Hitherto, the resentment of the multitude had been restrained within some bounds: but Amabel’s adventure and the death of Wolfenrad were the signal for open rebellion. The whole country was floated with blood: would that I could say, that the blood which flowed was entirely that of the foes of freedom! But alas! the number of the oppressors was too mighty. The Helvetians were over-powered; and after displaying the sentiments and performing the actions of heroes, Edmund Bloomberg, Arnold Melthal, and his venerable father Henric (to whom patriotism and his daughter’s injuries had restored some of his youthful strength) were constrained to fly from those beloved unhappy vallies, which once had been the favourite abodes of freedom and tranquillity.
The name of “flight” was of itself offensive to Helvetian candour and courage; the place to which they were compelled to address their flight, made it no less painful than disgraceful. Altdorf, which was in the jurisdiction of Gessler, whose tyranny had already been the cause of such bitter sufferings to Henric and Arnold, was the only refuge which remained to them. By remaining here quiet and concealed, till time allowed them to find fresh means of resisting their enemies, they hoped to escape Gessler’s notice; and accordingly they hastened to take shelter at Altdorf, with the brave William Tell, Bloomberg’s half-brother: here also they were sure of a powerful protector in the person of Walter Forest, a man whose situation and native greatness of mind struck awe into the bosom even of the insolent Gessler.
Here then the fugitives remained concealed, and nourished hopes of better times, which perhaps would have made even the present chearful, had not domestic discord obtruded itself into their little circle. The imprudence with which Amabel had thrown herself into the seducer’s snare, in spite of all his warnings and remonstrances, had not passed uncensured by her brother. His bitter reproaches sometimes excited Edmund’s anger, and sometimes his jealousy; and the poor girl would have been absolutely wretched, had not her father sustained her cause, and had not her innocence found a most strenuous advocate in William Tell. It is true, the language of veracity, in which she related her unadorned story, was not to be mistaken; but still it required Tell’s cool unprejudiced nature, and his noble guileless heart, to see every circumstance in its real colours.
He at length succeeded in restoring perfect harmony in Bloomberg’s family, and Amabel blessed him for the second time as the author of all her earthly happiness. Perhaps, her entire reconciliation with her husband was a little forwarded by Arnold’s absence. This impetuous young man had been the ring-leader of those, who at the Easter feast had insulted the Abbot of St. Gall by singing the ballad of “Bishop Ulric;” the Abbot had not forgotten it; and the unfortunate Arnold at length fell into one of the many snares, which had been spread for him by his priestly foe. Doubtless, he would have fallen a victim to the Abbot’s vengeance, had not Werner Bernsdorf, by means which it is unnecessary to relate circumstantially, contrived to release him from his dungeon, and sheltered him in his own house.
Though Amabel had received her husband’s full pardon, still the reconciliation had taken place too freshly to allow her as yet to feel quite at her ease: and now when the news arrived that her brother (whom she loved most dearly in spite of his violence) was a prisoner, she would have had sufficient reason to be unhappy, even had she not been tormented by the most cruel anxiety respecting the fate of the Damsels of Sargans. She ceased not to make enquiries concerning them; and at length she received the confirmation of her bitterest apprehensions. Amalberga was beyond a doubt totally in Landenberg’s power, who (in spite of all Wolfenrad’s assertions to the contrary) kept her confined in the Castle of Rassburg; nor was it less certain, that the Lady Emmeline had perished in the flames of St. Roswitha’s Sanctuary. Report spread far and wide many strange anecdotes respecting that conflagration, which I shall relate in another place; in truth, there is no one better able to give an account of that dreadful incident than myself.
The tears, which Amabel shed for herself and for her beloved friends, were soon required by a still more painful cause: misfortunes now awaited her, which were worthy to be mourned with tears of blood.
The furious Gessler’s insolence increased with every succeeding day. His most earnest care was to discover those who disapproved of him, that he might revenge himself by their torments. At length his pride and folly grew to such a height, that he fixed the plumed bonnet (which he usually wore) upon a lance in the market-place of Altdorf, and ordered, that all who passed should bow before it. The sneering populace obeyed, and contented themselves with whispering to each other, that they had much rather pay their respect to the empty hat, than the wicked head which it was accustomed to decorate: but William Tell and some few others of the principal inhabitants passed by the bonnet proudly and with unbending necks. From that moment did Gessler mark them down as the future victims of his revenge and rancour.
Had the tyrant dared to lay violent hands on Tell, or had he contrived means of stamping the mark of infamy on his reputation; had he sold the wife of his bosom for a slave, or murdered his infants before his eyes; still would all these atrocities have been excelled by that, which now entered his infernal brain. A prize was to be contended for by archers. The sport was interrupted by the arrival of Gessler. What was the horror of all who heard him, when he commanded his guards to seize Tell’s son, a lovely child but four years old, and bind him to the tree which had been selected as a mark for the arrows. He then declared aloud with the most impious execrations, that the heads of six of Tell’s relations (whom he had confined upon some slight pretences) should fall before night, unless the father would engage at a considerable distance to fix a dart into an apple, which should be placed on the head of the child.
How did the father burn with secret indignation, when Gessler dared to lay before him this unnatural proposal! No earthly force could have compelled him to arm his hand for the performance of an action so uncertain and so fearful; yet in fact the bow and arrow could be scarcely called an uncertain weapon in the hands of the most dexterous archer in Helvetia: and after a few moments past in thought he confidently accepted a proposal, whose atrocity (he was certain) was thoroughly felt by all present; and whose consequence he trusted would be the kindling the fire of liberty in every bosom till it should at length break into open flames, and the emancipating his country for ever from its present state of ignominious bondage.
A glance, more expressing contempt than wrath, was darted by Tell’s dark eyes upon the Governor, as he rocked himself backwards and forwards upon his elevated chair of state, and looked down upon the circle of noble Helvetians, whom the sports had attracted to Altdorf, as if they had been creatures of an inferior kind.