“At Pratteln we found the vanguard of the enemy posted, eight thousand strong, under Count von Dammartin, but it was not long before they abandoned the position and took to their heels, leaving a thousand dead and wounded on the field. They fled to Muttenz, where ten thousand Armagnacs were waiting to receive the fugitives. But we were close behind, and our gigantic herdsmen laid about them with their heavy weapons so lustily that the hearts of the Frenchmen sank into their tattered hose. Out of Muttenz we twelve hundred drove these eighteen thousand so easily there was little pleasure in it.
“Our leaders now were for making a halt, declaring we had won enough and should only lose by a further advance, for the Dauphin with the main army was stationed beyond the Birs at Saint Jacob; and as the bridge over the river had been destroyed, it would be foolhardy to attempt to cross. But intoxicated with our previous successes, we were determined to push on.
“‘We will sup in Basle to-night, cost what it may!’ we shouted. ‘The Evil One with all his legions shall not keep us from the town. He who hangs back is a traitor! No commands shall turn us from our duty to the Fatherland!’
“The Armagnacs had long since disappeared from view. We reached the Birs unmolested, waded through the stream, and gained the further bank. There, however, we were met by such a hail of iron from the French guns that it was impossible to keep our ranks, while all attempts to rally the scattered forces were quickly defeated by the enemy’s heavy horsemen. Many now repented their rash determination, but there was no help for it—retreat was no longer possible with honor. Forward we must go to meet the forty thousand men opposed to us. They offered a stout resistance. German knights fought in their front ranks, and there were traitorous noblemen of our country among the enemy; but they did us no harm.
“Five hundred of our number retreated to a meadow which was protected by the river from attack by horsemen, but they were shot down one by one. Another five hundred took refuge in the leper hospital of Saint Jacob, which was over yonder where the little chapel now stands. About the building lay a large orchard surrounded by a wall, which would check for a time the enemy’s assault. I was with this party, and glad enough to find myself safe, as I thought, behind this barrier. Soon, however, the muzzles of their guns were pointed toward us; the garden wall and building were quickly demolished, and when the firing had ceased we were attacked by the German knights, who had sworn to slay us all, burgher and peasant. Thrice indeed we repulsed them, and many a high-born lord lay weltering in his blood; but our number was fast diminishing, and as I received the blow on the head to which this scar still bears witness, the enemy burst into the burning hospital over the bodies of the five hundred Switzers.
“When I came to my senses again it was dark; above me shone the stars, and all was silent save for an occasional groan from one of the wounded, or the crackling of flames, which still fed upon the heavy timbers of the building. The night was cold, but by good fortune I lay in such a position among the ruins of the garden wall that I was somewhat sheltered from the wind and almost hidden from sight. Gradually the events of the past day came back to me, and my bosom swelled with pride. We had shown how men should fight who are guardians of their fatherland, their homes, and their families. Not a man lay there that was not covered with wounds: each had fought as long as strength remained in him to smite the foe. Had I not been so weak and faint I could have shouted aloud because of the victory won by the Swiss burgher-folk over the political craft and power of princes. The overwhelming odds had been too much for us, but even in death and defeat we had shown that something higher than the Armagnacs’ lust for spoil, or the pride and ambition of the knights, had urged us to battle.
“I had plenty of time to indulge these thoughts, for I was not disturbed for many long hours. At last, toward morning, it seemed to me I heard stealthy footsteps among the debris. Nearer and nearer they came, till in the dim light I saw quite near to me the figure of a man stooping down to give water to one of my wounded comrades. Parched with fever from my wound, I also feebly besought him for a drink. He took a few steps to the angle of the wall where I lay, and stopped short, unable to suppress a low cry of astonishment. ‘You here, young sir,’ he exclaimed, ‘and in such a plight?’
“‘Quick! give me some water,’ I begged; ‘my father will reward you for it. Greet him for me and tell him I died as all true citizens of a free State should die—on the tottering bulwark of freedom and justice.’
“‘Nay, you are a long way yet from death,’ replied the man; ‘with good fortune I shall fetch you safely back to Basle this very night.’
“‘Who may you be,’ I asked, ‘that talk of such impossibilities?’