TROUBLED WATERS.
Four men, two of whom wore the brown serge gowns of Capuchins, might
have been seen, on the fourth of June, sitting on the bank of a foaming
river, and presently rising in stilts from the pebbly bed of the river
itself, sounding their way in advance, as they crossed it, by the aid
of long poles. These were Hofer, Eisenstecken, Father Joachim, and
Father Peter, on their way to Rattenberg, where they were to meet
Hormayr, Baron Taxis, the engineer Hauser, and the chiefs of the lower
Innthal. At this time, the Inn was so swollen by recent and heavy
rains, as to be both difficult and dangerous to cross; but the bridges
had all been destroyed during the warfare, and our friends had only
this hazardous mode of fording the river.
"I'm going!" cried Father Peter, in alarm, as the running water,
flashing in the sun, dazzled his eye.
"Why, brother, didst never walk on stilts before?" cried Father
Joachim, catching him by the arm, and heartily laughing. "Shame on
you for a faint heart. Steady, steady. Don't upset _me_, though, good
brother."
"Or I may chance to get a rap on the head with that staff," muttered
Father Peter. "There! I'm out of the perilous waters at last,--the most
dangerous voyage I ever undertook."
Saying which, he scrambled out on the other bank, giving a lurch,
however, as he did so, which entangled his stilt in one of Father
Joachim's, and nearly gave him a ducking. The excellent Capuchin turned
exceedingly red, but suppressed his wrath, if he felt any, merely
observing, "Thou deservest a crack on the pate most assuredly, good
brother!"
Then, having burst into a jolly laugh, that made the hills ring again,
he suddenly stopped short, wiped his eyes, and went on, silent as
night; till at length he said to Hofer--
"A laugh is worth a zwanziger now and then. Or else, it makes my heart
sore to pass along this valley, only a few weeks ago in the highest
possible state of cultivation, and diversified with villages in the
neatest order; now presenting on every side a spectacle of ruin and
desolation."
"_Eheu_," sighed Father Peter, in response, "'_Incenderunt igni
sanctuarium tuum; in terra polluerunt nominis tui._'"
"Nevertheless, brother," rejoined Father Joachim, "_'Lætabitur justus
in Domino, et sperabit in eo, ut laudabuntur omnes recti corde;_'
which, if we interpret for the benefit of the unlearned, is as much as
to say, the righteous shall, notwithstanding, rejoice in the Lord and
put their trust in Him; and all they that are true of heart shall be
glad."
"The Bavarians may trust in their chariots and horses," said Hofer,
"but we will trust in the Lord our God."
"Ah, I wish we had some more horses, though," broke in Eisenstecken,
"for we are miserably deficient in cavalry."
"What on earth should we do with cavalry?" cried Father Joachim. "Why,
our very want of it makes us respected the more, because our successes
can only be attributed to our natural intrepidity and resolution."
"Pardon me, father; our successes can only last among the hills, we
cannot compete with the enemy in the plains."
"Never mind that," interposed Father Peter, setting aside an objection
that could not be answered. "Let them keep their plains to themselves,
as long as we have our hills."
While talking in this desultory fashion, they came up with one of those
rustic processions so common in the mountains, when the cows, having
exhausted the pastures in the valleys, are driven up the hills for
the summer. The tinkling of bells, and rustic sounds of music which
accompanied it, could be heard far off. First came the _senner_,
or milker, at the head of the cows, with ribbons of many colours
bedecking his hat and shoes, and a long staff in his hand, with which
he gesticulated in a theatrical manner. Immediately after him marched
the principal cow of a herd amounting to some hundreds, belonging
to different farmers; her head and neck were decorated with immense
garlands of the gayest flowers, interspersed with knots and streamers,
pink, blue, and yellow, and bearing a deep-toned bell suspended by an
embroidered strap. The other cows succeeded, each adorned with smaller
bells, streamers, and garlands, and quite aware of their subordinate
dignity. Then came the _galleter_, driving the heifers and calves,
and having in his charge the fetters and halters of the whole herd.
Then followed the goat-keeper, with a long train of goats; then the
_schäfer_, or shepherd, with his numerous flocks of sheep; and lastly,
the _sandirne_, or pig-driver, with his unruly herd.
When the _senner_ in advance of this procession came near enough to
be recognised, he proved to be Franz, who was a good herdsman enough,
and being never very fond of either smuggling or fighting when they
threatened much danger, was very glad to get a safe, and, in the eyes
of mountaineers, honourable, employment for the rest of the summer.
He enjoyed the pomp and circumstance of the procession amazingly,
and hardly less so the prospect of occasional long, lonely hours of
luxurious idleness which were sure to follow, when lying at full length
on thymy banks watching his charge.
Lenora had trimmed his hat and shoes with the greatest taste, helped
him to furbish up the bells, and provided him with many little
comforts. As soon as he saw he was recognised by acquaintance, his
self-importance increased ten-fold. He attitudinized, strutted,
and flourished his staff, till he made, as Giuseppe contemptuously
observed, quite an ape of himself. Hofer, pitying him more than he
deserved for the inglorious life he was going to lead, spoke a few kind
words to him, and the priests gave him their blessings.
There is, or was, a good old inn, in the quaint little old-fashioned
town of Rattenberg. In the best room of this inn, the three barons were
already awaiting the Tyrolese, and chafing a little at their not having
arrived first.
"Here they come at last," muttered Baron Hauser; "four of them, and we
have only ordered covers for six."
"Who is the fourth?" said Baron Hormayr, looking up from his papers;
"Teimer, perhaps."
"No; two Capuchins, Hofer, and a tall, swarthy youth--"
"Oh, Eisenstecken--I forgot the second Capuchin--he may be of use, but
he is not equal to Father Joachim. Well, Hofer, here at last, man!"
"The Inn was turbid, baron, and the bridges broken."
"Ha! how did you ford it?"
"On stilts."
"Ha, ha! that made you late, I suppose."
"And wet, too," said Father Joachim, shaking his gown.
"Ha, ha! Capuchins on stilts! The idea is amusing."
"I don't know what to say to that," said Father Peter bluntly, "unless
you find amusement in the discomfort of your fellow-creatures."
"Pardon, good father. Hungry men are apt to be captious, and I feared
our fish would be spoilt; here it comes,--let us hope for the best."
Father Joachim said grace, and they fed like hungry men as much as
heroes. After the dishes were removed, which was not in less than an
hour, they began to talk of business.
"We want a map," said Baron Taxis; "Hauser, have you one?"
Hauser produced a map, but it was too small, and proved to be
incorrect. Hofer eyed it with contempt.
"I can draw a better map than that," said he, dipping his finger
in his glass, and making various small slops on the table. "This is
Hobranz, and this is Kempten; here are our men of the Vorarlberg, and
here the Bavarians."
"You have made Kempten too large in proportion to Hobranz," said Baron
Hauser, superciliously.
"The position is the question, not the size," said Hofer; which was so
undeniably the case, that the baron did not reply to it.
"Well then, here is Fuessen," said Hormayr. "The men of Vorarlberg must
try to effect a junction with Teimer somewhere hereabouts; and Major
Dietrich, advancing by Ettal, will assist the communication; while you,
Taxis, will advance towards Clagenfurt; and Leinengen towards Trent.
We shall muster little short of thirty thousand men, regulars and
Tyrolese; and if this movement succeeds, my judgment is, that it will
lead to the entire liberation of the Tyrol."
The discussion lasted long; and the council broke up, animated with
sanguine hopes of success. In a few days the scheme was attempted.
Unfortunately, Martin Teimer, by some mistake, overshot his mark, and
being ignorant of the country, strayed away from the men of Vorarlberg,
and fell in with a detachment of the enemy, by whom he was nearly
made prisoner. Meanwhile, the Vorarlbergers, whose eagerness had made
them begin the fight early in the day, were disappointed of Teimer's
expected support; and only owing to their great intrepidity and
coolness, were able to retire in good order: which was all they had
to console them for not winning a brilliant victory. Count Leinengen
was threatened with bombardment in Trent, and Hormayr and Hofer were
hastening to his relief, when they learnt that the enemy had retired. A
few subsequent skirmishes in the mountains had no result of importance.
Suddenly the news reached the combatants of the decisive battle of
Wagram, one of the most brilliant fields ever won by Buonaparte, and
disastrous in its effects on the Austrian cause. All further resistance
being abandoned by the vanquished, they were glad to conclude the
armistice of Znaim, by which they agreed to evacuate the Tyrol.
Words cannot describe the trouble and indignation of the Tyrolese, when
this news, which they at first refused to believe, was fully confirmed.
Eisenstecken, and a party of his companions in arms, rushed into the
little cottage which gave Hofer temporary shelter, and passionately
implored him to be their chief, and prevent the Austrian troops from
leaving the country.
With mild and pacifying words he assured them how wrong and fruitless
this would be. They then besought him at least forcibly to detain the
Austrian ammunition, and attempt the liberation of their country
without the assistance of those who were deserting them.
Hofer demurred about the ammunition, but declared himself ready to obey
the call of his countrymen, and appointed a time and place for deciding
on what should be done. His listeners heard him joyfully, and hastened
away to spread the glad tidings; Eisenstecken not hesitating to attempt
to draw off from their allegiance as many of the Austrian privates as
he could.
Meanwhile, Hofer, summoned by Hormayr to resign his command, required
twelve hours for deliberation. Part of this interval was spent in grave
and sorrowful consultation with his fellow chiefs, and much of it in
deep and fervent prayer.
At the end of the time, "We have fought for the rights of Austria,"
said he--"we will now fight for our own."
This decision was hailed by the Tyrolese with transport. Attachment
and loyalty to the house of Austria had ever been their prominent
characteristics; they had been incited to rise by the Emperor himself,
and had fought for him faithfully and well. Deserted by him, their
independence was now at stake; and while despotism crushed the
liberties of nearly all Europe, this handful of heroic mountaineers
resolved to free themselves or perish.
The Tyrolese flocked to Hofer's standard the instant it was raised;
the Austrian troops in the Vorarlberg deserted their leaders and
enthusiastically joined the insurgents. Many of the Austrian troops
who had begun to march homewards, were persuaded by the Tyrolese to
turn back. Nearly the whole of Taxis's corps deserted him, and quietly
marched to Hofer, deaf to threats and entreaties. Hofer, who had
declared himself willing to fight under Leinengen as a simple soldier
if his countrymen preferred it, found himself unanimously elected
Commander-in-Chief.
Poor Baron Hormayr was in a pitiable state of mind; annoyed beyond
measure at the armistice, yet with every feeling of a disciplinarian
outraged by the extremely irregular conduct of the Tyrolese and the
insubordination of his own troops. Looking upon Hofer and Speckbacher
as the magicians by whom alone the storm could be quelled, he sent for
the former, and earnestly, importunately besought him to think well of
what he was about before he refused to lay down his arms.
But Hofer was immoveable. He had deliberated in great trouble on what
was right and necessary; and having besought divine direction, his
conviction was now unshaken as to the duty of maintaining the cause,
whether successfully or not. In his previous summons to Hormayr, he had
been taken by surprise, had been very irresolute, had shifted from
foot to foot, played with his pistols and sword, spoken absently, and
betrayed all the marks of vacillation. He had had time to ponder and to
pray; and now Hormayr might as well have tried to move Mount Brenner.
As for Father Joachim, he had gone off, in a fit of desperation, to his
convent at Brixen, where he shut himself up in his cell, rolled on the
ground, smote himself on the breast, and tore handfuls out of his bushy
red beard.
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