odolphe IV, eldest son of Count Pierre, although sole inheritor of the title and authority of count, had two younger brothers Pierre and Jean, who perpetuated the strongly contrasted traits of the elder Pierre and Jean. But in the second generation the rÔles were changed. Pierre was the religious brother, and became prior of Rougemont, while Jean, even more eager for martial glory than his father, went far from home to join the English armies of Edward III and the Black Prince in their wars with Charles V of France. Count Rodolphe, surpassing his predecessors in the brilliancy of his alliances, married two grand-daughters of Savoy, and through his second countess, Marguerite de Grandson, was related to the distinguished family whose soldiers following Pierre de Savoy to Eng Recounted immortally in the glowing pages of Froissart, is the story of Pembroke's hopeless battle with the Spanish fleet. Confiding in the skill and valor of his soldiers and bestowing the title of chevalier on every man among them in the last hour before the combat, he gave the signal to advance. It was dawn and the tide flowed full, when, with a favoring wind, the forty great Spanish vessels, bearing Rodolphe IV, reigning count of GruyÈre, displayed in his long career no quality worthy of his generous and high spirited father, no trace of the conciliatory wisdom or devoted piety of his mother. Calculating in his marriages, he was unjust and even dishonest with his people, whom he forced to pay twice over for their exemptions and their privileges. How greatly Count Rodolphe was lacking in the noble and humanitarian qualities which had so generally characterized the counts of GruyÈre, was shown in his dealings with his young relative Othon de Grandson. The comrade of his brother, Jean de GruyÈre, in his French campaigns and in his long captivity in Spain, Othon de Grandson was later doubly related to Count Rodolphe, as brother-in-law of his first wife Marguerite d'Alamandi, and as nephew of his second countess, Marguerite de Grandson. The tragic hero of an unjust drama of An enchanting legend regarding the first wife of Count Rodolphe illuminates the dismal story of his inglorious reign. Marguerite d'Alamandi has been confused in the tradition with Marguerite de Grandson, the second wife of Rodolphe. It is Mar Countess Marguerite of GruyÈre, so runs the story, was so sadly afflicted that she had borne no heir, that she had no longer any joy in her fair castle, no comfort with her beloved lord. Vainly journeying to distant shrines, as vainly invoking the aid of sorcerers and magicians, she went one day, clad as one of her poor subjects, to pray in the chapel at the foot of the GruyÈre hill. There, as the November day was closing, poor Jean the cripple, well known through the country, came also to tell his beads. Very simple and kindly was poor Jean, with always the same blessing for those who gave him food or mocked him with cruel jeers. Perceiving in the shadow a poor woman sadly weeping, he gave her all his day's begging, a piece of black bread with a morsel of coarse cheese, repeating his usual blessing, "May God and our Lady grant thee all thy noble heart desires." That evening, again clad in her jewels and brocades, the Countess Marguerite, at the close of a feast laid for her husband's comrades after a day at the chase, offered each knight a bit of this bread and cheese, with a moving story of poor Jean and a prayer that all should wish what Rodolphe le Jeune, the long awaited heir of this story, did not live to inherit the rule of the domain whose fame his father had so sadly stained. Brilliantly educated at the court of Savoy, and later the councilor of the countess regent, he emulated his uncle's heroic example and joined the English armies under Buckingham in France, there winning praise and the offer of the chevalier's accolade. But he failed to fulfil the promise of his youth and died prematurely, leaving his young son Antoine, the last hope of the family, to succeed to his grandfather. Count Antoine's overlord, the youthful count of Savoy, confided the education of his vassal and protÉgÉ to a venerable prelate of Lausanne; but heeding nothing of his pious instructions the young ruler wasted his revenues in extravagant hospitality, lived gaily with his mistresses, and celebrated the weddings of his two sisters with fam "GruyÈre, sweet country, fresh and verdant GruyÈre Did thy children imagine how happy they were? Did thy shepherds know they lived an idyll? Had they read Theocrite, had they heard of Virgil? No, no! as in gardens the lilac and rose Grow in innocent beauty, their days drew to a close." So in a fond ecstasy of recollection, sings a The Count of GruyÈre Before his high manor, the Count of GruyÈre, One morning in Maytime looked over the land. Rocky peaks, rose and gold, with the dawning were fair, In the valleys night still held command. "Oh! Mountains! you call to your pastures so green, Where the shepherds and maids wander free, And while often, unmoved, your smiles I have seen, Ah! to-day 'tis with you I would be." Then afloat on the breeze, there came to his ear, Sweet pipes faintly blowing—still distant the sounds—— As across the deep valley, each with his dear, Came the shepherds, dancing their rounds. And now on the green sward they danced and they sang, In their holiday gowns, a pretty parterre, With oft sounding echoes the castle walls rang, To the joy of the Count of GruyÈre. Then slim as a lily, a beauteous maid, Took the Count by the hand to join the gay throng. "And our leader in dancing and song." Then, the Count at the head, away they all went, A-singing and dancing, through forest and dell. O'er valleys and hillsides, with force all unspent, Till the sun set and starry night fell. The first day fled fast, and the second dawned fair, The third was declining, when over the hills Quick lightning flashed whitely—the Count was not there! "Has he vanished?" they asked of the rills. The black storm clouds have burst, the streams are like blood By the red lightning's glare, and dark night is rent, Oh, look! where our lost one fights hard with the flood, Until a branch saves him, pale and spent. "The mountains which drew me with smiles to their heights, With thunders have kept me, their lover, at bay. Their streams have engulfed me, not these the delights I dreamed of, dancing the hours away. "Farewell, ye green Alps! youths and maidens so gay, Farewell! happy days when a shepherd was I, Stern fates I have questioned have answered me nay, So I leave ye, with smiles and a sigh. "My poor heart's still burning, the dance tempts me yet, So ask me no longer, my lily, my belle! For you, love and frolic, but I must forget, Take me back, then, my frowning castel." No attacks from feudal lords or from rival cities threatened GruyÈre during the reign of Count Antoine, which came to its end in undisturbed tranquility. The kindly and complaisant father, brother and lover essayed as he grew in years to correct some of the follies of his youth, and according to the opinion of GruyÈre's principal historian married the mother of the children he had already legitimized. A pious and lamenting widower, he instituted many masses and anniversaries for the repose of the soul of his wife, the Countess Jeanne de Noyer of blessed memory; and erecting a chapel to his patron St. Antoine in the parochial church of GruyÈre caused to be painted therein the kneeling portraits of himself and his countess, in perpetual testimony of his devotion to the rites of matrimony and religion. FORTIFIED HOUSES—NORTH WALL decorative banner
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