Books: Heroes Every Child Should Know
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Hamilton Wright Mabie >> Heroes Every Child Should Know
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Lalotte, knowing that all depended on his remaining quiet, as soon
as the soldiers had placed him with his face averted from his
father, sprang forward, and whispered in Henric's ear, "Stand firm,
dear boy, without moving, for five minutes, and you will be forgiven
for your fault of this morning."
There was a sudden pause of awe and expectation among the dense
crowd that had gathered round the group planted within a bow-shot of
the linden-tree beneath which the child was bound. Tell, whose arms
were now released, unbuckled the quiver that was slung across his
shoulder, and carefully examined his arrows, one by one. He selected
two: one of them he placed in his girdle, the other he fitted to his
bow-string; and then he raised his eyes to Heaven, and his lips
moved in prayer. He relied not upon his own skill but he asked the
assistance of One in whose hands are the issues of life and death;
and he did not ask in vain. The trembling, agitated hand that a
moment before shook with the strong emotion of a parent's anxious
fears, became suddenly firm and steady; his swimming eyes resumed
their keen, clear sight, and his mind recovered its wonted energy of
purpose at the proper moment.
Lalotte's young voice was the first to proclaim, aloud, "The arrow
hath cleft the apple in twain! and the child is safe."
"God hath sped my shaft, and blessed be His name!" exclaimed the
pious archer, on whose ear the thunders of applause, with which the
assembled multitude hailed his successful shot, had fallen unheeded.
The soldiers now unbound the child; and Lalotte fearlessly advanced,
and led him to his father. But before the fond parent could fold his
darling to his bosom, the tyrant Gessler sternly demanded for what
purpose he had reserved the second arrow, which he had seen him
select and place in his belt.
"That arrow," replied Tell, giving way to a sudden burst of passion,
"that arrow was designed to avenge the death of my child, if I had
slain him with the other."
"How to avenge?" exclaimed the governor, furiously. "To avenge,
saidst thou? and on whom didst thou intend thy vengeance would
fall?"
"On thee, tyrant!" replied Tell, fixing his eyes sternly on the
governor. "My next mark would have been thy bosom, had I failed in
my first. Thou perceivest that mine is not a shaft to miscarry."
"Well, thou hast spoken frankly," said Gessler; "and since I have
promised thee thy life I will not swerve from my word. But as I have
now reason for personal apprehensions from thy malice, I shall
closet thee henceforth so safely in the dungeons of Kussnacht, that
the light of sun or moon shall never more visit thine eyes; and thy
fatal bow shall hereafter be harmless."
On this the guard once more laid hands on the intrepid archer, whom
they seized and bound, in spite of the entreaties of Lalotte, and
the cries and tears of little Henric, who hung weeping about his
father.
"Take him home to his mother, Lalotte; and bear my last fond
greetings to her and the little ones, whom I, peradventure, shall
see no more," said Tell, bursting into tears. The mighty heart which
had remained firm and unshaken in the midst of all his perils and
trials, now melted within him at the sight of his child's tears, the
remembrance of his home, and anticipations of the sufferings of his
tender wife.
The inhuman Gessler scarcely permitted his prisoner the satisfaction
of a parting embrace with Henric and Lalotte, ere he ordered him to
be hurried on board a small vessel in which he embarked also with
his armed followers. He commanded the crew to row to Brunnen, where
it was his intention to land, and, passing through the territory of
Schwyz, to lodge the captive Tell in the dungeon of Kussnacht, and
there to immure him for life.
The sails were hoisted and the vessel under weigh, when suddenly one
of those storms common on the lake of Uri overtook them, accompanied
with such violent gusts of wind, that the terrified pilot forsook
the helm; and the bark, with the governor and his crew, was in
danger of being ingulfed in the raging waters. Gessler, like most
wicked people, was in great terror at the prospect of death, when
one of his attendants reminded him that the prisoner, William Tell,
was no less skilful in the management of a boat than in the exercise
of the bow. So he ordered that Tell should be unbound, and placed at
the helm.
The boat, steered by the master-hand of the intrepid Tell, now kept
its course steadily through, the mountain surge; and Tell observed,
"that by the grace of God, he trusted a deliverance was at hand."
As the prow of the vessel was driven inland, Tell perceived a
solitary table rock and called aloud the rowers to redouble their
efforts, till they should have passed the precipice ahead. At the
instant they came abreast this point he snatched his bow from the
plank, where it was lying forgotten during the storm, and, turning
the helm suddenly toward the rock, he sprang lightly on shore,
scaled the mountain, and was out of sight and beyond reach of
pursuit, before any on board had recovered from consternation.
Tell, meantime, entered Schwyz, and having reached the heights which
border the main road to Kussnacht, concealed himself among the
brushwood in a small hollow of the road, where he knew Gessler would
pass on his way to his own castle, in case he and his followers
escaped and came safely to shore. This, it appeared they did, and
having effected a landing at Brunnen, they took horse, and proceeded
towards Kussnacht, in the direction. of the only road to the castle.
While they were passing the spot where Tell lay concealed, he heard
the cruel tyrant denouncing the most deadly vengeance, not only on
himself, but his helpless family: "If I live to return to Altdorf,"
he exclaimed, "I will destroy the whole brood of the traitor Tell,
mother and children, in the same hour."
"Monster, thou shalt return to Altdorf no more!" murmured Tell. So,
raising himself up in his lair, and fitting an arrow to his bow, he
took deadly aim at the relentless bosom that was planning the
destruction of all his family.
The arrow flew as truly to the mark as that which he had shot in the
market-place of Altdorf, and the tyrant Gessler fell from his horse,
pierced with a mortal wound.
The daring archer thought that he had taken his aim unseen by human
eye; but, to his surprise, a familiar voice whispered in his ear,
"Bravo, uncle! that was the best-aimed shaft you ever shot. Gessler
is down, and we are a free people now."
"Thou incorrigible varlet, what brings thee here?" replied Tell, in
an undervoice, giving Philip a rough grip of the arm.
"It is no time to answer questions," returned Philip. "The Rutli
band are waiting for thee, if so be thou canst escape from this
dangerous place; and my business here was to give thee notice of the
same."
On this, Tell softly crept from the thicket, and, followed by his
nephew, took the road to Stienen, which under cover of darkness,
they reached that night.
Philip, by the way, after expressing much contrition for having
seduced little Henric to go to the fair with him, informed his uncle
that Henric and Lalotte had been safely conducted home by one of the
band of the Rutli who chanced to be at Altdorf fair.
When they reached Stienen Tell was received with open arms by
Stauffacher, the leader of the Rutli band; and with him and the
other confederates, he so well concerted measures for the
deliverance of Switzerland from the German yoke, that, in the course
of a few days, the whole country was in arms. The Emperor of
Germany's forces were everywhere defeated; and on the first day of
the year, 1308, the independence of Switzerland was declared.
His grateful countrymen would have chosen William Tell for their
sovereign, but he nobly rejected the offer, declaring that he was
perfectly contented with the station of life in which he was born,
and wished to be remembered in history by no other title than that
of the Deliverer of Switzerland.
This true patriot lived happily in the bosom of his family for many
years, and had the satisfaction of seeing his children grow up in
the fear of God and the practice of virtue.
CHAPTER XVI
ROBERT BRUCE
I hope you have not forgotten, my dear child, that all the cruel
wars of Scotland arose out of the debate between the great lords who
claimed the throne after King Alexander the Third's death. The
Scottish nobility rashly submitted the decision of that matter to
King Edward I of England, and thus opened the way to his
endeavouring to seize the kingdom of Scotland to himself. It was
natural that such of the people as were still determined to fight
for the deliverance of their country from the English, should look
round for some other King, under whom they might unite themselves,
to combat the power of England.
Amongst these, the principal candidates, were two powerful noblemen.
The first was Robert Bruce, Earl of Carrick; the other was John
Comyn, or Cuming, of Badenoch, usually called the Red Comyn, to
distinguish him from his kinsman, the Black Comyn, so named from his
swarthy complexion. These two great and powerful barons had taken
part with Sir William Wallace in the wars against England; but,
after his defeat, being careful of losing their great estates, and
considering the freedom of Scotland as beyond the possibility of
being recovered, both Bruce and Comyn had not only submitted
themselves to Edward, and acknowledged his title as King of
Scotland, but even borne arms, along with the English, against such
of their countrymen as still continued to resist the usurper. But
the feelings of Bruce concerning the baseness of this conduct, are
said, by the old tradition of Scotland, to have been awakened by the
following incident. In one of the numerous battles, or skirmishes,
which took place at the time between the English and their adherents
on the one side, and the insurgent or patriotic Scots upon the
other, Robert the Bruce was present, and assisted the English to
gain the victory. After the battle was over, he sat down to dinner
among his southern friends and allies, without washing his hands, on
which there still remained spots of the blood which he had shed
during the action. The English lords, observing this whispered to
each other in mockery, "Look at that Scotsman, who is eating his own
blood!" Bruce heard what they said, and began to reflect that the
blood upon his hands might be indeed called his own, since it was
that of his brave countrymen who were fighting for the independence
of Scotland, whilst he was assisting its oppressors, who only
laughed at and mocked him for his unnatural conduct. He was so much
shocked and disgusted that he arose from table, and, going into a
neighbouring chapel, shed many tears, and, asking pardon of God for
the great crime he had been guilty of, made a solemn vow that he
would atone for it by doing all in his power to deliver Scotland
from the foreign yoke. Accordingly, he left, it is said, the English
army, and never joined it again, but remained watching an
opportunity for restoring the freedom of his country.
Now, this Robert the Bruce was held the best warrior in Scotland. He
was very wise and prudent, and an excellent general; that is, he
knew how to conduct an army, and place them in order for battle, as
well or better than any great man of his time. He was generous, too,
and courteous by nature; but he had some faults, which perhaps
belonged as much to the fierce period in which he lived as to his
own character. He was rash and passionate, and in his passion he was
sometimes relentless and cruel.
Robert the Brace had fixed his purpose, as I told you, to attempt
once again to drive the English out of Scotland, and he desired to
prevail upon Sir John, the Red Comyn, who was his rival in his
pretensions to the throne, to join with him in expelling the foreign
enemy by their common efforts. With this purpose, Bruce requested an
interview with John Comyn. They met in the Church of the Minorites
in Dunfries, before the high altar. What passed betwixt them is not
known with certainty; but they quarrelled, either concerning their
mutual pretensions to the Crown, or because Comyn refused to join
Bruce in the proposed insurrection against the English; or, as many
writers say, because Bruce charged Comyn with having betrayed to the
English his purpose of rising up against King Edward. It is,
however, certain, that these two haughty barons came to high and
abusive words, until at length Bruce forgot the sacred character of
the place in which they stood, and struck Comyn a blow with his
dagger. Having done this rash deed, he instantly ran out of the
church and called for his horse. Two friends of Bruce were in
attendance on him. Seeing him pale, bloody, and in much agitation
they eagerly inquired what was the matter.
"I doubt," said Bruce, "that I have slain the Red Comyn."
"Do you leave such a matter in doubt?" said one, "I will make
sicker!"--that is, I will make certain. Accordingly, he and his
companion rushed into the church and made the matter certain with a
vengeance, by dispatching the wounded Comyn with their daggers. His
uncle, Sir Robert Comyn, was slain at the same time.
This slaughter of Comyn was a rash and cruel action. It was followed
by the displeasure of Heaven; for no man ever went through more
misfortunes than Robert Bruce, although he at length rose to great
honour. After the deed was done, Bruce might be called desperate. He
had committed an action which was sure to bring down upon him the
vengeance of all Comyn's relations, the resentment of the King of
England, and the displeasure of the Church, on account of having
slain his enemy within consecrated ground. He determined, therefore,
to bid them all defiance at once, and to assert his pretensions to
the throne of Scotland. He drew his own followers together, summoned
to meet him such barons as still entertained hopes of the freedom of
the country, and was crowned King at the Abbey of Scone, the usual
place where the Kings of Scotland assumed their authority.
Everything relating to the ceremony was hastily performed. A small
circlet of gold was hurriedly made, to represent the ancient crown
of Scotland, which Edward had carried off to England. The Earl of
Fife, descendant of the brave Macduff, whose duty it was to have
placed the crown on the King's head, would not give his attendance,
but the ceremonial was performed by his sister, Isabella, Countess
of Buchan.
Edward was dreadfully incensed when he heard that, after all the
pains which he had taken, and all the blood which had been spilled,
the Scots were making this new attempt to shake off his authority.
Though now old, feeble, and sickly, he made a solemn vow, in
presence of all his court, that he would take the most ample
vengeance upon Robert the Bruce and his adherents; after which he
would never again draw his sword upon a Christian, but would only
fight against the unbelieving Saracens for the recovery of the Holy
Land. He marched against Bruce accordingly, at the head of a
powerful army.
The commencement of Bruce's undertaking was most disastrous. He was
crowned on the twenty-ninth of March, 1306. On the eighteenth of May
he was ex-communicated by the Pope, on account of the murder of
Comyn within consecrated ground, a sentence which excluded him from
all benefits of religion, and authorized any one to kill him.
Finally, on the nineteenth of June, the new King was completely
defeated near Methven by the English Earl of Pembroke. Robert's
horse was killed under him in the action, and he was for a moment a
prisoner. But he had fallen into the power of a Scottish knight,
who, though he served in the English army, did not choose to be the
instrument of putting Bruce into their hands, and allowed him to
escape.
Bruce, with a few brave adherents, among whom was the young lord of
Douglas, who was afterward called the Good Lord James, retired into
the Highland mountains. The Bruce's wife, now Queen of Scotland,
with several other ladies, accompanied her husband and his few
followers during their wanderings. There was no way of providing for
them save by hunting and fishing. Driven from one place in the
Highlands to another, starved out of some districts, and forced from
others by the opposition of the inhabitants, Bruce attempted to
force his way into Lorn; but he found enemies everywhere. The
MacDougals, a powerful family, then called Lords of Lorn, were
friendly to the English, and attacked Bruce and his wandering
companions as soon as they attempted to enter their territory. The
chief, called John of Lorn, hated Bruce on account of his having
slain the Red Comyn, to whom this MacDougal was nearly related.
Bruce was again defeated by this chief. He directed his men to
retreat through a narrow pass, and, placing himself last of the
party, he fought with and slew such of the enemy as attempted to
press hard on them. Three followers of MacDougal, a father and two
sons, called MacAndrosser, all very strong men, when they saw Bruce
thus protecting the retreat of his followers, rushed on the King at
once. Bruce was on horseback, in the strait pass betwixt a
precipitous rock and a deep lake. He struck the first man a blow
with his sword, as cut off his hand and freed the bridle. The man
bled to death. The other brother had meantime grasped Bruce by the
leg, and was attempting to throw him from horseback. The King,
setting spurs to his horse, made the animal suddenly spring forward,
so that the Highlander fell under the horse's feet, and, as he was
endeavouring to rise again, Bruce cleft his head in two with his
sword. The father, seeing his two sons thus slain, flew desperately
at the King, and grasped him by the mantle so close to his body,
that he could not have room to wield his long sword. But with the
heavy pummel of that weapon the King struck this third assailant so
dreadful a blow, that he dashed out his brains. Still, however, the
Highlander kept his dying grasp on the King's mantle; so that, to be
free of the dead body, Bruce was obliged to undo the brooch, or
clasp, by which it was fastened, and leave that, and the mantle
itself, behind him. The brooch, which fell thus into the possession
of MacDougal of Lorn, is still preserved in that ancient family as a
memorial.
The King met with many such encounters amidst his dangerous and
dismal wanderings; yet, though almost always defeated by the
superior numbers of the English, and of such Scots as sided with
them, he still kept up his own spirits and those of his followers.
He was a better scholar than was usual in those days, when, except
clergymen, few people learned to read and write. But King Robert
could do both very well; and we are told that he sometimes read
aloud to his companions, to amuse them, when they were crossing the
great Highland lakes, in such wretched leaky boats as they could
find for that purpose. Loch Lomond, in particular, is said to have
been the scene of such a lecture. You may see by this, how useful it
is to possess knowledge.
At last dangers increased so much around the brave King Robert, that
he was obliged to separate himself from his Queen and her ladies. So
Bruce left his Queen, with the Countess of Buchan and others, in the
only castle which remained to him, which was called Kildrummie, and
is situated near the head of the river Don in Aberdeenshire. The
King also left his brother, Nigel Bruce, to defend the castle
against the English; and he himself, with his second brother Edward,
who was a very brave man, went over to an island called Rachrin, on
the coast of Ireland, where Bruce and the few men who followed his
fortunes passed the winter of 1306. In the meantime the castle of
Kildrummie was taken by the English, and Nigel Bruce, a beautiful
and brave youth, was cruelly put to death by the victors. The ladies
who had attended on Robert's Queen, as well as the Queen herself,
and the Countess of Buchan, were thrown into strict confinement.
The Countess of Buchan had given Edward great offence by being
the person who placed the crown on the head of Robert Bruce. She was
imprisoned within the Castle of Berwick, in a cage. The cage was a
strong wooden and iron piece of frame-work, placed within an
apartment, and resembling one of those places in which wild-beasts
are confined. There were such cages in most old prisons to which
captives were consigned, who were to be confined with peculiar
rigour.
The news of the taking of Kildrummie, the captivity of his wife, and
the execution of his brother, reached Bruce while he was residing in
a miserable dwelling at Rachrin, and reduced him to the point of
despair. After receiving the intelligence from Scotland, Bruce was
lying one morning on his wretched bed, and deliberating with himself
whether he had not better resign all thoughts of again attempting to
make good his right to the Scottish crown, and, dismissing his
followers, transport himself and his brothers to the Holy Land, and
spend the rest of his life in fighting against the Saracens. But
then, on the other hand, he thought it would be both criminal and
cowardly to give up his attempts to restore freedom to Scotland
while there yet remained the least chance of his being successful in
an undertaking, which, rightly considered, was much more his duty
than to drive the infidels out of Palestine.
While he was divided betwixt these reflections, and doubtful of what
he should do, Bruce was looking upward to the roof of the cabin in
which he lay; and his eye was attracted by a spider, which, hanging
at the end of a long thread of its own spinning, was endeavouring to
swing itself from one beam in the roof to another, for the purpose
of fixing the line on which it meant to stretch its web. The insect
made the attempt again and again without success; at length Bruce
counted that it had tried to carry its point six times, and been as
often unable to do so. It came into his head that he had himself
fought just six battles against the English and their allies, and
that the poor persevering spider was exactly in the same situation
with himself, having made as many trials and been as often
disappointed in what it aimed at. "Now," thought Bruce, "as I have
no means of knowing what is best to be done, I will be guided by the
luck which shall attend this spider. If the insect shall make
another effort to fix its thread, and shall be successful, I will
venture a seventh time to try my fortune in Scotland; but if the
spider shall fail, I will go to the wars in Palestine, and never
return to my native country more."
While Bruce was forming this resolution the spider made another
exertion with all the force it could muster, and fairly succeeded in
fastening its thread to the beam which it had so often in vain
attempted to reach. Bruce seeing the success of the spider, resolved
to try his own fortune; and as he had never before gained a victory,
so he never afterward sustained any considerable or decisive check
or defeat. I have often met with people of the name of Bruce, so
completely persuaded of the truth of this story, that they would not
on any account kill a spider, because it was that insect which had
shown the example of perseverance, and given a signal of good luck
to their great namesake. Having determined to renew his efforts to
obtain possession of Scotland, the Bruce removed himself and his
followers from Rachrin to the island of Arran, which lies in the
mouth of the Clyde. The King landed, and inquired of the first woman
he met what armed men were in the island. She returned for answer
that there had arrived there very lately a body of armed strangers,
who had defeated an English governor of the castle, and were now
amusing themselves with hunting about the island. The King, having
caused himself to be guided to the woods which these strangers most
frequented, there blew his horn repeatedly. Now, the chief of the
strangers who had taken the castle was James Douglas, one of the
best of Bruce's friends, and he was accompanied by some of the
bravest of that patriotic band. When he heard Robert Bruce's horn,
he knew the sound well, and cried out, that yonder was the King, he
knew by his manner of blowing. So he and his companions hastened to
meet King Robert. They could not help weeping when they considered
their own forlorn condition, but they were stout-hearted men, and
yet looked forward to freeing their country.
The Bruce was now where the people were most likely to be attached
to him. He continued to keep himself concealed in his own earldom of
Carrick, and in the neighboring country of Galloway, until he should
have matters ready for a general attack upon the English. He was
obliged, in the meantime, to keep very few men with him, both for
the sake of secrecy, and from the difficulty of finding provisions.
Now, many of the people of Galloway were unfriendly to Bruce. They
lived under the government of one MacDougal, related to the Lord of
Lorn, who had defeated Bruce. These Galloway men had heard that
Bruce was in their country, having no more than sixty men with him;
so they resolved to attack him by surprise, and for this purpose
they got together and brought with them two or three bloodhounds. At
that time bloodhounds, or sleuthhounds, were used for the purpose of
pursuing great criminals. The men of Galloway thought that if they
missed taking Bruce, or killing him at the first onset, and if he
should escape into the woods, they would find him out by means of
these bloodhounds.
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