PART THE SEVENTH.

Oh! noble Elizabeth! you to whom these leaves are more particularly addrest, have you had resolution sufficient to read thus far? will you possess sufficient presence of mind to enable you to continue the perusal 2of this writing, now that I have placed before you the most important and most cruel transactions, which have occurred throughout your whole life, and by which your whole life has been embittered? and will you, when at length you reach the conclusion of my painful narrative, magnanimously sacrifice your long-cherished prejudices; and daring to gaze steadily on the light of truth, will you learn to excuse and to pity, to regret and to forgive?

Before I relate the transactions, which followed the fatal interview between Ida and her lover on your bridal day, I must request your patient attention, while I relate those incidents of Henry of Montfort’s earlier days, which I believe to be still unknown to you. It is thus only, that I can enable 3you to form a correct and unbiassed judgment of the case.

Henry’s father stood already on the brink of the grave, when his son was born: he died, while Henry was still an infant. His wife soon followed him. The care of the little orphan now devolved upon an uncle, who would have been much better pleased, if the deceased Count of Montfort had died without progeny, and had left him the undivided inheritance of his fertile and extensive domains.

By his brother’s will this uncle was appointed guardian to the young orphan, and destined to be his representative, till Henry should attain the age of twenty-one. This limitation of his power was by no means to Count Egbert’s taste. He would willingly have disputed the 4legitimacy of Henry’s birth; but the acknowledged virtue of the late Countess made it impossible to fix any suspicions upon her character. However, by dint of solicitations, of powerful protection at Vienna, and (above all) of considerable sums of money distributed among the Emperor’s favourites, he contrived to get his nephew’s claims set aside till after his own decease; though the decree, which thus established Count Egbert’s succession to the inheritance, positively excluded any children which he might have, and regulated, that they should only succeed to the estates of Montfort, in case of Henry’s dying without heirs.

Though Count Egbert was already advanced in years, and was still a bachelor, nevertheless he was highly offended 5at the restriction thus established against his lineal descendants, in case it should ever please Heaven to bestow upon him such blessings. The sight of the child became hateful to him; and in hopes of at once relieving himself from its presence, and of removing an obstacle to his contracting a suitable marriage, he gave his little nephew in charge to one of his servants, whom he believed capable of executing any villainy; at the same time telling him—“To do with the brat whatever he thought would be most conducive to his master’s interests.”—Some little remains of conscience prevented his declaring his wishes in more express terms; but what he said, was quite sufficient to make his meaning very far from ambiguous.

Count Egbert’s servant was a native 6of Switzerland. He gave his lord to understand, that he perfectly comprehended him, and made no difficulty of taking a solemn oath, that he would punctually obey his injunctions as exprest above. After an absence of some weeks he returned without the child; his reward was ample; and he immediately employed it in securing a kind protection for the orphan Henry, whom he had neither murdered, nor abandoned to chance and the wide world, but had concealed him in a shepherd’s-cottage near the Lake of the Four Cantons, in order the more effectually to secure him against the malice of his unnatural uncle. The shepherd died, and bequeathed the child, to the care of his master, the venerable Melthal. Count Egbert’s servant (who occasionally 7visited those parts in order to inquire after the safety of him, whom he had rescued from destruction) was greatly rejoiced to find him under the protection of old Melthal, who was universally esteemed to be one of the wisest and best of mortals. He scrupled not to confide to him the secret of Henry’s

birth, and they arranged together the means of establishing him in his rights at a future period. The servant paid the debt of nature soon after this discovery, and the mystery of Henry’s rank and claims remained in the sole possession of Melthal.

He spared no expence in rendering the boy’s education equal to his future hopes; and aware, that in all probability resolution and valour would be the only means of reinstating him fully in the 8possession of his rights, at an early period of life he sent the orphan away from his retired and peaceful vallies, and took measures for his being brought up to a life of arms.

Melthal frequently forsook his cottage to visit the young Henry, who now began to give tokens of a real inclination for his profession, and was more distinguished in the Emperor’s army, than any other youth of the same age: but he never invited Henry to return his visit among the mountains of Switzerland. Now, however, that the old man was sinking under the weight of years, and began to feel that distant journeys were more than his debilitated frame could bear, he determined to send for the son of his adoption, that he might declare to him his real origin, and bestow 9a blessing on him, before they should part for ever. The young man obeyed the call: his arrival was honoured by a rural festival; and the young people of those happy vallies rejoiced in the acquisition of such a youth, who (as they supposed) was returned home in order to pass the remainder of his life among them, as their friend and fellow citizen.

You are already acquainted with the mutual attachment, to which this festival gave rise by the meeting of Ida and Henry under the assumed names of Rosanna Tell and Erwin Melthal. This attachment soon became public, and among others came to the knowledge of old Melthal. An union with the daughter of an Helvetian peasant (even though that peasant was William Tell, and though the maiden herself was the perfection 10of loveliness and virtue) threatened the destruction of all those exalted plans, which the old man had been so long meditating in favour of his adopted son; and he thought, nothing more would be necessary to make Henry break off this unsuitable connection, than to discover his noble origin to the youth, and to exhibit before him his great expectations in their full splendour. He soon found, that real love makes the heart consider all obstacles as trifles, and believe every thing is possible except abandoning the object, to whom its adoration is vowed.

Henry of Montfort continued to love that Rosanna, to whom Erwin Melthal had sworn eternal fidelity: Ida, Countess of Werdenberg, (to whom her real birth was discovered about the same 11period) preserved her attachment to the humble peasant, to whom Rosanna Tell had pledged her hand and her affections. Each had been sworn to secrecy; both concealed the painful mystery in their respective bosoms; but neither suffered a day to pass without repeating the assurance of fidelity beyond the grave, though both were secretly conscious, how mighty were the obstacles which opposed their keeping that assurance.

They were separated. The Emperor’s commands summoned Henry to the army; and the old Melthal thought, that in the present position of things a slight falsehood would be justified by the intention, with which it was fabricated.—Accordingly, a report was soon circulated, that his grandson Erwin had 12fallen at the siege of Bender. It obtained universal credit; and Ida, (for whose sole use the artifice had been designed) doubted not, that her lover had perished on the field of glory. One person however (and that to his great mortification) was assured of the inaccuracy of the report. No sooner had Henry left Helvetia, than Melthal set out for the Castle of Montfort; he made known to the astonished Count, that his nephew was still in existence, and spared neither persuasions nor threats to induce the old usurper to reinstate the true heir in his rights and titles.

Threats and persuasions from the mouth of a man of sense and probity came with a force, that few villains however hardened are able to resist 13entirely. Count Egbert trembled in the presence of his venerable monitor; and he presumed not to give him such a reply, as he would willingly have done, had he followed his heart’s instigations. He answered him with fair promises and professions, the trusting to which cost the poor old man many a painful journey; till at length highly exasperated at having been made so long the dupe of his soft words and endless delays, he assumed a tone of such authority, as almost frightened the trembling usurper out of his senses, and made him solemnly swear to lose no time in acknowledging the claims of his nephew. Unluckily, this scene agitated Melthal so violently, that the consequence was an illness, which soon carried him to his grave. Count Egbert did not let slip so good an 14opportunity of annihilating the hopes of Henry; he easily persuaded the unconscious heirs of old Melthal to give up to him the papers, which attested his

nephew’s birth, and which, (as they seemed to relate entirely to the Montfort family), they made no doubt, were (as he asserted) his own peculiar property and no concern of any other person’s.

Now then who was so happy as the crafty Egbert? in the full exultation of triumph he was persuaded, that the papers which he lost no time in committing to the flames, were the only proofs of his nephew’s existence. But in this respect he was deceived. When Henry departed for the army, Melthal charged him to seize the first favourable opportunity of laying his case before 15the emperor; for which purpose he furnished him with the authentic documents of his real birth, and those which fell into Count Egbert’s hands were nothing more valuable than mere copies. The favourable opportunity, of which Melthal had spoken, was not tardy in arriving. At the siege of Bender Henry behaved with such distinguished gallantry as to make it the general opinion, that if all his companions had performed their duty as well, the victory would have been wrested from the hands of the infidels.

The emperor was not the last to applaud his gallant demeanour. He commanded him to name a reward; and Henry demanded to be re-instated in those rights, to which he could establish 16his claim by proofs, that would set all doubt at defiance.

—“I do not wish,” said he, “that my uncle’s conduct towards me should undergo too nice an examination; nor during his lifetime do I insist, that my inheritance should be restored to me. I only demand for the present to be acknowledged as a descendant of the house of Montfort, and for the future to be protected in obtaining those advantages, to which I may be able to substantiate a lawful claim.—I am not desirous of expelling the old Count from the station, which he has so long occupied; I only demand, that when his death shall leave that station vacant, I may succeed to that, which in justice is my birth right.”—

17The Emperor Albert, who was already aware that under the administrations of the debauched Venceslaus, and the careless Sigismund (his immediate predecessors) much partiality had taken place in settling the affairs of the Montfort family, and who besides wished most anxiously to serve his favourite in every point that was not repugnant to justice, heard the above declaration with pleasure, and praised the youthful warrior’s generosity. Albert himself was generous, and it delighted him, when others acted, as he would have acted himself.

On the next day Henry was declared by the emperor to be a Count of Montfort, and was allotted a command suitable to his high rank and distinguished services. This change of name 18contributed to support the erroneous belief, that Erwin Melthal had never been heard of since the battle of Bender, and that in all probability he had fallen in the field. Ida therefore was sorrowing for his loss at the very moment, that he was hastening back to the beloved valley, crowned with laurels, and determined to share with her his honours and his happiness.

Alas! that beloved valley was no longer to be recognised! dreadful storms had laid it waste; the mountain-torrents had deluged the country; and when he at length with difficulty had reached Tell’s habitation, he found it silent and empty—the dreadful pestilence, which had more than decimated the unfortunate inhabitants of those quarters, had raged with peculiar fury 19in the house of Tell; but he was informed, that a remnant of the family had taken refuge (so at least it was rumoured) in the Convent of Engelberg. Thither Henry repaired without loss of time, but he found no one capable of giving him either present comfort or future hope. His apprehensions were converted into despair, when in reply to his enquiries Tell’s humble grave was pointed out to him, and when he beheld near it two smaller graves, which (he was assured) contained the bodies of two of the old man’s grand-daughters. It is probable, that this assurance was given not without foundation, for several of the grand-children of Tell had followed him to Engelberg, and had there fallen a prey to the inveteracy

of the prevalent disease.

20The wretched Henry was thoroughly convinced, that the bones of Ida and Constantia rested within those smaller graves. He knelt beside them; he watered them with his tears, and abandoned himself to the most violent emotions of anguish, which love and despair ever excited in the heart of man. It was long, before he attained any degree of composure; and he employed the first hour, in which his heart was sensible of a melancholy resignation, in hastening to the Convent, and requesting to know every particular respecting the death of the lovely sisters. He wished also to enquire, why they had interred in the open church-yard the bodies of those angels, whose virtues should have obtained for their tomb the most distinguished 21spot to be found within the Convent’s sanctuary.

The high-sounding title of “Count Henry of Montfort” obtained for him an easy admission into the Convent-parlour; but he derived no benefit from his visit to Engelberg. The old Abbess, who had superintended the Convent during Constantia’s residence, had paid the debt of nature. The present superior was totally ignorant of the history of the sisters; and she could not help secretly suspecting, that the young-warrior’s understanding was not quite as sound as it should have been, when with considerable impetuosity he demanded as a matter of right, that the grand-daughters of a common peasant, who had conferred on the institution neither wealth nor honour, should be 22alloted a tomb in the Chapel of St. Engeltruda!

Henry was at length made to understand, that Ida’s remains appeared to be sacred relics in no eyes but those of her lover: the only comfort, which he now felt himself capable of enjoying, was to honour her in death, whom in life he had adored so truly: accordingly the greatest part of the wealth, which he had earned in the Turkish wars, was expended in raising a stately monument to Ida’s memory in the Chapel of Engelberg. He burned with impatience to see (united with those of the fair sisters) his own name engraved on the monument’s white marble, as being that of the person by whose directions it was raised; and he declared, that his heart could never taste repose, till 23the work should be completed, and till the bones of Mary and Rosanna Tell (for such he still thought them) were removed to the honourable burial-place provided for them by his affection. While the tomb was erecting, nothing could persuade him to quit the holy place even for a day; and the whole neighbourhood was lost in astonishment at the homage, which the Count of Montfort thought it necessary to pay

to the relics of Tell’s daughters.

Nothing was able to rouse him from that dangerous melancholy, to which he abandoned himself without reserve, till the emperor’s commands necessitated his attendance. He arrived at Grans, and found, that while he had been giving up everything for the indulgence 24of unavailing sorrow, his exalted protector had not been equally unmindful of his favourite’s worldly interests. The old Count of Montfort had been summoned to the imperial court; where he was made so fully aware of the favourable posture of Henry’s affairs, and was so thoroughly convinced, that to deny the authenticity of his claims would be fruitless, that his nephew no sooner made his appearance, than he came towards him with open arms, and embraced him as his relation and his presumptive heir. He was then preparing to offer some excuse for past transactions, which in their very nature were totally inexcuseable; but the young Count interrupted his apologies, freely forgave him, and in presence of the emperor assured his 25uncle, that he might depend upon his burying his wrongs in silence and oblivion.

Still, when the arrangements respecting Henry’s succession to the Lordship of Montfort came under consideration, Count Egbert earnestly insisted, that two or three clauses should be introduced, in order that the future heirs of his body might not be left entirely destitute. Henry could not conceal a smile, while he acceded to this proposal, and the rest of the company indulged themselves without scruple in a loud burst of laughter; for the old man was still unprovided with either wife or children, though there was scarcely to be found in all Germany a lady of beauty, birth, and fortune, whom he had not honoured with the offer of his hand and heart.

26On the other hand, Henry, whose age would have suited much better with such proposals, seemed not to bestow a thought upon the subject: amidst the throng of lovely women who graced the court, his heart remained cold as the marble, which covered the imagined ashes of his loved and lamented Rosanna. But the emperor was not equally indifferent, respecting his young friend’s contracting some honourable engagement.

—“Montfort,” said he, “I flatter myself, that I have omitted no means of substantiating your claims, which lay in my imperial power: but fraud and avarice will frequently suggest such ingenious expedients for eluding the execution of justice, that (should I die before your uncle) you might still find 27it no easy task to obtain possession of your inheritance. While therefore I am still in existence and able to serve you, unite yourself by marriage with some powerful family, whose connection may support your claims, when death shall have deprived you of my favour and protection.—Your enemies then will not dare to dispute your rights. Tell me, Henry; is the indifference, with which you seem to look on the beauties of my court, real or affected?—If your heart has not as yet made its choice, suffer me to mention to you the bride of my selection.”—

Henry’s reply assured him with great truth, that there existed not a woman, who possest any interest in his affections.

—“Well then!” resumed the emperor, 28“take my advice, and offer your hand to the beautiful Elizabeth of March, the jewel of all our German maidens: in her you will find united youth, charms, spirit, sense, piety, and virtue; besides a thousand other excellent qualities, which are seldom to be met with but in men. Her family too is sufficiently powerful to secure you against the attacks of malignity and violence, to which you will probably be exposed after my death; an event, which increasing infirmities make me believe to be at no great distance.”—