THE BRIDGE OF LADITCH.
Night had at length brought some repose to the exhausted Bavarians.
At no great distance from the gap of Brixen they had halted late in
the evening, and encamped on the bare ground in the valley below.
The green turf was their bed, a stone their pillow; nevertheless,
they had been able to enjoy a few hours of peaceful slumber, for
they were familiar with the habits of the Tyrolese; they knew that
they never undertook any thing, not even a hunting-excursion, in the
dead of night, and that they had nothing to fear from them until
sunrise.
But now the first streaks of dawn illuminated the sky; it was time,
therefore, to continue the march. Lieutenant-Colonel von Wreden rose
from the couch which the soldiers had prepared for him of moss and
branches, and reviewed, accompanied by his officers, his small
force, which began sullenly and silently to form in line. A cloud
darkened Wreden's face when, marching through the ranks, he counted
the number of his soldiers. He had arrived yesterday at the bridge
of St. Lawrence with nearly four hundred men; scarcely one-half of
them were left now; the other half lay slain at the bridge of St.
Lawrence, or, exhausted by the loss of blood and by the pains of
gaping wounds, had sunk down on the road and been unable to continue
the march.
"And these poor men will likewise be killed to-day unless speedy
succor comes," murmured the Lieutenant-Colonel to himself; "we are
all lost if the miserable rabble of peasants reach the gap of Brixen
before us. We are all lost, for we shall be entirely cut off from
our friends and surrounded by our enemies, who are able to avail
themselves of their mountain fastnesses and hiding-places, while we
must march through the valley and across the open plain. But all
these complaints are useless. We must do our duty! The soldier's
life belongs to his oath and his king; and if he falls in the
service, he has done his duty."
And with strong determination and bold courage the lieutenant-
colonel threw back his head, and fixed his eye steadfastly on his
soldiers.
"Forward," he shouted, "forward, boys! Forward against these
miserable peasants, who have violated the faith they plighted to our
king. Forward! forward!"
The column, headed by Lieutenant-Colonel von Wreden, commenced
moving. His eyes glanced anxiously over the plain now opening before
them. Suddenly they are riveted on a point yonder on the mountain-
road leading southward to Italy. What is that? Does it not flash
there like a mass of bayonets? Does it not look as though a
brilliant serpent, glittering in blue, red, and gold, were moving
along the road? It draws nearer and nearer, and the Lieutenant-
Colonel is able to distinguish its parts. Yes, these parts are
soldiers; this serpent consists of regiments marching along in
serried ranks.
Lieutenant-Colonel von Wreden uttered a cry of joy and galloped
forward. Already he discerned distinctly the uniforms of the staff-
officers riding at the bead of the column. They were friends; they
were French soldiers headed by General Bisson.
Wreden galloped forward to salute the general and communicate to him
in brief, winged words his own disaster and his apprehensions
regarding the immediate future.
"Well, you have nothing to fear now," said General Bisson, with a
pleasant and proud smile. "It was no accident, but a decree of Fate,
that caused us to meet here. I was ordered by my emperor to march
with a column of four thousand men from Mantua to Ratisbon, and I am
now on the road to the latter place. Hence, our route leads us
through the gap of Brixen, and as a matter of course you will join
us with your troops. I hope our united forces will succeed in
routing these miserable peasants!"
"Yes, if we could meet them in the open plain," sighed Lieutenant-
Colonel von Wreden. "But in their mountains and gorges our thousands
will vainly struggle against their hundreds. The bulwarks of their
mountains protect them."
"We shall drive them from these bulwarks." said General Bisson,
haughtily. "But I believe the rabble will not even wait for this,
but take to their heels as soon as they see the head of my column.
Therefore, join my regiments, lieutenant-colonel, and let us march
fearlessly through the gap of Brixen."
Half an hour afterward they had reached the dark and awe-inspiring
gap of Brixen; and the united Bavarian and French troops marched
with a measured step along the narrow road, on both sides of which
rose steep gray rocks, covered here and there with small pine
forests, and then again exhibiting their naked, moss-grown walls,
crowned above with their snowy summits glistening like burnished
silver in the morning sun.
The column under General Bisson penetrated deeper and deeper into
the gorge. Enormous rocks now closed the road in their front and
rear. A profound, awful stillness surrounded them; only here and
there they heard the rustling of a cascade falling down from the
mountains with silvery spray, and flowing finally as a murmuring
rivulet through the valley; now and then they heard also the hoarse
croaking of some bird of prey soaring in the air, otherwise, all was
still.
General Bisson, who was riding in the middle of his column, turned
smilingly to Lieutenant-Colonel Wreden "Did I not tell you, my dear
Lieutenant-Colonel ," he said, "that these miserable peasants would
take to their heels so soon as our column came in sight? They were,
perhaps, able to cope with your few hundred men, but my four
thousand men--"
The loud crash of a rifle interrupted his sentence; a second, third,
and fourth report followed in rapid succession. The heights seemed
all at once to bristle with enemies. Like an enormous man-of-war,
lying at first calm and peaceful, and then opening her port-holes,
these gray rocks seemed suddenly to open all their port-holes and
pour out death and destruction.
From the rock in front yonder, from the steep mountains on both
sides, from the precipitous hill jutting out in their rear and
closing the gloomy gorge, rifle shots rattled down with unerring
aim; every bullet hit its man, every bullet struck down a soldier in
the ranks of the Bavarians and French; then were heard the
triumphant cheers of the Tyrolese, who, for a moment, stepped forth
from their safe hiding-places, danced on the rocks, jeered at the
enemy with loud, scornful words, and disappeared again so quickly,
that the bullets which the soldiers fired at them glanced harmlessly
from the flanks of the rocks.
But the Tyrolese fought not with their rifles alone against the
enemy marching through the deep and awful gorge. Nature had prepared
other means of defence for them; it had given them trees and rocks.
They hurled the trees, which the storms had felled years ago, and
which fragments of rock had held on the brink of the precipice, into
the depth of the gorge; they detached large fragments from the
rocks, and rolled them down on the soldiers, many of whom were
crushed by these terrible missiles. And when these trees and rocks
fell into the depth, and spread death and confusion in the ranks of
the soldiers, the Tyrolese profited by this moment to aim and strike
down additional victims by their rifle-bullets.
And there was no escape for these poor soldiers, who, exposed to the
fury of their enemies, did not even enjoy the consolation of
wreaking vengeance upon them. In silent despair, and shedding tears
of rage, the French and Bavarians continued their march; the corpses
of their brethren, which the rear-guard met on the horrible road,
could not detain them; they bad to pass over them, and abstain even
from coming to the assistance of their dying friends; crushed under
their feet, the latter had to give up the ghost.
At length the gorge widens before them; the rocks in front recede on
both sides, and a bright, expansive plain opens to their view. The
soldiers greet this prospect with loud cheers of delight, which
their officers dare not repress in the name of discipline; for, on
emerging from an open grave, a soldier feels like a human being, and
thanks God for the preservation of his life. Hundreds had fallen,
but several thousands were left, and their ardent rage, their fiery
revengefulness longed for the struggle in which they might avenge
their fallen comrades. And Fate seemed intent on fulfilling their
wishes. Yonder, at the extremity of the plain through which the
soldiers were now marching; yonder, on the bank of the Eisach, was
seen a motley crowd ascending the slopes of the mountains on both
sides of the river.
"Yes, there are the Tyrolese, there are our enemies," cried the
Bavarians and French, with grim satisfaction; and they marched at
the double-quick toward the bank of the river.
"The peasants, I believe, intend to prevent us from crossing the
river," said General Bisson, with a contemptuous shrug. "They have
taken position in front of the bridge of Laditch, and so closely
that I can see nothing of it," replied Lieutenant-Colonel von
Wreden. Suddenly he uttered a cry of surprise, and looked
steadfastly toward the extremity of the valley, where the rocks
jutted out again into it, and where the furious Eisach makes a
sudden bend from one side of the valley to the other. Formerly there
had risen here, between tremendous rocks, the majestic arch of the
bridge of Laditch. For many centuries past this wonderful arch had
spanned the abyss; it was a monument dating from the era of the
ancient Romans, and Caesar himself, perhaps, had crossed this bridge
on his march against the free nations of the North. But now this
arch had disappeared, or rather its central part had been removed,
and between its two extremities yawned a terrible abyss, through
which the Eisach rushed with thundering noise.
"The Tyrolese have destroyed the bridge!" exclaimed Von Wreden, in
dismay.
"Ah, the brigands!" said Bisson, contemptuously. "It will,
therefore, be necessary for us to construct a temporary bridge in
order to get over to the other side."
Yes, the Tyrolese had destroyed the bridge of Laditch; and while a
small division of their men had quickly moved on to occupy the
Muhlbach pass, the others, under the command of Anthony Wallner, had
taken position on the opposite bank of the Eisach, in order to
prevent the enemy from crossing the river. All the men from the
neighboring village of Laditch had joined the forces of Anthony
Wallner, and on the mountains stood the sharpshooters from the
villages far and near, called out by the tocsin, and ready to
dispute every inch of the beloved soil with the enemy.
The columns of the Bavarians and French approached, and shots were
exchanged on both sides. "Forward!" shouted Anthony Wallner, and he
advanced with his brave men to the Puster valley, close to the
bridge upon which the enemy was moving up.
The bullets whistled around him, but he paid no attention to them;
he saw only the enemy, and not the dangers menacing him. But the
other Tyrolese saw them only too well. Up in the mountains they were
brave and resolute; but in the plain, where they were on equal
ground with the enemy they felt ill at ease and anxious. Moreover,
the odds of the enemy were truly formidable, not only in numbers but
also in arms. Only a part of the Tyrolese were provided with rifles
and muskets; more than half of them were armed only with flails,
pitchforks, and clubs. The soldiers had not only their muskets, but
also field-pieces, whose balls thundered now across the plain and
carried death into the ranks of the Tyrolese.
Terror and dismay seized the sharpshooters; they turned and began to
flee into the mountains. But an unexpected obstacle obstructed their
path. A number of intrepid women, who had flocked to the scene from
the neighboring villages, met them at this moment. They received the
fugitives with threatening invectives; they drove them back with
uplifted arms, with flaming eyes, with imprecations, and scornful
laughter, down the slope, regardless of the bullets whistling around
them, and of the enemy moving up closer and closer to them. The
fugitives are obliged to turn and plunge once more into the
struggle, which becomes more and more furious. Yonder, close to the
fragments of the bridge, stand the Tyrolese; here, near the
fragments on this side of the river, are the soldiers and the French
engineers advancing to construct a temporary bridge across the
chasm, and thereby unite again the disrupted ends of the ancient
Roman structure.
The fire of the Tyrolese becomes weaker; loud lamentations burst
from their ranks. They are exhausted and weary, owing to the heavy
exertions of the day; hunger and thirst torment them, and their
strength is gone.
"Give us something to eat! Give us something to drink!" they shout
to the women occupying the mountain-path in their rear up to the
solitary house, the inn Zur Eisach, which has already been hit by
many a ball from the enemy's guns.
"Courage, brethren, courage!" shouted Eliza Wallner. "I will bring
you refreshments."
And, like a gazelle, she hastens up the hillside, skipping from rock
to rock until she reaches the battered house. The bullets whistle
around her, but she laughs at them, and does not even turn to
vouchsafe a glance at the danger. She leaps on courageously; now she
reaches the house, she disappears through the door, and no sooner
has she entered than a cannonball strikes the wall right above the
door. After a very brief space of time, Eliza Wallner reappears in
the door. On her head she carries a keg, which she supports with
both her uplifted arms. With a serene glance, with rosy cheeks and
smiling lips, a charming picture of grace, loveliness, and
courageous innocence, she descends the mountain-path again, and even
the bullets of the enemy respect her; they whistle past her on both
sides, but do not hit her. Eliza hastens down the slope, and now she
reaches the bridge, and arrives where are posted the Tyrolese, who
receive the courageous girl with deafening cheers.
All at once she feels a jerk in the keg on her head, and immediately
after its contents pour in a clear cold stream down on her face and
neck. A bullet had struck the keg and passed clear through it. Eliza
bursts into merry laughter, lifts the keg with her plump, beautiful
arms from her head, and stops the two holes with both her hands, so
that the wine can no longer run out.
"Now come, boys," she shouts, in a loud, merry voice; "come and
drink, else the wine will run out. The enemy has tapped the keg; he
wished to save us the trouble. Come and drink."
"Stand back, Lizzie," shouts Panzl to her; "step behind the rock
yonder, that the bullets may not hit you."
"I shall not do it," said Eliza, with a flushed face; "I shall not
conceal myself. I am a true daughter of the Tyrol, and God will
protect me here as well as there.--Come, boys, and drink. Bring your
glasses, or rather apply your mouth to the keg and drink."
Two young Tyrolese sharpshooters hastened to her. Eliza held up the
keg; the two young men knelt before her and applied their mouths to
the holes made by the bullet, and sucked out the wine, looking with
enamoured glances up to the heroic girl who looked down on them
smilingly.
"Now you have drunk enough, go and fight again for the fatherland,"
she said, and signed to two other sharpshooters to refresh
themselves from the keg. The two young men hastened back to their
comrades, not knowing whether it was the wine or the sight of the
lovely Tyrolese girl that filled them with renewed courage and
enthusiasm.
The two other Tyrolese had drunk likewise. Suddenly another bullet
whistles along and darts past close to Eliza's cheeks, causing her
to reel for a moment. A cry of dismay burst from the lips of those
who saw it; but Eliza already smiled again, and she exclaimed, in a
merry voice: "Make haste, boys! else another bullet will come and
pierce the keg again, when the wine will run into the grass.
Therefore, make haste!"
Two other Tyrolese hastened up to drink; then two more, and so on,
until the keg was empty.
"Now you have refreshed yourselves," cried Eliza, "and you must
bravely return to the struggle."
And the Tyrolese took position on the river-bank, with redoubled
courage and enthusiasm, to prevent the French from finishing the
temporary bridge.
But the fire of the enemy thinned the ranks of the Tyrolese
fearfully; their shots became few and far between, and gradually a
regular panic seized them. They began to give way; even the scornful
cries of the women, who tried to obstruct their path, were powerless
to keep them back. They pushed the women aside, and rushed
resistlessly up the mountain-path.
At this moment loud cheers burst from the lips of the enemy. The
Tyrolese started. They looked back, and saw to their dismay that the
engineers had succeeded in finishing the temporary bridge across the
Eisach, and that nothing prevented the enemy now from passing over
to their side of the river.
"Surrender! Lay down your arms!" shouted Lieutenant-Colonel von
Wreden, on the other bank.
The Tyrolese were silent, and gazed with mute dismay upon the
bridge. All at once they heard a voice resounding on the hills above
them as it were from the clouds. This voice shouted. "The
imperialists are coming! The Austrians, our saviours, are coming!"
And at the same time a detachment of light-horse appeared on the
heights of Schaps. They galloped down the slope, and were followed
by several companies of chasseurs and infantry, who rushed down at
the double-quick.
Loud, exulting cheers burst from the lips of the Tyrolese, and found
thundering echoes in the mountains and gorges.
The French and Bavarians started, for this sudden apparition took
them completely by surprise; they had not even suspected that the
Austrians had already invaded the Tyrol. They hesitated, and did not
venture to cross the river.
This hesitation of the enemy and the arrival of the Austrians filled
the Tyrolese with transports. Some threw down their rifles to
embrace each other and swing their hats merrily, while others were
dancing with their rifles as though they were their sweethearts; and
others again sang and warbled ringing Tyrolese Jodlers. Finally,
some of them, filled with profound emotion and fervent gratitude,
sank down on their knees to thank God for this wonderful rescue and
the long-wished-for sight of the dear Austrian uniforms.
The French and Bavarians, in the mean time, thunderstruck at the
sudden arrival of the Austrians, whose numbers they were as yet
unable to ascertain, had made a retrograde movement in their first
terror. But this did not last long. "If we do not want to perish
here to the last man, we must try to force a passage," said General
Bisson. "Forward, therefore, forward!"
The troops moved, and began to march across the bridge.
But now the Austrians had come close up to them. The Tyrolese
received them with deafening shouts of "Long live the Emperor
Francis! Long live Austria!"
Then they turned once more with fervent enthusiasm toward the enemy.
"Down with the base Bavarians! Forward! forward! Down with them!"
they shouted on all sides; and the Tyrolese rushed with furious
impetuosity upon the enemy. Their scythes and flails mowed down
whole ranks, and many soldiers were soon laid prostrate by the
unerring aim of the mountain sharpshooters. Mountains of corpses
were piled up, rivers of blood flowed down into the waters of the
Eisach, and the crimson-colored waves carried down through the Tyrol
the intelligence that the struggle for the fatherland had commenced.
Nevertheless, the forces of the enemy were too numerous for the
Tyrolese and the small advanced guard of the Austrians to annihilate
them entirely. The Bavarians and French forced a passage through the
ranks of their enthusiastic enemies with the courage and wrath of
despair; hundreds of them remained dead on the bloody field, but
nearly two thousand ascended the Eisach toward Sterzing.
Anthony Wallner beckoned to his daughter, and stepped with her
behind a jutting rock. "First, Lizzie, my heroic girl, give me a
kiss," he said, encircling her with one of his arms, and pressing
her fondly to his broad breast. "You have been your father's joy and
pride to-day, and I saw that the dear little angels were protecting
you, and that the bullets for this reason whistled harmlessly around
you. Hence, you are now to render an important service to the
fatherland. I must send a messenger to Andreas Hofer, but I need the
men for fighting here; and, moreover, the enemy might easily catch
my messenger. But he will allow a Tyrolese girl like you to pass
through his lines, and will not suspect any thing wrong about her.
Now will you take my message to Andreas Hofer?"
"I will, father."
"Run, then, my daughter, run along the mountain-paths; you can climb
and leap like a chamois, and will easily get the start of the enemy,
who is marching on the long roads in the valley. Hasten toward
Sterzing. If all has passed off as agreed upon, you will find
Andreas Hofer there. Tell him now in my name that the Austrians are
coming up from Salzburg and that I have done my duty and redeemed my
pledge. Tell him further that the whole Puster valley is in
insurrection, and that we are bravely at work, and driving the
Bavarians and French from the country. But tell him also to be on
his guard, for we have not been able to annihilate the enemy
entirely, and they will soon make their appearance at Sterzing. Let
him be ready to receive the enemy there as they deserve it."
"Is that all, dearest father?"
"Yes, Lizzie, it is. Tell Andy what has happened here, and do not
forget to tell him how you brought down the keg of wine that the
boys might drink courage from it."
"No, father, I shall not tell him that. It would look as though I
thought I had done something great, and wished to be praised for it.
But now, farewell, dearest father. I will hasten to Andreas Hofer."
"Farewell, dearest Lizzie. The angels and the Holy Virgin will
protect you. I have no fears for your safety."
"Nor I either, dearest father. The good spirits of the mountain will
accompany me. Farewell!"
She kissed her hands to him, and bounded up the mountain-path with
the speed and gracefulness of a gazelle.