THE TYROL.
MIGRATIONS OF THE TYROLESE--THEIR FRANKNESS--THEIR ATTACHMENT TO
THE HOUSE OF AUSTRIA--ANECDOTE OF THE ARCHDUCHESS
ELIZABETH--LITERARY TURN OF THE TYROLESE--THEIR EXTRAORDINARY
HONESTY--FONDNESS FOR PUGILISTIC EXERCISES AND THE
CHASE--ANCIENT PRACTICE--MORAL
CHARACTER--SUPERSTITION--MECHANICAL GENIUS--PERSONS AND
COSTUMES--NATIONAL SONGS--CUSTOM OF VISITING THE GRAVES OF
RELATIONS--MARRIAGE CEREMONIES OF THE TYROLESE.
The most striking feature in the character of the Tyrolese is their
love of independence and their attachment to their native land. The
intense cold, however, that prevails in the elevated valleys, in
general compels their inhabitants to quit them in winter, when they
repair to the neighbouring towns to pursue their different
professions. Thus villages, nay even whole valleys are at times nearly
deserted, except by the aged men, the women and the children. At
stated periods, therefore, these mountaineers emigrate in bodies of
thirty or forty, and spread themselves over Italy, Bavaria, and
Austria. Some of them become excellent carpenters, others skilful
smiths, and it is seldom that they do not follow more than one trade.
They are particularly addicted to the mechanical arts. The young lads
hire themselves to tend cattle. On the return of summer and the
approach of harvest-time, these mountaineers set out for their
respective hamlets, joyfully carrying with them their little savings.
They collect in companies and march to the sound of the bagpipe, which
at a distance announces their coming. All run out to meet them, and
they rarely pass through a village without being supplied with
refreshments. In this manner they travel forward till they reach their
humble homes, where they forget their hardships and fatigues in the
affectionate embraces of their wives, children and relations.
The industry of the Tyrolese does not suffer them to be content with
these migrations occasioned by the inclemency of the climate. They
travel all over Germany with aromatic and medicinal plants, carpets,
gloves, chamois-skins, steel trinkets, or wooden wares carved with the
utmost delicacy. These commodities they carry chiefly to Vienna, being
encouraged by the favourable reception given to them by the
inhabitants, who are delighted with their frankness and good humour.
The Tyrolese always speak what they think without reserve or disguise.
Like our Quakers they address every one, not excepting the emperor
himself, in the second person singular; and they question the
sovereign without the least ceremony respecting his intentions in
regard to their country. When these plans do not harmonize with their
ideas, they censure them with the utmost freedom. There have been
instances of their carrying their complaints to the foot of the
throne, and remonstrating with a liberty which to courtiers must
appear very extraordinary.
To the honour of the sovereigns of the house of Austria, it must be
confessed that any of their subjects may obtain a private audience of
them with less difficulty than in other states an interview can be
gained with a minister. If I were to select, says a British traveller,
from among the eulogies which have been passed on monarchs, the most
glowing traits, assisted by the warmest efforts of imagination, I
might not, perhaps make a deeper impression upon the mind of the
reader, than by the simple recital of the fact, that it is the habit
of the Austrian ruler to admit into his presence and to personal
interview every individual of his realm. One day in every week is
devoted to this sacred duty; when the emperor, with the first dawning
of the morning, attends in a private apartment to receive petitions
and complaints from the mouths of even the poorest of his subjects. He
listens to them freely, and though he seldom judges finally at the
moment, shows his sympathy and declares his feeling in their behalf.
The known frankness and intrepidity of the Tyrolese induced Austria to
grant them great liberty. Never, indeed, was government more paternal
than that of Austria in regard to the Tyrol. Hence all the inhabitants
went into mourning when the fortune of war transferred them a few
years since to another power, which, by its ill-judged measures, only
strengthened their attachment to their former sovereign. The struggle
which they made in his behalf against the united force of France and
Bavaria shows what exertions a nation fighting for independence is
capable of making, and will occupy a conspicuous place in the history
of those wars which have lately distracted Europe. The general peace
which put an end to these hostilities, crowned the wishes of the
faithful Tyrolese, and replaced them under the Austrian sceptre.
As the most trivial circumstances frequently impart a clearer insight
into the character of an individual or a nation than those of more
importance, the following authentic anecdote may be worth recording.
The archduchess Elizabeth, aunt to the present emperor of Austria, who
was so much beloved that the people of Vienna always called her
_Unsere Liese_, (_Our Bess_) took a particular fancy to milk with her
own hands the beautiful cows which she had collected at Schönbrunn.
She had heard the Tyrolese highly extolled for their skill and
cleverness in this operation, and therefore had several herdsmen
brought from the Tyrol, that they might instruct her in the milking
and general management of cattle. The first who arrived, seeing the
princess engaged in milking her cows, gazed at her in silence for a
few moments, and then burst out into the exclamation: “Get thee gone,
thou awkward baggage! why, thou wouldst not earn salt to thy
porridge!” After he had thus politely driven away the princess, he
fell to work and milked the whole herd in less time than the
archduchess would have done a single cow. During the course of this
extraordinary instruction, these men never could be persuaded to
soften their language or to use less frankness in their expressions.
So far, however, from displeasing by their freedom, they had some
difficulty to obtain permission to return to their native mountains.
The Tyrolese who travel into Germany, to carry on a little traffic in
drugs and peltry, have in general several partners. At any rate the
husband never goes without his wife, nor the brother without his
sister. It is very rarely that a man is seen by himself disposing of
his commodities. They have not failed to observe that the costume of
their women excites the curiosity of strangers, and they judiciously
avail themselves of it that they may find a better market for their
merchandise. When they settle at Vienna, almost all of them adopt the
trades of carpenter or mason.
A singular fact, and which serves to show the natural bent of this
nation, is, that there is scarcely a Tyrolese peasant but has his
library, however small. Though it contains perhaps no more than thirty
or forty volumes, still it affords proof of a fondness for study. The
Bible, the Lives of the Saints, a history of their country, or of
Austria, together with a few geographical works, compose the
generality of these rustic libraries. So strong is their hankering for
news, that many of those in easy circumstances take in the Inspruck
newspaper; which, in the long winter evenings, furnishes them with
subjects for discussion and comments, in which their own country is
not forgotten.
Theft and robbery are so uncommon in Tyrol, that locks are almost
unknown, at least in the villages. The doors of their habitations have
no other guard than the mutual integrity of the inmates. The peasants
therefore have merely a latch, which is raised by means of a bit of
packthread, and this method of closing the entrance to their cottages
is adopted solely to keep the cattle out of them. A hundred times,
says a traveller, have I stopped at inns where there was no key
whatever, and yet I never lost any thing. At Vienna, and in other
parts of Germany also, the Tyrolese bear the highest character for
honesty and integrity, and there is no instance of any of them having
abused the confidence reposed in him.
Such is their respect for the memory of deceased relatives and
friends, that they scarcely ever go out of mourning for them. A person
who should violate this custom would be considered as degenerate. It
is not uncommon to see a widow wear mourning all her life for her
husband, or a daughter for a mother. If this practice attests the
excellence of their hearts, the mourning assumed by them on account of
the misfortunes which befall their country equally proves the ardour
of their patriotism. When I visited the Tyrol, says a French
traveller, after the war in 1809, I asked a peasant why the people
were all in mourning. “Look at our towns,” replied he, “you see that
they are in ashes; and can you still ask why we are in mourning?” A
nation endowed with such qualities, cannot fail to be deeply
interesting to every enlightened mind and to every generous heart.
The Tyrolese peasants are mostly robust, and attach more value to
vigour of body than to beauty of form. From their infancy they addict
themselves to exercises best calculated to increase the strength and
suppleness of their limbs. Some, after the example of the ancient
Greeks, are professed wrestlers, and pursue the exercise with such
ardour, that if they were to neglect it for some time their health
would suffer. Hence they seldom pass a week without challenging other
champions, and they will go many miles either to be actors in, or
witnesses of such matches.
Pugilistic exercises have in consequence become an amusement
inseparable from rustic weddings, fairs and parish festivals. They
were formerly frequent in the vicinity of Inspruck, the capital of the
country; but the police took advantage of the quarrels which they
occasioned, to apprehend the combatants and force them to enlist in
the army for life: so that it is only in the remote districts that
they can indulge without fear in their favourite diversion.
The dress of the Tyrolese wrestlers is nearly the same as that of the
other villagers, excepting that they never wear either collar or
cravat, to deprive their adversaries of the advantage of seizing them
by that part of the dress. The rest of their clothes, indeed, affords
abundant scope for laying hold, as they have not yet adopted the
practice of oiling their bodies like the combatants of Greece at the
Olympic games.
These men have an extremely shrill war-cry, and are known by the
cock’s feathers in their hats, the number of which always corresponds
with that of the victories they have won. In regard to this point they
could not easily practise deception; for the man who should set up a
claim in contradiction to public notoriety, would become an object of
derision, and pay dearly for his usurped finery.
[Illustration: TYROLESE HUNTER.]
We are not exactly informed of the use of the thick pewter ring which
they wear on the little finger of the right hand, and which they call
the ring of combat. It is not considered fair for these wrestlers to
grasp their adversary with their hands; they strive to make him lose
his balance, to throw him down, and then snatch from him the feathers
which he has won in preceding contests. In the intervals of rest they
are furnished with a pipe, which they regard as an infallible medium
for recruiting their strength.
The chase is another amusement to which the Tyrolese are passionately
attached, and which they pursue from their earliest infancy. Each
village has a spot set apart for firing at a mark; and here boys begin
to practise as soon as they can hold a gun.
The hunting of the chamois, which is indisputably the most arduous and
difficult species of sport, since that animal frequents only the
highest mountains, is what the Tyrolese takes most delight in. Lightly
clad, having a large green hat to screen him from the sun, his gun
slung at his back or in his hand, and equipped in the manner
represented in the opposite plate, he traverses the deepest valleys
and climbs the most rugged mountains. Here he frequently passes
several successive days. A stick, terminating with an iron spike, is
indispensably necessary for supporting him on the steep acclivities of
the mountains. His game-bag, covered with velvet, serves him for a
pillow at night; it contains some provision, a small speaking-trumpet,
and a couple of cramp-irons to assist him in climbing perpendicular
rocks. Some of these men have been known to cut their feet on purpose
that the blood from the wounds might cover the smooth surface of the
rocks and prevent their slipping.
A very interesting custom formerly existed in the Tyrol. The
wealthiest of the peasants advanced to such young men as appeared to
be most industrious, active, and intelligent, a sum of money, to be
laid out in the productions of the country, and which were to be sold
or exchanged for foreign commodities. Sometimes the fulfilment of
these commissions required a voyage beyond sea. The agent, having
procured his goods, set out furnished with every thing calculated to
ensure the success of the enterprise. Having disposed of his
merchandise, he returned home, called together his employers, and
delivered to them the proceeds of the goods with which he had been
entrusted. Each took up the sum he had contributed, and the overplus
belonged to the young factor. This practice, now unfortunately fallen
into disuse, affords a strong proof of the integrity of these honest
mountaineers.
The Tyrolese has in general all the art of a man experienced in the
ways of the world, with the simplicity of a child, and in consequence,
perhaps, of the injuries done to him by foreign nations, he is become
more mistrustful. Still he will never commit a base action out of
resentment: his soul is too proud and too elevated to employ such
disgraceful means. If he attacks, it is always openly. Courageous and
persevering, he spares no exertion to attain his aim. Great in
adversity, he is not cast down by it; prosperity always finds him
proof against its dangerous illusions: his country and her
independence are all that he prizes. He cannot regret wealth, for he
possesses it not: he is a stranger to pleasures, excepting those that
arise from the relation of husband and father: hardships do not affect
his robust frame, accustomed to all sorts of privations, and inured to
the inclemency of winter. Thus from his earliest youth he climbs the
glaciers barefoot, and that he may be the more unrestrained in his
motions, he never covers his knees with any garment. Finally, the
first sports of his childhood consist in gliding from the tops of the
mountains in light sledges: an amusement which, were he less expert,
would expose his life a thousand times to the most imminent danger.
These people, so kind and so hospitable to the unarmed stranger, or to
him who needs their protection, are most formidable to the invader of
their country, or the violator of their ancient institutions. Bold and
skilful marksmen, accustomed to the use of arms and to the chase, they
soon become excellent soldiers, whose address is equal to their
courage. It must be confessed, however, that as regular troops, the
Tyrolese display greater bravery on the mountains than in the plains,
where they imagine that they have not the same advantages.
Faithful husbands and tender fathers, the Tyrolese have in general a
warm affection for their families: and lawsuits, or quarrels
respecting property, seldom disturb the harmony that prevails among
them. The simplicity of their manners is as remarkable as that of
their character, and a spirit of religion contributes not a little to
keep it up. Their devotion may sometimes go to the length of
superstition, but never to that of fanaticism. Besides, it cannot
prove dangerous, since it is confined to the belief in the existence
of spirits and malignant genii. This belief is chiefly current among
the peasantry of the elevated districts; hence the village girls dare
scarcely go abroad after dark for fear of falling into snares laid for
them by mischievous spirits. There is no sound, even to the rustling
of the leaves of the trees, shaken by the evening breeze, but
proclaims to their exalted imaginations the presence of ghosts. Thus
their superstitious notions animate all nature. To protect themselves
from the power of these imaginary beings, many Tyrolese of both sexes
engrave the figure of Christ, or of some saint upon their flesh, by
pricking it with a needle and rubbing gunpowder into the punctures;
and this they consider as a permanent safeguard. Some, however, who
are more enlightened or less credulous, adopt these figures merely by
way of ornament, a practice similar to the tattowing common among most
of the South Sea islanders.
The active and lively disposition of the Tyrolese urges them to
imitate whatever they see. It may almost be said that they become
mechanics by intuition; at any rate, no sooner do they experience the
want of any instrument, than they set about making it, and though,
perhaps, rude and clumsy, it always answers the purpose for which it
was designed. Thus at their summer habitations on the mountains,
however elevated their situation, you find small hydraulic machines,
which work the stones required by the herdsmen to sharpen their
implements, or to grind the corn necessary for their subsistence.
Sometimes they connect a moving wheel with the piston used in
churning. In another place you see a cradle rocked with a motion the
more gentle as it is produced by a fall of water moderated with art.
In short, a stranger who visits their country, perceives, at every
step, the extraordinary turn of these people for the mechanical arts.
In addition to the instances of ingenuity mentioned above, it is not
uncommon to find in the valleys of the Tyrol, painters, makers of
musical instruments, and other machinery, who, without any instruction
whatever, have produced truly astonishing things. There are peasants
who, in the long winter evenings, have constructed piano-fortes,
rather complicated instruments, and that merely from the notion
acquired by a short examination of one. Neither should it be forgotten
that the first good map of the country, which it is so difficult to
survey, was produced by a native of the mountains of Tyrol, Peter
Anich, a herdsman.
Considered merely with reference to their persons, the Tyrolese are
remarkable people. An expressive and animated countenance, bright
piercing eyes, and a tall robust figure, are the principal
characteristics by which they are distinguished. Their step is rather
heavy, owing to their habit of continually ascending mountains. Hard
labour imparts strength and vigour to their limbs. Their hair, almost
always of a light colour, falls in graceful locks over their
shoulders. A certain air of dignity, which admirably becomes their
masculine features, and their elegant costume, heighten the expression
of their faces, and set off the beauty of their forms. The hat,
commonly of straw, bordered with ribbons of different colours, and
adorned in a picturesque manner with feathers, is worn covered with
fine green silk by the single men, but generally black by such as are
married. A short waistcoat and jacket fit tight upon the body. Broad
braces, ornamented with figured work and crossing over the bosom,
support, what in this case may justly be denominated small-clothes,
since they seldom reach lower than the middle of the thigh. Stockings,
either plaited or embroidered with silk of different colours, show off
a handsome leg; and the shoes, equally light and elegant, are adorned
with ribbons always of a different colour from themselves. Gold or
silver buckles are sometimes worn in them.
Rarely unarmed, they are scarcely ever seen without a gun slung at
their shoulder and a goat-skin knapsack. At once a military and an
agricultural people, the Tyrolese are always ready to relinquish the
plough and the herdsman’s staff for the musket. To give a more
masculine character to the countenance, they shade the lips with long
and thick mustaches; and in some districts let part of the beard grow,
which gives a degree of fierceness and wildness to their look.
The females are rather fair than handsome: their persons are more
remarkable for strength than elegance. In general of a serious
disposition, their countenance, nay, their very smile, have a degree
of gravity, so that the impression which they produce at first sight
is by no means prepossessing. Their costume has frequently an elegance
and a lightness that are extremely becoming. Green or black hats
bordered with ribbons of different colours, and a velvet cap, compose
their winter head-dress. In summer they let their long light tresses
flow over their shoulders, or turn them up and fasten them at the back
of the head with long pins. A corset laced before covers the bosom,
and on this part of their dress they bestow particular pains, some
decorating it with lace, and others working upon it a variety of
designs in silk of different colours. Short petticoats, seldom
reaching to the middle of the leg, are remarkable in general for their
lively colours and their numerous plaits, which, however, are so
disposed as not to hide the contours of the body. Stockings of a light
colour, set off by embroidered clocks, have an elegant and graceful
appearance.
In some of the mountainous districts, the women, in order to be the
less encumbered in their laborious occupations, have adopted the use
of drawers with such scanty petticoats as to fall considerably short
of the knee. Out of mere singularity, they load their legs with
stockings, so plaited, as to give them a clumsy appearance. These
stockings, being too thick to be covered by shoes, have no feet, so
that the ankles are left quite bare. This practice occasions swelling
of the legs or pains in the feet; but nothing can induce them to
relinquish it, such is the influence of habit among all the nations of
the earth.
The colour of the dress of the Tyrolese is different in every valley.
The women in the environs of Hall and Inspruck, in general wear gowns
half black and half blue, which produce a singular effect. The head is
covered with a very lofty pyramidal cap, commonly of quilted cotton,
decorated with transverse stripes. In summer they exchange this
awkward head-dress for an elegant hat, and leave the hair loose.
The young girls have a remarkably simple costume. A ribbon tied round
the top of the head constitutes the only head-dress. The throat and
upper part of the neck are uncovered; but a handkerchief of
rose-coloured crape is fastened together over the bosom. A broad
ribbon passing round the waist is tied behind. A white corset with
sleeves, a short green petticoat, and scarlet worsted stockings
complete the dress of these peasants.
The women of this part of the Tyrol have such a predilection for red
and blue stockings, that they seldom wear them of any other colour.
When these stockings are not plaited, they load them with embroidery
and all sorts of whimsical figures. With the women, the stockings,
corset and girdle, are the articles in which finery is particularly
studied, as the hat, the waistcoat, and the braces are with the men.
The manners of the women of the Tyrol are gentle and sedate. Equally
chaste wives and tender mothers, they devote themselves entirely to
their household affairs and to the care of their children. Constant in
their sentiments, the man whom they once love is the object of their
everlasting affection. Kind to all around them, they are not shy at
the appearance of a stranger. On the contrary, when he approaches
their habitation the mother sends her daughters to meet the traveller,
and with engaging modesty they offer him fruit and present him with
flowers. When once introduced into the cottage, the whole family
throngs around him; the most delicious milk assuages his thirst, while
a dish of smoked meat is prepared to appease the hunger excited by the
keen air of the mountains.
Naturally quick and hasty, the Tyrolese prosecutes with heart and soul
whatever he takes in hand. His dances alone, by their irregularity and
vivacity, sufficiently attest the vehemence of his character. The
music which excites him to pleasure is so brisk, that he can scarcely
follow the measure. In short, these people cannot do any thing in a
cool and quiet manner: if they fight, it is with an ardour which never
allows them to calculate the danger; and when they indulge in
pleasure, they give themselves up to it entirely. Is the country in
danger? mourning is in every heart, and arms are in every hand: their
very apparel acquaints the stranger with their feelings and their
thoughts.
The national songs of the Tyrolese likewise prove the violence of
their passions. Always lively and gay, they frequently pass from low
natural tones to the highest sharps. From the expressions of these
songs, you may know that they belong to men wandering in vast
solitudes, and whose strains, crossing deep valleys, excite the voices
of the herdsmen on the opposite hills. It is to this wildness and
irregularity that the national airs of the Tyrol owe the celebrity
which they have acquired. What traveller, who has ever witnessed the
sensations they produce, could hear them without emotion!
The same man whom we have seen pursuing with such ardour, the innocent
pleasure of a rustic dance, listens to the truths of religion with
such profound respect, that in the attitude of devotion you would not
know him again, or be tempted to believe that he is animated
alternately by two different spirits. But that you may be able to
appreciate his sensibility, follow him when at the decline of day, he
leads his family from his humble abode to the tombs of his
forefathers. Bareheaded, with downcast eyes and the chaplet in his
hand, he walks first as the monarch of the family. Sometimes, indeed,
he leads by the hand the youngest of his boys, while the elder follow.
After them appears the mother, covered with a veil and surrounded by
her daughters, who learn from her that modesty is woman’s brightest
ornament. On reaching the grave of the person whose loss they deplore,
they all kneel down and pray for that eternal repose in behalf of the
soul of their friend, which will one day be solicited for themselves.
After a few short prayers, the eldest of the boys rises, and thrice
sprinkles holy water on the grave; all then strew over it flowers
mingled with their tears. A practice so general, and which is repeated
every day, cannot but have a strong tendency to preserve the
prevailing simplicity and purity of manners.
The marriage ceremonies of the Tyrolese are not less interesting. It
is seldom that young people marry from motives of interest, or in
consequence of previous arrangements between the parents. It is in
their walks, or at their rural meetings, that they become acquainted.
When mutually agreeable, they respectively promise faith and love, and
give each other their hand in ratification of this first contract.
This promise made in the utmost purity of heart satisfies the lovers.
Never is the chaste damsel of the Tyrol known to repent the
acknowledgment of her secret sentiments to him to whom she has avowed
them, nor the latter to take an improper advantage of this confession.
When once engaged by mutual vows, the young people have nothing more
to do than to acquaint their parents with the object of their choice.
It is seldom that the latter throw any impediment in the way of the
happiness of their children. The circumstances which too frequently
oppose the union of families in our polished societies cannot exist
among people who are content with the possession of a few head of
cattle and a few acres of land, for which, moreover, they have to
dispute with the snow on the mountains.
The lover, hurried away by his passion and his natural impetuosity,
warmly extols the qualities of his mistress, and spares no pains to
obtain from his parents an approval of the sentiments by which he is
animated. The old folks, naturally more cool, seldom decide at once:
but to satisfy themselves of the sincerity of their son’s attachment,
they put it to the test in various ways. These trials differ with the
age and character both of the son and of the father. Some send their
sons into Switzerland, Bavaria, or Italy, with various productions of
the country which they are to dispose of there, and to interest them
in the success of the enterprise they give up to them all the profit.
“Go,” say their parents, “earn thy wife. To be a good father, a man
must be able to get bread for his children.”
Not less dutiful as a son than ardent as a lover, the young Tyrolese
never opposes the commands of his parents. How painful soever it be to
him to leave his mistress and his beloved mountains, he departs, but
not till he has presented the idol of his heart with a pledge of his
fidelity in the ribbons that adorned his hat. He, moreover, places in
her bosom the flower which renews the memory of love, and which for
that reason is named _forget-me-not_. The damsel gives him in return
the girdle which encircles her waist, and in which she has secretly
embroidered the initials of the name of the favoured youth. The most
amorous swains do not quit the hamlet till they have played upon the
rustic bagpipe some plaintive ditty, to which their mistress listens
surrounded by her female companions, who are ever ready to share her
sorrows.
Other fathers subject their sons to trials of shorter duration,
sending them for a few months to the herdsmen’s huts on the high
mountains. Here the youths tend the herds and flocks, and strive as
much as possible to increase the produce from them by their
management. They also gather bilberries and the leaves of the spike
(_valeriana celtica_) which has such a delightful smell. These
occupations render them robust, and habituate them to fatigue. The
spike grows only on the tops of the second-rate mountains and on the
steep sides of those which are crowned with snow. This aromatic plant
is exported to the East, where its perfume is destined to delight the
voluptuous inmates of the seraglio. The roots of the gentians also are
collected on the mountains, and from these they extract the juice,
which yields a spirit that is highly esteemed.
The wealthier Tyrolese have recourse to other means to assure
themselves of the sincerity of the attachment of their sons. They take
them out into companies where they are likely to meet young females
worthy of their notice; but if the sight of fresh objects produces no
change in their sentiments, the parents no longer withhold their
consent.
The day on which the damsel’s hand is formally solicited, is a
festival not only for the two families but for the whole hamlet. The
Tyrolese in general regard each other as brothers. The father of the
young man arrays himself in his best apparel. Laying aside the jacket
suitable for working days only, he puts on a coat decorated with
ribbons of various colours. By his dress and the pleasure that
sparkles in his eyes, it is evident that he is going on a joyful
errand. He takes with him his younger sons, who carry baskets in which
his first presents are deposited. In one he places honeycombs, the
fragrance of which is heightened by the sweet-smelling thyme and other
aromatic Alpine plants, with which they are surrounded; and puts into
another the finest fruits of the season, not forgetting some cakes
made by a beloved daughter.
On reaching the damsel’s abode, the father is introduced by the uncle
or the nearest relative. Here he finds the family of his future
daughter-in-law assembled. All present rise and salute him. “Welcome,
my friend!” says the head of the family to him. “What motive brings
thee among us?”--“As thou art a father,” replies the visitor, “let me
put a question to thy daughter.”--With these words he steps up to her,
kisses her on the forehead, and thus addresses her: “God bless thee,
lovely girl, who remindest me of the days of my youth. I have a son;
he loves thee. Wilt thou make my declining years happy?”
The Tyrolese girls, equally modest and affectionate, can, it is said,
rarely find words to answer this flattering question, so that their
mothers are almost always obliged to be the interpreters of their
sentiments. The lover is then introduced by a young companion: he
enters, bringing the fruits of his industry and constancy, which he
deposits at the feet of his new mother, whose affection he solicits.
The kiss of peace assures him of the kindness of the parents by whom
he is adopted, and the first salute granted by his mistress bespeaks
the ardour of her love.
The young companions of the bride likewise receive a kiss from the
bridegroom and wishes for their future happiness. The most intimate of
her friends then conducts the bridegroom to his destined spouse and
retires; on which the spokesman of the family rises and begins a long
harangue on the good qualities of the young man. Though rarely
listened to by the young folks, who have much to say to one another,
he nevertheless relates with emphasis the various trials to which the
bridegroom has been subjected, and concludes with congratulating the
damsel on having inspired him with a passion so strong as to surmount
them all.
The young females then sing stanzas suitable to the occasion, after
which the company partake of a frugal repast consisting of bread,
cheese, fresh butter, and goats’ or ewes’ milk, together with a few
glasses of Meran or Brixen wine, or among the more opulent, of
Hungarian wine. This repast being finished, the youths escort the
bridegroom home with songs and the sound of the rustic flute. At dusk,
the bridegroom serenades his beloved with a plaintive tune under her
window, mingling the sounds of his voice with those of the bagpipe.
The wedding-day at length arrives, and gaiety pervades the hamlet.
From the general rejoicing, a stranger would suppose all the
inhabitants to belong to the same family. When the bride lives at a
village remote from the residence of the bridegroom, the latter
repairs thither, accompanied by a numerous party, demonstrating the
harmony and brotherly love which prevail among the Tyrolese. To
beguile the length of the way, the young lads stop now and then and
join in the merry dance. On reaching the place of their destination,
they repair to the abode of the bride, and while they enter, the
musicians play the nuptial air. The music ceases, and the schoolmaster
addresses a complimentary speech to the bride, who then delivers to
the bridegroom the ribbons for his garters in token of his future
authority. These ribbons the bridemaid attaches to his dress; he gives
her a kiss, and, according to custom, she embraces him in return.
The procession then repairs to the church, headed by the musicians;
next come the young men, and then the young women, who are followed by
the bride and bridegroom. The former is dressed in white, with a
nosegay of flowers selected by her lover in her bosom. She is placed
on his right, and is attended by her bridemaid, as is the bridegroom
by his man. Then come the parents and relations of the parties, whose
serious looks and grave demeanour form a striking contrast with the
wild mirth and frolicksome pranks of those who close the procession.
On reaching the church, a devout silence is observed by the whole
assembly. The service begins, but before the priest pronounces the
nuptial benediction, the young couple, falling on their knees before
their parents, receive their blessing. On their return home, they are
congratulated by their friends, who then partake of an entertainment
provided for the occasion. When this is over, the head of the family
rises, and after he has said grace, he offers up a prayer for the
prosperity of the new-married couple; to give a still more solemn
character to this pious ceremony, he pictures in glowing colours the
virtues of their forefathers. Nor does he forget to pray for the
parents whom death has snatched from them. The speaker resumes his
seat, and when the tears of affection have ceased to flow, the
cheerful songs of the young people awaken other emotions.
Impatient for the pleasures of the dance, the latter slip away by
degrees to the meadow or the room prepared for dancing. How desirous
soever the young couple may be to follow, they must not stir, till the
father of the family taking hold of the bride and the mother of the
bridegroom, conduct them to their companions. Here, seated side by
side, they receive the congratulations of the young men, among whom
the bride distributes flowers from a basket. By these flowers they
prognosticate their future fortunes. If the honeysuckle or the Alpine
lily falls to their share, they promise themselves extraordinary
prosperity. The periwinkle and the rhododendrons betoken a happy,
tranquil life; but the foxglove and the daphne are omens of
misfortunes and afflictions. The young damsels then come to express
their good wishes, and the bridegroom distributes among them ribbons,
the different colours of which are in like manner supposed to indicate
their future lot.
Next morning they do not fail to pay a visit to the young couple,
because they attach great importance to the possession of a few
flowers from the wreath that encircled the brow of the bride. To her
greatest favourites she gives the pins which fastened the wreath, and
these they regard as tokens that they shall be happily married
themselves. Thus does hope reign among this people of brothers, and
associate by propitious omens future happiness with present felicity.