, who had surrounded and were stripping him. 

On hearing this they sought to carry him off, but a charge of theSwedish cavalry at that moment drove them from their prey. As theyretired they discharged their weapons at the helpless king, one of thecuirassiers shooting him through the head as he rushed past hisprostrate form. 

The sight of the king's charger, covered with blood, and galloping withempty saddle past their ranks, told the Swedes the story of thedisastrous event. The news spread rapidly from rank to rank, carryingalarm wherever it came. Some of the generals wished to retreat, but DukeBernhard of Weimar put himself at the head of a regiment, ran itscolonel through for refusing to obey him, and called on them to followhim to revenge their king. 

His ardent appeal stirred the troops to new enthusiasm. Regardless of ashot that carried away his hat, Bernhard charged at their head, brokeover the trenches and into the battery, retook the guns, and drove theimperial troops back in confusion, regaining all the successes of thefirst assault. 

The day seemed won. It would have been but for the fresh forces ofPappenheim, who had some time before reached the field, only to fallbefore the bullets of the foe. His men took an active part in the fray, and swept backward the tide of war. The Swedes were again driven fromthe battery and across the ditch, with heavy loss, and the imperialistsregained the pivotal point of the obstinate struggle. 

But now the reserve corps of the Swedes, led by Kniphausen, came intoaction, and once more the state of the battle was reversed. They chargedacross the ditch with such irresistible force that the position was forthe third time taken, and the imperialists again driven back. This endedthe desperate contest. Wallenstein ordered the retreat to be sounded. The dead Gustavus had won the victory. 

A thick fog came on as night fell and prevented pursuit, even if theweariness of the Swedes would have allowed it. They held the field, while Wallenstein hastened away, his direction of retreat being towardsBohemia. The Swedes had won and lost, for the death of Gustavus wasequivalent to a defeat, and the emperor, with unseemly rejoicing, ordered a Te Deum to be sung in all his cities. 

On the following day the Swedes sought for the body of their king. Theyfound it by a great stone, which is still known as the Swedish stone. Ithad been so trampled by the hoofs of charging horses, and was so coveredwith blood from its many wounds, that it was difficult to recognize. Thecollar, saturated with blood, which had fallen into the hands of thecuirassiers, was taken to Vienna and presented to the emperor, who issaid to have shed tears on seeing it. The corpse was laid in statebefore the Swedish army, and was finally removed to Stockholm, where itwas interred. 

Thus perished one of the great souls of Europe, a man stirred deeply byambition, full of hopes greater than he himself acknowledged, a militaryhero of the first rank, and one disposed to prosecute war with ahumanity far in advance of his age. He severely repressed all excessesof his soldiery, was solicitous for the security of citizens andpeasantry, and strictly forbade any revengeful reprisals on Catholiccities for the frightful work done by his opponents upon theProtestants. Seldom has a conqueror shown such magnanimity and nobilityof sentiment, and his untimely death had much to do with exposingGermany to the later desolation of that most frightful of religiouswars. 

His defeated foe, Wallenstein, was not long to survive him. After hisdefeat he acted in a manner that gave rise to suspicions that heintended to play false to the emperor. He executed many of his officersand soldiers in revenge for their cowardice, as he termed it, recruitedhis ranks up to their former standard, but remained inactive, whileBernhard of Weimar was leading the Swedes to new successes. 

His actions were so problematical, indeed, that suspicion of his motivesgrew more decided, and at length a secret conspiracy was raised againsthim with the connivance of the emperor. Wallenstein, as if fearful of anattempt to rob him of his power, had his superior officers assembled ata banquet given at Pilsen, in January, 1634. A fierce attack of goutprevented him from presiding, but his firm adherents, Field-MarshalsIllo and Terzka, took his place, and all the officers signed a compactto adhere faithfully to the duke in life and death as long as he shouldremain in the emperor's service. Some signed it who afterwards provedfalse to him, among them Field-Marshal Piccolomini, who afterwardsbetrayed him. 

Just what designs that dark and much revolving man contemplated it isnot easy to tell. It may have been treachery to the emperor, but he wasnot the man to freely reveal his secrets. The one person he trusted wasPiccolomini, whose star seemed in favorable conjunction with his own. To him he made known some of his projected movements, only to find inthe end that his trusted confidant had revealed them all to the emperor. 

The plot against Wallenstein was now put into effect, the emperorordering his deposition from his command, and appointing General Gablasto replace him, while a general amnesty for all his officers wasannounced. Wallenstein was quickly taught how little he could trust histroops and officers. Many of his generals fell from him at once. A fewregiments only remained faithful, and even in their ranks traitorslurked. With but a thousand men to follow him he proceeded to Eger, andfrom there asked aid of Bernhard of Weimar, as if he purposed to joinwith those against whom he had so long fought. Bernhard received themessage with deep astonishment, and exclaimed, moved by his belief thatWallenstein was in league with the devil, --

"He who does not trust in God can never be trusted by man!"

The great soldier of fortune was near his end. The stars were powerlessto save him. It was not enough to deprive him of his command, hisenemies did not deem it safe to let him live. One army gone, his wealthand his fame might soon bring him another, made up of those mercenarysoldiers of all nations, and of all or no creeds, who would follow Satanif he promised them plunder. His death had been resolved upon, and theagent chosen for its execution was Colonel Butler, one of the officerswho had accompanied him to Eger. 

It was late in February, 1634. On the night fixed for the murder, Wallenstein's faithful friends, Illo, Terzka, Kinsky, and CaptainNeumann were at a banquet in the castle of Eger. The agents of deathwere Colonel Butler, an Irish officer named Lesley, and a Scotchmannamed Gordon, while the soldiers employed were a number of dragoons, chiefly Irish. 

In the midst of the dinner the doors of the banqueting hall were burstopen, and the assassins rushed upon their victims, killing them as theysat, with the exception of Terzka, who killed two of his assailantsbefore he was despatched. 

From this scene of murder the assassins rushed to the quarters ofWallenstein. It was midnight and he had gone to bed. He sprang up as hisdoor was burst open, and Captain Devereux, one of the party, rushed withdrawn sword into the room. 

"Are you the villain who would sell the army to the enemy and tear thecrown from the emperor's head?" he shouted. 

Wallenstein's only answer was to open his arms and receive the blowaimed at his breast. He died without a word. Thus, with a brief intervalbetween, had fallen military genius and burning ambition in twoforms, --that of the heroic Swede and that of the ruthless Bohemian. 

_THE SIEGE OF VIENNA. _

Once more the Grand Turk was afoot. Straight on Vienna he had marched, with an army of more than two hundred thousand men. At length he hadreached the goal for which he had so often aimed, the Austrian capital, while all western Europe was threatened by his arms. The grand vizier, Kara Mustapha, headed the army, which had marched straight throughHungary without wasting time in petty sieges, and hastened towards theimperial city with scarce a barrier in its path. 

Consternation filled the Viennese as the vast army of the Turks rolledsteadily nearer and nearer, pillaging the country as it came, and movingonward as irresistibly and almost as destructively as a lava flow. Theemperor and his court fled in terror. Many of the wealthy inhabitantsfollowed, bearing with them such treasures as they could convey. Theland lay helpless under the shadow of terror which the coming host threwfar before its columns. 

But pillage takes time. The Turks, through the greatness of theirnumbers, moved slowly. Some time was left for action. The inhabitants ofthe city, taking courage, armed for defence. The Duke of Lorraine, whosesmall army had not ventured to face the foe, left twelve thousand men inthe city, and drew back with the remainder to wait for reinforcements. Count Rüdiger of Stahrenberg was left in command, and made all haste toput the imperilled city in a condition of defence. 

[Illustration: THE PARLIAMENT HOUSE IN VIENNA. ]

On came the Turks, the smoke of burning villages the signal of theirapproach. On the 14th of June, 1683, their mighty army appeared beforethe walls, and a city of tents was built that covered a space of sixleagues in extent. 

Their camp was arranged in the form of a crescent, enclosing within itsboundaries a promiscuous mass of soldiers and camp-followers, camels, and baggage-wagons, which seemed to extend as far as the eye couldreach. In the centre was the gorgeous tent of the vizier, made of greensilk, and splendid with its embroidery of gold, silver, and preciousstones, while inside it was kept the holy standard of the prophet. Marvellous stories are told of the fountains, baths, gardens, and otherappliances of Oriental luxury with which the vizier surrounded himselfin this magnificent tent. 

Two days after the arrival of the Turkish host the trenches were opened, the cannon placed, and the siege of Vienna began. For more than twocenturies the conquerors of Constantinople had kept their eyes fixed onthis city as a glorious prize. Now they had reached it, and the thunderof their cannon around its walls was full of threat for the West. Viennaonce theirs, it was not easy to say where their career of conquest wouldbe stayed. 

Fortunately, Count Rüdiger was an able and vigilant soldier, anddefended the city with a skill and obstinacy that baffled every effortof his foes. The Turks, determined on victory, thundered upon the wallstill they were in many parts reduced to heaps of ruins. With incessantlabor they undermined them, blew up the strongest bastions, and laidtheir plans to rush into the devoted city, from which they hoped to gaina glorious booty. But active as they were the besieged were no less so. The damage done by day was repaired by night, and still Vienna turned aheroic face to its thronging enemies. 

Furious assaults were made, multitudes of the Turks rushing with savagecries to the breaches, only to be hurled back by the obstinate valor ofthe besieged. Every foot of ground was fiercely contested, the struggleat each point being desperate and determined. It was particularly soaround the Löbel bastion, where scarcely an inch of ground was leftunstained by the blood of the struggling foes. 

Count Rüdiger, although severely wounded, did not let his hurt reducehis vigilance. Daily he had himself carried round the circle of theworks, directing and cheering his men. Bishop Kolonitsch attended thewounded, and with such active and useful zeal that the grand vizier senthim a threat that he would have his head for his meddling. Despite thisfulmination of fury, the worthy bishop continued to use his threatenedhead in the service of mercy and sympathy. 

But the numbers of the garrison grew rapidly less, and their incessantduty wore them out with fatigue. The commandant was forced to threatendeath to any sentinel found asleep upon his post. A fire broke outwhich was only suppressed with the greatest exertion. Famine also beganto invade the city, and the condition of the besieged grew daily moredesperate. Their only hope lay in relief from without, and this did notcome. 

Two months passed slowly by. The Turks had made a desert of thesurrounding country, and held many thousands of its inhabitants asprisoners in their camp. Step by step they gained upon the defenders. Bythe end of August they possessed the moat around the city walls. On the4th of September a mine was sprung under the Burg bastion, with suchforce that it shook half the city like an earthquake. The bastion wasrent and shattered for a width of more than thirty feet, portions of itswalls being hurled far and wide. 

Into the great breach made the assailants poured in an eager multitude. But the defenders were equally alert, and drove them back with loss. Onthe following day they charged again, and were again repulsed by thebrave Viennese, the ruined bastion becoming a very gulf of death. 

The Turks, finding their efforts useless, resumed the work of mining, directing their efforts against the same bastion. On the 10th ofSeptember the new mine was sprung, and this time with such effect that abreach was made through which a whole Turkish battalion was able toforce its way. 

This city now was in the last extremity of danger; unless immediaterelief came all would soon be lost. The garrison had been much reducedby sickness and wounds, while those remaining were so completelyexhausted as to be almost incapable of defence. Rüdiger had sent courierafter courier to the Duke of Lorraine in vain. In vain the lookoutsswept the surrounding country with their eyes in search of some trace ofcoming aid. All seemed at an end. During the night a circle of rocketswas fired from the tower of St. Stephen's as a signal of distress. Thisdone the wretched Viennese waited for the coming day, almost hopeless ofrepelling the hosts which threatened to engulf them. At the utmost a fewdays must end the siege. A single day might do it. 

That dreadful night of suspense passed away. With the dawn the weariedgarrison was alert, prepared to strike a last blow for safety anddefence, and to guard the yawning breach unto death. They waited withthe courage of despair for an assault which did not come. Hurried andexcited movements were visible in the enemy's camp. Could succor be athand? Yes, from the summit of the Kahlen Hill came the distant report ofthree cannon, a signal that filled the souls of the garrison with joy. Quickly afterwards the lookouts discerned the glitter of weapons and thewaving of Christian banners on the hill. The rescuers were at hand, andbarely in time to save the city from its almost triumphant foes. 

During the siege the Christian people outside had not been idle. Bavaria, Saxony, and the lesser provinces of the empire mustered theirforces in all haste, and sent them to the reinforcement of Charles ofLorraine. To their aid came Sobieski, the chivalrous King of Poland, with eighteen thousand picked men at his back. He himself was lookedupon as a more valuable reinforcement than his whole army. He hadalready distinguished himself against the Turks, who feared and hatedhim, while all Europe looked to him as its savior from the infidel foe. 

There were in all about seventy-seven thousand men in the army whosevanguard ascended the Kahlen Hill on that critical 11th of September, and announced its coming to the beleaguered citizens by its three signalshots. The Turks, too confident in their strength, had thoughtlesslyfailed to occupy the heights, and by this carelessness gave their foes aposition of vantage. In truth, the vizier, proud in his numbers, viewedthe coming foe with disdain, and continued to pour a shower of bombs andballs upon the city while despatching what he deemed would be asufficient force to repel the enemy. 

On the morning of September 12, Sobieski led his troops down the hill toencounter the dense masses of the Moslems in the plain below. Thiscelebrated chief headed his men with his head partly shaved, in thePolish fashion, and plainly dressed, though he was attended by abrilliant retinue. In front went an attendant bearing the king's armsemblazoned. Beside him was another who carried a plume on the point ofhis lance. On his left rode his son James, on his right Charles ofLorraine. Before the battle he knighted his son and made a stirringaddress to his troops, in which he told them that they fought not forVienna alone, but for all Christendom; not for an earthly sovereign, butfor the King of kings. 

Early in the day the left wing of the army had attacked and carried thevillage of Nussdorf, on the Danube, driving out its Turkish defendersafter an obstinate resistance. It was about mid-day when the King ofPoland led the right wing into the plain against the dense battalions ofTurkish horsemen which there awaited his assault. 

The ringing shouts of his men told the enemy that it was the dreadedSobieski whom they had to meet, their triumphant foe on many awell-fought field. At the head of his cavalry he dashed upon theircrowded ranks with such impetuosity as to penetrate to their verycentre, carrying before him confusion and dismay. So daring was hisassault that he soon found himself in imminent danger, having riddenconsiderably in advance of his men. Only a few companions were with him, while around him crowded the dense columns of the foe. In a few minutesmore he would have been overpowered and destroyed, had not the Germancavalry perceived his peril and come at full gallop to his rescue, scattering with the vigor of their charge the turbaned assailants, andsnatching him from the very hands of death. 

So sudden and fierce was the assault, so poorly led the Turkishhorsemen, and so alarming to them the war-cry of Sobieski's men, that ina short time they were completely overthrown, and were soon in flightin all directions. This, however, was but a partial success. The mainbody of the Turkish army had taken no part. Their immense camp, with itsthousands of tents, maintained its position, and the batteries continuedto bombard the city as if in disdain of the paltry efforts of theirfoes. 

Yet it seems to have been rather rage and alarm than disdain thatanimated the vizier. He is said to have, in a paroxysm of fury, turnedthe scimitars of his followers upon the prisoners in his camp, slaughtering thirty thousand of these unfortunates, while bidding hiscannoneers to keep up their assault upon the city. 

These evidences of indecision and alarm in their leader filled the Turkswith dread. They saw their cavalry battalions flying in confusion, heardthe triumphant trumpets of their foes, learned that the dreaded Polishking was at the head of the irresistible charging columns, and yetbeheld their commander pressing the siege as if no foe were in thefield. It was evident that the vizier had lost his head through fright. A sudden terror filled their souls. They broke and fled. While Sobieskiand the other leaders were in council to decide whether the battleshould be continued that evening or left till the next morning, word wasbrought them that the enemy was in full flight, running away in everydirection. 

They hastened out. The tidings proved true. A panic had seized theTurks, and, abandoning tents, cannon, baggage, everything, they wereflying in wild haste from the beleaguered walls. The alarm quicklyspread through their ranks. Those who had been firing on the city lefttheir guns and joined in the flight. From rank to rank, from division todivision, it extended, until the whole army had decamped and washastening in panic terror over the plain, hotly pursued by thedeath-dealing columns of the Christian cavalry, and thinking only ofConstantinople and safety. 

The booty found in the camp was immense. The tent of the grand vizieralone was valued at nearly half a million dollars, and the whole spoilwas estimated as worth fifteen million dollars. The king wrote to hiswife as follows:

"The whole of the enemy's camp, together with their artillery and anincalculable amount of property, has fallen into our hands. The camelsand mules, together with the captive Turks, are driven away in herds, while I myself am become the heir of the grand vizier. The banner whichwas usually borne before him, together with the standard of Mohammed, with which the sultan had honored him in this campaign, and the tents, wagons, and baggage, are all fallen to my share; even some of thequivers captured among the rest are alone worth several thousanddollars. It would take too long to describe all the other objects ofluxury found in his tents, as, for instance, his baths, fountains, gardens, and a variety of rare animals. This morning I was in the city, and found that it could hardly have held out more than five days. Neverbefore did the eye of man see a work of equal magnitude despatched witha vigor like that with which they blew up, and shattered to pieces, hugemasses of stone and rocks. "

Sobieski, on entering Vienna, was greeted with the warmest gratitude andenthusiasm by crowds of people, who looked upon him as their deliverer. The governor, Count Rüdiger, grasped his hand with affection, thepopulace followed him in his every movement, while cries of "Long livethe king!" everywhere resounded. Never had been a more signal delivery, and the citizens were beside themselves with joy. 

In this siege the Turks had lost forty-eight thousand men. Twentythousand more fell on the day of battle, and an equal number during theretreat. It is said that in the tent of the grand vizier were foundletters from Louis XIV. Containing the full plan of the siege, and tothe many crimes of ambition of this monarch seems to be added that ofbringing this frightful peril upon Europe for his own selfish ends. Asfor the unlucky vizier, he was put to death by strangling, by order ofthe angry sultan, on his reaching Belgrade. It is said that his head, found on the taking of Belgrade by Eugene, years afterwards, was sent toBishop Kolonitsch, whose own head the vizier had threatened to take inrevenge for his labors among the wounded of Vienna. 

The war with the Turks continued, with some few intermissions, forfifteen years afterwards. It ended to the great advantage of theChristian armies. One after another the fortresses of Hungary werewrested from their hands, and in the year 1687 they were totallydefeated at Mohacz by the Duke of Lorraine and Prince Eugene, and thewhole of Hungary torn from their grasp. 

In 1697 another great victory over them was won by Eugene, at Zenta, bywhich the power of the Turks was completely broken. Belgrade, which theyhad long held, fell into his hands, and a peace was signed whichconfirmed Austria in the possession of all Hungary. From that timeforward the terror which the Turkish name had so long inspired vanished, and the siege of Vienna may be looked upon as the concluding act in thelong array of invasions of Europe by the Mongolian hordes of Asia. Itwas to be followed by the gradual recovery, now almost consummated, oftheir European dominions from their hands. 

_THE YOUTH OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. _

An extraordinarily rude, coarse, and fierce old despot was FrederickWilliam, first King of Prussia, son of the great Elector and father ofFrederick the Great. He hated France and the French language andculture, then so much in vogue in Europe; he despised learning andscience; ostentation was to him a thing unknown; and he had but twopassions, one being to possess the tallest soldiers in Europe, the otherto have his own fierce will in all things on which he set his mind. About all that we can say in his favor is that he paid much attention tothe promotion of education in his realm, many schools being opened andcompulsory attendance enforced. 

Of the fear with which he inspired many of his subjects, and the methodshe took to overcome it, there is no better example than that told inrelation to a Jew, whom the king saw as he was riding one day throughBerlin. The poor Israelite was slinking away in dread, when the kingrode up, seized him, and asked in harsh tones what ailed him. 

"Sire, I was afraid of you, " said the trembling captive. 

"Fear me! fear me, do you?" exclaimed the king in a rage, lashing hisriding-whip across the man's shoulders with every word. "You dog! I'llteach you to love me!"

[Illustration: STATUE OF FREDERICK THE GREAT, UNTER DEN LINDEN, BERLIN. ]

It was in some such fashion that he sought to make his son love him, andwith much the same result. In fact, he seemed to entertain a bitterdislike for the beautiful and delicate boy whom fortune had sent him asan heir, and treated him with such brutal severity that the unhappychild grew timid and fearful of his presence. This the harsh old despotascribed to cowardice, and became more violent accordingly. 

On one occasion when young Frederick entered his room, something havinghappened to excite his rage against him, he seized him by the hair, flung him violently to the floor, and caned him until he had exhaustedthe strength of his arm on the poor boy's body. His fury growing withthe exercise of it, he now dragged the unresisting victim to thewindows, seized the curtain cord, and twisted it tightly around hisneck. Frederick had barely strength enough to grasp his father's handand scream for help. The old brute would probably have strangled him hadnot a chamberlain rushed in and saved him from the madman's hands. 

The boy, as he grew towards man's estate, developed tastes which addedto his father's severity. The French language and literature which hehated were the youth's delight, and he took every opportunity to readthe works of French authors, and particularly those of Voltaire, who washis favorite among writers. This predilection was not likely toovercome the fierce temper of the king, who discovered his pursuits andflogged him unmercifully, thinking to cane all love for such enervatingliterature, as he deemed it, out of the boy's mind. In this he failed. Germany in that day had little that deserved the name of literature, andthe expanding intellect of the active-minded youth turned irresistiblytowards the tabooed works of the French. 

In truth, he needed some solace for his expanding tastes, for hisfather's house and habits were far from satisfactory to one with anyrefinement of nature. The palace of Frederick William was little moreattractive than the houses of the humbler citizens of Berlin. The floorswere carpetless, the rooms were furnished with common bare tables andwooden chairs, art was conspicuously absent, luxury wanting, comfortbarely considered, even the table was very parsimoniously served. 

The old king's favorite apartment in all his places of residence was hissmoking-room, which was furnished with a deal table covered with greenbaize and surrounded by hard chairs. This was his audience-chamber, hishall of state, the room in which the affairs of the kingdom were decidedin a cloud of smoke and amid the fumes of beer. Here sat generals inuniform, ministers of state wearing their orders, ambassadors and nobleguests from foreign realms, all smoking short Dutch pipes and breathingthe vapors of tobacco. Before each was placed a great mug of beer, andthe beer-casks were kept freely on tap, for the old despot insisted thatall should drink or smoke whether or not they liked beer and tobacco, and he was never more delighted than when he could make a guest drunk orsicken him with smoke. For food, when they were in need of it, bread andcheese and similar viands might be had. 

A strange picture of palatial grandeur this. Fortune had missedFrederick William's true vocation in not making him an inn-keeper in aGerman village instead of a king. Around this smoke-shrouded table themost important affairs of state were discussed. Around it the rudestpractical jokes were perpetrated. Gundling, a beer-bibbing author, whomthe king made at once his historian and his butt, was the principalsufferer from these frolics, which displayed abundantly that absence ofwit and presence of brutality which is the characteristic of thepractical joke. As if in scorn of rank and official dignity, Frederickgave this sot and fool the title of baron and created him chancellor andchamberlain of the palace, forcing him always to wear an absurdlygorgeous gala dress, while to show his disdain of learned pursuits hemade him president of his Academy of Sciences, an institution which, inits condition at that time, was suited to the presidency of a Gundling. 

For these dignities he made the poor butt suffer. On one occasion thekingly joker had a brace of bear cubs laid in Gundling's bed, and thedrunken historian tossed in between them, with little heed of the dangerto which he exposed the poor victim of his sport. On another occasion, when Gundling grew sullen and refused to leave his room, the king andhis boon companions besieged him with rockets and crackers, which theyflung in at the open window. A third and more elaborate trick was thefollowing. The king had the door of Gundling's room walled up, so thatthe drunken dupe wandered the palace halls the whole night long, vainlyseeking his vanished door, getting into wrong rooms, disturbing sleepersto ask whither his room had flown, and making the palace almost asuncomfortable for its other inmates as for himself. He ended his journeyin the bear's den, where he got a severe hug for his pains. 

Such were the ideas of royal dignity, of art, science, and learning, andof wit and humor, entertained by the first King of Prussia, thecoarse-mannered and brutal-minded progenitor of one of the greatest ofmodern monarchs. His ideas of military power were no wiser or moreelevated. His whole soul was set on having a play army, a brigade oftall recruits, whose only merit lay in their inches above the ordinaryheight of humanity. Much of the revenues of the kingdom were spent uponthese giants, whom he had brought from all parts of Europe, by strategyand force where cash and persuasion did not avail. His agents wereeverywhere on the lookout for men beyond the usual stature, and on morethan one occasion blood was shed in the effort to kidnap recruits, whilesome of his crimps were arrested and executed. More than once Prussiawas threatened with war for the practices of its king, yet so eager washe to add to the number of his giants that he let no such difficultiesstand in his way. 

His tall recruits were handsomely paid and loaded with favors. To oneIrishman of extraordinary stature he paid one thousand pounds, while theexpense of watching and guarding him while bringing him from Ireland wastwo hundred pounds more. It is said that in all twelve million dollarsleft the country in payment for these showy and costly giants. 

By his various processes of force, fraud, and stratagem he collectedthree battalions of tall show soldiers, comprising at one time severalthousand men. Not content with the unaided work of nature in providinggiants, he attempted to raise a gigantic race in his own dominions, marrying his grenadiers to the tallest women he could find. There isnothing to show that the result of his efforts was successful. 

The king's giants found life by no means a burden. They enjoyed thehighest consideration in Berlin, were loaded with favors, and presentedwith houses, lands, and other evidences of royal grace, while their onlyduties were show drills and ostentatious parades. They were too costlyand precious to expose to the dangers of actual war. When FrederickWilliam's son came to the throne the military career of the giantssuddenly ended. They were disbanded, pensioned off, or sent to invalidinstitutions, with secret instructions to the officers that if any ofthem tried to run away no hinderance should be placed in their path tofreedom. 

It is, however, with Frederick William's treatment of his son that weare principally concerned. As the boy grew older his predilection forthe culture and literature of France increased, and under the influenceof his favorite associates, two young men named Katte and Keith, adegree of licentiousness was developed in his habits. To please hisfather he accepted a position in the army, but took every opportunity tothrow aside the hated uniform, dress in luxurious garments, solacehimself with the flute, bury himself among his books, and enjoy thesociety of the women he admired and the friends he loved. He wasfrequently forced to attend the king's smoking-parties, where he seemsto have avoided smoking and drinking as much as possible, escaping fromthe scene before it degenerated into an orgy of excess, in which it wasapt to terminate. 

These tastes and tendencies were not calculated to increase the love ofthe brutal old monarch for his son, and the life of the boy becameharder to bear as he grew older. His sister Wilhelmina was equallydetested by the harsh old king, who treated them both with shamefulbrutality, knocking them down and using his cane upon them on theslightest provocation, confining them and sending them food unfit toeat, omitting to serve them at table, and using disgusting means torender their food unpalatable. 

"The king almost starved my brother and me, " says the princess. "Heperformed the office of carver, and helped everybody excepting us two, and when there happened to be something left in a dish, he would spitupon it to prevent us from eating it. On the other hand, I was treatedwith abundance of abuse and invectives, being called all day long by allsorts of names, no matter who was present. The king's anger wassometimes so violent that he drove my brother and me away, and forbadeus to appear in his presence except at meal-times. "

This represented the state of affairs when they were almost grown up, and is a remarkable picture of court habits and manners in Germany inthe early part of the eighteenth century. The scene we have alreadydescribed, in which the king attempted to strangle his son with thecurtain cord, occurred when Frederick was in his nineteenth year, andwas one of the acts which gave rise to his resolution to run away, thesource of so many sorrows. 

Poor Frederick's lot had become too hard to bear. He was bent on flight. His mother was the daughter of George I. Of England, and he hoped tofind at the English court the happiness that failed him at home. Heinformed his sister of his purpose, saying that he intended to put itinto effect during a journey which his father was about to make, and inwhich opportunities for flight would arise. Katte, he said, was in hisinterest; Keith would join him; he had made with them all thearrangements for his flight. His sister endeavored to dissuade him, butin vain. His father's continued brutality, and particularly his use ofthe cane, had made the poor boy desperate. He wrote to LieutenantKatte, --

"I am off, my dear Katte. I have taken such precautions that I havenothing to fear. I shall pass through Leipsic, where I shall assume thename of Marquis d'Ambreville. I have already sent word to Keith, whowill proceed direct to England. Lose no time, for I calculate on findingyou at Leipsic. Adieu, be of good cheer. "

The king's journey took place. Frederick accompanied him, his mind fullof his projected flight. The king added to his resolution byill-treatment during the journey, and taunted him as he had often donebefore, saying, --

"If my father had treated me so, I would soon have run away; but youhave no heart; you are a coward. "

This added to the prince's resolution. He wrote to Katte at Berlin, repeating to him his plans. But now the chapter of accidents, which havespoiled so many well-laid plots, began. In sending this letter hedirected it "_via_ Nürnberg, " but in his haste or agitation forgot toinsert Berlin. By ill luck there was a cousin of Katte's, of the samename, at Erlangen, some twelve miles off. The letter was delivered toand read by him. He saw the importance of its contents, and, moved by animpulse of loyalty, sent it by express to the king at Frankfort. 

Another accident came from Frederick's friend Keith being appointedlieutenant, his place as page to the prince being taken by his brother, who was as stupid as the elder Keith was acute. The royal party hadhalted for the night at a village named Steinfurth. This the princedetermined to make the scene of his escape, and bade his page to callhim at four in the morning, and to have horses ready, as he proposed tomake an early morning call upon some pretty girls at a neighboringhamlet. He deemed the boy too stupid to trust with the truth. 

Young Keith managed to spoil all. Instead of waking the prince, hecalled his valet, who was really a spy of the king's, and who, suspecting something to be amiss, pretended to fall asleep again, whileheedfully watching. Frederick soon after awoke, put on a coat of Frenchcut instead of his uniform, and went out. The valet immediately rousedseveral officers of the king's suite, and told them his suspicions. Muchdisturbed, they hurried after the prince. 

After searching through the village, they found him at the horse-marketleaning against a cart. His dress added to their suspicions, and theyasked him respectfully what he was doing there. He answered sharply, angry at being discovered. 

"For God's sake, change your coat!" exclaimed Colonel Rochow. "The kingis awake, and will start in half an hour. What would be the consequenceif he were to see you in this dress?"

"I promise you that I will be ready before the king, " said Frederick. "I only mean to take a little turn. "

While they were arguing, the page arrived with the horses. The princeseized the bridle of one of them, and would have leaped upon it but forthe interference of those around him, who forced him to return to thebarn in which the royal party had found its only accommodation for thatnight. Here he was obliged to put on his uniform, and to restrain hisanger. 

During the day the valet and others informed the king of what hadoccurred. He said nothing, as there were no proofs of the prince'spurpose. That night they reached Frankfort. Here the king received, thenext morning, the letter sent him by Katte's cousin. He showed it to twoof his officers, and bade them on peril of their heads to keep a closewatch on the prince, and to take him immediately to the yacht on whichthe party proposed to travel the next day by water to Wesel. 

The king embarked the next morning, and as soon as he saw the prince hissmothered rage burst into fury. He grasped him violently by the collar, tore his hair out by the roots, and struck him in the face with the knobof his stick till the blood ran. Only by the interference of the twoofficers was the unhappy youth saved from more extreme violence. 

His sword was taken from him, his effects were seized by the king, andhis papers burned by his valet before his face, --in which he did allconcerned "an important service. "

At the request of his keepers the prince was taken to another yacht. Onreaching the bridge of boats at the entrance to Wesel, he beggedpermission to land there, so that he might not be known. His keepersacceded, but he was no sooner on land than he ran off at full speed. Hewas stopped by a guard, whom the king had sent to meet him, and wasconducted to the town-house. Not a word was said to the king about thisattempt at flight. 

The next day Frederick was brought before his father, who was in araging passion. 

"Why did you try to run away?" he furiously asked. 

"Because, " said Frederick, firmly, "you have not treated me like yourson, but like a base slave. "

"You are an infamous deserter, and have no honor. "

"I have as much as you, " retorted the prince. "I have done no more thanI have heard you say a hundred times that you would do if you were in myplace. "

This answer so incensed the old tyrant that he drew his sword in furyfrom its scabbard, and would have run the boy through had not GeneralMosel hastily stepped between, and seized the king's arm. 

"If you must have blood, stab me, " he said; "my old carcass is not goodfor much; but spare your son. "

These words checked the king's brutal fury. He ordered them to take theboy away, and listened with more composure to the general, who entreatedhim not to condemn the prince without a hearing, and not to commit theunpardonable crime of becoming his son's executioner. 

Events followed rapidly upon this discovery. Frederick contrived todespatch a line in pencil to Keith. "Save yourself, " he wrote; "all isdiscovered. " Keith at once fled, reached the Hague, where he wasconcealed in the house of Lord Chesterfield, the English ambassador, andwhen searched for there, succeeded in escaping to England in afishing-boat. He was hung in effigy in Prussia, but became a major ofcavalry in the service of Portugal. 

Katte was less fortunate. He was warned in time to escape, and themarshal who was sent to arrest him purposely delayed, but he lostprecious time in preparation, and was seized while mounting his horse. 

His arrest filled the queen with terror. Numerous letters were in hispossession which had been written by herself and her daughter to theprince royal. In these they had often spoken with great freedom of theking. It might be ruinous should these letters fall into his hands. 

Some friend sent the portfolio supposed to contain them to the queen. Itwas locked, corded, and sealed. The trouble about the seal was overcomeby an old valet, who had found in the palace garden one just like it. The portfolio was opened, and the queen's fears found to be correct. Itcontained the letters, not less than fifteen hundred in all. They wereall hastily thrown into the fire, --too hastily, for many of them wereinnocent of offence. 

But it would not do to return an empty portfolio. The queen and herdaughter immediately began to write letters to replace the burned ones, taking paper of each year's manufacture to prevent discovery. For threedays they diligently composed and wrote, and in that period fabricatedno less than six or seven hundred letters. These far from filled theportfolio, but the queen packed other things into it, and then lockedand sealed it, so that no change in its appearance could be perceived. This done, it was restored to its place. 

We must hasten over what followed. On the king's return his firstgreeting to his wife was, "Your good-for-nothing son is dead. " Heimmediately demanded the portfolio, tore it open, and carried away theletters which had been so recently concocted. In a few minutes hereturned, and on seeing his daughter broke out into a fury of rage, hiseyes glaring, his mouth foaming. 

"Infamous wretch!" he shouted; "dare you appear in my presence? Go keepyour scoundrel of a brother company. "

He seized her as he spoke and struck her several times violently in theface, one blow on the temple hurling her to the floor. Mad with rage, hewould have trampled on her had not the ladies present got her away. Thescene was a frightful one. The queen, believing her son dead, andcompletely unnerved, ran wildly around the room, shrieking with agony. The king's face was so distorted with rage as to be frightful to lookat. His younger children were around his knees, begging him with tearsto spare their sister. Wilhelmina, her face bruised and swollen, wassupported by one of the ladies of the court. Rarely had insane ragecreated a more distressing spectacle. 

In the end the king acknowledged that Frederick was still alive, butvowed that he would have his head off as a deserter, and thatWilhelmina, his confederate, should be imprisoned for life. He left theroom at length to question Katte, who was being brought before him, harshly exclaiming as he did so, "Now I shall have evidence to convictthe scoundrel Fritz and that blackguard Wilhelmina. I shall find plentyof reasons to have their heads off. "

But we must hasten to the conclusion. Both the captives were tried bycourt-martial, on the dangerous charge of desertion from the army. Thecourt which tried Frederick proved to be subservient to the king's will. They pronounced sentence of death on the prince royal. Katte wassentenced to imprisonment for life, on the plea that his crime had beenonly meditated, not committed. The latter sentence did not please thedespot. He changed it himself from life imprisonment to death, and witha refinement of cruelty ordered the execution to take place under theprince's window, and within his sight. 

On the 5th of November, 1730, Frederick, wearing a coarse prison dress, was conducted from his cell in the fortress of Cüstrin to a room on thelower floor, where the window-curtains, let down as he entered, weresuddenly drawn up. He saw before him a scaffold hung with black, whichhe believed to be intended for himself, and gazed upon it withshuddering apprehension. When informed that it was intended for hisfriend, his grief and pain became even more acute. He passed the nightin that room, and the next morning was conducted again to the window, beneath which he saw his condemned friend, accompanied by soldiers, anofficer, and a minister of religion. 

"Oh, " cried the prince, "how miserable it makes me to think that I amthe cause of your death! Would to God I were in your place!"

"No, " replied Katte; "if I had a thousand lives, gladly would I lay themdown for you. "

Frederick swooned as his friend moved on. In a few minutes afterwardsKatte was dead. It was long before the sorrowing prince recovered fromthe shock of that cruel spectacle. 

Whether the king actually intended the execution of his son isquestioned. As it was, earnest remonstrances were addressed to him fromthe Kings of Sweden and Poland, the Emperor of Germany, and othermonarchs. He gradually recovered from the insanity of his rage, and, onhumble appeals from his son, remitted his sentence, requiring him totake a solemn oath that he was converted from his infidel beliefs, thathe begged a thousand pardons from his father for his crimes, and thathe repented not having been always obedient to his father's will. 

This done, Frederick was released from prison, but was kept undersurveillance at Cüstrin till February, 1732, when he was permitted toreturn to Berlin. He had been there before on the occasion of hissister's marriage, in November, 1731, the poor girl gladly acceptingmarriage to a prince she had never seen as a means of escape from a kingof whom she had seen too much. With this our story ends. Father and sonwere reconciled, and lived to all appearance as good friends until 1740, when the old despot died, and Frederick succeeded him as king. 

_VOLTAIRE AND FREDERICK THE GREAT. _

Voltaire, who was an adept in the art of making France too hot to holdhim, had gone to Prussia, as a place of rest for his perturbed spirit, and, in response to the repeated invitations of his ardent admirer, Frederick the Great. It was a blunder on both sides. If they had wishedto continue friends, they should have kept apart. Frederick wasautocratic in his ways and thoughts; Voltaire embodied the spirit ofindependence in thought and speech. The two men could no more meetwithout striking fire than flint and steel. Moreover, Voltaire wasnormally satirical, restless, inclined to vanity and jealousy, and thatterrible pen of his could never be brought to respect persons andplaces. With a martinet like Frederick, the visit was sure to end in aquarrel, despite the admiration of the prince for the poet. 

Frederick, though a German king, was French in his love for the Gallicliterature, philosophy, and language. He cared little for Germanliterature--there was little of it in his day worth caring for--andalways wrote and spoke in French, while French wits and thinkers whocould not live in safety in straitlaced Paris, gained the amplest scopefor their views in his court. Voltaire found three such emigrantsthere, Maupertuis, La Mettrie, and D'Arnaud. He was received by themwith enthusiasm, as the sovereign of their little court of free thought. Frederick had given him a pension and the post of chamberlain, --anoffice with very light duties, --and the expatriated poet set himself outto enjoy his new life with zest and animation. 

"A hundred and fifty thousand victorious soldiers, " he wrote to Paris, "no attorneys, opera, plays, philosophy, poetry, a hero who is aphilosopher and a poet, grandeur and graces, grenadiers and muses, trumpets and violins, Plato's symposium, society and freedom! Who wouldbelieve it? It is all true, however. "

"It is Cæsar, it is Marcus Aurelius, it is Julian, it is sometimes AbbéChaulieu, with whom I sup, " he further wrote; "there is the charm ofretirement, there is the freedom of the country, with all those littledelights which the lord of a castle who is a king can procure for hisvery obedient humble servants and guests. My own duties are to donothing. I enjoy my leisure. I give an hour a day to the King of Prussiato touch up a bit his works in prose and verse; I am his grammarian, nothis chamberlain . . . Never in any place in the world was there morefreedom of speech touching the superstitions of men, and never were theytreated with more banter and contempt. God is respected, but all theywho have cajoled men in His name are treated unsparingly. "

It was, in short, an Eden for a free-thinker; but an Eden with itsserpent, and this serpent was the envy, jealousy, and unrestrainablesatiric spirit of Voltaire. There was soon trouble between him and hisfellow-exiles. He managed to get Arnaud exiled from the country, andgradually a coolness arose between him and Maupertuis, whom Frederickhad made president of the Berlin Academy. There were other quarrels andcomplications, and Voltaire grew disgusted with the occupation of whathe slyly called "buck-washing" the king's French verses, --poor affairsthey were. Step by step he was making Berlin as hot as he had madeParis. The new Adam was growing restless in his new Paradise. He wroteto his niece, --

"So it is known by this time in Paris, my dear child, that we haveplayed the 'Mort de Cæsar' at Potsdam, that Prince Henry is a goodactor, has no accent, and is very amiable, and that this is the placefor pleasure? All this is true, but--The king's supper parties aredelightful; at them people talk reason, wit, science; freedom prevailsthereat; he is the soul of it all; no ill-temper, no clouds, at any rateno storms; my life is free and well occupied, --but--Opera, plays, carousals, suppers at Sans Souci, military manoeuvres, concerts, studies, readings, --but--The city of Berlin, grand, better laid out than Paris;palaces, play-houses, affable queens, charming princesses, maids ofhonor beautiful and well-made, the mansion of Madame de Tyrconnel alwaysfull and sometimes too much so, --but--but--My dear child, the weatheris beginning to settle down into a fine frost. "

Voltaire brought the frost. He got into a disreputable quarrel with aJew, and meddled in other affairs, until something very like a quarrelarose between him and Frederick. The king wrote him a severe letter ofreprimand. The poet apologized. But immediately afterwards hisirrepressible spirit of mischief broke out in a new place. It was hisill-humor with Maupertuis which now led him astray. He wrote a pamphlet, full of wit and as full of bitterness, called "La diatribe du docteurAkakia, " so evidently satirizing Maupertuis that the king grew furious. It was printed anonymously, and circulated surreptitiously in Berlin, but a copy soon fell into Frederick's hand, who knew at once that butone man in the kingdom was capable of such a production. He wrote soseverely to Voltaire that the malicious satirist was frightened and gaveup the whole edition of the pamphlet, which was burnt before his eyes inthe king's own closet, though Frederick could not help laughing at itswit. 

But Voltaire's daring was equal to a greater defiance than Frederickimagined. Despite the work of the flames, a copy of the diatribe foundits way to Paris, was printed there, and copies of it made their wayback to Prussia by mail. Everybody was reading it, everybody laughing, people fought for copies of the satire, which spread over Europe. Theking, enraged by this treacherous disobedience, as he deemed it, retorted on Voltaire by having the pamphlet burned in the Place d'Armes. 

This brought matters to a crisis. The next day Voltaire sent hiscommissions and orders back to Frederick; the next, Frederick returnedthem to him. He was bent on leaving Prussia at once, but wished to do itwithout a quarrel with the king. 

"I sent the Solomon of the North, " he wrote to Madame Denis, "for hispresent, the cap and bells he gave me, with which you reproached me somuch. I wrote him a very respectful letter, for I asked him for leave togo. What do you think he did? He sent me his great factotum, Federshoff, who brought me back my toys; he wrote me a letter saying that he wouldrather have me to live with than Maupertuis. What is quite certain isthat I would rather not live with either the one or the other. "

In truth, Frederick could not bear to lose Voltaire. Vexed as he waswith him, he was averse to giving up that charming conversation fromwhich he had derived so much enjoyment. Voltaire wanted to get away;Frederick pressed him to stay. There was protestation, warmth, coolness, a gradual breaking of links, letters from France urging the poet toreturn, communications from Frederick wishing him to remain, and agrowing attraction from Paris drawing its flown son back to that centreof the universe for a true Frenchman. 

At length Frederick yielded; Voltaire might go. The poet approached himwhile reviewing his troops. 

"Ah! Monsieur Voltaire, " said the king, "so you really intend to goaway?"

"Sir, urgent private affairs, and especially my health, leave me noalternative. "

"Monsieur, I wish you a pleasant journey. "

This was enough for Voltaire; in an hour he was in his carriage and onthe road to Leipsic. He thought he was done for the rest of his lifewith the "exactions" and "tyrannies" of the King of Prussia. He was toexperience some more of them before he left the land. Frederick bidedhis time. 

It was on March 26, 1753, that Voltaire left Potsdam. It was two monthsafterwards before he reached Frankfort. He had tarried at Leipsic and atGotha, engaged in the latter place on a dry chronicle asked for by theduchess, entitled "The Annals of the Empire. " During this time also, indirect disregard of a promise he had made Frederick, there appeared asupplement to "Doctor Akakia, " more offensive than the main text. It wasfollowed by a virulent correspondence with Maupertuis. Voltaire wasfilling up the vials of wrath of the king. 

On May 31 he reached Frankfort. Here the blow fell. There occurred anincident which has become famous in literary history, and which, whileit had some warrant on Frederick's side, tells very poorly for thatpatron of literature. No unlettered autocrat could have acted with lessregard to the rights and proprieties of citizenship. 

"Here is how this fine adventure came about, " writes Voltaire. "Therewas at Frankfort one Freytag, who had been banished from Dresden and hadbecome an agent for the King of Prussia. . . . He notified me, on behalf ofhis Majesty, that I was not to leave Frankfort till I had restored thevaluable effects I was carrying away from his Majesty. 

"'Alack, sir, I am carrying away nothing from that country, if youplease, not even the smallest regret. What, pray, are those jewels ofthe Brandenburg crown that you require?'

"'It be, sir, ' replied Freytag, 'the work of _poeshy_ of the king, mygracious master. '

"'Oh, I will give him back his prose and verse with all my heart, 'replied I, 'though, after all, I have more than one right to the work. He made me a present of a beautiful copy printed at his expense. Unfortunately, the copy is at Leipsic with my other luggage. '

"Then Freytag proposed to me to remain at Frankfort until the treasurewhich was at Leipsic should have arrived; and he signed an order forit. "

The volume which Frederick wanted he had doubtless good reason todemand, when it is considered that it was in the hands of a man whocould be as malicious as Voltaire. It contained a burlesque andlicentious poem, called the "Palladium, " in which the king scoffed ateverybody and everything in a manner he preferred not to make public. Voltaire in Berlin might be trusted to remain discreet. In Paris hisdiscretion could not be counted on. Frederick wanted the poem in hisown hands. 

There was delay in the matter; references to Frederick and returns; theaffair dragged on slowly. The package arrived. Voltaire, agitated at hisdetention, ill and anxious, wanted to get away, in company with MadameDenis, who had just joined him. Freytag refused to let him go. Veryunwisely, the poet determined to slip away, imagining that in a "freecity" like Frankfort he could not be disturbed. He was mistaken. Thefreedom of Frankfort was subject to the will of Frederick. The poettells for himself what followed. 

"The moment I was off, I was arrested, I, my secretary and my people; myniece is arrested; four soldiers drag her through the mud to acheesemonger's named Smith, who had some title or other of privycouncillor to the King of Prussia; my niece had a passport from the Kingof France, and, what is more, she had never corrected the King ofPrussia's verses. They huddled us all into a sort of hostelry, at thedoor of which were posted a dozen soldiers; we were for twelve daysprisoners of war, and we had to pay a hundred and forty crowns a day. "

Voltaire was furious; Madame Denis was ill, or feigned to be; she wroteletter after letter to Voltaire's friends in Prussia, and to the kinghimself. The affair was growing daily more serious. Finally the cityauthorities themselves, who doubtless felt that they were not playing avery creditable part, put an end to it by ordering Freytag to releasehis prisoner. Voltaire, set free, travelled leisurely towards France, which, however, he found himself refused permission to enter. Hethereupon repaired to Geneva, and thereafter, freed from the patronageof princes and the injustice of the powerful, spent his life in a landwhere full freedom of thought and action was possible. 

As for the worthy Freytag, he felicitated himself highly on the way hehad handled that dabbler in _poeshy_. "We would have risked our livesrather than let him get away, " he wrote; "and if I, holding a council ofwar with myself, had not found him at the barrier but in the opencountry, and he had refused to jog back, I don't know that I shouldn'thave lodged a bullet in his head. To such a degree had I at heart theletters and writing of the king. "

The too trusty agent did not feel so self-satisfied on receiving theopinion of the king. 

"I gave you no such orders as that, " wrote Frederick. "You should nevermake more noise than a thing deserves. I wanted Voltaire to give you upthe key, the cross, and the volume of poems I had intrusted to him; assoon as all that was given up to you I can't see what earthly reasoncould have induced you to make this uproar. "

It is very probable, however, that Frederick wished to humiliateVoltaire, and the latter did not fail to revenge himself with thatweapon which he knew so well how to wield. In his poem of "La Loinaturelle" he drew a bitter but truthful portrait of Frederick whichmust have made that arbitrary gentleman wince. He was, says the poet, --

 "Of incongruities a monstrous pile, Calling men brothers, crushing them the while; With air humane, a misanthropic brute; Ofttimes impulsive, sometimes over-'cute; Weak 'midst his choler, modest in his pride; Yearning for virtue, lust personified; Statesman and author, of the slippery crew; My patron, pupil, persecutor too. "

_SCENES FROM THE SEVEN YEARS' WAR. _

[Illustration: SANS SOUCI, PALACE OF FREDERICK THE GREAT. ]

The story of Frederick the Great is a story of incessant wars, warsagainst frightful odds, for all Europe was combined against him, and forseven years the Austrians, the French, the Russians, and the Swedessurrounded his realm, with the bitter determination to crush him, if notto annihilate the Prussian kingdom. England alone was on his side. Russia had joined the coalition through anger of the Empress Elizabethat Frederick's satire upon her licentious life; France had joined itthrough hostility to England; Austria had organized it from indignationat Frederick's lawless seizure of Silesia; the army raised to operateagainst Prussia numbered several hundred thousand men. 

For years Frederick fought them all single-handed, with a persistence, an energy, and a resolute rising under the weight of defeat thatcompelled the admiration even of his enemies, and in the end gave himvictory over them all. To the rigid discipline of his troops, his ownmilitary genius, and his indomitable perseverance, he owed his finalsuccess and his well-earned epithet of "The Great. "

The story of battle, stirring as it is, is apt to grow monotonous, andwe have perhaps inflicted too many battle scenes already upon ourreaders, though we have selected only such as had some particularfeature of interest to enliven them. Out of Frederick's numerous battleswe may be able to present some examples sufficiently diverse from theordinary to render them worthy of classification, under the title of theromance of history. 

Let us go back to the 5th of November, 1757. On that date the army ofFrederick lay in the vicinity of Rossbach, on the Saale, then occupiedby a powerful French army. The Prussian commander, after vainlyendeavoring to bring the Austrians to battle, had turned and marchedagainst the French, with the hope of driving them out of Saxony. 

His hope was not a very promising one. The French army was sixtythousand strong. He had but little over twenty thousand men. While hefelt hope the French felt assurance. They had their active foe now intheir clutches, they deemed. With his handful of men he could notpossibly stand before their onset. He had escaped them more than oncebefore; this time they had him, as they believed. 

His camp was on a height, near the Saale. Towards it the Frenchadvanced, with flying colors and sounding trumpets, as if with purposeto strike terror into the ranks of their foes. That Frederick wouldventure to stand before them they scarcely credited. If he should, hisdanger would be imminent, for they had laid their plans to surround hissmall force and, by taking the king and his army prisoners, end at ablow the vexatious war. They calculated shrewdly but not well, for theyleft Frederick out of the account in their plans. 

As they came up, line after line, column after column, they must havebeen surprised by the seeming indifference of the Prussians. There werein their ranks no signs of retreat and none of hostility. They remainedperfectly quiet in their camp, not a gun being fired, not a movementvisible, as inert and heedless to all seeming of the coming of theFrench as though there were no enemy within a hundred miles. 

There was a marked difference between the make-up of the two armies, which greatly reduced their numerical odds. Frederick's army wascomposed of thoroughly disciplined and trained soldiers, every man ofwhom knew his place and his duty, and could be trusted in an emergency. The French, on the contrary, had brought all they could of Paris withthem; their army was encumbered with women, wig-makers, barbers, and thelike impedimenta, and confusion and gayety in their ranks replaced thestern discipline of Frederick's camp. After the battle, the booty issaid to have consisted largely of objects of gallantry better suited fora boudoir than a camp. 

The light columns of smoke that arose from the Prussian camp as theFrench advanced indicated their occupation, --and that by no meanssuggested alarm. They were cooking their dinners, with as much unconcernas though they had not yet seen the coming enemy nor heard the clangorof trumpets that announced their approach. Had the French commandersbeen within the Prussian lines they would have been more astonishedstill, for they would have seen Frederick with his staff and generalofficers dining at leisure and with the utmost coolness andindifference. There was no appearance of haste in their movements, andno more in those of their men, whose whole concern just then seemed tobe the getting of a good meal. 

The hour passed on, the French came nearer, their trumpet clangor wasclose at hand, every moment seemed to render the peril of the Prussiansmore imminent, yet their inertness continued; it looked almost as thoughthey had given up the idea of defence. The confidence of the French musthave grown rapidly as their plan of surrounding the Prussians with theirsuperior numbers seemed more and more assured. 

But Frederick had his eye upon them. He was biding his time. Suddenlythere came a change. It was about half-past two in the afternoon. TheFrench had reached the position for which he had been waiting. Quicklythe staff officers dashed right and left with their orders. The trumpetssounded. As if by magic the tents were struck, the men sprang to theirranks and were drawn up in battle array, the artillery opened its fire, the seeming inertness which had prevailed was with extraordinaryrapidity exchanged for warlike activity; the complete discipline of thePrussian army had never been more notably displayed. 

The French, who had been marching forward with careless ease, beheldthis change of the situation with astounded eyes. They looked forheaviness and slowness of movement among the Germans, and could scarcelybelieve in the possibility of such rapidity of evolution. But they hadlittle time to think. The Prussian batteries were pouring a rain ofballs through their columns. And quickly the Prussian cavalry, headed bythe dashing Seidlitz, was in their midst, cutting and slashing withannihilating vigor. 

The surprise was complete. The French found it impossible to form intoline. Everywhere their columns were being swept by musketry andartillery, and decimated by the sabres of the charging cavalry. Inalmost less time than it takes to tell it they were thrown intoconfusion, overwhelmed, routed; in the course of less than half an hourthe fate of the battle was decided, and the French army completelydefeated. 

Their confidence of a short time before was succeeded by panic, and thelately trim ranks fled in utter disorganization, so utterly broken thatmany of the fugitives never stopped till they reached the other side ofthe Rhine. 

Ten thousand prisoners fell into Frederick's hands, including ninegenerals and numerous other officers, together with all the Frenchartillery, and twenty-two standards; while the victory was achieved withthe loss of only one hundred and sixty-five killed and three hundred andfifty wounded on the Prussian side. The triumph was one of disciplineagainst over-confidence. No army under less complete control than thatof Frederick could have sprung so suddenly into warlike array. To this, and to the sudden and overwhelming dash of Seidlitz and his cavalry, theremarkable victory was due. 

Just one month from that date, on the 5th of December, another greatbattle took place, and another important victory for Frederick theGreat. With thirty-four thousand Prussians he defeated eighty thousandAustrians, while the prisoners taken nearly equalled in number hisentire force. 

The Austrians had taken the opportunity of Frederick's campaign againstthe French to overrun Silesia. Breslau, its capital, with several otherstrongholds, fell into their hands, and the probability was that if leftthere during the winter they would so strongly fortify it as to defy anyattempt of the Prussian king to recapture it. 

Despite the weakness of his army Frederick decided to make an effort toregain the lost province, and marched at once against the Austrians. They lay in a strong position behind the river Lohe, and here theirleader, Field-Marshal Daun, wished to have them remain, having hadabundant experience of his opponent in the open field. This cautiousadvice was not taken by Prince Charles, who controlled the movements ofthe army, and whom several of the generals persuaded that it would bedegrading for a victorious army to intrench itself against one so muchinferior in numbers, and advised him to march out and meet thePrussians. "The parade guard of Berlin, " as they contemptuouslydesignated Frederick's army, "would never be able to make a standagainst them. "

The prince, who was impetuous in disposition, agreed with them, marchedout from his intrenchments, and met Frederick's army in the vast plainnear Leuthen. On December 5 the two armies came face to face, the linesof the imperial force extending over a space of five miles, while thoseof Frederick occupied a much narrower space. 

In his lack of numbers the Prussian king was obliged to substitutecelerity of movement, hoping to double the effectiveness of his troopsby their quickness of action. The story of the battle may be given in afew words. A false attack was made on the Austrian right, and then thebulk of the Prussian army was hurled upon their left wing, with suchimpetuosity as to break and shatter it. The disorder caused by thisattack spread until it included the whole army. In three hours' timeFrederick had completely defeated his foes, one-third of whom werekilled, wounded, or captured, and the remainder put to flight. The fieldwas covered with the slain, and whole battalions surrendered, thePrussians capturing in all twenty-one thousand prisoners. They tookbesides one hundred and thirty cannon and three thousand baggage andammunition wagons. The victory was a remarkable example of the supremacyof genius over mere numbers. Napoleon says of it, "That battle was amaster-piece. Of itself it is sufficient to entitle Frederick to a placein the first rank of generals. " It restored Silesia to the Prussiandominions. 

There is one more of Frederick's victories of sufficiently strikingcharacter to fit in with those already given. It took place in 1760, several years after those described, years in which Frederick hadstruggled persistently against overwhelming odds, and, though oftenworsted, yet coming up fresh after every defeat, and unconquerablykeeping the field. 

He was again in Silesia, which was once more seriously threatened by theAustrian forces. His position was anything but a safe one. The Austriansalmost surrounded him. On one side was the army of Field-Marshal Daun, on the other that of General Lasci; in front was General Laudon. Fighting day and night he advanced, and finally took up his position atLiegnitz, where he found his forward route blocked, Daun having formed ajunction with Laudon. His magazines were at Breslau and Schweidnitz infront, which it was impossible to reach; while his brother, PrinceHenry, who might have marched to his relief, was detained by theRussians on the Oder. 

The position of Frederick was a critical one. He had only a few days'supply of provisions; it was impossible to advance, and dangerous toretreat; the Austrians, in superior numbers, were dangerously near him;only fortune and valor could save him from serious disaster. In thiscrisis of his career happy chance came to his aid, and relieved him fromthe awkward and perilous situation into which he had fallen. 

The Austrians were keenly on the alert, biding their time and watchfulfor an opportunity to take the Prussians at advantage. The time had nowarrived, as they thought, and they laid their plans accordingly. On thenight before the 15th of August Laudon set out on a secret march, hispurpose being to gain the heights of Puffendorf, from which thePrussians might be assailed in the rear. At the same time the othercorps were to close in on every side, completely surrounding Frederick, and annihilating him if possible. 

It was a well-laid and promising plan, but accident befriended thePrussian king. Accident and alertness, we may say; since, to prevent asurprise from the Austrians, he was in the habit of changing thelocation of his camp almost every night. Such a change took place on thenight in question. On the 14th the Austrians had made a closereconnoisance of his position. Fearing some hostile purpose in this, Frederick, as soon as the night had fallen, ordered his tents to bestruck and the camp to be moved with the utmost silence, so as to avoidgiving the foe a hint of his purpose. As it chanced, the new camp wasmade on those very heights of Puffendorf towards which Laudon wasadvancing with equal care and secrecy. 

That there might be no suspicion of the Prussian movement, thewatch-fires were kept up in the old camp, peasants attending to them, while patrols of hussars cried out the challenge every quarter of anhour. The gleaming lights, the watch-cries of the sentinels, allindicated that the Prussian army was sleeping on its old ground, withoutsuspicion of the overwhelming blow intended for it on the morrow. 

Meanwhile the king and his army had reached their new quarters, wherethe utmost caution and noiselessness was observed. The king, wrapped inhis military cloak, had fallen asleep beside his watch-fire; Ziethen, his valiant cavalry leader, and a few others of his principal officers, being with him. Throughout the camp the greatest stillness prevailed, all noise having been forbidden. The soldiers slept with their armsclose at hand, and ready to be seized at a moment's notice. Frederickfully appreciated the peril of his situation, and was not to be taken bysurprise by his active foes. And thus the night moved on until midnightpassed, and the new day began its course in the small hours. 

About two o'clock a sudden change came in the situation. A horsemangalloped at full speed through the camp, and drew up hastily at theking's tent, calling Frederick from his light slumbers. He was theofficer in command of the patrol of hussars, and brought startling news. The enemy was at hand, he said; his advance columns were within a fewhundred yards of the camp. It was Laudon's army, seeking to steal intopossession of those heights which Frederick had so opportunely occupied. 

The stirring tidings passed rapidly through the camp. The soldiers wereawakened, the officers seized their arms and sprang to horse, the troopsgrasped their weapons and hastened into line, the cannoneers flew totheir guns, soon the roar of artillery warned the coming Austrians thatthey had a foe in their front. 

Laudon pushed on, thinking this to be some advance column which he couldeasily sweep from his front. Not until day dawned did he discover thetrue situation, and perceive, with astounded eyes, that the wholePrussian army stood in line of battle on those very heights which he hadhoped so easily to occupy. 

The advantage on which the Austrian had so fully counted lay with thePrussian king. Yet, undaunted, Laudon pushed on and made a vigorousattack, feeling sure that the thunder of the artillery would be borne toDaun's ears, and bring that commander in all haste, with his army, totake part in the fray. 

But the good fortune which had so far favored Frederick did not nowdesert him. The wind blew freshly in the opposite direction, and carriedthe sound of the cannon away from Daun's hearing. Not the roar of apiece of artillery came to him, and his army lay moveless during thebattle, he deeming that Laudon must now be in full possession of theheights, and felicitating himself on the neat trap into which the Kingof Prussia had fallen. While he thus rested on his arms, glorying in hissoul on the annihilation to which the pestilent Prussians were doomed, his ally was making a desperate struggle for life, on those very heightswhich he counted on taking without a shot. Truly, the Austrians hadreckoned without their foe in laying their cunning plot. 

Three hours of daylight finished the affray. Taken by surprise as theywere, the Austrians proved unable to sustain the vigorous Prussianassault, and were utterly routed, leaving ten thousand dead and woundedon the field, and eighty-two pieces of artillery in the enemy's hands. Shortly afterwards Daun, advancing to carry out his share of the schemeof annihilation, fell upon the right wing of the Prussians, commanded byGeneral Ziethen, and was met with so fierce an artillery fire that hehalted in dismay. And now news of Laudon's disaster was brought to him. Seeing that the game was lost and himself in danger, he emulated hisassociate in his hasty retreat. 

Fortune and alertness had saved the Prussian king from a serious danger, and turned peril into victory. He lost no time in profiting by hisadvantage, and was in full march towards Breslau within three hoursafter the battle, the prisoners in the centre, the wounded--friend andfoe alike, --in wagons in the rear, and the captured cannon added to hisown artillery train. Silesia was once more delivered into his hands. 

Never in history had there been so persistent and indomitable aresistance against overwhelming numbers as that which Fredericksustained for so many years against his numerous foes. At length, whenhope seemed almost at an end, and it appeared as if nothing could savethe Prussian kingdom from overthrow, death came to the aid of thecourageous monarch. The Empress Elizabeth of Russia died, andFrederick's bitterest foe was removed. The new monarch, Peter III. , wasan ardent admirer of Frederick, and at once discharged all the Prussianprisoners in his hands, and signed a treaty of alliance with Prussia. Sweden quickly did the same, leaving Frederick with no opponents but theAustrians. Four months more sufficed to bring his remaining foes toterms, and by the end of the year 1762 the distracting Seven Years' Warwas at an end, the indomitable Frederick remaining in full possession ofSilesia, the great bone of contention in the war. His resolution andperseverance had raised Prussia to a high position among the kingdoms ofEurope, and laid the foundations of the present empire of Germany. 

_THE PATRIOTS OF THE TYROL. _

On the 9th of April, 1809, down the river Inn, in the Tyrol, camefloating a series of planks, from whose surface waved little red flags. What they meant the Bavarian soldiers, who held that mountain land witha hand of iron, could not conjecture. But what they meant the peasantrywell knew. On the day before peace had ruled throughout the Alps, and noBavarian dreamed of war. Those flags were the signal for insurrection, and on their appearance the brave mountaineers sprang at once to armsand flew to the defence of the bridges of their country, which theBavarians were marching to destroy, as an act of defence against theAustrians. 

On the 10th the storm of war burst. Some Bavarian sappers had been sentto blow up the bridge of St. Lorenzo. But hardly had they begun theirwork, when a shower of bullets from unseen marksmen swept the bridge. Several were killed; the rest took to flight; the Tyrol was in revolt. 

News of this outbreak was borne to Colonel Wrede, in command of theBavarians, who hastened with a force of infantry, cavalry, and artilleryto the spot. He found the peasants out in numbers. The Tyroleanriflemen, who were accustomed to bring down chamois from the mountainpeaks, defended the bridge, and made terrible havoc in the Bavarianranks. They seized Wrede's artillery and flung guns and gunners togetherinto the stream, and finally put the Bavarians to rout, with severeloss. 

The Bavarians held the Tyrol as allies of the French, and the movementagainst the bridges had been directed by Napoleon, to prevent theAustrians from reoccupying the country, which had been wrested fromtheir hands. Wrede in his retreat was joined by a body of three thousandFrench, but decided, instead of venturing again to face the daring foe, to withdraw to Innsbruck. But withdrawal was not easy. The signal ofrevolt had everywhere called the Tyrolese to arms. The passes wereoccupied. The fine old Roman bridge over the Brenner, at Laditsch, wasblown up. In the pass of the Brixen, leading to this bridge, the Frenchand Bavarians found themselves assailed in the old Swiss manner, byrocks and logs rolled down upon their heads, while the unerring riflesof the hidden peasants swept the pass. Numbers were slain, but theremainder succeeded in escaping by means of a temporary bridge, whichthey threw over the stream on the site of the bridge of Laditsch. 

Of the Tyrolese patriots to whom this outbreak was due two are worthy ofspecial mention, Joseph Speckbacher, a wealthy peasant of Rinn, and themore famous Andrew Hofer, the host of the Sand Inn at Passeyr, a maneverywhere known through the mountains, as he traded in wine, corn, andhorses as far as the Italian frontier. 

Hofer was a man of herculean frame and of a full, open, handsomecountenance, which gained dignity from its long, dark-brown beard, whichfell in rich curls upon his chest. His picturesque dress--that of theTyrol--comprised a red waistcoat, crossed by green braces, which werefastened to black knee breeches of chamois leather, below which he worered stockings. A broad black leather girdle clasped his muscular form, while over all was worn a short green coat. On his head he wore alow-crowned, broad-brimmed Tyrolean hat, black in color, and ornamentedwith green ribbons and with the feathers of the capercailzie. 

This striking-looking patriot, at the head of a strong party ofpeasantry, made an assault, early on the 11th, upon a Bavarian infantrybattalion under the command of Colonel Bäraklau, who retreated to atable-land named Sterzinger Moos, where, drawn up in a square, heresisted every effort of the Tyrolese to dislodge him. Finally Hoferbroke his lines by a stratagem. A wagon loaded with hay, and driven by agirl, was pushed towards the square, the brave girl shouting, as theballs flew around her, "On with ye! Who cares for Bavarian dumplings!"Under its shelter the Tyrolese advanced, broke the square, and killed ormade prisoners the whole of the battalion. 

Speckbacher, the other patriot named, was no less active. No sooner hadthe signal of revolt appeared in the Inn than he set the alarm-bellsringing in every church-tower through the lower valley of that stream, and quickly was at the head of a band of stalwart Tyrolese. On the nightof the 11th he advanced on the city of Hall, and lighted about a hundredwatch-fires on one side of the city, as if about to attack it from thatquarter. While the attention of the garrison was directed towards thesefires, he crept through the darkness to the gate on the opposite side, and demanded entrance as a common traveller. The gate was opened; hishidden companions rushed forward and seized it; in a brief time thecity, with its Bavarian garrison, was his. 

On the 12th he appeared before Innsbruck, and made a fierce assault uponthe city in which he was aided by a murderous fire poured upon theBavarians by the citizens from windows and towers. The people of theupper valley of the Inn flocked to the aid of their fellows, and theplace, with its garrison, was soon taken, despite their obstinatedefence. Dittfurt, the Bavarian leader, who scornfully refused to yieldto the peasant dogs, as he considered them, fought with tiger-likeferocity, and fell at length, pierced by four bullets. 

One further act completed the freeing of the Tyrol from Bavariandomination. The troops under Colonel Wrede had, as we have related, crossed the Brenner on a temporary bridge, and escaped the perils of thepass. Greater perils awaited them. Their road lay past Sterzing, thescene of Hofer's victory. Every trace of the conflict had beenobliterated, and Wrede vainly sought to discover what had become ofBäraklau and his battalion. He entered the narrow pass through which theroad ran at that place, and speedily found his ranks decimated by therifles of Hofer's concealed men. 

After considerable loss the column broke through, and continued itsmarch to Innsbruck, where it was immediately surrounded by a triumphanthost of Tyrolese. The struggle was short, sharp, and decisive. In a fewminutes several hundred men had fallen. In order to escape completedestruction the rest laid down their arms. The captors entered Innsbruckin triumph, preceded by the military band of the enemy, which theycompelled to play, and guarding their prisoners, who included twogenerals, more than a hundred other officers, and about two thousandmen. 

In two days the Tyrol had been freed from its Bavarian oppressors andtheir French allies and restored to its Austrian lords. The arms ofBavaria were everywhere cast to the ground, and the officials removed. But the prisoners were treated with great humanity, except in the singleinstance of a tax-gatherer, who had boasted that he would grind down theTyrolese until they should gladly eat hay. In revenge, they forced himto swallow a bushel of hay for his dinner. 

The freedom thus gained by the Tyrolese was not likely to be permanentwith Napoleon for their foe. The Austrians hastened to the defence ofthe country which had been so bravely won for their emperor. On theother side came the French and Bavarians as enemies and oppressors. Lefebvre, the leader of the invaders, was a rough and brutal soldier, who encouraged his men to commit every outrage upon the mountaineers. 

For some two or three months the conflict went on, with varyingfortunes, depending upon the conditions of the war between France andAustria. At first the French were triumphant, and the Austrians withdrewfrom the Tyrol. Then came Napoleon's defeat at Aspern, and the Tyroleserose and again drove the invaders from their country. In July occurredNapoleon's great victory at Wagram, and the hopes of the Tyrol once moresank. All the Austrians were withdrawn, and Lefebvre again advanced atthe head of thirty or forty thousand French, Bavarians, and Saxons. 

The courage of the peasantry vanished before this threatening invasion. Hofer alone remained resolute, saying to the Austrian governor, on hisdeparture, "Well, then, I will undertake the government, and, as long asGod wills, name myself Andrew Hofer, host of the Sand at Passeyr, andCount of the Tyrol. "

He needed resolution, for his fellow-chiefs deserted the cause of theircountry on all sides. On his way to his home he met Speckbacher, hurrying from the country in a carriage with some Austrian officers. 

"Wilt thou also desert thy country!" said Hofer to him in tones of sadreproach. 

Another leader, Joachim Haspinger, a Capuchin monk, nicknamed Redbeard, a man of much military talent, withdrew to his monastery at Seeben. Hofer was left alone of the Tyrolese leaders. While the French advancedwithout opposition, he took refuge in a cavern amid the steep rocks thatoverhung his native vale, where he implored Heaven for aid. 

The aid came. Lefebvre, in his brutal fashion, plundered and burnt as headvanced, and published a proscription list instead of the amnestypromised. The natural result followed. Hofer persuaded the bold Capuchinto leave his monastery, and he, with two others, called the westernTyrol to arms. Hofer raised the eastern Tyrol. They soon gained apowerful associate in Speckbacher, who, conscience-stricken by Hofer'sreproach, had left the Austrians and hastened back to his country. Theinvader's cruelty had produced its natural result. The Tyrol was oncemore in full revolt. 

With a bunch of rosemary, the gift of their chosen maidens, in theirgreen hats, the young men grasped their trusty rifles and hurried to theplaces of rendezvous. The older men wore peacock plumes, the Hapsburgsymbol. With haste they prepared for the war. Cannon which did goodservice were made from bored logs of larch wood, bound with iron rings. Here the patriots built abatis; there they gathered heaps of stone onthe edges of precipices which rose above the narrow vales and passes. The timber slides in the mountains were changed in their course so thattrees from the heights might be shot down upon the important passes andbridges. All that could be done to give the invaders a warm welcome wasprepared, and the bold peasants waited eagerly for the coming conflict. 

From four quarters the invasion came, Lefebvre's army being divided soas to attack the Tyrolese from every side, and meet in the heart of thecountry. They were destined to a disastrous repulse. The Saxons, led byRouyer, marched through the narrow valley of Eisach, the heights abovewhich were occupied by Haspinger the Capuchin and his men. Down uponthem came rocks and trees from the heights. Rouyer was hurt, and many ofhis men were slain around him. He withdrew in haste, leaving oneregiment to retain its position in the Oberau. This the Tyrolese did notpropose to permit. They attacked the regiment on the next day, in thenarrow valley, with overpowering numbers. Though faint with hunger andthe intense heat, and exhausted by the fierceness of the assault, a partof the troops cut their way through with great loss and escaped. Therest were made prisoners. 

The story is told that during their retreat, and when ready to drop withfatigue, the soldiers found a cask of wine. Its head was knocked in by adrummer, who, as he stooped to drink, was pierced by a bullet, and hisblood mingled with the wine. Despite this, the famishing soldierygreedily swallowed the contents of the cask. 

A second _corps d'armée_ advanced up the valley of the Inn as far asthe bridges of Pruz. Here it was repulsed by the Tyrolese, and retreatedunder cover of the darkness during the night of August 8. The infantrycrept noiselessly over the bridge of Pontlaz. The cavalry followed withequal caution but with less success. The sound of a horse's hoof arousedthe watchful Tyrolese. Instantly rocks and trees were hurled upon thebridge, men and horses being crushed beneath them and the passageblocked. All the troops which had not crossed were taken prisoners. Theremainder were sharply pursued, and only a handful of them escaped. 

The other divisions of the invading army met with a similar fate. Lefebvre himself, who reproached the Saxons for their defeat, was notable to advance as far as they, and was quickly driven from themountains with greatly thinned ranks. He was forced to disguise himselfas a common soldier and hide among the cavalry to escape the balls ofthe sharp-shooters, who owed him no love. The rear-guard was attackedwith clubs by the Capuchin and his men, and driven out with heavy loss. During the night that followed all the mountains around the beautifulvalley of Innsbruck were lit up with watch-fires. In the valley belowthose of the invaders were kept brightly burning while the troopssilently withdrew. On the next day the Tyrol held no foes; the invasionhad failed. 

Hofer placed himself at the head of the government at Innsbruck, wherehe lived in his old simple mode of life, proclaimed some excellentlaws, and convoked a national assembly. The Emperor of Austria sent hima golden chain and three thousand ducats. He received them with no showof pride, and returned the following naïve answer: "Sirs, I thank you. Ihave no news for you to-day. I have, it is true, three couriers on theroad, the Watscher-Hiesele, the Sixten-Seppele, and the Memmele-Franz, and the Schwanz ought long to have been here. I expect the rascal everyhour. "

Meanwhile, Speckbacher and the Capuchin kept up hostilities successfullyon the eastern frontier. Haspinger wished to invade the country of theirfoes, but was restrained by his more prudent associate. Speckbacher isdescribed as an open-hearted, fine-spirited fellow, with the strength ofa giant, and the best marksman in the country. So keen was his visionthat he could distinguish the bells on the necks of the cattle at thedistance of half a mile. 

His son Anderle, but ten years of age, was of a spirit equal to his own. In one of the earlier battles of the war he had occupied himself duringthe fight in collecting the enemy's balls in his hat, and so obstinatelyrefused to quit the field that his father had him carried by force to adistant alp. During the present conflict, Anderle unexpectedly appearedand fought by his father's side. He had escaped from his mountainretreat. It proved an unlucky escape. Shortly afterwards, the father wassurprised by treachery and found himself surrounded with foes, who torefrom him his arms, flung him to the ground, and seriously injured himwith blows from a club. But in an instant more he sprang furiously tohis feet, hurled his assailants to the earth, and escaped across a wallof rock impassable except to an expert mountaineer. A hundred of his menfollowed him, but his young son was taken captive by his foes. The king, Maximilian Joseph, attracted by the story of his courage and beauty, sent for him and had him well educated. 

The freedom of the Tyrol was not to last long. The treaty of Vienna, between the Emperors of Austria and France, was signed. It did not evenmention the Tyrol. It was a tacit understanding that the mountaincountry was to be restored to Bavaria, and to reduce it to obediencethree fresh armies crossed its frontiers. They were repulsed in thesouth, but in the north Hofer, under unwise advice, abandoned theanterior passes, and the invaders made their way as far as Innsbruck, whence they summoned him to capitulate. 

During the night of October 30 an envoy from Austria appeared in theTyrolese camp, bearing a letter from the Archduke John, in which heannounced the conclusion of peace and commanded the mountaineers todisperse, and not to offer their lives as a useless sacrifice. TheTyrolese regarded him as their lord, and obeyed, though with bitterregret. A dispersion took place, except of the band of Speckbacher, which held its ground against the enemy until the 3d of November, whenhe received a letter from Hofer saying, "I announce to you that Austriahas made peace with France, and has forgotten the Tyrol. " On receivingthis news he disbanded his followers, and all opposition ceased. 

The war was soon afoot again, however, in the native vale of Hofer, thepeople of which, made desperate by the depredations of the Italian bandswhich had penetrated their country, sprang to arms and resolved todefend themselves to the bitter end. They compelled Hofer to placehimself at their head. 

For a time they were successful. But a traitor guided the enemy to theirrear, and defeat followed. Hofer escaped and took refuge among themountain peaks. Others of the leaders were taken and executed. The mostgallant among the peasantry were shot or hanged. There was some furtheropposition, but the invaders pressed into every valley and disarmed thepeople, the bulk of whom obeyed the orders given them and offered noresistance. The revolt was quelled. 

Hofer took refuge at first, with his wife and child, in a narrow hollowin the Kellerlager. This he soon left for a hut on the highest alps. Hewas implored to leave the country, but he vowed that he would live ordie on his native soil. Discovery soon came. A peasant named Raffellearned the location of his hiding-place by seeing the smoke ascend fromhis distant hut. He foolishly boasted of his knowledge; his story cameto the ears of the French; he was arrested, and compelled to guide themto the spot. Two thousand French were spread around the mountain; athousand six hundred ascended it; Hofer was taken. 

[Illustration: THE LAST DAY OF ANDREAS HOFER. ]

His captors treated him with brutal violence. They tore out his beard, and dragged him pinioned, barefoot, and in his night-dress, over ice andsnow to the valley. Here he was placed in a carriage and carried to thefortress of Mantua, in Italy. Napoleon, on news of the capture beingbrought to him at Paris, sent orders to shoot him within twenty-fourhours. 

He died as bravely as he had lived. When placed before the firing-partyof twelve riflemen, he refused either to kneel or to allow himself to beblindfolded. "I stand before my Creator, " he exclaimed, in firm tones, "and standing will I restore to him the spirit he gave. "

He gave the signal to fire, but the men, moved by the scene, missedtheir aim. The first fire brought him to his knees, the second stretchedhim on the ground, where a corporal terminated the cruel scene byshooting him through the head. He died February 20, 1810. At a laterdate his remains were borne back to his native alps, a handsome monumentof white marble was erected to his memory in the church at Innsbruck, and his family was ennobled. 

Of the two other principal leaders of the Tyrolese, Haspinger, theCapuchin, escaped to Vienna, which Speckbacher also succeeded inreaching, after a series of perils and escapes which are well worthrelating. 

After the dispersal of his troops he, like Hofer, sought concealment inthe mountains where the Bavarians sought for him in troops, vowing to"cut his skin into boot-straps if they caught him. " He attempted tofollow the mountain paths to Austria, but at Dux found the roads soblocked with snow that further progress was impossible. Here theBavarians came upon his track and attacked the house in which he hadtaken refuge. He escaped by leaping from its roof, but was wounded indoing so. 

For the twenty-seven days that followed he roamed through the snowymountain forests, in danger of death both from cold and starvation. Oncefor four days together he did not taste food. At the end of this time hefound shelter in a hut at Bolderberg, where by chance he found his wifeand children, who had sought the same asylum. 

His bitterly persistent foes left him not long in safety here. Theylearned his place of retreat, and pursued him, his presence of mindalone saving him from capture. Seeing them approach, he took a sledgeupon his shoulders, and walked towards and past them as though he were aservant of the house. 

His next place of refuge was in a cave on the Gemshaken, in which heremained until the opening of spring, when he had the ill-fortune to becarried by a snow-slide a mile and a half into the valley. It wasimpossible to return. He crept from the snow, but found that one of hislegs was dislocated. The utmost he could do, and that with agonizingpain, was to drag himself to a neighboring hut. Here were two men, whocarried him to his own house at Rinn. 

Bavarians were quartered in the house, and the only place of refuge opento him was the cow-shed, where his faithful servant Zoppel dug for him ahole beneath the bed of one of the cows, and daily supplied him withfood. His wife had returned to the house, but the danger of discoverywas so great that even she was not told of his propinquity. 

For seven weeks he remained thus half buried in the cow-shed, graduallyrecovering his strength. At the end of that time he rose, bade adieu tohis wife, who now first learned of his presence, and again betookhimself to the high paths of the mountains, from which the sun of Mayhad freed the snow. He reached Vienna without further trouble. 

Here the brave patriot received no thanks for his services. Even a smallestate he had purchased with the remains of his property he was forcedto relinquish, not being able to complete the purchase. He would havebeen reduced to beggary but for Hofer's son, who had received a fineestate from the emperor, and who engaged him as his steward. Thus endedthe active career of the ablest leader in the Tyrolean war. 

_THE OLD EMPIRE AND THE NEW. _

During the Christmas festival of the year 800 the crown of the imperialdignity was placed at Rome on the head of Charles the Great, and theRoman Empire of the West again came into being, so far as a dead thingcould be restored to life. For one thousand and six years afterwardsthis title of emperor was retained in Germany, though the powerrepresented by it became at times a very shadowy affair. The authorityand influence of the emperors reached their culmination during the reignof the Hohenstauffens (1138 to 1254). For a few centuries afterwards thetitle represented an empire which was but a quarter fact, three-quarterstradition, the emperor being duly elected by the diet of German princes, but by no means submissively obeyed. The fraction of fact which remainedof the old empire perished in the Thirty Years' War. After that date thetitle continued in existence, being held by the Hapsburgs of Austria asan hereditary dignity, but the empire had vanished except as a traditionor superstition. Finally, on the 6th of August, 1806, Francis II. , atthe absolute dictum of Napoleon, laid down the title of "Emperor of theHoly Roman Empire of the German Nation, " and the long defunct empire wasfinally buried. 

The shadow which remained of the empire of Charlemagne had vanishedbefore the rise of a greater and more vital thing, the empire of France, brought into existence by the genius of Napoleon Bonaparte, thesuccessor of Charles the Great as a mighty conqueror. For a few years itseemed as if the original empire might be restored. The power ofNapoleon, indeed, extended farther than that of his great predecessor, all Europe west of Russia becoming virtually his. Some of the kings werereplaced by monarchs of his creation. Others were left upon theirthrones, but with their power shorn, their dignity being largely one ofvassalage to France. Not content with an empire that stretched beyondthe limits of that of Charlemagne or of the Roman Empire of the West, Napoleon ambitiously sought to subdue all Europe to his imperial will, and marched into Russia with nearly all the remaining nations of Europeas his forced allies. 

His career as a conqueror ended in the snows of Muscovy and amid theflames of Moscow. The shattered fragment of the grand army of conquestthat came back from that terrible expedition found crushed and dismayedGermany rising into hostile vitality in its rear. Russia pursued itsvanquished invader, Prussia rose against him, Austria joined his foes, and at length, in October, 1813, united Germany was marshalled in armsagainst its mighty enemy before the city of Leipsic, the scene of thegreat battles of the Thirty Years' War, nearly two centuries before. 

Here was fought one of the fiercest and most decisive struggles of thatquarter century of conflict. It was a fight for life, a battle to decidethe question of who should be lord of Europe. Napoleon had been broughtto bay. Despising to the last his foes, he had weakened his army byleaving strong garrisons in the German cities, which he hoped toreoccupy after he had beaten the German armies. On the 16th of Octoberthe great contest began. It was fought fiercely throughout the day, withsuccessive waves of victory and defeat, the advantage at the end restingwith the allies through sheer force of numbers. The 17th was a day ofrest and negotiation, Napoleon vainly seeking to induce the Emperor ofAustria to withdraw from the alliance. While this was going on largebodies of Swedes, Russians, and Austrians were marching to join theGerman ranks, and the battle of the 18th was fought between a hundredand fifty thousand French and a hostile army of double that strength, which represented all northern and eastern Europe. 

The battle was one of frightful slaughter. Its turning-point came whenthe Saxon infantry, which had hitherto fought on the French side, deserted Napoleon's cause in the thick of the fight, and went over in abody to the enemy. It was an act of treachery whose fatal effect noeffort could overcome. The day ended with victory in the hands of theallies. The French were driven back close upon the walls of Leipsic, with the serried columns of Germany and Russia closing them in, andbent on giving no relaxation to their desperate foe. 

The struggle was at an end. Longer resistance would have been madness. Napoleon ordered a retreat. But the Elster had to be crossed, and only asingle bridge remained for the passage of the army and its stores. Allnight long the French poured across the bridge with what they could takeof their wagons and guns. Morning dawned with the rush and hurry of theretreat still in active progress. A strong rear-guard held the town, andNapoleon himself made his way across the bridge with difficulty throughthe crowding masses. 

Hardly had he crossed when a frightful misfortune occurred. The bridgehad been mined, to blow it up on the approach of the foe. This duty hadbeen carelessly trusted to a subaltern, who, frightened by seeing someof the enemy on the river-side, set fire hastily to the train. Thebridge blew up with a tremendous explosion, leaving a rear-guard oftwenty-five thousand men in Leipsic cut off from all hope of escape. Some officers plunged on horseback into the stream and swam across. Prince Poniatowsky, the gallant Pole, essayed the same, but perished inthe attempt. The soldiers of the rear-guard were forced to surrender asprisoners of war. In this great conflict, which had continued for fourdays, and in which the most of the nations of Europe took part, eightythousand men are said to have been slain. The French lost very heavilyin prisoners and guns. Only a hasty retreat to the Rhine saved theremainder of their army from being cut off and captured. On the 20thNapoleon succeeded in crossing that frontier river of his kingdom withseventy thousand men, the remnant of the grand army with which he hadsought to hold Prussia after the disastrous end of the invasion ofRussia. 

[Illustration: A GERMAN MILK WAGON. ]

Germany was at length freed from its mighty foe. The garrisons which hadbeen left in its cities were forced to surrender as prisoners of war. France in its turn was invaded, Paris taken, and Napoleon forced toresign the imperial crown, and to retire from his empire to the littleisland of Elba, near the Italian coast. In 1815 he returned, again setEurope in flame with war, and fell once more at Waterloo, to end hiscareer in the far-off island of St. Helena. 

Thus ended the empire founded by the great conqueror. The next to claimthe imperial title was Louis Napoleon, who in 1851 had himself crownedas Napoleon III. But his so-called empire was confined to France, andfell in 1870 on the field of Sedan, himself and his army being takenprisoners. A republic was declared in France, and the second Frenchempire was at an end. 

And now the empire of Germany was restored, after having ceased to existfor sixty-five years. The remarkable success of William of Prussia gaverise to a wide-spread feeling in the German states that he should assumethe imperial crown, and the old empire be brought again into existenceunder new conditions; no longer hampered by the tradition of a Romanempire, but as the title of united Germany. 

On December 18, 1870, an address from the North German Parliament wasread to King William at Versailles, asking him to accept the imperialcrown. He assented, and on January 18, 1871, an imposing ceremony washeld in the splendid Mirror Hall (_Galerie des Glaces_) of Louis XIV. , at the royal palace of Versailles. The day was a wet one, and the kingrode from his quarters in the prefecture to the great gates of thechâteau, where he alighted and passed through a lane of soldiers, theroar of cannon heralding his approach, and rich strains of musicsignalling his entrance to the hall. 

William wore a general's uniform, with the ribbon of the Black Eagle onhis breast. Helmet in hand he advanced slowly to the dais, bowed to theassembled clergymen, and turned to survey the scene. There had beenerected an altar covered with scarlet cloth, which bore the device ofthe Iron Cross. Right and left of it were soldiers bearing the standardsof their regiments. Attending on the king were the crown-prince, and abrilliant array of the princes, dukes, and other rulers of the Germanstates arranged in semicircular form. Just above his head was a greatallegorical painting of the Grand Monarch, with the proud subscription, "_Le Roi gouverne par lui même_, " the motto of the autocrat. 

The ceremony began with the singing of psalms, a short sermon, and agrand German chorale, in which all present joined. Then William, in aloud but broken voice, read a paper, in which he declared the Germanempire re-established, and the imperial dignity revived, to be investedin him and his descendants for all future time, in accordance with thewill of the German people. 

Count Bismarck followed with a proclamation addressed by the emperor tothe German nation. As he ended, the Grand-Duke of Baden, William'sson-in-law, stepped out from the line, raised his helmet in the air, andshouted in stentorian tones, "Long live the German Emperor William!Hurrah!"

Loud cheers and waving of swords and helmets responded to his stirringappeal, the crown-prince fell on his knee to kiss the emperor's hand, and a military band outside the hall struck up the German NationalAnthem, while, as a warlike background to the scene, came the roar ofFrench cannon from Mount Valérien, still besieged by the Germans, theirwarlike peal the last note of defiance from vanquished France. Ten daysafterwards Paris surrendered, and the war was at an end. On the 16th ofJune the army made a triumphant entrance into Berlin, William riding atits head, to be triumphantly hailed as emperor by his own people on hisown soil. All Germany, with the exception of Austria, was for the firsttime fully united into an empire, the minor princes having ceased toexist as ruling potentates.