NORTH TIROL--UNTERINNTHAL (RIGHT INN-BANK).
SCHWATZ.
The world is full of poetry unwrit;
Dew-woven nets that virgin hearts enthrall,
Darts of glad thought through infant brains that flit,
Hope and pursuit, loved bounds and fancies free--
Poor were our earth of these bereft....
Aubrey de Vere.
It is time now to return to speak of Schwatz, of which we caught a
glimpse across the river as we left Viecht; [108] and it is one of
the most interesting towns, and centres of excursions, in Tirol. It
was a morning of bright promise which first brought us there by the
early hour of 8.15. To achieve this we had had to rise betimes; it
was near the end of August, when the mid-day sun is overpowering;
yet the early mornings were very cool, and the brisk breezes came
charged with a memory of snow from the beautiful chains of mountains
whose base we were hugging. The railway station, as if it dared not
with its modern innovation invade the rural retreat of primitive
institutions, was at a considerable distance from the village, and
we had a walk of some fifteen or twenty minutes before we came within
reach of even a chance of breakfast.
My own strong desire to be brought quite within the influence of
Tirolean traditions perhaps deadened my sensations of hunger and
weariness, but it was not so with all of our party; and it was with
some dismay we began to apprehend that the research of the primitive
is not to be made without some serious sacrifice of 'le comfortable.'
Our walk across the fields at last brought us to the rapid smiling
river; and crowning the bridge, stood as usual S. John Nepomuk, his
patient martyr's face gazing on the effigy of the crucified Saviour
he is always portrayed as bearing so lovingly, seeming so sweetly
all-enduring, that no light feeling of discontent could pass him
unrestrained. Still the call for breakfast is an urgent one with
the early traveller, and there seemed small chance of appeasing
it. Near the station indeed had stood a deserted building, with
the word 'Restauration' just traceable on its mouldy walls, but we
had felt no inclination to try our luck within them; and though we
had now reached the village, we seemed no nearer a more appetising
supply. No one had got out of the train besides ourselves; not a soul
appeared by the way. A large house stood prominently on our right,
which for a moment raised our hopes, but its too close proximity
to a little church forbad us to expect it to be a hostelry, and a
scout of our party brought the intelligence that it was a hospital;
another building further on, on the left, gave promise again, because
painted all over with frescoes, which might be the mode in Schwatz
of displaying a hotel-sign; but no, it proved to be a forge, and like
the lintels marked by Morgiana's chalk, all the houses of Schwatz--as
indeed most of the houses of Tirol--were found to be covered with
sacred frescoes. At last a veritable inn appeared, and right glad
we were to enter its lowly portal and find rest, even though the air
was scented by the mouldering furniture and neighbouring cattle-shed;
though the stiff upright worm-eaten chairs made a discordant grating
on the tiled floor, and a mildewed canvas, intended to keep out flies,
completed the gloom which the smallness of the single window began.
A repeated knocking at last brought a buxom maid out of the
cow-shed, who seemed not a little amazed at our apparition. 'Had
she any coffee! coffee, at that time of day--of course not!' True,
the unpunctuality of the train, the delivery of superfluous luggage
to the care of the station-master, and our lingering by the way, had
brought us to past nine o'clock--an unprecedented hour for breakfast
in Schwatz. 'Couldn't we be content with wine? in a couple of hours
meat would be ready, as the carters came in to dine then.' Meat
and coffee at the same repast, and either at that hour, were ideas
she could not at first take in. Nevertheless, when we detailed our
needs, astonishment gave way to compassion, and she consented to
drop her incongruous propositions, and to make us happy in our own
way. Accordingly, she was soon busied in lighting a fire, running
to fetch coffee and rolls--though she did not, as happened to me in
Spain, ask us to advance the money for the commission--and very soon
appeared with a tray full of tumblers and queer old crockery. The
black beverage she at last provided consisted of a decoction of
nothing nearer coffee than roasted corn, figs, [109] or acorns; and
the rolls had the strangest resemblance to leather; but the milk and
eggs were fine samples of dairy produce, for which Schwatz is famous,
and these and the luscious fruit made up for the rest.
I remember that the poet-author of one of the most charming books
of travel, in one of the most charming countries of Europe, [110]
deprecates the habit travel-writers have of speaking too much about
their fare; and in one sense his remarks are very just. Where this
is done without purpose or art, it becomes a bore; but 'love itself
can't live on flowers;' and as, however humiliating the fact, it
is decreed that the only absolutely necessary business of man's
life is the catering for his daily bread, it becomes interesting
to the observant to study the various means by which this decree
is complied with by different races, in different localities. It is
especially noteworthy that it is just in countries made supercilious
by their culture that these matters of a lower order engross the most
attention, and just those who consider themselves the most civilized
who are the most dependent on what have been termed mere 'creature
comforts.' These poor country folks, whom the educated traveller
often passes by as unworthy of notice in their benighted ignorance
and superstition--while they would not forego their salutation of the
sacred symbol by the way-side, which marks their intimate appreciation
of truths of the highest order--put us to shame, by their indifference
to sublunary indulgences. We had come to Tirol to study their ways,
and I hope we took our lesson on this occasion, well. We were not
feasted with a sumptuous repast, such as might be found in any of the
monster hotels, now so contrived, that you may pass through all the
larger towns of Europe with such similarity to home-life everywhere,
that you might as well never have left your fireside; but we were
presented with an experience of the struggle with want; of that
hardy face-to-face meeting with the great original law of labour,
which our modern artificial life puts so completely out of sight,
that it grows to regard it as an antiquated fable, and which can only
be met amid such scenes.
The matutinal peasants were packing up their wares--which when spread
out had made a picturesque market of the main street--by the time we
again sallied forth, and we were nearly losing what is always one of
the prettiest sights in a foreign town. At the end rose the parish
church, with a stateliness for which the smallness of the village
had not prepared us; but Schwatz has a sad and eventful history to
account for the disparity.
Schwatz was once a flourishing Roman station, and even now remains are
dug out which attest its ancient prosperity; but it had fallen away to
the condition of a neglected Häusergruppe by the fourteenth century,
when suddenly came the discovery of silver veins in the surrounding
heights. A lively bull, [111] one day tearing up the soil with his
horns in a frolic, laid bare a shining vein of ore. The name of
Gertraud Kandlerin, the farm-servant who had charge of the herd to
which he belonged, and brought the joyful tidings home to Schwatz,
has been jealously preserved. From that moment Schwatz grew in
importance and prosperity; and at one time there was a population of
thirty thousand miners employed in the immediate neighbourhood. The
Fuggers and Hochstetters of Augsburg were induced to come and employ
their vast resources in working the riches of the mountains; and
native families of note, laying aside the pursuit of arms, joined in
the productive industry. Among these were the Fiegers, one of whom
was the counsellor and intimate friend of the Emperor Maximilian,
who followed his remains to their last resting-place, at Schwatz,
when he died in ripe old age, leaving fifty-seven children and
grandchildren, and money enough to enrich them all. His son Hanns
married a daughter of the Bavarian house of Pienzenau; and when he
brought her home, tradition says it was in a carriage drawn by four
thousand horses. Many names, famous in the subsequent history of the
country, such as the Tänzls, Jöchls, Tannenbergs, and Sternbachs, were
thus first raised to importance. This outpouring of riches stimulated
the people throughout the country to search for mineral treasures, and
everywhere the miners of Schwatz were in request as the most expert,
both at excavating and engineering. Nor this only within the limits
of Tirol; they had acquired such a reputation by the middle of the
sixteenth century, that many distant undertakings were committed to
them too. They were continually applied to, to direct mining operations
in the wars against the Turks in Hungary. Their countermines performed
an effective part in driving them from before Vienna in 1529; and
again, in 1739, they assisted in destroying the fortifications of
Belgrade. Clement VII. called them to search the mountains of the
Papal State in 1542; and the Dukes of Florence and Piedmont also had
recourse to their assistance about the same time. In the same way,
many knotty disputes about mining rights were sent from all parts to
be decided by the experience of Schwatz; and its abundance attracted
to it every kind of merchandise, and every new invention. One of the
earliest printing-presses was in this way set up here.
But a similarity of pursuit had established a community of interest
between the miners of Schwatz and their brethren of Saxony; and when
the Reformation broke out, its doctrines spread by this means among the
miners of Schwatz, and led at one time to a complete revolution among
them. Twice they banded together, and marched to attack the capital,
with somewhat communistic demands. Ferdinand I., and Sebastian,
Bishop of Brixen, went out to meet them on each occasion at Hall, and
on each occasion succeeded in allaying the strife by their moderate
discourse. Within the town of Schwatz, however, the innovators carried
matters with a high hand, and at one time obtained possession of half
the parish church, where they set up a Lutheran pulpit. Driven out of
this by the rest of the population, they met in a neighbouring wood,
where Joham Strauss and Christof Söll, both unfrocked monks, used to
hold forth to them.
A Franciscan, Christof von München, now came to Schwatz, to strengthen
the faith of the Catholics, and the controversy waged high between the
partisans of both sides; so high, that one day two excited disputants
carried their quarrels so far before a crowd of admiring supporters,
that at last the Lutheran exclaimed, 'If Preacher Söll does not
teach the true doctrine, may Satan take me up into the Steinjoch at
Stans!' and as he spoke, so, says the story, it befell: the astonished
people saw him carried through the air and disappear from sight! The
credit of the Lutherans fell very sensibly on the instant, and still
more some days after, when the adventurous victim came back lame and
bruised, and himself but too well convinced of his error.
Nevertheless the strife was not cured. Somewhat later, there was
an inroad of Anabaptists, under whose auspices another insurrection
arose, and for the time the flourishing mining works were brought to
a stand-still. At last the Government was obliged to interfere. The
most noisy and perverse were made to leave the country, and the
Jesuits from Hall were sent over to hold a mission, and rekindle
the Catholic teaching. Peace and order were restored: four thousand
persons were brought back to the frequentation of the sacraments; but
the Bergsegen, [112] add the traditions, which had been the occasion
of so much disunion, was never recovered. From that time forth
the mining treasures of Schwatz began to fail; and after a long and
steadily continued diminution of produce, silver ceased altogether to
be found. Copper, and the best iron of Tirol, are still got out, and
their working constitutes one of the chief industries of the place;
the copper produced is particularly fit for wire-drawing, for which
there is an establishment here. Another industry of Schwatz is a
government cigar manufactory, [113] which employs between four and
five hundred hands, chiefly women and children, who get very poorly
paid--ten or twelve francs a-week, working from five in the morning
till six in the evening, with two hours' interval in the middle of
the day. There are pottery works, which also employ many hands; and
many of the women occupy themselves in knitting woollen clothing for
the miners. The pastures of the neighbourhood are likewise a source of
rich in-comings to the town; but with all these industries together,
Schwatz is far below the level of its early prosperity. Instead of
its former crowded buildings, it now consists almost entirely of one
street; and instead of being the cynosure of foreigners from all parts,
is so little visited, that the people came to the windows to look at
the unusual sight of a party of strangers as we passed by. In place
of its early printing-press, its literary requirements are supplied by
one little humble shop, where twine, toys, and traps, form the staple,
and stationery and a small number of books are sold over and above;
and where, because we spent a couple of francs, the master thereof
seemed to think he had driven for that one day a roaring trade.
Other misfortunes, besides the declension of its 'Bergsegen,' have
broken over Schwatz. In 1611 it was visited by the plague, in 1670 by
an earthquake; but its worst disaster was in the campaign of 1809, when
the Bavarians, under the Duke of Dantzic, and the French, under Deroi,
determined to strike terror into the hearts of the country-people by
burning down the town. The most incredible cruelties are reported to
have been perpetrated on this occasion, many being such as one cannot
bear to repeat; so determined was their fury, that when the still
air refused to fan the flames, they again and again set fire to the
place at different points; and the people were shot down when they
attempted to put out the conflagration. General Wiede was quartered
in the palace of Count Tannenberg, a blind old man, with four blind
children; his misfortunes, and the laws of hospitality, might have
protected him at least from participation in the general calamity;
but no, not even the hall where the hospitable board was spread in
confidence for the unscrupulous guest, was spared. Once and again,
as the inimical hordes poured into, or were driven out of, Tirol,
Schwatz had to bear the brunt of their devastations, so that there
is little left to show what Schwatz was. The stately parish church,
however, suffered less than might have been expected: in the height of
the conflagration, when all was noise and excitement, a young Bavarian
officer, over whom sweet home lessons of piety exercised a stronger
charm than the wild instincts of the military career which were
effecting such havoc around, collected a handful of trusty followers,
and, unobserved by the general herd, succeeded in rescuing it before
great damage had been done.
The building was commenced about 1470, [114] and consecrated in
1502. What remains of the original work is in the best style of
the period; the west front is particularly noteworthy. The plan of
the building is very remarkable, consisting of a double nave, each
having its aisles, choir, and high-altar; this peculiar construction
originated in the importance of the Knappen, or miners, at the time it
was designed, and their contribution to the building fund entitling
them to this distinct division of the church between them and the
towns-people; one of the high-altars still goes by the name of the
Knappenhochaltar. The roof, like those of most churches of Tirol and
Bavaria, is of copper, and is said to consist of fifteen thousand tiles
of that metal--an offering from the neighbouring mines. The emblem
of two crossed pick-axes frequently introduced, further denotes the
connexion of the mining trade with the building. Whitewash and stucco
have done a good deal to hide its original beauties, but some fine
monuments remain. One in brass, to Hanns Dreyling the metal-founder,
date 1578, near the side ('south') door, should not be overlooked:
the design embodies a Renaissance use of Ionic columns and entablature
in connexion with mediæval symbols. Below, are seen Hanns Dreyling
himself in the dress of his craft, his three wives, and his three sons
habited as knights (showing the rise of his fortunes), all under the
protection of S. John the Baptist. Above, is portrayed the vision of
the Apocalypse, God the Father seated on His Throne, surrounded by
a rainbow, with the Book of Seven Seals, and the Lamb; at His Feet
the four Evangelists; around, the four-and-twenty elders, with their
harps, some wearing their crowns, and some stretching them out as
a humble offering before the Throne; in front kneels the Apostolic
Seer himself, gazing, and with his right hand pointing, upwards,
yet smiting his breast with the left hand, and weeping that no one
was found worthy to open the seals of the book. Below the epitaph,
the monument bears the following lines:
Mir gab Alexander Colin den Possen
Hanns Löffler hat mich gegossen.
Alexander Colin, of Malines, and Hans Löffler, were, like Hans
Dreyling, Schmelzherrn of eminence, and connected with him by marriage,
thus they naturally devoted their best talent to honour their friend
and master. We learnt to appreciate it better when we came to see
their works at Innsbruck. The nine altar-pieces are mostly by Tirolean
painters. The Assumption, on one high-altar, is by Schöpf; the Last
Supper on the other--the Knappenhochaltar--by Bauer of Augsburg.
The 'north' side door opens on to a narrow strip of grass, across
which is a Michaels-kapelle, as the chapel we so often find in
German churchyards--and where the people love to gather, and pray for
their loved and lost--is here called. It is a most beautiful little
specimen of middle-pointed, with high-pitched roof and traceried
window. A picturesque stone-arched covered exterior staircase, the
banister cornice of which represents a narrow water-trough, with
efts chasing each other in and out of it, leads to the upper chapel,
which was in some little confusion at the time of our visit, as it
was under restoration; two or three artists were in the lower chapel,
painting the images of the saints in the fresh colours the people
love. After some searching, I found out a figure of a dead Christ,
which I was curious to see; because, before coming to Schwatz, I had
been told there was one which had been dearly prized for centuries
by the people; that once on a time there had come night by night a
large toad, and had stood before the image, resting on its hinder
feet, the two front ones joined as if in token of prayer; and no
one durst disturb it, because they said it must be a suffering soul
which they saw under its form. I spoke to one of the artists about
it, to see if this was the right image, and if the legend was still
acknowledged. He answered as one who had little sympathy with the
mysteries he was employed to delineate; he evidently cared nothing
for legends, though willing to paint them for money. It was the
first time I had met with this sort of spirit in the neighbourhood,
and was not surprised to learn he was not of Tirol, but from Munich.
A door opposite the last named opens into the churchyard, filled
with the usual black and gold cast-iron crosses, and the usual
sprinkling of some of a brighter colour; each with its stoup of
holy water and weihwedel, [115] and its simple epitaph, 'Hier ruhet
in Frieden....' Besides the large crucifix, which always stands in
the centre promising redemption to the faithful departed, is a stout
round pillar of large rough stones, surmounted by a lantern cap with
five sharp points, each face glazed, and a lamp within before some
relic, always kept alight, for the people think [116] that the holy
souls come and anoint their burning wounds with the oil which piously
feeds a churchyard lamp. Twinkling fitfully amid the evening shadows,
over the graves, and over the human skulls and bones, of which there
happened fortuitously to be a heap waiting re-sepulture after some
late arrangement of the burying-ground, it disposed one to listen to
the strange tales which are told of it. There was once a Robler of
Schwatz, well-limbed, deep-chested, full of confidence and energy,
who had won the right to wear the champion feather [117] against the
whole neighbourhood. But not content to be the darling of his home,
and the pride of his valley, he must needs prove himself the best
against all comers. In fear of the shame of a reverse after all his
boasts, he resolved to ensure himself against one, by having recourse
to an act, originally designed probably as a test of possessing,
but commonly believed by the people to be a means of winning,
invincible strength of nerve, and which is described in the following
narrative. Opportunity was not lacking. Death is ever busy, and one
day laid low an old gossip, who was duly buried with all honour by her
children and children's children to the third generation. Now was the
time for our brave Robler. That first night that she rested in the
'field of peace,' he rose in the dead of the night--a dark starless
night, just as it was when we stood there--and the lamp of the shrine
resting its calm pale rays upon the graves. The great clock struck out
twelve, with a rattling of its cumbersome machinery, which sounded like
skeletons walking by in procession; our Robler quailed not, however,
but approached the new grave, scattered the earth from over it with his
spade, raised up the coffin, opened it, took out the corpse, dressed
himself in its shroud, and lifted the ghastly burden on to his strong
shoulders. Never had burden felt so heavy; it seemed to him as though
he bore the Freundsberg on his back; though sinking and quailing,
he bore it three times round the whole circuit of the enclosure,
laid it back in the coffin, and lowered the coffin into the grave;
triumphantly he showered the earth over it, and took quite a pleasure
in shaping the hillock smoothly and well. Then suddenly, to his horror,
with a click like the gripe of a skeleton, he heard the clapper of the
old clock raised to mark the completion of the hour within which his
task, to be effectual, must be accomplished. Meantime, it had come on
to rain violently, and the big drops pattered on the stones, like dead
men tramping all around him; it happened to fall heavily round us,
and the simile was so striking, I could not forbear a grim smile. It
seemed to him as if he never could dash through their midst in time;
still he made the attempt boldly, and actually succeeded in swinging
himself over the churchyard wall before the hammer had fallen,
and, what was most important, still bearing round his shoulders
the shroud of the dead. Nevertheless his heart was full of anxiety
with the thought that he had disturbed the peace of the departed;
it seemed to him as if the old gossip had run after him to claim her
own, and with her burning hand had seized the fluttering garment, and
torn a piece out of it, just as he cleared the wall. For days after,
the sexton saw the piece, torn and burnt, fluttering over her grave,
but never could make out how it got there. The Robler, however, was
now proof against every attack; no one could wear a feather in his
presence, for he was sure to overcome him, and make him renounce the
prize. What did he gain, however, by his uncannily-earned prowess? A
little temporary renown and honour, and the fear of his kind; but all
through the rest of his life, at the Wandlung [118] of the Holy Mass,
the pure white wafer, as the priest raised it aloft, seemed black to
his eyes, and when he came to die, there was no father-confessor near
to whisper absolution and peace.
A most singular legend, also attached to this spot, dates from the time
when the Jesuit Fathers held their missions after the expulsion of the
Lutherans. With the fervour of new conversion, the people ascribed to
their word the most wonderful powers; and their simple unwavering faith
seems to have been a loan of that which removes mountains. Among those
whom a spirit of penance moved to come and make a general confession
of their past lives was a lady no longer young, of blameless character,
but unmarried. The fathers, as I have already implied, enjoyed the most
unbounded confidence of the people; and the most unusual penance was
accepted in the simplest way. To this person the penance enjoined was,
that she should for three nights watch through the hour of midnight
in the church, and then come and give an account of what she had
seen. Being apparently a person of a strong mind, she was satisfied
with the assurance of the father that no harm would happen to her,
and she fulfilled her task bravely. "When she came to narrate what had
passed, she said that each night the church had been traversed by a
countless train of men, women, and children, of every age and degree,
dressed in a manner unlike anything she had seen or read of in the
past; the features of all quite unknown to her, and yet exhibiting
a certain likeness, which might lead her to believe they might be of
her own family, and all wearing an expression indescribably sad; she
was all anxiety to know what she could do for their relief, for she
felt sure it was to move her to this that they had been revealed to
her. The father told her, however, this was not at all the object of
the vision: that the train of people she had seen was an appearance
of the generations of unborn souls, who might have lived to the
eternal honour and praise of God if she had not preferred her ease
and freedom and independence to the trammels of the married state;
'for,' said he, 'your choice of condition was based on this, not on
the higher love of God, and the desire of greater perfection. Now,
therefore, reflect what profit your past life has borne to the glory
of God, and strive to make it glorify Him in some way in the future.'
The Franciscan church was built about the same time as the other,
and has some remains of the beautiful architecture of its date. Over
the credence table is a remarkable and very early painting on panel,
of the genealogy of our Lord. Within the precincts of the monastery
are some early frescoes, which I did not see; but they ought not to
be overlooked. One subject, said to be very boldly and strikingly
handled, is the commission to the Apostles to go out and preach the
Gospel to the nations.
The day was wearing on, and we had our night's lodging to provide; the
inn where we had breakfasted did not invite our confidence, despite
of the pretty Kranach's Madonna which smiled over the parlour, and
the good-natured maid who deemed it her business to wait behind our
chairs while we sipped our coffee; so we walked down the long street,
and tried our luck at one and another. There were plenty of them: and
they were easily recognized now we knew their token, for each has a
forbidden-fruit-tree painted on the wall with some subject out of the
New Testament surmounting it, to show the triumph of the Gospel over
the Fall; while the good gifts of Providence, which mine host within
is so ready to dispense, are typified by festoons of grape-vines,
surrounding the picture. Those which let out horses have also a team
cut out in a thin plate of copper, and painted proper, as heralds say,
fixed at right angles to the doorpost. Nevertheless, the interiors
were not inviting, and at more than one the bedding was all on the
roof, airing; and the solitary maid, left in charge of the house
while all the rest of the household were in the fields harvesting,
declared the impossibility of getting so many beds as we wanted ready
by the evening. Dinner at the Post having somehow indisposed us for it,
we at last put up at the Krone, which was very much like a counterpart
of our first experience. Nothing could exceed the pleasant willingness
of the people of the house; but both their accommodation and their
cleanliness was limited; and besides a repulsive look, there was
an unaccountable odour, about the beds, which made sleeping in them
impossible. My astonishment may be imagined, when on proceeding to
examine whether there were any articles of bedding that would do to
roll oneself up in on the floor, I found that the smell proceeded
from layers of apples between the mattresses, which it seems to be
the habit thus to preserve for winter use!
The rooms were large and rambling, and filled with cumbersome
furniture, some of which must, I think, have been made before the
great fire of 1809. As in all the other houses, a guitar hung on the
wall of the sitting-room; and after many coy refusals, the daughter
of the house consented to sing to it one or two melodies very modestly
and well.
You do not sleep very soundly on the floor, and by six next morning
the tingling of the Blessed Sacrament bell sufficed to rouse me
in time to see how the Schwatzers honour 'das hochwürdigste Gut,'
[119] as it passed them on its way to the sick. Two little boys in red
cassocks went first, bearing red banners and holy-water; two followed
in red and yellow, bearing a canopy over the priest, and four men
carried lanterns on long poles. The rain of the previous night had
filled the road with puddles, but along the whole way the peasants
were on their knees. To all who are afflicted with long illnesses,
it is thus carried at least every month.
The morning was bright and hot, but the ruined castle on the
neighbouring Freundsberg looked temptingly near; and we easily found
a rough but not difficult path, past a number of crazy cottages,
the inhabitants of which, however poor and hard worked, yet gave us
the cheerful Christian greeting, 'Gelobt sei Jesus Christus!' as
we passed. Near the summit the cottages cease; and after a short
stretch in the burning sun, you appreciate the shade afforded by
a tiny chapel, at the side of a crystal spring, welling up out of
the ground, its waters cleverly guided into a conduit, formed of a
hollowed tree, which supplies all the houses of the hill-side, and
perhaps accounts for their being so thickly clustered there. The last
wind of the ascent is the steepest and most slippery. The sun beat
down relentlessly, but seemed to give unfailing delight to myriads
of lizards, adders, and grasshoppers, who were darting and whirring
over the crumbling stones in the maddest way. Historians, poets, or
painters, have made some ruins so familiarly a part of the world's
life, and their grand memories of departed glories have been so often
recounted, that they seem stereotyped upon them. Time has shattered
and dismantled them, but has robbed them of nothing, for their glories
of all ages are concrete around them still. But poor Freundsberg! who
thinks of it? or of the thousand and one ruined castles which mark
the 'sky-line' of Tirol with melancholy beauty? Each has, however,
had its throb of hope and daring, and its day of triumph and mastery,
often noble, sometimes--not so often as elsewhere--base. Freundsberg
is no exception. For two hundred years before the Christian era
it was a fortress, we know: for how long before that we know not;
and then again, we know little of what befell it, till many hundred
years after, in the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries,
its lords were known as mighty men of war. It reached its highest
glory under Captain Georg, son of Ulrich and a Swabian heiress whose
vast dowry tended to raise the lustre of the house.
Georg von Freundsberg entered the career of arms in early youth,
and rose to be a general at an age when other men are making their
premières armes. At four-and-twenty he was reckoned by Charles Quint
his most efficient leader. Over the Swiss, over the Venetians, wherever
he led, he was victorious. The victory at Pavia was in great measure
due to his prowess. His personal strength is recorded in fabulous
terms; his foresight in providing for his men, and his art of governing
and attaching them, were so remarkable, that they called him their
father, and he could do with them whatever he would. They recorded
his deeds in the terms in which men speak of a hero: they said that
the strongest man might stand up against him with all his energy, and
yet with the little finger of his left hand he could throw him down;
that no matter at what fiery pace a horse might be running away, if
he but stretched his hand across the path he brought it to a stand;
that in all the Emperor's stores there was no field-piece so heavy
but he could move it with ease with one hand. They sang of him:
Georg von Freundsberg,
von grosser Sterk,
ein theurer Held;
behielt das Feld
in Streit und Krieg.
den Feind niederslieg
in aller Schlacht.
er legt Got zu die Er und Macht.' [120]
The last line would show that to a certain extent he was not untrue
to the traditions of his country; nevertheless, his success in war,
and his love for the Emperor, carried him so far away from them, that
when the siege of Rome was propounded, he not only accepted a command
in the attack on the 'Eternal City,' but raised twelve thousand men in
his Swabian and Tirolean possessions to support the charge. None who
have pondered the havoc and the horrors of that wanton and sacrilegious
siege will care to extenuate the guilt of any participator in it. It
is the blot on Georg von Freundsberg's character, and it was likewise
his last feat. He died suddenly within the twelvemonth, aged only
fifty-two, leaving his affairs in inextricable confusion, and his
estate encumbered with debts incurred in raising the troops who were
to assist in the desolation of the 'Holy City.'
His brothers--Ulrich, Bishop of Trent, and Thomas, who like himself
followed the military calling--earned a certain share of respect also;
but no subsequent member of the family was distinguished, and the
race came to an end in 1580. The castle fell into ruin; and as if a
curse rested on it, when it was used again, it was to afford cover
to the Bavarians in firing upon the people in 1809! I do not know by
what local tradition, but some motive of affection still renders the
chapel a place of pious resort; and a copy of Kranach's 'Mariähilf'
adorns the altar. The remaining tower affords a pleasing outline.
I returned to the chapel by the brook, and sat down to sketch it,
though rather too closely placed under it to view it properly; there
is always an indefinable satisfaction in making use of these places
of pious rest, which brotherly charity has provided for the unknown
wayfarer. When, after a time, I looked up from my paper, I saw sitting
outside in the sun a strange old woman, the stealthy approach of whose
shoeless feet I had not noticed. I advised her to come in and rest;
and then I asked her how she came to walk unshod over the stones of
the path, which were sharp and loose, as well as burning hot, while
she carried a pair of stout shoes in her hand. 'That doesn't hurt,'
she replied indignantly; 'it's the shoes that hurt. When you put your
foot down you know where you put it, and you take hold of the ground;
but when you have those things on, you don't know where your foot
goes, and down you go yourself. That's what happened to me on this
very path, and see what came of it.' And she bared her right arm, and
showed that it had been broken, and badly set, and now was withered
and useless--she could do no more work to support herself. I asked
her how she lived, and she did not like the question, for begging,
it seems, is forbidden. But I said it was a very hard law, and then
she grew more confidential; and after a little more talk, her wild
weird style, and her strong desire to tell my fortune, showed me
she was one of those dangerous devotees who may be considered the
camp-followers of the Christian army, whose chance of ingratiating
themselves seems greatest where the faith is brightest, and who
there work all manner of mischief, overlaying simple belief with
pagan superstition; but at the same time, such an one is generally
a very mine for the comparative mythologist, and in this individual
instance not without some excuse in her misfortunes. For, besides the
unlucky disablement already named, she had lost not only her house,
home, and belongings, but all her relations also, in a fire. It is
not surprising if so much misery had unhinged her mind. Her best
means of occupation seemed to be, when good people gave her alms,
to go to a favourite shrine, and pray for them; and I fully believe,
from her manner, that she conscientiously fulfilled such commissions,
for I did not discover anything of the hypocrite about her. Only once,
when I had been explaining what a long way I had come on purpose to see
the shrines of her country, she amused me by answering, in the most
inflated style, that however far it might be, it could not be so far
as she had come--she came from beyond mountains and seas, far, far,
ever so far--till I looked at her again, and wondered if she were a
gipsy, and was appropriating to her personal experience some of the
traditional wanderings of her race. Presently she acknowledged that
her birth-place was Seefeld, which I knew to be at no great distance
from Innsbruck, perhaps ten miles from where we stood. Yet this tone
of exaggeration may have arisen from an incapacity to take in the
idea of a greater distance than she knew of previously, rather than
from any intention to deceive; and her 'seas' were of course lakes,
which when spoken of in the German plural have not even the gender
to distinguish them.
When she had once mentioned Seefeld, she grew quite excited, and
told me no place I had come from could boast of such a marvellous
favour as God had manifested to her Seefeld. I asked her to tell me
about it. 'What! don't you know about Oswald Milser?' and I saw my
want of recognition consigned me to the regions of her profoundest
contempt. 'Don't you know about Oswald Milser, who by his pride
quenched all the benefit of his piety and his liberality to the
Church? who, when he went to make his Easter Communion one grüne
Donnerstag, [121] insisted that it should be given him in one of
the large Hosts, which the priest uses, and so distinguish him from
the people. And when the priest, afraid to offend the great man,
complied, how the weight bore him down, down into the earth;' and she
described a circle with her finger on the ground, and bowed herself
together to represent the action; 'and he clung to the altar steps,
but they gave way like wax; and he sank lower and lower, [122] till
he called to the priest to take the fearful Host back from him.' 'And
what became of him?' I asked. 'He went into the monastery of Stamms,
and lived a life of penance. But his lady was worse than he: when they
told her what had taken place, she swore she would not believe it;
"As well might you tell me," she said, and stamped her foot, "that
that withered stalk could produce a rose;" and even as she spoke,
three sweet roses burst forth from the dry branch, which had been dead
all the winter. Then the proud lady, refusing to yield to the prodigy,
rushed out of the house raving mad, and was never seen there again;
but by night you may yet hear her wailing over the mountains, for
there is no rest for her.' Her declamation and action accompanying
every detail was consummate.
I asked her if she knew no such stories of the neighbourhood of
Schwatz. She thought for a moment, and then assuming her excited
manner once more, she pointed to a neighbouring eminence. 'There was
a bird-catcher,' she said, 'who used to go out on the Goaslahn there,
following his birds; but he was quite mad about his sport, and could
not let it alone, feast day or working day. One Sunday came, and he
could not wait to hear the holy Mass. "I'll go out for an hour or
two," he said; "there'll be time for that yet." So he went wandering
through the woods, following his sport, and the hours flew away as
fast as the birds; hour by hour the church bell rang, but he always
said to himself he should be in time to catch the Mass of the next
hour. The nine o'clock Mass was past, and the clock had warned him
that it was a quarter to ten, and he had little more than time to
reach the last Mass of the day. Just as he was hesitating to pack
up his tackle, a beautiful bird, such as he had never seen before,
with a gay red head, came hopping close to his decoy birds. It was
not to be resisted. The bird-catcher could not take his eye off the
bird. "Dong!" went the bell; hop! went the bird. Which should he
follow? The bird was so very near the lime now; there must be time to
secure him, and yet reach the church, at least before the Gospel. At
last, the final stroke of the bell sounded; and at the same instant
the beautiful bird hopped on to the snare. Who could throw away so fair
a chance? Then the glorious plumage must be carefully cleansed of the
bird-lime, which had assisted the capture, and the prize secured, and
carefully stowed away at home. It would be too late for Mass then;
and the bird-catcher felt the full reproach of the course he was
tempted to pursue, nevertheless he could not resist it. On he went,
homewards; now full of buoyant joy over his luck, now cast down with
shame and sorrow over his neglected duty. He had thus proceeded a
good part of his way, before he perceived that his burden was getting
heavier and heavier; at last he could hardly get along under it. So
he set it down, and began to examine into the cause. He found that
the strange bird had swelled out so big, that it was near bursting
the bars of its cage, while from its wings issued furious sulphurous
fumes. Then he saw how he had been deceived; that the delusive form
had been sent by the Evil One, to induce him to disobey the command
of the Church. Without hesitation he flung the cursed thing from him,
and watched it, by its trail of lurid flame, rolling down the side of
the Goaslahn. But never, from that day forward, did he again venture
to ply his trade on a holy day.
'Such things had happened to others also,' she said. 'Hunters had
been similarly led astray after strange chamois; for the power of
evil had many a snare for the weak. Birds too, though we deemed
them so pretty and innocent, were, more often than we thought, the
instruments of malice.' And it struck me as she spoke, that there were
more crabbed stories of evil boding in her repertory than gentle and
holy ones. 'There is the swallow,' she instanced: 'why do swallows
always hover over nasty dirty marshy places? Don't you know that
when the Saviour was hanging on the Cross, and the earth trembled,
and the sun grew dark with horror, and all the beasts of the field
went and hid themselves for shame, only the frivolous [123] swallows
flitted about under the very shadow of the holy rood, and twittered
their love songs as on any ordinary day. Then the Saviour turned
His head and reproached the thoughtless birds; and mark my words,
never will you see a swallow perched upon anything green and fresh.'
I was sorry to part from her and her legendary store; but I was
already due at the station, to meet friends by the train. She took
my alms with glee, and then pursued her upward way barefooted, to
make some promised orisons at the Freundsberg shrine.
It was a glowing afternoon; and after crossing the unshaded bridge
and meadows, to and from the railway, I was glad to stop and rest
in a little church which stood open, near the river. It was a plain
whitewashed edifice, ornamented with more devotion than taste. When I
turned to come away, I found that the west wall was perforated with
a screen of open iron-work, on the other side of which was an airy
hospital ward. The patients could by this means beguile their weary
hours with thoughts congenial to them suggested by the Tabernacle and
the Crucifix. A curtain hung by the side, which could be drawn across
the screen at pleasure. There were not more than four or five patients
in the ward at the time, and in most instances decay of nature was the
cause of disease. There is not much illness at Schwatz; but admittance
to the simple accommodation of the hospital is easily conceded. Schwatz
formerly had two, but the larger was burnt down in 1809. The remaining
one seems amply sufficient for the needs of the place.
There was 'Benediction' in the church in the evening, for it was,
I forget what, saint's day. The church was very full, and the people
said the Rosary in common before the Office began. A great number of
the girls from the tobacco factory came in as they left work, and the
singing was unusually sweet, which surprised me, as the Schwatzers are
noted for their nasal twang and drawling accent in speaking. I learnt
that there are several Italians from Wälsch-Tirol settled here, and
they lead the choir. It is edifying to see the work-people, after their
day's toil, coming into the church as if it was more familiar to them
even than home; but one does not get used to seeing the uncovered heads
of the women, though indeed with the rich and luxuriant braids of hair
with which Nature endows them, they might be deemed 'covered' enough.
A more familiar sight to an English eye is the seat-filled area of
the German churches. Confessedly it is one of the home associations
which one least cares to see reproduced, but the pews of the German
churches are less objectionable than our own; they are lower, and
not so crowded, and ample space is always left for processions,
so they interfere far less with the architectural design.