In the life of nations no less than of individuals there are vicissitudes, alternations of prosperity and adversity. If the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries witnessed the glorious rise of the Swiss people, the seventeenth and eighteenth saw the political decline of the Republic. Even the Reformation itself led the way to this decline by lodging all power—political, fiscal, moral, and educational—in the Protestant cantons in the hands of the governments. Patriotism was on the wane, and the old mania for foreign service as a means of securing foreign gold was again breaking out. Even Zurich, which for well-nigh a century had steadfastly borne in mind the patriotic maxims of Zwingli, now yielded to the persuasions of France. Indeed the Swiss Commonwealth was rapidly becoming a mere vassalate of that country, under the despotic Louis XIV. Swiss rule was taking that tinge of absolutism which was colouring the governments of almost all European states. Louis, the personification of absolute rule, had stamped the century with his cachet, and aristocracies and oligarchies were taking the place of the old democratic governments. This seems incompatible with the old Swiss republican tenets. Yet, drawn within the influence of the monarchical states, how could Switzerland escape the effects of that influence any more than Venice or Genoa?

The political and religious passions and animosities of the previous century now found vent in the terrible Thirty Years' War, which from 1618 to 1648 convulsed Europe. Thanks to its good fortune and far-sightedness, Switzerland was not drawn into the conflict, save as to its south-eastern corner, close as it was to the theatre of the great struggle. Most anxiously was the neutrality of the country maintained, yet its territory was not unfrequently violated. To give one instance, General Horn led his Swedes into Swiss territory to besiege Constance. Germany and Sweden—Gustavus Adolphus especially[68]—did all they could to draw Switzerland to their side, but the Swiss had the good sense to resist all blandishments, and bear patiently with vexatious intrusions. The terrible scenes that were taking place across the Rhine were enough to quell all intestine disputes in Switzerland itself, and the comparative peace and prosperity found within its borders was the envy of the neighbouring lands. A German traveller chronicles his surprise at finding in Switzerland neither rapine nor murder, but security and content. However rough and rugged its surface, the little republic seemed to him an earthly Paradise.

Different, however, was the experience of GraubÜnden, then a separate free state, and a connection only of the Confederation. In truth, the history of that old RhÆtian land at that time forms a striking pendant as it were to the great drama of the European struggle. The Latin-German inhabitants, combining northern prudence with southern passion, had since the middle of the sixteenth century been steeped in internal dissension, owing to the religious divisions caused by the Reformation. The Protestant party under Von Salis, and the Catholics headed by Von Planta, were at deadly enmity with each other, and sided with France and Venice, and with Austria and Spain respectively. John von Planta, head of his clan, and solicitor-general of the Papal see, was suspected of intending to reintroduce Popery into the Grisons. The mountaineers accordingly descended from their Alps in crowds, and flocked to Chur. There they brought to trial Planta and sentenced him to death, and his fall struck the keynote to the tragedy that followed. With the opening of the seventeenth century the conflict grew fiercer, national interests and foreign policy being now inextricably mixed. Mistress of the beautiful Italian Signory Valtellina, Bormio, Chiavenna, and the Alpine passes commanding the entrance into the Tyrol and Italy, GraubÜnden became the apple of contention between the southern states of Europe. Austria and Spain possessing Milan were not without hopes of joining hands across GraubÜnden, and France was sanguine of her success

in preventing it. This latter state with Venice had effected an alliance with Protestant BÜnden, and that party strongly opposed the Spanish union for which the energetic but headstrong Rudolf von Planta was working. Fuentes, a Spaniard, Governor of Milan, furious at the resistance offered, erected a chain of strong forts on Lake Como, with the view of cutting off the Valtellines. Before long, George Jenatsch from the Engadine, Tschusch, and other high-minded and patriotic Protestants, began to decry the Spanish scheme, and tumults arose. An attack on Planta's manor, Zernez (1618), having failed through the escape of Rudolf, Zambra, Landammann in Bregaglia, and Rusca, a priest in the Valtellina, both greyheaded old men, were seized. They were sentenced to death by a new court which had been set up at Thusis, a court which raged against popery and spread terrorism for some months. In the Engadine a strange thing happened. The respective chiefs of the hostile clans were the two brothers Von Travers, and a hand-to-hand fight between the opposing parties having begun, suddenly the wives, daughters, and sisters of the combatants rushed amongst them like the Sabine women of old, and checked them. Foremost amongst these noble women was the spirited Anna Juvalta. The Plantas were now in exile, and were conspiring with Austria. Their cousin Robustello (Valtellina) at a given signal broke into the houses of the Protestants, and, with the help of hired assassins, put the inmates to the sword. This was on the 19th of July, 1620, and throughout the whole valley no quarter was given. Zurich and Bern on hearing of this shocking massacre—the "St. Bartholomew of the Valtellina"—sent troops, but they were defeated at Tirano by the Spanish forces and adherents. The Plantas returned from exile and asked the Forest Cantons to give their countenance to their party, and these were not unwilling; but the plot itself was opposed by the Protestant Grisons with scorn and fury. Jenatsch penetrated to the castle of the Plantas at Rietberg, and Pompejus fell by his hands (1621). The Catholics were defeated at Valendas, and the country was cleared of the troops of the Forest Cantons and of Spaniards. However, Jenatsch failed to take Valtellina.

The Austrians still claimed supremacy over part of the Zehngerichte,[69] and we find them, from 1620 to 1629, twice invading and occupying GraubÜnden. The most dreadful cruelties marked the passage of their general, Baldiron, and Catholicism was reintroduced by force. In 1629, the Emperor Ferdinand had reached the height of his success and greatness, and BÜnden with all its dependencies lay prostrate at his feet. France came to the rescue. Richelieu pursued the policy of Henry IV. to re-establish the balance of power by breaking down the prestige of the Habsburgs. With the view of gaining supremacy for France, he had drawn Sweden into the Thirty Years' War; and on the death of Gustavus Adolphus, when the zeal was somewhat flagging, he revived it by sending French troops into Alsace, South Germany, and the Grisons. The command of the Franco-Grison army was entrusted to Duke Henry de Rohan, godson of Henry IV. of France (and godfather to Charles I. of England), one of the noblest characters of his age. De Rohan was also appointed ambassador to the Eidgenossen states in 1631. He had been leader of the Huguenots, and had supported the Edict of Nantes in opposition to Louis XIII. Becoming obnoxious to the king in consequence, he withdrew to Venice. There he wrote a treatise on the strategical importance of the Grisons, as if he foresaw his future mission.[70] During his residence in Switzerland he watched zealously over its interests, smoothing over difficulties in the Diet to avoid war. Richelieu sent him neither money nor help, but left him to extricate himself as best he could from his position in that isolated mountain fastness; yet Rohan was the idol of his soldiers and of the people of the Grisons, and was always spoken of by them as the "good duke." In 1635, when France was doing its utmost to oust Austria, open war broke out, and Rohan gained four brilliant victories in succession—Jenatsch serving as local guide and combatant in advance, his superior tactics proving too much for the Austro-Spanish forces. Yet the "good duke" was soon to fall a victim to the perfidious policy of Richelieu, and the treachery of Jenatsch. This latter was a strange mixture of the noble and the vile—fierce, and ambitious, a seeker of gain, yet a man of honour, full of a wild patriotism and thirst for freedom. Eager to free his country from the grasp of the stranger, he and the hot-tempered BÜndner, at whose head he was, suddenly found that they were but exchanging masters. Sticking at nothing to gain his ends Jenatsch entered into a secret understanding with Austria and Spain, and even turned Catholic to win more favour with them. Then, forgetting the many kindnesses he had received from his friend Rohan, he betrayed him to his enemies. It should be observed, parenthetically, that the question in dispute was that of the Valtellina, and Rohan had had no instructions from Richelieu to return that territory. Suddenly the French general found himself surrounded by hostile troops from the Grisons, and was compelled to capitulate (1637). Unable to bear the sight of France again, he fought for her under the banner of Bernhard von Weimar, and fell at Rheinfelden, in Aargovy, seeking rather than fearing death. Jenatsch, however, did not long enjoy the fruits of his guilty action. Two years later he was stabbed at an officers' banquet, during the carnival, by some masked figure. Rudolf Planta, son of Pompejus, was said by some to have done the deed, whilst another story has it that the avenger was Rudolf's sister, Lucretia, who was burning for vengeance on the slayer of her father.[71] One of the first German novelists of our time, Ferdinand Meyer, of Zurich, has worked these thrilling episodes into his fine story, "Jenatsch." The hero was buried with pomp at Chur, but his murderer remained unpunished. Thus GraubÜnden, after a struggle of nearly a hundred years, recovered both its independence and its lost territory.

That memorable event of the seventeenth century, the signing of the Peace of Westphalia, which concluded the Thirty Years' War, whilst, on the one hand, it sanctioned the dismemberment of the German Empire, yet ratified the independence and autonomy of the Swiss republics. This result was chiefly due to the noble efforts of two men—Wettstein, Burgomaster of Basel, who most effectively championed Swiss interests at the Congress; and Henry d'Orleans Longueville, count and reigning prince of NeuchÂtel, the French representative at the same conference, who supported the Swiss claims.

The religious strife of Villmergen in 1656, which ended in the defeat of the Protestants, cannot be gone into here. Suffice it to note that this defeat was fully repaired by the second war of that name in 1712. A more important matter was the Peasants' Revolt, in 1653. It promised to grow to alarming dimensions, but was put down by the Government. This rising, however, is noteworthy, as marking the vast chasm which had formed between the labouring and the governing classes. The peasantry were now in a state of complete subjection, and patiently awaited the dawn of a brighter day, which nevertheless came only with the French Revolution. What they claimed was the restoration of their old liberties, relief from the excessive taxation, and the general improvement of their material interests. But many of the governing classes, councillors, landvÖgte, and others, had served abroad at foreign courts, and had drunk in the spirit of absolutism, and were as much imbued as any James I. or Louis XIV. with notions as to the "divine right" of the privileged classes to govern. They claimed seats on the administration as a right. From their superior positions they looked down on the labouring classes, and had little or no sympathy with them. Except in name the Swiss cantons were as absolutely governed by aristocracies as France was by Louis XIV. Nothing is more ludicrous, or more clearly shows the affectations and narrow pedantries of the age, than the childish delight in long or high-flown titles, by which the Swiss "regents," as they were called, were wont to address each other, and be addressed even by foreigners. "Leurs excellences," "noble-born," and so forth, were as common amongst Swiss republicans as in any monarchy.[72] Nor were they behindhand in the adoption of court fashions, wigs, frills, and the like; whilst they hunted eagerly for patents of nobility, and placed the "von" so unblushingly before their names that the higher classes, and really well-born for the most part dropped it for a time.

The Eidgenossen, however, were eminently useful soldiers, and Louis XIV. in 1663 wheedled or tricked them into the renewal of the alliance with France, an alliance into which Le Barde had tried in vain for thirteen years to coax them. The wily Louis invited a Swiss embassy to his Court, and for a whole week amused and flattered his guests with a succession of banquets, ceremonies, and entertainments. MoliÈre played before them by royal command. The ambassadors were thus beguiled into admitting some of the most important points in the treaty, the neutrality of Burgundy, the liquidation of the old debt, &c. On the 18th of November, in the presence of the whole French Court, at Notre Dame, the Swiss representatives agreed to a disgraceful and humiliating bargain with Louis. The king was not, however, inclined to lavish money on them like his predecessors had done. One day Louvois complained to him that his Swiss troops stood him dear, that for the money they had cost him and his predecessors the road could be paved with crown-pieces from Paris to Basel. Stuppa from the Grisons, overhearing this, quickly retorted, "Sir, you forget that with the Swiss blood spilt in the French service you might fill a canal from Basel to Paris."

Despite the engagements to France which Switzerland had entered into, it never ceased to give shelter to the French refugees who fled to escape the persecutions of Louis—to the Waldenses and the Huguenots. After the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, sixty-six thousand emigrants are said to have found shelter in Switzerland. Amongst the Swiss cities Geneva stands out conspicuously and honourably by her great benevolence. Not to speak of the vast amount of private assistance given, the municipality spent on the relief of the religious refugees no less a sum than five million florins between 1685 and 1726. Gradually the Eidgenossen became alive to the real character of Louis and his negotiations with them, and ashamed of their own lack of patriotism. As early as 1689, indeed, we find Swiss envoys from Bern and Zurich at Paris, rejecting his bribes, his golden chains, and what not. And on their return home they received the eulogies of their people for their integrity and independence. Gradually the league with France was set aside, or ignored. Nevertheless, the system of mercenary service remained an evil—one may say a cancerous evil—in the Swiss policy of the later centuries.