"Well," asked the friar, exultingly, "do you think that Andreas Hofer is right, and that we ought not to allow the enemy to re-enter the country?"
"I think he is," said Peter Kemnater, joyously. "I think it will be glorious for us to expel the French and Bavarians once more from our frontiers."
"Or, if they have already crossed them, drive them ignominiously from the country," added Peter Mayer.
"I have passed, during the last few days, through the whole of Puster valley," said Martin Schenk. "Everywhere I found the men determined to die, rifle in hand, on the field of battle, rather than stay peaceably at home and bend their necks before the enemy. 'It is a misfortune,' said the men, 'that the Austrians are abandoning us at this critical juncture; but it would be a greater misfortune still for us to abandon ourselves and consent to surrender at discretion.'"
"And I say it is no misfortune at all that the Austrians have left us," cried the Capuchin, vehemently. "The cause of the fatherland has not suffered much by the retreat of the Austrians. Who assisted us at the battle of Mount Isel? Who helped us to drive the enemy twice from the country? Not an Austrian did! We accomplished all that was great and glorious in the short and decisive struggle. Let us not complain, then, that no one stands by us now, and that we know that no one will help us but God and we ourselves. But we must not plunge blindly and furiously into the struggle; on the contrary, we must consider whether we are able to defeat the enemy. The French and Bavarians are sending large forces on all sides to the poor Tyrol. I cannot conceal from you that the enterprise which we are going to undertake, and to which Andreas Hofer invites us, is a dangerous one. Let me tell you that that miserable assassin and ruffian Lefebre, whom they call the Duke of Dantsic, is approaching from the north with twenty-five thousand men, and is already close to Innspruck. General Deroi, too, is coming; he intends to march through the whole Vintschgau, and force his way over the Gerlos Mountains to the district of Innspruck. Rusca's wild legions are already near Lienz; General Pery is moving up from the south with his Italian troops; and the exasperated Bavarians, under Generals Wreden and Arco, are already at Salzburg. In short, more than fifty thousand men are coming up from all sides to trample the poor Tyrol under foot. They are veteran soldiers; they have got artillery and better arms than we, and are superior to us in numbers, equipments, and strength. Consider, therefore, whether you are willing to undertake the heavy task nevertheless; consider that you risk your property, your blood, and your lives, and that, if you should be so unfortunate as to fall into the enemy's hands, he would perhaps punish you as criminals and rebels. It is true, you are ready to risk your property, your blood, and your lives, for the fatherland and the liberty of the Tyrol; but then you have also duties to your families, your parents, your brides; you have a duty to yourselves— that of not endangering your lives recklessly. It is true, even though the enemy should punish you as rebels, you would die the beautiful death of martyrs for your fatherland, and the halo of your virtue and love of country will immortalize your names; but you must consider, also, whether your death will be useful to the country, and whether you will not shed your blood in vain. Ask your hearts, my friends, whether they will be courageous and strong enough to brave cheerfully whatever reverses and calamities may befall us, and whether they really will risk death, imprisonment, and the scaffold, without flinching and trembling? That is what I wished to say to you before concerting measures with you and sending an answer to Andreas Hofer. Consider it all, my friends, and then speak."
"We are to ask our hearts if they will not flinch and tremble?" said Peter Mayer, almost contemptuously. "When the enemy returned to the Tyrol last May, he burned down eight houses which belonged to me, and for some time I did not know but that my wife and children had perished in the conflagration. Did you see me tremble—did you hear me complain at that time? Did I not stand up cheerfully in the battle on Mount Isel, without weeping or murmuring, and bearing in mind only that I was fighting for liberty, the fatherland, and the emperor? It was not until we had gained the victory, and obtained our freedom, that I went home to mourn and weep on the smoking ruins of my houses. But I found my wife and my children alive and well; a friend had concealed them and taken care of them; and after thanking God for our victory, I thanked Him for preserving my wife and children; and only now, when we were happy and free, did I shed tears. But since the enemy is re-entering the country, and fresh misfortunes are to befall us, my tears are dried again; my heart is full of courage and constancy; and I believe we must risk all, because otherwise every thing that we have done hitherto will be in vain. I love my wife dearly; but, if she came now to dissuade me from taking part in the struggle, and if I felt that my heart was giving way to her persuasion, I would strangle her with my own hands, lest she should prevent me from serving the great cause of the fatherland. It is true, our task is difficult, but it is not impossible; and that which is not impossible should be tried for the fatherland! I have given you my opinion; it is your turn now, my young friends. Peter Kemnater, speak! Tell Father Red-beard whether your heart is trembling and flinching, and whether you think we had better keep quiet, because the enemy is so powerful and superior to us."
"I have an affianced bride of whom I am very fond," said Peter Kemnater, with flushed cheeks and flashing eyes; "a girl whom I love better than my parents, than anything in the world, and whom I intended to marry a fortnight hence; but I swear to God and the Holy Virgin that my wedding shall not take place until the Tyrol is free again, and we have expelled the enemy once more from the country. And if my bride should be angry at this, and demand that I should think more of her than of the fatherland, and prefer living for her alone to dying perhaps for the fatherland, I should break with her, and never look at her again, never speak another word with her. I have many houses and lands; but even though I knew that my fields and meadows were to be devastated, and my houses burned down, like those of Peter Mayer, I should say, nevertheless, we will fight for the fatherland! We will defeat the enemy, even though we should all become beggars, and even though I knew that I should die before seeing my affianced bride again, and that she would curse me in my grave. That is what I have got to say. Now you may speak, Martin Schenk; tell the father whether your heart is flinching and trembling."
"Yes, it is," cried Martin Schenk, "but only when I think the men of the Tyrol could be so cowardly and mean-spirited as to keep quiet and submit to their oppressors, because the latter are powerful and superior to us in numbers. I have a young wife whom I married only a year ago, and who gave birth to a little boy a week since, and I assure you that I love her and her child with all my heart. But if I knew that their death would be useful to the fatherland, and would contribute to its salvation, I would shoot them with my own rifle, and should not weep on seeing their corpses at my feet; but I should rejoice and exclaim, 'I did it for the sake of the fatherland; I sacrificed my most precious treasures for the beloved Tyrol.' Even though the enemy is very strong and numerous, even though the emperor has abandoned us, God stands by us. The mountains stand firm yet; they are our fortresses, and we will fight in them until we are all dead, or until we have defeated the enemy, and delivered the Tyrol a third time. Now you know my opinion, Father Joachim Haspinger."
The Capuchin made no reply. He stood with hands clasped in prayer and eyes lifted to heaven, and two large tears rolled down his bronzed cheeks into his red beard.
"Great God in heaven," he murmured in a voice tremulous with emotion, "I thank Thee for letting me see this hour, and hear the soul-stirring words of these patriotic men. What can I say now, what have I to sacrifice to the fatherland? I have no wife, no children, no property; I am but a poor Capuchin! I have nothing but my blood and my life. But I will give it to the country, even though the bishop and the abbot should excommunicate me for it and condemn my soul to burn in everlasting fire. It is better that a poor Capuchin's soul should burn in hell than that the fatherland should groan with pain and wear the brand of disgrace and slavery on its forehead. It is better to be a faithless son of the bishop and abbot, than a faithless son of the fatherland. It is better to be a bad Christian than a bad patriot. Therefore, whatever may happen, I shall share every thing with you, danger or victory, triumph or death. Henceforth I am no longer a Capuchin, but old Red-beard Joachim Haspinger, the defender of his country; and I swear that I will no more lay down my head and repose before we have delivered the country from the enemy and concluded an honorable peace. If that is your sentiment also, swear here before God that you will fight henceforth for the country, devote your whole strength to it, and perish rather than give up the struggle, make peace with the enemy, and submit to the Bavarian yoke."