THE LATTER END OF A FRAY, AND THE BEGINNING OF A FEAST.
The loss of the Tyrolese amounted to sixty-two killed and ninety-seven
wounded; of their friends the Austrians, twenty-five killed and
fifty-nine wounded. Of the Bavarians were reckoned two thousand five
hundred killed and wounded, including several officers.
The engagement had lasted till seven in the evening. At nine the
Bavarians retreated to Kufstein under favour of the darkness. At
four o'clock the next morning, the victorious peasantry flocked
indiscriminately into Innsbruck, shouting and singing, without any
order, but yet without the least offence in their demeanour or
proceedings. At nine o'clock Hofer marched in at the head of the men of
Passeyr; and with Father Joachim at his right hand. By this time the
city was full to overflowing--
"You would have thought the very windows spake,
So many greedy looks of young and old
Through casements darted their desiring eyes
Upon his visage;"
--for, certainly, the impression prevailed among the good people of
Innsbruck that he was the great man of the day, and so it continued to
do.
Michael Stumff, beaming like the sun, stood on the threshold of his
house to catch a glimpse of the Sandwirth as he passed, vaunting much
his familiarity with him to those who were willing to listen; and
extolling his valour because it enhanced the honour of his acquaintance.
"Yes, yes," he repeated, wagging his head, "there's more in him than
you'd think, for as homely as he looks. Why now, Chastelar,--we've
had General Chastelar among us, though now, I'm sorry to hear, he has
quitted the country,--and Hormayr--we've had Baron Hormayr among us
too, of whose doings or misdoings at this present occasion, I suppose
we shall shortly have his own account,--both of these have been counted
noteworthy men,--to say nothing of our own Baron Taxis--but, to my
mind, there's not a greater man among 'em all, in spite of his homely
bearing, than my honest friend the Sandwirth. Ah, here he comes!--nay,
not yet--How the bells are ringing! and yet there's such a din, clang,
and confusion, they scarce can be heard. Here he comes, then!--yes,
yes, the green jackets walking six or eight abreast--there's _he_, look
you, neighbour!--there's my old ally the Sandwirth!--many a pot of beer
have he and I shared together! And now, see you, he has a feather
in his hat, and a sword at his side, and pistols in his belt. Hurra!
hurra! I say, Sandwirth!--(Nod at him, Alouise--I'll catch his eye.)
Hurra! hurra!--"
The churches received them. As many as could enter them, crowded the
aisles; the rest hung about the doors. After victory and thanksgiving,
naturally came feasting. Wounded men were more slowly brought into
the city, and hospitably received; and numbers of escaped Tyrolese
prisoners came panting back to their friends at intervals throughout
the day.
The Bavarians had pretty well consumed the edibles of Innsbruck, but
the damage was being repaired as fast as was possible by supplies from
the country. Every house had its table spread with such things as came
to hand, for the refreshment of all comers. At the inns and public
rooms, dances were got up; and those who had fought overnight might
now be seen cutting tremendous capers and taking wondrous leaps, with
some fair partner of equal agility. But, flirting? none; the Tyrolese
eminently cultivate decorum, and know how to be merry and wise. If you
choose your partner, it is for the entire evening; and often proves to
be your partner for life.
Late in the evening Baron Hormayr arrived at the Taxis Palace. His
throat was very sore, and he was very hoarse, and not a little vexed
at having had no share in the glory of the day. Flinging himself on a
sofa, he desired Hofer might be instantly sought, found, and sent to
him.
In due course, the Sandwirth presented himself.
"So here you are, Hofer!" cried the Baron, feverishly shaking up the
cushion under his head.
"Here we are, baron--in Innsbruck--"
"Aye, aye, I suppose you are all mightily pleased. If I had not had
the worst cold I ever had in my life, I should have been up with
you--(Just ring for a tisane--) Regularly knocked up at Imst, my good
fellow--could only dictate my orders in a whisper; and fretted to death
at not being able to lead the attack at Scharnitz. Well, and so--O,
you've got on Chastelar's sword and pistols, I see."
"The sword and pistols the general gave me, baron."
"Aha! Made a good show! hey?"
"Helped to do good service, I hope."
"No doubt, no doubt. The people adore you, Hofer! And yet you haven't
been much of a fighting man--what makes them like you so?--hey?"
"I do not justly know, baron, save that they know I love them. Love
kindles love, you know."
"Aye, aye--well, but how went the day? Eisenstecken and you, I suppose,
helped Colonel Ertel in winning the day?"
"Well, baron, Eisenstecken is a good lad, but I should have said Father
Joachim, Speckbacher, and I won the day, helped by Colonel Ertel. But,
since it is won, it's no matter."
"Just so, you all did your best, my good friend--"
"We were quite at a stand-still at one time, for powder and bullets."
"Hofer! what a shocking want of ammunition there has been throughout
this campaign! General Buol has been in a wretched state, without
either ammunition or money. There he has remained, on the Brenner with
twenty-three hundred men, and actually not a cartridge!--"
"Our men were making cartridges all day long, for three days before
the battle. You know, baron, the Tyrol has few resources in itself; we
have few powder-mills, and the frontiers are now so watched that it is
exceeding difficult to get any into the country, even when we have any
money to pay for it, which generally we have not."
"No, and then you waste so much in _feux-de-joie_ and such nonsense, at
every rustic wedding and merry-making; every petty success. Why, I can
hear your sharpshooters peppering away now!"
"Because yesterday's was not a petty success. Forgive them, baron.
Every time we fight you a Berg Isel, you may afford us a _feu-de-joie_.
However, the lads are wasting their powder now, I acknowledge; and,
when I go hence, I will stop it."
"Do so; and--just give me that carafe of iced water and the goblet; I'm
so thirsty!--Have some wine, Hofer?"
"No, baron, I thank you."
"Tell them, Hofer, for goodness' sake, to husband what little
ammunition they possess, for they don't know how important it is."
"Oh yes, they do, baron! They knew, yesterday, when their own was
spent; and luckily, the Bavarians' was exhausted too!"
"Ha, ha!"
"Speckbacher has a little boy, who runs into the thick of the fight,
picks up bullets, and brings them to his father to use again."
"Ha, ha! Cool!--Where's Speckbacher now?"
"At the heels of the Bavarians."
"Where's Major Teimer?"
"At the heels of Speckbacher."
"Ho!--Well, Hofer, you'll just speak to your men--and to-morrow I'll
put forth a proclamation--I'd dictate it to-night, only my head aches
ready to split--telling every true Tyrolean, whose heart, and so
forth,--had better show his love of his country by abstaining from
feu-de-joieing, and by hunting up, without delay, all such arms,
rifles, muskets, swords, cavalry saddles, and what not, as can be
found, and bringing them with all speed to head-quarters. Bless my
heart! what a number of precious lives might be taken by the ammunition
these silly clodhoppers are now wasting!"
"I'll go to them at once, baron. And, if you'll take my unworthy
advice, you'll go to bed, and drink something hot."
"Thank you, thank you,--I believe I shall, or something cold, for I'm
very feverish--you see one eye is quite bunged up already. Good night.
I'm sorry you won't take a glass of wine, though. Let me see you in the
morning."
Hofer assented, with a gesture, and withdrew. "Poor man! poor
gentleman, I mean," thought he. "He seems much afflicted at having a
stuffing in the head; almost as much as at not having won yesterday's
battle. Well, well! we must each do what we can, we are but as God made
us."
Here he was joined by Giuseppe Eisenstecken, who had been drinking iced
champagne, and seemed very cheerful.
"_Sanvird_," said he, clapping his hand familiarly on Hofer's shoulder,
"what reward do you think I have hit on for my work of yesterday?"
"What reward have I thought of for myself or Speckbacher?" said Hofer.
"Our success is reward enough for us all, I think."
"Ah, basta! I have been a good adjutant to you, _Sanvird_. Without me
the day would not have been won--"
"Oh, indeed! I have yet to learn it."
"_Sanvird_, you have a daughter--"
"Three."
"Ah! Two are children--your Theresa is ... _bella, bella veramente_!"
"I have not now to learn that," said Hofer, laughing and shaking him
off; "but you had better think of something else, my lad--you and she
have nothing in common."
"Oh, I'm aware I am not common," said Giuseppe, "but any little
advantage I may have of birth--"
"Hold, there, my boy. We Hofers have been Sandwirths of repute for many
generations. Good night, now. I am very tired, and am going to bed; and
I advise you to do the same."
Eisenstecken stared, shrugged his shoulders, and walked off to the
theatre.
When the news of the victory of Berg Isel spread through the valleys,
which it did like wildfire, much rejoicing and festivity ensued. The
darling passion of the mountaineers is for music and dancing. Every
cottage has its violin or guitar; and the Tyrolese not only sing,
but have a gift of improvising verses, rough indeed, and with little
pretension to polish or harmony, but not destitute of wit and satire,
nor without occasional touches of pathos. These accomplishments were
brought into play at a national festival given in honour of the victory
of Berg Isel. The chief merit attained or aimed at, is a quickness
at repartee; each party in the impromptu dialogue striving to make
the other ridiculous. Sometimes when the cut is very unexpected, the
person assailed is bereft of presence of mind; and his or her confusion
affords abundant amusement to the audience.
Theresa, Rudolf, and Franz were all good at this pastime--Rudolf
the best, because Theresa's bashfulness often restrained her, and
Franz's satire scarcely ever rose to the value of wit. At the rustic
merry-making at _am Sand_, all three were present; and Franz, nettled
by Theresa's rejection of him, assailed her with several such stinging
impromptus, that were no impromptus at all, having been prepared
beforehand, that Theresa turned the tables on him, with a true woman's
malice, for cowardice on the day of battle, and invented such a number
of absurd reasons for his keeping out of harm's way, that hearty
laughter resounded on all sides; and Franz, smarting more than he
showed, secretly resolved to have his day of revenge.
Meanwhile, the ground was clearing for wrestlers. Almost every Tyrolese
wears a thick silver or iron ring on the little finger of the right
hand, to use in the pugilistic encounters they call _robeln_; and a
fist so armed can inflict cruel wounds. Franz, irritated by Theresa's
sarcasms, felt a burning desire to inflict some disfiguring hurt on
Rudolf; and, though rather afraid of trying his strength with him, the
evil desire predominated, and he challenged him to a match. But Rudolf
happened to have no mind for it; and as soon as Franz clearly made
out this, he never ceased pestering Rudolf, and twitting him with his
backwardness, till Rudolf, at length losing patience, told him that if
he did not desist, he would pitch him into the Passeyr.
Such a wicked expression came into Franz's face, on this, that it made
Theresa's blood run cold; and she hastily interrupted the strife by
exclaiming, "The miracle-play is just going to begin. Franz, are not
you to be the Philistine?"
The subject was David and Goliath. Rudolf was David, and Franz (on
stilts) Goliath. The subordinate parts were filled by other peasants.
Rudolf came in, driving a real donkey, supposed to be laden with the
ten cheeses for his brethren's captain; and he questioned about the
fight, and answered his brother's rebuke very effectively. Franz
mouthed the defiance to Israel extremely well, and straddled and
swaggered about like a very Goliath. The Passeyr was very handy to
represent the brook that supplied the pebbles; and Rudolf, though he
slung the stone near enough to his antagonist to make Franz swerve
his head considerably to one side, was at pains not really to hit
him. Franz did not know this, however; he thought the pebble was
slung unreasonably and maliciously close; therefore, when Rudolf ran
up to his prostrate body to make believe to sever his head with the
Sandwirth's own sword, Franz hooked his foot round his rival's ankle,
and suddenly brought him with violence to the ground. This was so
unexpected a catastrophe, that a cry, mingled with laughter, arose
from the audience. But Rudolf was not to be so baffled; he clasped his
arms strictly round his foe, who already was under him, and writhing,
struggling, and rolling, they twisted one another about till Rudolf
finally got his antagonist to the water's edge, and soused him in the
Passeyr. Whereupon there naturally ensued a clamour of laughter and
applause; and the victor was tumultuously greeted; while the drenched
giant slunk moodily out of sight.
Rudolf now triumphantly mounted the stilts, and strode round the green;
but Hofer, who had played King Saul, and who liked a joke as well as
any one, aimed a large turnip so well at the right stilt, that Rudolf
was suddenly laid prostrate. As his encumbrances effectually prevented
his rising, (the ends being seized by several little boys, and big ones
too,) he lay quite at the mercy of the public, especially of Theresa,
who sang a requiem over him, much in the style of "Who killed cock
robin?"
Who killed poor David?
Can this be he who late was seen
The pride of every village-green?
Alas, poor David!
Who fetched him down?
On lordly stilts we saw him stride
A season brief, too swollen with pride--
Alas, poor David!
Take warning, all with pride elate,
Behold this hapless youngster's fate;
A turnip vile has cracked his pate.
Alas, poor David!
It was remarked that as soon as Theresa began to sing, the prostrate
victim lay quite still; and as soon as she ceased, he declared in a
loud voice that since he was dead, he was determined to be buried.
"Four proper youths and tall" immediately stepped forward, and raised
him, stiff as a log, on their shoulders, then bore him with decent
solemnity to the dust heap.
After this deportation, Rudolf seemed to think himself exonerated from
further communication with any of his fellow-mortals, except Theresa,
with whom he was seen, by those who thought it worth while to look
after him, in earnest conversation at the dairy-door.
[Illustration]