THROUGH THE TYROLESE MOUNTAINS
WHEN the pedestrians reached home in the early afternoon, a letter was
awaiting Herr Müller. It was from Herr Runkel, stating he was obliged
to make a visit to Dalmatia to see his younger brother Max on business,
and if Herr Müller would care to make the trip with him, he would meet
him at Villach in Carinthia the following Tuesday. Of course, there was
new excitement now for the boys; the one wished to go with his father,
while the other was urgent in his demands that the cousin remain with
him. Finally it was arranged that both boys should accompany Herr
Müller, while Frau Müller should remain with her relatives and join her
husband and son at Gratz in Styria, on their return.
[Illustration: "TRAMP THUS, IN VAGABOND FASHION, OVER THE MOUNTAINS!"]
Leopold had never made a journey from home before, except the one time
he had been to Innsbruck, quite recently, to meet his Müller relations;
so you may be certain there was one little heart which beat faster than
normal.
"We shall leave to-morrow, then," decided Herr Müller, "if you think
you can be ready in that time," he added, addressing the Tyrolese
youngster. "Because we shall want to visit some of the mountain towns;
and if you boys want to see anything of Tyrol we had better walk than
take the train."
"Oh, I could be ready to-night," ventured the child, delighted beyond
measure. But his uncle assured him the morning would be ample time, and
the two lads skipped away to talk over the plans.
As the sun was just beginning to peep above the mountaintop, the party
of three set off, with many admonitions from Frau Hofer to her child,
and many also from Frau Müller that Ferdinand should not allow his
cousin to be too adventuresome. But to this Leopold smiled.
"I am used to the mountains, auntie," he said. "Ferdinand will tire
long before I do, you'll see."
How glorious it was to tramp thus, in vagabond fashion, over the
mountains! They stopped wherever night overtook them, passed through
Brixen, the wine center of much importance in Tyrol, and on through
narrow defiles through which there seemed no exit. A bracing walk
of six miles from Brixen brought them to Klausen, or The Pass, so
completely hidden among mountains there was but room for one long,
narrow street.
"Well, I had no idea Klausen was quite so narrow," Herr Müller
remarked. "I can well believe the tale of the barber, now."
"What barber, uncle?" asked Leopold.
"The barber of Klausen. You've never heard it? Well, there once lived
a barber in this town who was old and full of rheumatism; he had a
client whom he must shave every morning; but the poor barber found it
very difficult to descend three flights of steps from his dwelling
and ascend three more on the opposite side of the street, in order to
shave his customer. He could not afford to lose this fee, yet it was
exceedingly painful for him to attempt the climb.
"One morning he opened his window and called to his neighbor. Upon
hearing the barber's voice, the man in the opposite house opened his
window and asked what was wanted.
"'Allow me,' said the ingenious barber. 'I am unable to descend the
stairs this morning; my rheumatism is getting the better of me. But,
in order that you may not lose your shave, if you will lean a little
way out of your window, I shall be able to accomplish the duty quite as
well as though you were sitting in your chair in your room.'
"For a moment the man hesitated; but, as the village was small, and
there was but one barber, it was either a question of going unshaved,
or of following the fellow's advice. Accordingly, he consented; he
stretched his neck far out of the window, the barber placed the
towel beneath his chin, and, with all the dexterity in his power, he
proceeded to shave his client; and thenceforth the barber performed
this operation in a similar manner, quite to the satisfaction of them
both."
They passed on through the village of Waidbruck, the very center
of romanticism; for here, right at the mouth of the Grodener-thal,
rises the fascinating Castle of Trostburg, the home of the Counts of
Wolkenstein; and here was born Count Oswald, the last of all the long
line of Minnesingers or troubadours, who found employment and enjoyment
in wandering from castle to castle, their harps or zithers under their
arms, singing love-songs or reciting war-stories that stirred the
young blood to action.
They climbed to the magnificent Castle of Hauerstein, so hidden among
the mountain-peaks and dense woods that one might imagine it to be
the palace of the Sleeping Beauty; and then they diverged a few miles
up the ravine in order to visit Santa Claus' shops, for such might be
called the village of St. Ulrich with its countless numbers of toy
shops. In every cottage men, women and young children busy themselves
from morning until night, from one year's end to the other, in making
toys; carved animals for Noah's Arks, dolls and wagons, to supply
the world's demand of the children. Here, too, the very language is
different from any other spoken roundabout; for the inhabitants,
primitive in language as in everything else, still cling to the tongue
of the Romans, which is to-day known as the Ladin or Romansch tongue.
They passed the night at Botzen, and, as the sun sunk behind the lofty
mountains just beyond, a gorgeous glow overspread their entire summit.
"Isn't it beautiful!" remarked the two lads almost at the same moment.
"And it looks just like a rose-garden, too," added Leopold.
"It is a rose-garden, child," answered Herr Müller. "It is called the
Rosengarten or Gardl (Little Garden)."
"But is it possible, father," asked Ferdinand, "that roses will bloom
on such lofty heights?"
"Well, this is the legend about it. Once upon a time, there lived an
ugly dwarf who was king over all the underground sprites and elves in
the mountains of Tyrol. He was in the habit of going forth from his
palace, wrapped in a magic cloak which rendered him invisible. Now,
it chanced that during one of these expeditions, Laurin went into
the country of Styria, which lies right over there to the east. We
shall pass that way on our return to Vienna. He saw a most beautiful
maiden who was playing in a meadow with her attendants. Suddenly she
disappeared from before the very eyes of her companions; they shouted,
but no answer came back to them; in great dismay they fled back to the
castle to report the news to the princess' brother Dietlieb.
"Dietlieb had heard of Laurin and his propensity for carrying off fair
maidens; Dietlieb was a brave knight and had traveled far, so, as soon
as he heard the news, he suspicioned at once that Laurin had done the
deed. Immediately he set out for the city of Bern, where the king held
his court, to demand that the dwarf be punished for his insolence.
But the king was powerless against Laurin's magic; however, he warned
Dietlieb not to attempt to approach too near the dwarf's domains, for
it was guarded by four magnificent pillars of shining gold, and a
fence of silken thread stretched between.
"'Remember,' said the king, 'should you happen to break so much as one
strand of Laurin's fence, he will demand the forfeit of a foot and a
hand.'
"In hot rage Dietlieb left the king's palace; what mattered to him
Laurin's magic powers, if only he could recover his dear sister, the
Princess Kunhild?
"With a few faithful companions he set out over the mountains until
he reached the Rose-garden before the dwarf's underground abode, the
very sight of which so enraged the worthy knight that he tore away the
silken threads and destroyed the four gorgeous pillars.
"Within his subterranean palace, Laurin heard the destruction without;
he mounted his war-horse, and putting on his magic belt, which endowed
him with supernatural strength, he appeared at the door of the cave
covered with sparkling jewels from head to foot.
"'Who has dared to enter my domains?' he shouted. 'And to destroy my
garden? Let him who has done the deed stand forth that I may exact the
punishment!'
"'Be not so hasty, Sir Laurin,' replied one of the knights, 'we will
gladly repay you three, four-fold, if you wish, what you demand. The
season is early and your roses will bloom again.'
"'I care not for your gold,' replied the indignant king; 'I have gold
and to spare. I demand satisfaction, and satisfaction I shall have.'
"So saying, he spurred on his horse. There was a hotly contested
battle; in the end, he was overpowered by Dietlieb, who had torn from
him his magic belt, and thus robbed him of his strength.
"'Come,' said Laurin, 'let us not harbor ill feelings against one
another. Come into my palace, Sir Knights, and drink to the health of
the fair Kunhild.'
"He led them through the door of the cave, down several long corridors
at the end of each of which was a stout door, one of bronze, another
of steel and a third of gold, and entered the banquet hall, where the
table was gorgeously decorated with gold and silver and most rare
flowers.
"As the dinner drew to a close--at which Kunhild had presided, dazzling
with jewels--the knights fell into a sound doze; when they awoke each
was locked securely in a separate cell with no means of communicating
one with the other. But, when all was still, Kunhild entered her
brother's dungeon and released him by the aid of her magic arts, which
she had learned while captive.
"'Take this ring,' she said, 'gather up your weapons and flee for your
life.'
"'But will you go with me?' he said.
[Illustration: THE ROSENGARTEN.]
"'I will come later,' she replied. 'But make your escape now before
Laurin discovers us.'
"Dietlieb did not require a second bidding. The magic of Laurin had
penetrated through the stone walls of the cell, however, and he
followed the knight to the outer earth and there they fought a terrible
battle. When Laurin found himself yielding to the superior strength
of the knight, he blew a shrill blast upon his golden horn, and five
enormous giants appeared. Meanwhile Kunhild had not been idle; she had
released the companions of her brother, who now rushed to the scene of
the fray, and in spite of his magic arts, and his reinforcement of the
five giants, Laurin was made prisoner and carried off into Styria. The
garden was left uncared for, and little by little it died; but on just
such evenings as this, one can see the gorgeous roses, which will bloom
only as the sun descends."
"Do you think, father," said Ferdinand, "that there is really an
underground palace in those mountains?"
"Well, that's what they say; many have tried to find the entrance, but
the key has been lost; some day, one may be fortunate enough to find
it, and then great riches will be his. It is my private opinion that
within those mountains lie metals unknown to exist, and when one has
opened the door to them, he will discover great riches in them."
"I should like to gather just _one_ rose, uncle," said Leopold. "I
think mother would like to have one, for she has never seen the
Rosengarten."
"You cannot do that, my boy, because they are not real roses; the rocks
of the mountain are composed of magnesia and chalk, which take on these
beautiful colors when the rays of the setting sun fall upon them; and
it is only the sharp, jagged points of those rocks which simulate
roses, that you see."
Another night would see them out of Tyrol, much to the regret of
Ferdinand, for he had never imagined such an interesting land to exist.
"How did Tyrol come to belong to our country, father?" asked Ferdinand.
"Well, in the olden times," answered Herr Müller, "Tyrol was governed
by counts who ruled like kings; but in 1363 a princess was the
ruler; she was a woman with a very hasty temper and was nicknamed
Pocket-mouthed Meg. Some say she received this nickname because her
mouth was so extraordinarily large; but others tell a tale of her
Bavarian cousin, who lived in the adjoining territory, who struck her
on the mouth during a quarrel. It certainly was not a very gentlemanly
thing for the Bavarian cousin to do, but children were not brought up
so carefully as they are to-day, and you must not think too harshly
of this little Bavarian, which sounds quite like barbarian. But Queen
Margaret could never forgive nor forget that blow; in after years,
when her own son was dead, and her kingdom must be left to some one,
she preferred to give it to her Habsburg cousins, who were Austrians,
so that ever since, with the exception of a few years in which several
nations struggled for possession of it, it has belonged to the Austrian
Empire.
"You know Emperor Maximilian I, who was one of our greatest rulers,
loved Tyrol best of all his provinces," continued Herr Müller.
"I don't blame him," replied Ferdinand, "I think he was quite right."