to send forth from valley to valley his summons to the people to gather once more round his standard. That none should certainly know from these summonses where he lay concealed it was his wont to sign them "Andreas Hofer, from where I am "; whilst in return those communicating with him addressed theirs "To Andreas Hofer wherever he may be."
He once more succeeded in inspiring his fellow-countrymen with his own undying, unyielding patriotism. Gathering his forces together in a gorge of the Mittewald he awaited the enemy's advance. We cannot do better than draw in part, for a description of what followed, from the stirring and vivid narrative of Albert Wolff. The vanguard of Marshal Lefèbre under the command of General Rouyer advanced to Sterzing; and then a column of Saxon troops to the number of about 4000 was thrown out beyond the village towards the gorge of Stilfes with orders to sweep away the insurgents. The idea that the untrained, ill-armed, and heterogeneous peasant forces could successfully resist the victors of Wagram appeared ridiculous to the Marshal and his officers, even if the Tyrolese were so foolhardy as to make the attempt. For some distance the Saxons advanced without either meeting with opposition or discovering an enemy; and then, when the whole column, had fully entered the defile from the mountain sides above them there resounded a sudden, terrifying cry of "To the attack, and no quarter."
The cry was followed by a starting up of thousands of peasants, men, women, and children, the aged and the young, from behind the boulders on the hillside, from out the hollows. Down the steep mountain gorge crashed rocks, tree trunks, baulks of timber, earth and stones loosed from the restraining ropes by the Tyrolese, sweeping every obstruction before them, and falling upon the penned-up Saxons like an avalanche. Then, as the latter were vainly and fiercely struggling to extricate themselves from the debris and entanglements, the peasants rushed down the mountain side and hurled themselves upon their bewildered foes, shouting Hofer's battlecry, "For God and our Country."
The enemy, utterly routed, turned and fled—what remained of them—towards Innsbruck, pursued by the Tyrolese led by Hofer, Speckbacher, and by the red-bearded Capuchin Haspinger, who held in one hand a crucifix, and in the other a bloodstained sword. Upon the Saxons the Tyrolese had no mercy, and hundreds were cut down as they fled along the road back to Innsbruck.
TRIUMPH OF HOFER
In little more than a week Hofer, by a vigorous following up of his victory in the Pass of Stilfes, had once more repulsed the invader, retaken the position on Berg Isel, and established his headquarters at Schönberg. These historic eight days of fighting and victory are known in Tyrolese history as "the great week."
Innsbruck still, however, remained in the occupation of the enemy. To take the town was a task that might have given pause to any less brave and venturous a commander than Hofer. But he was not the man to hold back from a complete freeing of his beloved land from those who had invaded it. The plans were laid, the day fixed, and the advance ordered. On the morning of the attack, at five o'clock, Haspinger the militant Capuchin, a commanding figure upon whom the light of early dawn threw an almost uncanny refulgence, celebrated Mass before the assembled peasant host, who knelt in serried ranks, ragged, unkempt, but inspired to great deeds by memories of their past victories. After this solemn observance Haspinger once more became a captain of troops rather than a priest; and springing into his saddle he drew his sword and led on the left wing. Andreas Hofer himself was in the centre, and led the attack there, marching right on to Innsbruck.
A contemporary account describes the hero as being "transfigured with a grandeur scarcely earthly, as, burning with patriotism, he urged his horse forward into battle." With his long beard, which had gained him the nickname of General Barbonne amongst the French, flowing in the wind, and his war cry of "Onward for your country and your Emperor! God will protect the right!" he led his forces so irresistibly that the troops of Marshal Lefèbre gave way and evacuated the town. On the following day, August 15th, which was the fête of the Blessed Virgin, Hofer, at the head of his victorious peasants, made his third entry as victor into the capital.
Around him thronged the citizens, overcome with transports of joy, pressing him so closely that many were trampled beneath his horse's feet. In the enthusiasm, relief, and triumph of victory, Hofer was named with one voice dictator of Tyrol. But there was that strange analogy which links Hofer's attitude in the hour of triumph so closely (notwithstanding the differentiations of sex) with that of Joan of Arc and with Cromwell. Turning to the thronging multitude, which filled the narrow streets to overflowing, he cried out, with a gentle and almost pitiful glance at their upturned faces, "Do not shout in triumph; but offer thanks to God and pray." At the door of the church of the Franciscans he dismounted, and entered the building to return thanks to God, and remained there in prayer, unmoved by the cheers and "Hochs" of the great assembly of his troopers and fellow-countrymen outside, the sounds of which, as they came in through the constantly open doors of the church at that hour, bore no personal significance to him.
On leaving the building he was waited upon by the chief citizens, who expressed their undying gratitude to their deliverer. But in response he said, "By my beard and St. George, God himself and not I has been the Saviour of our country."
Andreas Hofer was destined to show that he was not only a warrior, but also an administrator, actuated by the most lofty desires for his country's good. In every act of his government could be detected the truly religious and patriotic character of the man. And during the short time that he reigned in the palace at Innsbruck, waiting anxiously for the approval and the help from his Emperor in Vienna, his conduct was marked by dignity, kindliness, and strength. But alas, his triumph was but brief. In less than two months after the retaking of Innsbruck, a fresh Bavarian army was entering Tyrol by way of the Unter-Innthal, and taking Speckbacher unawares the invaders gained a partial victory; and ere the disaster of October 10th could be retrieved, the Treaty of Vienna was agreed upon (October 14, 1809), by which the hand of one of the Habsburg princesses was promised to Napoleon as the price of peace.
Tyrol by this new arrangement remained Bavarian, and the Archduke John himself called upon Andreas Hofer to lay down his arms. The latter did not obey. He persuaded himself that the Treaty of Vienna was without substance, or merely a trick to enable the invaders to make good their fresh hold upon the country, and he decided to continue the struggle. His followers, however, were discouraged by the callous way in which the Austrian Government had invariably left them to fight their own battles alone.
Speckbacher, too, was deserted by all save a mere handful of men, and after remaining in hiding for some time and escaping capture by a miracle he succeeded in getting to Vienna. The Capuchin Haspinger afterwards joined him there, and was ultimately made curate of Hietzing, near Schönbrunn. It then became clear to Hofer that to continue the struggle for freedom just then was useless and, indeed, impossible; so he dispersed his own handful of faithful friends and supporters, telling them, "We shall meet again before long, for Tyrol will not perish."
HOFER AN OUTLAW
With these prophetic words, which were destined never to be realized so far as the meeting with his faithful comrades in arms was concerned, Hofer took farewell of his companions and fled a fugitive into the mountains of the Passeyer Valley.
A price was put upon his head by the Bavarians and French, who recognized that their peaceful occupation of the conquered and ceded territory depended very greatly upon the capture and imprisonment or death of Hofer, who, as a popular hero, held so high a place in the hearts of his countrymen; and that for him to remain at large would constitute a perpetual menace.
For a long while Hofer was able to elude the vigilance and discovery of his would-be captors. Technically, and owing to his abandonment by the Austrian Government, he was a rebel on account of his refusal to lay down his arms when commanded by the Archduke John to do so. In the end, as so often happens, there was one found base and treacherous enough to betray the fugitive for blood money. Guided by such an one, named Raffl, some Italian gendarmes, supported by a small detachment of French soldiers,
