Part 14

Artful and ever on the watch, Louis found that the Eidgenossen, disgusted by the grasping tendencies of Charles, were fast drifting away from their good understanding with Burgundy, and strove to draw them to his own side. Anxious to secure a friend, the Swiss lent willing ears to the flattery and insinuations of the crafty Louis. He actually succeeded in effecting a reconciliation between the Eidgenossen and Austria. It was a cleverly calculated bit of diplomacy, that secured for the Swiss their recent conquests, isolated Charles, and strengthened the opposition against him. Louis fixed a pension on Sigmund, and urged him to pay off the mortgage on his lands, whilst the Alsacian towns likewise leagued themselves with the Swiss, and actually advanced Sigmund the sum of money required. Charles, however, disappointed in his plans, refused to receive the money. A popular rising took place at Breisach, and Hagenbach was seized, imprisoned, and brought before a tribunal, at which some of the Eidgenossen assisted. He was condemned to death, and publicly beheaded, as a sort of popular judgment. Enraged beyond measure though he was, yet Charles deferred vengeance for the death of his favourite, being, indeed, at the time, otherwise engaged. Taking advantage of this delay, Louis won over to his side Frederick, also lavishing flatteries on the Swiss, and pensions on Nicolas von Diesbach and his followers. This Nicolas was a Bernese nobleman and a skilled politician, and was a fit instrument in the hands of a king who calculated his schemes rather on men's _mauvaises passions_ than on their virtues. Louis hastened on the outbreak of war, and on October 9, 1474, Frederick called on the Eidgenossen to take their part in the attack on Charles. They hesitated, but the pensioner and creature of France, Diesbach, notwithstanding the resistance offered by Adrian von Bubenberg, a Bernese noble of far loftier character, in hot haste declared war against Charles in the name of the empire, and with the consent of the Confederation. But war once actually afoot the Swiss were made a mere catspaw by their partners, and left to their own devices.

In a short story like this it is impossible to discuss the merits or demerits of the various factions, or those of Hagenbach or Diesbach,[41] yet we must dwell for a moment on the federal policy, and more especially on that of Bern. The position of the Swiss League at the outbreak of the war was very similar to that of "Sweden, under Gustavus Adolphus, in the Thirty Years' War." Threatened by the preponderating power of Austria, she would not take up arms till France, equally interested in the downfall of Habsburg, under Richelieu, drove her to war by sending subsidies. But French gold was by no means the actual and moving cause of the war. Many things concurred to give rise to it, not the least being Bern's extraordinary bent for aggrandisement and conquest. Her aggressiveness and her far-sightedness were quite remarkable for that age, and her policy was conceived on so large a scale that she has been not inaptly compared to ancient Rome. Bordering on Swiss Burgundy, Bern had strong western leanings, if one may so speak, and very early set her eyes on Vaud and Geneva. She considered Mount Jura as the true western boundary, for French Switzerland still lay without the pale of the Confederation, and belonged for the most part to Savoy, or the vassals of Savoy. However selfish the policy of Bern may appear at this distance of time, yet she has the unquestionable merit of having brought Swiss Burgundy into the federation, thus connecting the French with the German portions of Helvetia. The political views of Bern are clearly evidenced by her foreign relations at the time. Her nobility sent their sons to foreign courts to be educated and trained for a military or a diplomatic career--Bubenberg, for instance, spent his youth at the Court of Burgundy. Her leading men were well-trained military officers or skilled politicians, and the aristocracy which formed the governing body of the town clung obstinately to the prerogatives still left them in those moribund Middle Ages.

The country cantons were less interested in Burgundian troubles, well knowing that Bern would take the lion's share of any conquests. Bern and Zurich were rivals, and, like Athens and Sparta of old, followed each its separate ends. Yet when the safety of either, or that of the fatherland, was at stake, private aims and private animosities were dropped, and the Confederates rallied to the common standard, displaying that wonderful heroism which strong love of fatherland seems ever to inspire.

The first event of the war was the siege of Héricourt, near Belfort, at the bidding of Frederick III. This was in November, 1474, and there followed wasteful inroads into Vaud, by Bern, Freiburg, and Solothurn, on the pretext of punishing Savoy for siding with Charles (1475). Place after place fell to the victors, and with the help of Bern, Lower Valais was wrenched from Savoy, and restored to Upper Valais. But when once the Swiss were fairly launched on the war all their partners withdrew from the stage, and made their peace with Charles. The Burgundian prince thus having his hands more free pushed on alone his expedition against Duke René, the minstrel poet of Lorraine, in November, 1475. In the January of the following year he opened his campaign against the Swiss.

With an enormous army of fifty thousand of the best-trained soldiers in Europe, besides heavy artillery, he started in high spirits across the Jura, resolved on crushing the Swiss peasants, and levelling Bern with the ground. Count Romont was sent on in advance, with instructions to re-conquer Vaud. This he effected within a fortnight, the district being inefficiently garrisoned. Charles then marched on Grandson, whither the main Bernese force had retired. The odds were desperate, five hundred men against so vast an army, and, after a resistance of ten days, the garrison was allured into a surrender by vain promises of safety, and by impudent forgeries. The fate of Dinant (Belgium) awaited the body of 412 men who surrendered. They were bound with ropes and drowned in the lake, or hanged from the trees lining the roads (February 28, 1476). In great straits Bern summoned the assistance of the other cantons, and, on March 2nd, the federal army of eighteen thousand horse and foot, well trained and equipped, assembled at Neuchâtel, and Charles went to meet this force. A large division of the Swiss having gone on in front suddenly noticed from the vineyard slopes the Burgundian troops in the plain beneath. As was their wont in warfare--they were very religious, almost superstitiously so, at that time--the Swiss knelt down, and extended their hands in prayer. To the enemy it seemed as if they were begging for mercy, and Charles exclaimed, "These cowards are ours!" and ordered his men to fire. His artillery swept down whole files, but, though their ranks were broken, the Swiss stoutly held their ground against the oncoming foe. Suddenly Charles ordered his forces to fall back, with the double intention of getting more room, and of alluring his foe into descending from the higher ground. But his men unapprised of their leader's intentions mistook the movement for an actual flight, and their ranks began to show signs of falling into disorder. At this most critical moment the chief body of the Swiss appeared on the heights, their armour glittering in the sun. The deafening noise of their war-cries and war-horns (Uristier of Uri, Harsthörner of Lucerne) "struck such terror into the Burgundians," reports an old chronicler of Neuchâtel, "that they took to their heels, and disappeared from sight, as if a whirlwind had swept them from the earth." Not far, however, did the Eidgenossen pursue, for, "with indescribable joy," they dropped on their knees to render thanks for the great victory. When they neared the camp of Charles the terrible sight they saw stirred up still more their desire for revenge. Their brethren were still suspended by dozens from the trees by the wayside.

The battle of Grandson is remarkable for the immense quantity of spoil that fell to the victors. For Charles and his nobles were wont to carry the splendour of their court even into their camps. Four hundred silk tents came into the hands of the Swiss, as well as the arras carpets, and Charles's sets of gold plate and dishes, the admiration of the sovereigns of the time. His Flemish lace and fine linen were cut up like homespun, and divided amongst the rough soldiers; his money dealt out in helmets; his artillery, his beautiful swords and hand-guns; and, most precious of all, his jewellery, were shared amongst the victorious Swiss. Of his three famous diamonds the finest passed finally to Pope Julius II., another to Henry VIII., of England, and thence to Philip of Spain, and the third to the kings of Portugal. It would require pages to give even a bare list of the spoils.[42]

Despite this great disaster, Charles did not lose heart, and within a fortnight began to reassemble his scattered forces. His movements were closely watched by the Bernese, who strongly fortified Morat, their strongest outpost, sending Adrian von Bubenberg with fifteen hundred men to hold it against the duke. On the 9th of June, 1476, Charles appeared before the town with twenty-five thousand men, and his artillery soon made terrible havoc amongst the weak fortifications. Von Bubenberg, however, vowed that he would not surrender so long as a drop of living blood remained in his veins. The Eidgenossen forces, which had returned home after the last engagement, did not reach Morat till the 21st of June, but determined to give battle on the 22nd, that day being the anniversary of the ever-memorable Laupen. Charles had drawn up his troops on the plateaux of Munchwiler, Courlevon, and Cressier, opposite Morat, and had strengthened his front with a ditch and a barricade of trees, having also lined the hedges with his artillery, and flanked it with his horse. It was raining in torrents; to weary the foe the Swiss spent the morning in dubbing knights; Duke René of Lorraine, who had joined the Swiss ranks as simple spearman, and Hans Waldmann having that honour bestowed upon them. Towards noon the sun unexpectedly broke forth, and Hans von Hallwyl, a Bernese nobleman, brandishing his sword, exclaimed, "Onward! brave men. God lights up our path. Do not leave your wives and children to the stranger!" Leading his van in a wide circle to avoid the hedge he fell on the right wing of Charles. Seeing him thus engaged Hans Waldmann of Zurich, with his ten thousand troops occupying a central position in the field, marched up, sprang on the intrenchment, and trampled down the hedge. Carrying their guns across their shoulders, they rushed on the artillery, who were keeping up a deadly fire, and, thrusting back the enemy, soon silenced their guns. Then the Swiss force advanced in a close phalanx to the hostile centre, where stood Charles with the Prince of Orange, and other distinguished officers, and where, too, were placed the English archers under Somerset. A murderous engagement ensued, Charles fought like a lion, and soon fifteen hundred nobles lay at his feet. Suddenly Bubenberg sallied forth with his force, and attacked the Burgundian left wing, stationed between Munchwiler and Morat, whilst Hertenstein of Lucerne attacked Charles's centre in the rear. A terrible panic seized Charles, and his army became suddenly disorganized, and fled in wild haste, the Swiss closely following in pursuit. For the whole distance from Morat to Avenches there were terrible hand-to-hand conflicts, for the Burgundians resisted stoutly, and the Swiss gave no quarter. Countless numbers were driven into the lake, and altogether twelve thousand of the foe fell that day, the Swiss themselves losing three thousand men. Charles escaped with a few horsemen to Morges, but quite dazed with despair, and the Eidgenossen turned homewards laden with rich spoils. All over the country the bells were set ringing to welcome the heroic men who had saved Switzerland from becoming a subject-province of Burgundy. The great battle of Murten, a purely defensive engagement so far as the Swiss were concerned, still exerts on them the same spell as Morgarten and Sempach.

Luckless Duke Charles had shut himself up in his castle near Pontarlier, a prey to a morbid despair, but hearing that René was reconquering Lorraine, he was spurred into taking up arms once more, and started for Nancy with a new force. René went back to Switzerland, and even with tears implored the Federal Diet to help him. The Diet would not themselves organize a new army, but permitted men to enlist of their own will under René's banner. Some eight thousand soldiers enlisted, and, under Hans Waldmann, retook Nancy, on January 15, 1477. The fate of the unhappy Charles is well known; his corpse was found in a bog embedded in ice and snow. A popular rhyme thus characterizes Charles's triple misfortune:--

"Zü Grandson das Gut, Zü Murten den Mut, Zü Nancy das Blut."

The acquisition of the victors were in no way adequate to the labour expended. Franche Comté, to which the Eidgenossen had a title, and which the cities wished to annex, was sold to Louis for a sum of money, which he never paid, however. The Swiss merely retained the protectorate over the province, whose envoys had begged on their knees that they might be admitted to the Swiss Federation, to prevent their falling into the hands of France or Austria, a fate which was, however, to be theirs. Grandson Murten, Bex, &c., remained with Bern and Freiburg, but the greater part of Vaud fell back to Savoy, for a ransom of fifty thousand florins. Geneva had to pay half that sum as a war contribution; yet the way was paved for the annexation of Vaud. Freiburg and Low-Valais were entirely rescued from the grasp of Savoy.

FOOTNOTES:

[37] See Chap. VI.

[38] One curious instance of his failures may be given. The Burgundian crown was ready for him, and he proceeded to Trier (1473) to have it placed on his brow by the (Roman) emperor, and push his imperial claims. However, Frederick III., becoming alarmed at the presumption of the future Welsh-German sovereign, broke off negotiations, and fled at night with his son Max, who was to have married the daughter of Charles.

[39] A pleasant story is related to the effect that, on one occasion, some young Zurich men started off in a boat by way of the Limmat and the Rhine, taking a dish of hot lentils with them. Reaching Strasburg in the evening they placed the dish, still hot, on the mayor's dinner table. A famous poem, "Glückhaft Schiff," describes the event.

[40] Well known from Scott's "Anne of Geierstein."

[41] For these matters the reader is directed to Freeman's admirable essay on Charles the Bold.

[42] The suits of armour, guns, and banners--the suit belonging to Charles's court jester who fell at Morat, is at Soleure--are stored up in the museums of various capitals. The golden seal of Burgundy is at Lucerne, whilst the town library of Zurich possesses the seal of the Great Bastard, brother of Charles.

XIX.

MEETING AT STANZ, 1481, &C.

Grandson, Morat, and Nancy stamped the Eidgenossen as the _enfants gâtés_ of Europe, and as a nation of the highest military standing on the Continent, nay, even as an umpire in continental politics, and a guardian of the peace. Everybody lavished flattering praises on the prowess of the Swiss. Nation after nation made overtures to them--France foremost, Italy, the Pontiff, the Emperor, distant Hungary, and even England, this last desirous of breaking the French alliance. The meetings of the Federal Diet often became brilliant congresses, lasting for weeks, where princes and ambassadors vied with each other in bestowing bounties and favours on the Swiss leaders, in order to secure their aid, deeming themselves invincible if the Swiss fought on their side. The period 1476-1512--from Morat to Marignano--a noble victory and a scarcely less noble defeat, adds another glorious page to the military history of the Swiss League, but the _revers de la medaille_ shows bitter contention and moral decline. In truth, the Burgundian wars closed a glorious epoch, but brought about a baleful change in the face of more noble warfare, for Nancy is linked with that period of mercenary service and foreign pay which became the curse of Switzerland, and which could not be checked even by the grand efforts of the Reformation period.

Leaving the foreign wars for the moment let us cast a glance at home matters. It is not necessary to dwell at length on the excesses indulged in by the disbanded soldiers, unoccupied and unaccustomed to regular labour after the Burgundian wars. These things nearly always result from long-continued struggles.

More serious danger threatened the League, through the cropping up again of the old antagonism between the country commonwealths and the city states. Disputes arose concerning the distribution of the Burgundian conquests, and the admission of Freiburg and Solothurn, which had solicited the favour, into the federal fold. In the fifteenth century the balance of political power was gradually inclining towards the cities. Zurich, Bern, and Lucerne, had far outstripped the "Länder" in population, wealth, influence, and culture, and in 1481 their forces amounted to 35,000 as against the 15,500 of the other five cantons. They advocated the division of the spoil in proportion to their soldiery, and the reception of their two helpmates in the previous wars by way of reward. But the three Forest States, presuming on their prestige as the primary stock and foundation of the league, and anxious to maintain their position, resisted measures that would throw the weight of power entirely on the opposite side. Their narrow and selfish views and their obstinacy placed the Confederation in jeopardy. Meetings, held to settle differences, only deepened the bitterness. A final Diet was fixed for the 18th of December, 1481, at Stanz (Unterwalden), and the foremost men met to arrange, if possible, a compromise. But high words were exchanged, and when the excitement had reached its height, the pastor of that place, Im Grund, stole away, and proceeded at dead of night to the cave Zum Ranft, in a wilderness near Sachseln. Here he took counsel with Nicholas von der Flüe, the famous hermit, who had dwelt there for the space of twenty years. Mild words and deep thoughts proceeded from the good man, whose love for his country had always been of the strongest. In his earlier days he had served as a soldier and a magistrate, had married, and had had several children born to him. But always given to meditation, he was at the age of fifty-one suddenly filled with religious enthusiasm, and, unable to appease his yearning soul, took leave of his family, and retired into deep seclusion. His commune built him a cell and chapel--still to be seen near Sachseln--on a rock called die Flüe, hence his name. A few planks formed his bed, and his pillow was a log of wood. Stores he needed not, for he lived on roots and wild berries, and the saying went abroad amongst the country folk that he was sustained by the bread of the holy sacrament alone, and ate no other food. The peasants regarded his person with wonder and awe, and though he was seen at times worshipping at Einsiedeln, no man ever saw him on his way to or from that place. The fame of his wisdom spread beyond the boundaries of his own land, and many were the high personages who came to consult his oracle--from all parts of the empire and Italy, envoys from Sigmund and Frederick. But into subtle discussions he never entered, leaving them rather to his priests. "Pure water does not flow through golden pipes, but through pipes of lead," he used to say to those who complained of the dissolute and degenerate lives of the clergy. To this man, then, the good pastor unburdened his mind, and from him received solace and wise words. Then he toiled back to Stanz, December 22nd. Finding the Diet broken up, and the envoys on the point of leaving for their respective homes, he ran to the various hostelries, and with tearful eyes begged the men to return once more. All opposition melted at the name of Bruder Klaus, the envoys reassembled, and listened with thrilled hearts to the profound truths uttered by him. Their jars and differences were settled within the hour, and Freiburg and Solothurn were unanimously admitted into the league. Blessing the memory of the "Peacemaker," the delegates returned home, and the glad tidings of the establishment of concord were everywhere celebrated by the ringing of bells.

Another feature of this memorable day was the signing of the Covenant of Stanz, a series of measures prepared beforehand, but in which Nicholas had no hand. They were levelled chiefly against the excesses and tumultuous risings that were continually taking place in the country cantons, their object being to re-establish order and prevent a repetition of the insubordination, and to set bounds to "the too much freedom in the Länder." Despite the resistance of Schwyz the agreement was ratified, and gradually became part and parcel of the judicial enactments of the Confederation. Breathing as they do the vigorous spirit of Hans Waldmann, the most influential Swiss statesman of his time, these measures were, though wrongly, attributed to him.

This Waldmann is indeed the most conspicuous figure in Switzerland in the fifteenth century, and forms a singular contrast to the humble recluse Zum Ranft, for he shared in all the vicissitudes of his times. Full of vital energy, teeming with lofty schemes, his life is a bright picture, darkened however, here and there, by deep shadows thrown by that stirring, luxurious, fast-living epoch, an epoch itself coloured by the Burgundian wars. The career of this remarkable man is a piece of moral, social, and political history, quite worthy of a few moments' notice.