Duke Leopold of Austria, a successor to the Leopold who had learned so well at Morgarten how the Swiss could strike for liberty, and as bold and arrogant as he, grew incensed at the mountaineers for taking into their alliance several towns which were subject to him, and vowed not only to chastise these rebels, but to subdue the whole country, and put an end to their insolent confederacy.  His feeling was shared by the Austrian nobles, one hundred and sixty-seven of whom joined in his warlike scheme, and agreed to aid him in putting down the defiant mountaineers.

War resolved upon, the Austrians laid a shrewd plan to fill the Swiss confederates with terror in advance of their approach.  Letters declaring war were sent to the confederate assembly by twenty distinct expresses, with the hope that this rapid succession of threats would overwhelm them with fear.  The separate nobles followed with their declarations.  On St. John’s day a messenger arrived from Wuertemberg bearing fifteen declarations of war.  Hardly had these letters been read when nine more arrived, sent by John Ulric of Pfirt and eight other nobles.  Others quickly followed; it fairly rained declarations of war; the members of the assembly had barely time to read one batch of threatening fulminations before another arrived.  Letters from the lords of Thurn came after those named, followed by a batch from the nobles of Schaffhausen.  This seemed surely enough, but on the following day the rain continued, eight successive messengers arriving, who bore no less than forty-three declarations of war.

It seemed as if the whole north was about to descend in a cyclone of banners and spears upon the mountain land.  The assembly sat breathless under this torrent of threats.  Had their hearts been open to the invasion of terror they must surely have been overwhelmed, and have waited in the supineness of fear for the coming of their foes.

But the hearts of the Swiss were not of that kind.  They were too full of courage and patriotism to leave room for dismay.  Instead of awaiting their enemies with dread, a burning impatience animated their souls.  If liberty or death were the alternatives, the sooner the conflict began the more to their liking it would be.  The cry of war resounded through the country, and everywhere, in valley and on mountain, by lake-side and by glacier’s rim, the din of hostile preparation might have been heard, as the patriots arranged their affairs and forged and sharpened their weapons for the coming fray.

Far too impatient were they to wait for the coming of Leopold and his army.  There were Austrian nobles and Austrian castles within their land.  No sooner was the term of the armistice at an end than the armed peasantry swarmed about these strongholds, and many a fortress, long the seat of oppression, was taken and levelled with the ground.  The war-cry of Leopold and the nobles had inspired a different feeling from that counted upon.