'TIS TIME
It was late in the afternoon of the 8th of April. The setting sun
was shedding his last red rays on the distant mountain-crests of the
Janfen and the Timbler Toch, whose blood-red summits contrasted
wonderfully with the deep azure of the clear sky. On the lower
slopes of the mountains twilight had set in; the pines, the daring
chamois of the vegetable kingdom, which had climbed up to the
highest parts of the mountains, cast the gray veil of dusk over
these lower slopes. Below, in the Passeyr valley, however, night
already prevailed, for the mountains looming up on both sides of the
valley filled it with darkness even before sundown; and only the
wild, roaring Passeyr, which rushes from the mountain through the
valley, glistened like a silver belt in the gloom. The church-bells
of the villages of St. Leonard and St. Martin, lying on both sides
of the valley, tolled a solemn curfew, awakening here and there a
low, sleepy echo; and from time to time was heard from a mountain-
peak a loud, joyous Jodler, by which a Tyrolese hunter, perhaps,
announced his speedy return to his family in the valley. The gloom
in the narrow Passeyrthal became deeper and deeper, and, like bright
glow-worms, the lights in the houses of St. Leonard and St. Martin
glistened now in the darkness.
Lights appeared not only in the valley below, but also here and
there on the mountain-slopes; and especially in the solitary house
on the knoll situated half-way between the two villages, was seen
the bright glare of many candles, and the persons passing on the
road in the valley looked up and whispered to each other: "Andreas
Hofer is at home, and, it seems, has a great many guests at his
house, for all the windows of his handsome inn are illuminated."
The solitary house on the knoll, then, belonged to Andreas Hofer. It
was the Gasthaus zum Sand, far famed throughout the Tyrol. And the
passers-by were not mistaken. Andreas Hofer was at home, and had a
great many guests at his house. On the benches of the large bar-room
sat his guests, handsome Tyrolese, with flashing eyes and animated
faces, which were all turned toward the Sandwirth, [Footnote: The
name usually given to Hofer--"Sandwirth, landlord of the inn Zum
Sand."] who was sitting on the small table yonder, and conversing in
a low tone with his friends Eisenstecken and Sieberer. All the
guests seemed excited and anxious; no one opened his mouth to utter
merry jests; none of the gay songs so popular among the Tyrolese
resounded; and the guests did not even venture to address playful
remarks to Hofer's pretty daughters, who were gliding noiselessly
through the room to fill the empty beer-glasses.
"It seems," murmured Anthony Sieberer, "that the Austrian government
has again postponed the matter, and we shall vainly look far the
arrival of the message. This new delay puts an end to the whole
movement."
"I do not think so," said Hofer, gravely, and loud enough to be
heard by all. "Do not despond, my dear friends! The Austrian
government will assuredly keep its word, for the dear brave Archduke
John promised me in the emperor's name that Austria would succor the
Tyrolese, and send troops into our country, if we would be in
readiness on the 9th of April to rise against the Bavarians. My dear
friends, do you put no confidence, then, in the word of our
excellent emperor and the good archduke, who has always loved us so
dearly?"
"No, no, we put implicit confidence in their word!" shouted the
Tyrolese, with one accord.
"The messenger will surely come, just have a little patience," added
Hofer, with a pleasant nod; "the day is not yet at an end, and until
midnight we may smoke yet many a pipe and drink many a glass of
beer.--Anna Gertrude see to it that the glasses of the guests are
always well filled."
Anna Gertrude, a fine-looking matron of thirty-six, with florid
cheeks and flashing hazel eyes, had just placed before her husband
another jug, filled with foaming beer, and she nodded now to her
Andy with a smile, showing two rows of faultless white teeth.
"I and the girls will attend to the guests," she said, "but the men
do not drink any thing. The glasses and jugs are all filled, but
they do not empty them, and--Look! who comes there?"
Andreas Hofer turned his head toward the door; then suddenly he
uttered a cry of surprise and jumped up.
"Halloo!" he exclaimed, "I believe this is the messenger whom we are
looking for." And he pointed his outstretched arm at the small, dark
form entering the room at this moment.
"It is Major Teimer," he continued, joyfully; "I suppose you know
yet our dear major of 1805?"
"Hurrah! Martin Teimer is there," shouted the Tyrolese, rising from
their seats, and hastening to the new-comer to shake hands with him
and bid him heartily welcome.
Martin Teimer thanked them warmly for this kind reception, and a
flash of sincere gratification burst from his shrewd blue eyes.
"I thought I should meet all the brave men of the Passeyr valley at
Andy's house to-night," he said, "and I therefore greet you all at
once, my dear comrades of 1805. That year was disastrous to us. but
I think the year 1809 will be a better one, and we shall regain to-
day what we lost at that time."
"Yes, we shall, as sure as there is a God," shouted the Tyrolese;
and Andreas Hofer laid his arm on Teimer's shoulder and gazed deeply
into his eyes.
"Say, Martin Teimer, are all things in readiness, and do you bring
us word to rise?"
"I do, all things are in readiness," said Teimer, solemnly. "Our
countryman, Baron von Hormayr, whom the Austrian government
appointed governor and intendant of the Austrian forces which are to
co-operate with us, sends me to Andreas Hofer, whom I am to inform
that the Austrian troops, commanded by Marquis von Chasteler and
General Hiller, will cross the Tyrolese frontier to-night."
"Hurrah, hurrah! the Austrians are coming!" shouted the Tyrolese,
jubilantly, swinging their pointed hats in the air. "The war has
broken out, the Austrians are coming, and we will expel the
Bavarians from the country!"
Andreas Hofer's face, too, was radiant with joy; but, instead of
singing and shouting, he was silent, lifted his eyes slowly to
heaven, and seized with both his hands the crucifix resting on his
breast.
"Let us pray, my friends," he said in a loud and solemn voice; "let
us thank our Lord God and our patron saint in the stillness of our
hearts."
The men paused; like Andreas Hofer, they clasped their hands, bent
their heads, and muttered fervent prayers.
After a long pause Hofer raised his head again. "And now, men,
listen to what I have to say to you," he exclaimed, cheerfully. "I
have invited you all because you are the most influential and
respectable men in this part of the country, and because the
fatherland has need of you and counts upon you and me. The
sharpshooters of the Passeyrthal told me, if war should break out, I
must be their captain; and I accepted the position because I think
that every one is in duty bound to risk his limbs and life for the
sake of the fatherland, and place himself just where he can serve it
best. But if I am to be your captain, you must all assist me to the
best of your power. We must act harmoniously, and strain every nerve
to deliver the fatherland and restore the Tyrol to our beloved
emperor."
"We are resolved to do so," shouted the men, with one accord.
"I know it full well," said Andreas Hofer, joyously. "Let us go to
work, then. and circulate throughout the Tyrol the message that the
Austrians are coming, and that it is time. Say, Teimer, did yon not
bring a written message with you?"
"Here is a letter from Hormayr," said Martin Teimer, drawing a large
sealed paper from his bosom.
Andreas took it and opened it quickly. But while he was reading it,
a slight cloud overspread his countenance, and for a moment he cast
a rapid, searching glance on Martin Teimer's bright, keen face;
however, no sooner had he met Teimer's stealthy, inquiring glance,
than he quickly turned his eyes again to the paper.
"Well," he said then, striking the paper with his right hand, "the
statements contained in this letter are entirely in accordance with
our wishes. We are to rise at once, for already tomorrow the
Austrians will have crossed our frontiers. Marquis von Chasteler
will march from Carinthia into the Puster valley; General Hiller is
moving from Salzburg toward the Lower Inn valley; the former thinks
he will reach Brixen in the course of four days; the latter says he
will be at Innspruck within the same time. I and Martin Teimer here,
who no longer keeps a tobacco-shop at Klagenfurth, but is again
Major Teimer as he was four years ago--we are to direct and manage
every thing in the Tyrol, and are intrusted with the duty of seeing
to it that the flames of the insurrection burst forth now as
speedily as possible from one end of the Tyrol to the other, and
that it shall become a conflagration that will burn up all Frenchmen
and Bavarians, or compel them to escape from the country. Assist us,
then, my men, in spreading the news over the mountains and through
the valleys, that all may rise and participate in the great work of
deliverance. Every able-bodied man is to shoulder his rifle, and the
women and children are to carry, from house to house, little balls
of paper on which are written the words: ''Tis time!' as we have
agreed at our meetings. And now, in compliance with the promise I
gave Hormayr in Vienna, I will issue a circular to all our friends
that they may know what to do under these circumstances. Is there
among you any one who can write well and correctly, and to whom I
may dictate? for my own handwriting is none of the best, and
although what I write may be thought correctly, it is not spelled as
learned men tell us it should be. If there is among you one who can
write nicely and correctly what I wish to dictate, let him come
forward."
"I can do it," said a young man, stepping forward.
"It is Joseph Ennemoser, son of John Ennemoser, the Seewirth," said
Andreas Hofer, smiling. "Yes, I believe you are a good scribe; you
have become quite a scholar and an aristocratic gentleman, and are
studying medicine at the University of Innspruck."
"For all that, I have remained an honest mountaineer; and as for my
studies, I will not think of them until we have delivered the Tyrol
from the Bavarian yoke. I shall keep only my pen, and act as Andreas
Hofer's obedient secretary." [Footnote: Joseph Ennemoser, son of
John Ennemoser, the tailor and Seewirth of the Passeyrthal, was a
shepherd in his boyhood. His father sent him to the gymnasium of
Innsbruck, and afterward to the university of the same city, where
he studied medicine. In 1809 he was Hofer's secretary. Afterward he
became a celebrated professor of medicine at the University of
Bonn.]
"Sit down, then, my boy, and write. You will find pen and ink in
the drawer of yonder table. Take them, and I will dictate to you."
And amidst the respectful silence of the men, walking up and down
slowly, and stroking his long beard with his right hand, Andreas
Hofer commenced dictating his "open order," which was as follows:
"Early in the morning of the 9th of April General Hiller will march
from Salzburg to the Lower Inn valley, and General yon Chasteler
from Carinthia to the Puster valley. On the 11th or 12th of April
the former will arrive at Innsbruck, and the latter at Brixen. The
Archduke John orders that the Muhlbach pass be occupied by peasants
from the Puster valley, and the Kuntersweg by mounted men. They are
to allow all forces of the enemy marching from Botzen to Brixen to
pass, and will cut off all communications only so soon as they
discover that the Bavarian civilians and soldiers are trying to
escape from Brixen to Botzen. Not a man must be allowed to pass
then."
While Andreas Hofer was dictating his "open order" with a firm and
thoughtful air, the peasants stood dumfounded with admiration,
staring at him with a feeling of awe, and delighted with his
sagacity and understanding. That Hofer cast from time to time a
searching glance at Hormayr's letter did not disturb the admiration
they felt for their chosen leader, and they were silent and stared
at him long after he was through.
"So," said Andreas when the writing was finished, "now Martin Teimer
and I will affix our names to this open order; Ennemoser will then
copy it half a dozen times, and six of you will carry the copies to
the other leaders who are already waiting for them, and who will
give the signal to their friends in the lower valley. You, George
Lanthaler, will carry the order to Joseph Speckbacher at Kufstein;
you, Joseph Gufler, will take it to the farmer at the Schildhof;
you, George Steinhauferle, will go to Anthony Wallner, the
Aichberger at Windisch-Matrey. Quick, quick, my friends, we have no
time to lose; you must walk night and day; you cannot rest on the
road, for we must strike the blow with lightning speed, and it must
be done at the same time all over the country."
"And I will likewise set out again to spread the news throughout the
country," said Martin Teimer. "For two weeks past I have been in all
parts of the Tyrol, and have worked everywhere for our cause, and
know now that we may count upon all our countrymen. They are waiting
for the signal, and we must give it to them. Here, take this
package; it contains a large number of those little paper balls upon
which are written the words ''Tis time!' Each of you can take a
handful of them and give them to your wives and children, that they
may carry them to the neighbors and distribute them everywhere.
Speckbacher and Wallner, too, have packages of such paper balls, and
so soon as our faithful messengers bring them our `open order,' they
will likewise send around their wives and children through the
neighborhood; and everywhere the cry will be, ''Tis time!' We must
expel the Bavarians! I will go now, for I must concentrate my men in
order to prevent the Bavarians from crossing the bridge of Laditch.
Farewell, then, and God grant that we may all meet again before long
as free and happy men at our good city of Innspruck!"
"We must go too," exclaimed the Tyrolese when Martin Teimer had left
the house as quickly as he had entered it. "We must go into the
mountains and inform our friends that it is time."
"But go through the kitchen, my dear messengers," said Andreas
Hofer; "there is a bag of flour for each of you; take it on your
back, and on passing during your march a rivulet or a mountain
torrent, throw some of the flour into it; and wherever you find dry
brushwood on the road, pile it up and kindle it, that the bale-fires
may proclaim to the country, ''Tis time!"
Half an hour afterward the large bar-room was deserted, and profound
silence reigned in the inn Zum Sand. The servants and children of
the Sandwirth had gone to bed; only he himself and his faithful
wife, Anna Gertrude, were yet up. Both had retired into the small
sitting-room adjoining the barroom. Andreas Hofer was walking up and
down there silently and thoughtfully, his hands folded on his back;
Gertrude sat in the leather-covered arm-chair at the stove, and
looked at her husband. Every thing was still around them; only the
slow, regular ticking of the clock broke the profound silence, and
outside was to be heard the wild roaring of the Passeyr, which
hurled its furious foaming waters not far from the inn over pebbles
and fragments of rocks.
Finally, after a long pause, Andreas stood still in front of his
wife, and gazed at her with a long, searching, and tender look.
Gertrude, as if lifted up by this glance, rose, encircled his neck
quickly with her arms, and looked with an expression of terror and
anxiety into his face.
"Andy," she exclaimed, mournfully, "my own, dearest Andy, I am
afraid harm will befall you!"
"That is what I expect," he said, sighing, "and I am sorry for you,
my dearest wife. I was just speaking with God and my conscience, and
asking them so fervently if it was not wrong in me not to think
above all things of my dear wife and my beloved children, and if I
ought not to live and die only for them. For I tell you, and I know,
what I am going to do is dangerous, and may easily cost my life. I
do not blind my eyes to it; I may lose my life in either of two
ways. A bullet may strike me in battle; or, if my life should be
spared in the struggle, and if we should be defeated, the Bavarians
would treat me as a traitor; and then a bullet would strike me also,
for they would shoot me."
"Oh, Jesus Maria! my Andy," cried Gertrude, taking Hofer's head in
her hands, as if to protect it from the murderous bullets.
"I do not say that this will occur; I say only that it may occur,"
said Andreas, with a gentle smile. "I wish to tell you only that I
am fully alive to the dangers threatening me when I step to-morrow
morning out of my street-door, and enter upon the duties of the
position which they have conferred on me; for I am to command the
peasants of the Passeyr valley and direct the insurrection in all
this part of the country. Therefore, I asked God and my conscience
whether or not I did right in taking upon myself so responsible a
task, and plunging my family, perhaps, into grief and distress. But
do you know what both of them replied to me? They said: 'It is your
duty to love your wife and your children; but you must also love
your emperor and your country; and when the latter call you and say,
"Come, we need your arm and assistance," you must, as an honest man,
obey the call, go to them, and leave your family; for to love the
fatherland is every man's highest honor, and to be loyal and devoted
to the emperor is the first duty of every Tyrolese.' God and my
conscience spoke to me thus in my breast, and now I ask you too,
dear wife--I ask you before God and your conscience--would you like
your husband not to obey the emperor's call, but stay at home, while
his brave brethren and friends are taking the field to defend the
country and expel the Bavarians?"
"No, indeed, Andy, I would not," cried Gertrude, in dismay; "I
should never dare again to lift my eyes before anybody; I should not
even venture to pray to the Holy Virgin and to God, for, as both
gave up their divine Son, so an honest woman must give up her
husband for the sake of the fatherland."
Andreas laid his hand on his wife's head as if to bless her. "It is
as you say, Gertrude," he said, solemnly. "For the sake of the
fatherland and the emperor you must give up your husband and your
children their father; and we are not allowed to shut our ears in
order not to hear that the dear Tyrol and the good Emperor Francis
have called me. I have heard the call, and must obey it. I shall do
so joyously and readily, and yet my heart grieves, and there is in
my breast here something telling me that our happiness is at an end,
that our sun has set, and--Gertrude, I am not ashamed of it--I
weep!"
He leaned his head against his wife's shoulder, and, folding her to
his heart, sobbed aloud. But this lasted only a short time; then be
raised himself again, and drew his hand quickly across his eyes.
"There," he said, "it is all over now. I wept as a good Christian is
surely allowed to do when he takes leave of his wife and his
children, and gives them up for the sake of his country. Did not
Abraham weep too, and beg God for mercy, when he was to sacrifice
his son to the Almighty? But he nevertheless was ready to make the
sacrifice. And, like Abraham, I have wept and lamented now, but I
shall make the sacrifice. Here I am, my God," he added, lifting his
eyes and hands to Heaven; "here I am, for Thou hast called me. Do
with me as thou deemest best. I am nothing but Thy faithful servant;
but if Thou wishest to use me for Thy great purposes, do so! I offer
Thee my arms, my body, and my life! Take them!"
"But thou, Holy Virgin," murmured Gertrude, "and thou Saint George,
our patron saint, stretch out your arms over him graciously and
protect my Andy. Bear in mind that he is my most precious treasure
on earth! Preserve my dear husband to me, and to my children the
father whom they love so ardently!"
"Amen!" exclaimed Andreas. "And now, dearest wife, come and give me
a kiss, a parting kiss!"
"You do not intend to set out this very night?" asked Gertrude,
anxiously.
"No, Gertrude, but still it is a parting kiss. For henceforth I must
become another man--a hard man, who will no longer think of his
family, but only of the fatherland and the emperor. I wept a few
minutes ago as a good father and husband, but now I must become as
hard as a good soldier ought to be. Until the Bavarians have been
expelled from the country, I shall no longer think of you and the
children, but shall be only a brave and intrepid soldier of my lord
and emperor, and the commander of the Passeyr militia. Kiss me,
therefore, a last time, Anna Gertrude! There! Give me another kiss!
Who knows but it may be the last time you will ever kiss me, dear
Gertrude? And here is still another kiss for our girls. Now it is
enough. Go to bed now, Gertrude, and pray for me."
"You will not go to bed, Andy?" asked Gertrude, anxiously.
"No, I will not, Anna Gertrude. I have business to attend to in the
yard with Joe, our laborer. We will kill the brindled cow."
"What? This very night?"
"This very night. We need the blood and meat. We shall pour the
blood into the Passeyr, and you will see tomorrow that we need the
meat, for I believe we shall have a great many guests in the
morning."
Andreas Hofer's prophecy was fulfilled. Already early in the morning
a great many men assembled in front of the inn Zum Sand. They were
the sharpshooters of the Passeyr valley, who were flocking from all
parts of the district to Hofer's house to report to the beloved
commander of Passeyr. They came down from the mountains and up from
the valleys. They wore their holiday dresses, and their yellow
Sunday hats were decorated with bouquets of rosemary and handsome
ribbons. They were merry and in the best of spirits, as if they were
going to the dance; only instead of their rosy-cheeked girls, they
held their trusty rifles in their arms. Nevertheless, they smacked
their lips, uttered loud exclamations of joy, and shouted as merrily
as larks--"'Tis time! The Bavarians must leave the country! Long
live the emperor! Long live the Archduke John!"
And echo seemed to answer, "The Bavarians must leave the country!"
But it was not echo that had repeated these words. They proceeded
from the throats of merry men, and a gay procession descended now
from the mountain-path. It consisted of the sharpshooters and
peasants of Meran and Algund, who were marching up in the beautiful
costumes of the Adige valley. Oh, how their eyes flashed, and the
rifles in their arms also. And with what jubilant Jodlers the men of
Passeyr received their dear friends from Algund and Meran.
All at once every sound was hushed, for in the door of the inn
appeared Andreas Hofer, looking like a king in his handsome holiday
attire; his good-natured, honest face gleamed with joy, and his
glance was mild and clear, and yet so firm and commanding. His whole
bearing breathed calm dignity, and it seemed to the men of Passeyr
as though the morning sun which illuminated his face surrounded his
head with a golden halo. They stood aside with timid reverence and
awe. Hofer advanced into the middle of the circle which the men of
Passeyr, Meran, and Algund formed around him. He then looked around
and greeted the men on all sides with a smile, a pleasant nod, and a
wave of his hand.
"My friends," he exclaimed in a loud voice, "the day has come when
we must expel the Bavarians from the country and restore the Tyrol
to the Austrians. 'Tis time! The Bavarians have amply deserved such
treatment at our hands, for they have sorely oppressed us. When you
had finished a wooden image, could you carry it to Vienna and sell
it? No, you could not! Is that freedom? You are Tyrolese; at least
your fathers called themselves so; now you are to call yourselves
Bavarians. And, moreover, our ancient castle of Tyrol in the Passeyr
valley was not spared! Are you satisfied with this? If you harvest
three blades of corn, the government claims two of them; is that
happiness and prosperity? But there is a Providence and there are
angels; and it was revealed to me that if we resolved to avenge our
wrongs, God and St. George, our patron saint, would help us. Up,
then, against the Bavarians! Tear the villains with your teeth while
they stand; but when they kneel down and pray, give them quarter. Up
against the Bavarians! 'Tis time!"
"Up against the Bavarians! 'tis time!" shouted all the brave men,
enthusiastically; and the mountain echoes answered: "Up against the
Bavarians! 'tis time!"
And the blood-red waters of the Passeyr carried down into the valley
the message: "Up against the Bavarians! 'tis time!"