THE BATTLES OF SEMPACH, 1386, AND NAEFELS, 1388.
Seldom, if ever, has Switzerland seen a more eventful month than that of July, 1386, for in that month she fought and won the ever-memorable battle of Sempach. To set down all the petty details as to the causes which led to this engagement would be tedious indeed. It is sufficient to point out—what is but a truism—that there is seldom much love lost between oppressor and oppressed, and Austria and the Swiss Confederation had for some time held that relation to each other. A ten years' peace had indeed been concluded between the two powers, but it was a sham peace, and the interval had been used by both to prepare for new conflicts.
Austria was secretly assisting the impoverished house of Kyburg in her ravishing expeditions against the towns of the Confederation. Ruthlessness was met by ruthlessness; Zurich laid siege to Rapperswyl with the intent to destroy the odious Austrian toll-house; Lucerne levelled with the ground the Austrian fort Rothenburg, and entered into alliances with Entlebuch and Sempach to overthrow the Austrian supremacy. This was equal to a declaration of war, and war was indeed imminent.
Duke Leopold III., of Austria, was most anxious to bring the quarrel to an issue, and to chastise the insolent Swiss citizens and peasantry. The Swiss cities had joined in league with the Southern German towns, which like themselves professed the policy of resisting the encroaching tendencies of princes and nobles. Mutual help in case of need had been pledged amongst themselves by this league of cities, but the burghers of the German towns were mere puppets in the hand of Austria. She, dreading the rising of wealthy towns, cajoled them by fine promises, and they pleaded for submission, and sought to compose the differences between the Swiss and the Austrians. Of very different mettle, however, were the towns on this side the Rhine; they objected to the weak and wavering policy of their more northerly neighbours, and determined on fighting, if necessary, alone and unaided.
Leopold III., a descendant of that Leopold so disastrously defeated at Morgarten, possessed most of the virtues held of account in his day. He was manly, chivalrous, dauntless; he was possessed of dexterity and adroitness in both sports and the more serious business of war. His indomitable spirit and personal daring knew no bounds. He had once, clad in full armour, forded the Rhine at flood-time, and in the sight of the enemy, to escape being made prisoner. Like Rudolf of Habsburg he was vastly ambitious, and bent on securing wealth and greatness for the house of Austria. A clever manager of his estates and a generous master, he was yet neither politician nor tactician; as a man of action, and filled with hatred of the refractory towns, he spared no pains to check their struggles for independence. No wonder then that the nobles of Southern Germany rallied round the gallant swordsman, and made him their leader in the expeditions against the bourgeoisie and peasantry. And no sooner had the truce expired (June, 1386), than they directed their first attack on the bold Confederation; no fewer than one hundred and fifty nobles sending letters of refusal (= a challenge) to the summons to war sent out by the Swiss Government.
Leopold's plan was to make Lucerne the centre of his military operations, but in order to draw away attention from his real object, he sent a division of five thousand men to Zurich to simulate an attack on that town. Whilst the unsuspecting Confederates lay idle within the walls of Zurich, he gathered reinforcements from Burgundy, Swabia, and the Austro-Helvetian Cantons, the total force being variously estimated at from twelve thousand to twenty-four thousand men. He marched his army in the direction of Lucerne, but by a round-about way, and seized upon Willisan, which he set on fire, intending to punish Sempach en passant for her desertion. But the Confederates getting knowledge of his stratagem left Zurich to defend herself, and struck straight across the country in pursuit of the enemy. Climbing the heights of Sempach on the side of Hiltisrieden, overlooking the town and lake of that name, they encamped at Meyersholz, a wood fringing the hilltop. The Austrians leaving Sursee, for want of some more practicable road towards Sempach, made their way slowly and painfully along the path which leads from Sursee to the heights, and then turns suddenly down upon Sempach. Great was their surprise and consternation when at the junction of the Sursee and Hiltisrieden roads they came suddenly upon the Swiss force, which they had imagined to be idling away the time at Zurich. The steep hillsides crossed by brooks and hedges looked a battlefield impracticable enough for cavalry evolutions, yet the young nobles in high glee at the prospect of winning their spurs in such a spot pleaded for the place against the better reason of all men.
The Swiss, confident of success, and trusting in the help of God and the saints, as of old, drew up in battle order, their force taking a kind of wedge-shaped mass
the shorter edge foremost and the bravest men occupying the front positions. The Austrians, on the other hand, relying proudly on the superiority of their high-born knights and nobles, looked disdainfully on what they believed to be a mere rabble of herdsmen. And, in truth, the handful of fifteen hundred men, inadequately armed with short weapons or clubs, battle-axes or halberds, seemed but a sorry match for that steel-clad army of six thousand well-trained lancers, cavalry, and foot. But the possession of cavalry in such a spot could not in itself give any advantage to the Austrians, and their knights dismounted and handed their horses to the care of attendants. To avoid getting their feet entangled in the long grass of a meadow close by the noble cavaliers cut off the beaks or points of their shoes—then the fashion—and the spot is to this day called the "beak-meadow" (Schnabelweide). Claiming for themselves the right to win honour that day, they ordered their infantry to the rear. According to another account, however their infantry were still at Sursee, the noble horsemen declining their aid. After ancient custom, the Austrians formed themselves into a compact phalanx, the noblest occupying the front ranks, the preparations being necessarily hurriedly and somewhat indefinitely made.
The onset was furious, and the Austrian Hotspurs, each eager to outstrip his fellows in the race for honour, rushed on the Swiss, drove them back a little, and then tried to encompass them and crush them in their midst. The Swiss quickly fell back, but some sixty of their men were cut down before the Austrians lost a single soldier. The banner of Lucerne was captured; the Austrian phalanx was as yet unbroken, and all the fortune of the battle seemed against the Swiss, for their short weapons could not reach a foe guarded by long lances. But suddenly the scene changed. "A good and pious man," says the old chronicler, deeply mortified by the misfortune of his country, stepped forward from the ranks of the Swiss—Arnold von Winkelried! Shouting to his comrades in arms, "I will cut a road for you; take care of my wife and children!" he dashed on the enemy, and, catching hold of as many spears as his arms could encompass, he bore them to the ground with the whole weight of his body. His comrades rushed over his corpse, burst through the gap made in the Austrian ranks, and began a fierce hand-to-hand encounter. Fearful havoc was made by the Swiss clubs and battle-axes in the wavering ranks of the panic-stricken enemy, whose heavy armour and long lances indeed greatly impeded their movements. Nevertheless the Austrians made a brave stand, and Leopold, who had been watching the issue, now rushed into the mêlée, and fell one of the bravest in the desperate struggle. The nobles and knights, calling for their horses, found that the attendants had fled with them. Seeing that all was lost, the knights became panic-stricken, and rushed hither and thither in the greatest disorder. There still remained the infantry, however, and these attempted to stay the flight of the hapless cavaliers, and restore order, but it was all in vain. A fearful carnage followed, in which no mercy was shown, and there fell of the common soldiers two thousand men, and no fewer than seven hundred of the nobility. The Swiss lost but one hundred and twenty men. Rich spoils—arms, jewellery, and eighteen banners—fell into the hands of the victors.
This defeat of a brilliant army of horse and foot, of knights and noblemen, all well-trained, by a mere handful of irregulars—citizen and peasant soldiers—was a brilliant military achievement, and attracted the attention and admiration of the civilized world. It brought to the front the bourgeoisie and peasantry and their interests, and struck terror into the hearts of their oppressors. This great victory gained by the Swiss not only widened and established more firmly the career of military glory commenced at Morgarten, but it gave to the Confederation independence, and far greater military and political eminence. What Platæa had been of old to the Greeks, that Sempach was to the Swiss; it struck a deadly blow against an ancient and relentless foe. Austria, her rule on this side of the Rhine thus rudely shaken, was compelled to waive all rights of supremacy over the Confederation. Not that she relinquished those rights readily; it needed an equal disaster to her forces at Naefels, in 1388, before she would really and avowedly renounce her pretensions to rule the Swiss.
The story of Winkelried's heroic action has given rise to much fruitless but interesting discussion. The truth of the tale, in fact, can neither be confirmed nor denied, in the absence of any sufficient proof. But Winkelried is no myth, whatever may be the case with the other great Swiss hero, Tell. There is proof that a family of the name of Winkelried lived at Unterwalden at the time of the battle. But no Swiss annals referring to the encounter at Sempach were written till nearly a century later. The Austrian chronicle gives no account of Winkelried's exploit, and for good reason, say the Swiss: all the men of the Austrian front ranks, who alone could have witnessed the exploit, were killed, and the rear ranks fled at the very first signs of disaster in front of them. A fifteenth-century chronicle of Zurich, and the numerous songs and annals of the sixteenth century, are full of praise of Winkelried and his deeds. But whatever may be the real truth of the matter it is certain that the grand old story of Winkelried and his splendid self-sacrifice is indelibly written on grateful Swiss hearts. Whether it was a single man or a whole body of men that offered up life itself for their country, it clearly proves a dauntless spirit of independence, a hatred of wrong and tyranny to have been innate in the breasts of the old Switzers, and to have led to the deliverance of their country from foreign oppression. And in spite of the many and often bitter controversies of the past twenty years the memory of Winkelried will ever remain an inspiration and a rallying-point whenever the little fatherland and its liberties are threatened.
Winkelried's monument at Stanz (From photograph by Appenzeller, Zurich.)
The victory of Naefels forms a worthy pendant to that of Sempach, and as such cannot be passed over in silence. The Austrians, having recovered their spirits after the terrible disaster, and the "foul peace" (faule Friede) hastily arranged having expired, they carried the game to its conclusion. Despite all prohibitions, Glarus had kept up its friendship with the Eidgenossen, and in conjunction with them had, in 1386, captured Wesen, the key to the district. To Glarus, therefore, Albrecht III. now gave his whole attention. But Glarus itself, feeling much more free after Sempach, assembled its inhabitants, in the spring of 1387, for the first time as a Landsgemeinde, and drew up for itself a constitution. Wesen on Walensee was recaptured by the Austrians on their way to Glarus. This happened through the treachery of the inhabitants of the town, who, siding with their old masters, opened their gates. The federal garrison was surprised as they slept, and put to the sword (February, 1388). The Austrians assembled at Wesen a force of six thousand horse and foot, and on the 9th of April set out in two divisions. Count Hans von Werdenberg, the chief mover in the enterprise, climbed the opposite heights, with the intention of forming a junction at Mollis, whilst Count Donat von Toggenburg and other nobles led the main force along the river Lint. Reaching Naefels, at the entrance of the Glarus valley they found their passage barred by an Alpine fortification—a Letzi, as it is called—consisting of rampart and ditch. This, however, was stormed without difficulty, as the guard was insufficient for its defence. In truth, the Glarner were unaware of the Austrian movements, and though Ambühl and his two hundred men fought with the utmost bravery, they were no match for the far superior numbers against them. Like a torrent the Austrians rushed into the open and defenceless valley, and, fancying no doubt there was no further opposition or danger to fear, dispersed in all directions, pillaging property, firing houses, driving cattle. Plunder and destruction seemed indeed to be now their sole aim; but meanwhile the tocsin was sounding through the valley to call the villagers to arms in defence of their country. Fast they flocked to the standard of Ambühl, who had posted himself with his troops on the steep declivity of Rautiberg, waving high the banner of St. Fridolin to attract his friends. Here, six hundred men all told, including a handful of men from Schwyz, awaited the foe. At last, in straggling and disorderly fashion, the Austrians appeared in sight, many lingering behind for the sake of plunder. Their attempt to ascend the eminence occupied by the foe was met by a shower of stones, which threw the horses into confusion. With true Alpine agility the mountaineers now dashed down the slopes and fell on the cavalry. A fierce encounter followed, and then a terrible chase, during which the Austrians are said to have ten times stopped in their flight and attempted to hurl back their Swiss pursuers, but ten times were compelled to give way again before the terrible strokes which met them. Darkness set in, and with it came on fog, and a sudden fall of snow. A superstitious panic seized on the Austrians, and they fled in the utmost confusion to Naefels, and thence sought to regain their faithful Wesen. But here a fresh catastrophe awaited them. Thronging the bridge spanning the outlet of the lake their weight broke down the structure, and hundreds of fugitives dragged down by their heavy armour sank with it, and were drowned. Count Werdenburg, who was watching the disaster from his eminence, fled as fast as he could. This disaster explains the loss by the Austrians of so disproportionate a number of men, viz., seventeen hundred, as against the fifty-four who fell of the Glarus force. The latter fell chiefly in defence of the Letzi.
Year after year the people of Glarus, rich and poor alike, Protestant and Catholic, still commemorate this great victory. On the first Thursday in April, in solemn procession, they revisit the battlefield, and on the spot the Landammann tells the fine old story of their deliverance from foreign rule, whilst priest and minister offer thanksgiving. The 5th of April, 1888, was a memorable date in the annals of the canton, being the five-hundredth anniversary of the day on which the people achieved freedom. From all parts of Switzerland people flocked to Naefels to participate in the patriotic and religious ceremonies. A right stirring scene it was when the Landammann presented to the vast assembly the banner of St. Fridolin—the same which Ambühl had raised high—and thousands of voices joined in the national anthem, Rufst du mein Vaterland, which, by the way, has the same melody as God save the Queen. If the Switzer has no monarch to love and revere, he has still his national heroes and his glorious ancestors, who sealed the freedom of their country with their blood.
In 1389 a seven years' peace was arranged, and Glarus returned to the Confederation. This peace was first prolonged for twenty years, and afterwards, in 1412, for fifty years. Finally, after a strife of more than one hundred years, Austria renounced her claims to rule over the Forest, and all her rights in Zug, Lucerne, and Glarus. In process of time the various dues were paid off in ordinary form.
