SOME TOWNS AND VILLAGES OF SOUTH TYROL--MERAN, BOZEN,
KLAUSEN, BRIXEN, SPINGES, STERZING, MATREI
[Sidenote: MERAN]
So many pens have described and praised Meran, the ancient capital of
Tyrol, that there must be few adjectives of appreciation left
unapplied to it. Many poets have also sung of this beautifully
situated little town of some 8000 inhabitants which once played so
important a part in Tyrolese history, and nowadays has developed into
a fashionable health resort.
It has by turns been called "the Jewel of South Tyrol," "Tyrol's sweet
Paradise," and in one of the visitor's books "A Paradise of God's
making and man's improving"! Artists love it, and therefore it goes
without saying that Meran is both beautiful and picturesque. From
whatever side one approaches the town, whether by the more usual route
from the West via Innsbruck, and then by the little branch line of the
Brenner railway from Bozen; from the south through Verona; from the
north by way of Munich and Innsbruck,--one is at once struck by its
wonderfully favoured situation amid vineyards, orchards and rich
pasture land, set in a wide valley surrounded by beautiful mountain
ranges, and watered by the Passer River.
It is, indeed, a charming spot in which to either rest--as so many
do--or from which to make excursions so varied in character, that they
may suit all tastes.
[Illustration: WINTER NEAR MERAN]
The first view of the town, with its spires, huge hotels,
white-walled houses and villas, and the ruins of Castle Tyrol set high
on the north-western and vine-clad slope of the Kuchelberg, is one of
great beauty. On the lower hillsides are chestnut groves and pine
woods; and many of the villas and houses of the town itself appear
amid them as though embowered in green.
The railway from Bozen traverses the picturesque Etsch Valley, which
is dotted with orchards, and follows the course of the Etsch to where
it joins the Passer about three-quarters of a mile from Meran.
The architecture of the town, as is the case with most places of any
size in South Tyrol, is distinctly Italian in general characteristics.
In fact, one of the things which makes Tyrol, as a whole, of unusual
interest to students and artists is the variety of the domestic
architecture found within its borders. Although there are many quaint
corners and delightful byways in Meran, there is really only one
important business thoroughfare, running almost due east and west and
of considerable length, with arcaded shops known as "Unter den Lauben"
(in the shade). It is probably because it has this aspect that one of
the sunniest streets we have ever been in has been so amply provided
with shady arcades; and in summer the latter can be appreciated to the
full. In the season the long street is at times crowded with
foreigners from England, Germany, Italy, and America, and has a busy
and cosmopolitan air somewhat out of character with its general
old-world look.
Just off this interesting thoroughfare stands the Burg, or, to give it
its fuller and ancient name, the Landesfürstliche Burg, in ancient
times the town residence of the Counts of Tyrol. Retired as it is in
the courtyard of the Magistrats Gebäude it is often overlooked by the
passing tourist, although of great antiquarian and historical
interest. Dating from the fifteenth century, the building has been
admirably and sympathetically restored, and is a treasure-house of
fine old furniture and _bric-a-brac_. There are also some interesting
frescoes and coats-of-arms of former owners and inhabitants. It is,
perhaps, difficult to realize that amongst the latter in the middle of
the fifteenth century was a Scottish princess. But it was to the Burg
that Sigismund, son of Duke Frederick of the Empty Purse, brought his
bride Eleonora, daughter of James I. of Scotland, over the Brenner and
via Bozen, to the house and home he had prepared for her reception.
From Bozen onwards, we are told, the young couple's progress was
marked by rejoicings and enthusiasm as they passed from castle to
castle, until at last they came, in due time, to the then capital of
Tyrol. Eleonora's ultimate popularity with the Tyrolese was, perhaps,
even more owing to her skill in the chase than to her intellectual
gifts, although the latter were very remarkable for a woman of that
period. The translator of "The Book of Celebrated Women," by
Boccaccio, waxes very enthusiastic over her, and he is by no means the
only writer of the period who has left on record a tribute to the
Archduchess' high mental and physical qualities. That Eleonora was of
a scholarly disposition and gifted with "tongues" is proved by her
translation of a French Romance of the period, "Pontus and Sidoni,"
into German. It is now a rare book, although copies are occasionally
found, and it would appear to have had a considerable vogue at the
time it was published. It was printed at Augsburg. In the preface one
gathers that the translation was done by the noble authoress to
"please his Serene Highness and Lord Sigismund, Archduke of Austria,
her lawful husband."
In this charming old palace, set back from the hum and bustle of the
street, Sigismund and Eleonora dwelt for some years, happy in the
pursuit of learning, the enjoyment of sport, and in the affection of
the townsfolk.
In the Burg it is possible to obtain a very good conception of what a
mediæval nobleman's house really was like, for not only have many
interesting specimens of furniture, presses, chairs and other fittings
been preserved, but also household utensils, and other articles of
common use.
There are, in the byways and courtyards of the main street, several
other most interesting houses dating from the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, which will repay the attention of students of
architecture. And may we add the ubiquitous "Kodaker"?
One of the most enduring impressions Meran leaves upon the mind is
that of being in the true sense "a garden city." No other place of the
size in Tyrol possesses so many beautiful and tree-shaded promenades,
walks and gardens. But the notice "smoking strictly prohibited" which
stares one in the face in the charming Gisela Promenade with its old
and feathery poplar trees fringing the bank of the Passer, and in
other similar resorts, is probably a regulation distasteful to many.
Of "gartens" and cafés there is no lack. On the left bank of the river
is the pleasant Maria-Valerie Garten, where--as is the case with other
similar places--an excellent band frequently plays. Of the cafés at
least the Café Gilf should be visited, on account of its beautiful
vegetation and fine view of the Passer gorge and surrounding mountain
slopes which one obtains from the "look out."
[Sidenote: MERAN HERO PLAYS]
To many visitors the Hero Plays, which, for the last fifteen years,
have been performed annually, in the spring and generally in the
autumn, with scenes from the lives of the famous son of the Passer
Valley, Andreas Hofer, and his companions for the chief incidents,
will prove of great interest. The plays, which include"Tiroler-helden"
and one produced for the first time in August, 1901, entitled
"Frederick of the Empty Purse," are acted entirely by peasants.
Many are acquainted with the fine dramatic gifts of the Bavarian
peasantry which have found expression in the plays at Ober-Ammergau;
but those of the Tyrolese are less well-known and less widely
recognized. Any one, however, who has seen one of the Meran "Hofer"
dramas will probably agree with us that it was well worth seeing, and
that the dramatic art displayed was not less praiseworthy than that of
the more famous performances at Ober-Ammergau.
The plays are given outdoors in a large meadow on a huge stage, and
with natural scenery formed by a large chalet (with a bell turret
above the central gable) and other smaller buildings on either side,
with the hill slopes in the background, the stage being the street in
front of the chalet, and the "wings" the side streets. The field is
generally--especially for the autumn performances--boarded, and there
are a limited number of covered-in boxes facing the stage for the use
of those who prefer to be sheltered from the sun, which on fine days
is somewhat trying in its intensity, as, of course, no sunshades or
umbrellas are permitted. The natural beauties of the valley behind
form an appropriate and altogether charming "back-cloth" for the
scenery, which represents a portion of a Tyrol village with real
buildings. The most popular of the plays with the inhabitants of Meran
and the Tyrolese generally are undoubtedly those dealing with the
period of national history when their country was engaged in its
desperate struggle to free itself from the French and Bavarian
invaders.
The acting is always excellent, and distinguished by that spontaneity
which seems so frequently to characterize outdoor representations. The
naturalness which also distinguishes the performances is probably
largely attributable to the fact that the actors have most of them
been not only well acquainted with the incidents they pourtray since
childhood, but are also in the main representing scenes and using
language of everyday life; and are not engaged in attempting to
interpret scenes and incidents in which they have no personal
interest, or of which they have only gained a knowledge by close and
tiresome study.
[Sidenote: OLD-TIME COSTUMES]
To the artist the stage management, which is remarkably good, and the
delightful blending of the ancient costumes in charming tableaux and
schemes of colour will make a special appeal.
The plays not only add an undoubted and additional attraction to the
quaint and charming town, but also are deserving of the highest praise
from an artistic and dramatic point of view.
Naturally Meran is over-full at the times of representation, so the
wise traveller books his rooms in advance, unless he wishes (as many
have done before now) to "sleep at the hotel of the beautiful star,"
which in plain English means in the open air, and on the ground.
We have just mentioned the costumes which appear in the plays. At
Meran the old costumes (though alas! they are being slowly but surely
superseded) have been preserved to a larger extent than in almost any
other place we know in Tyrol. The women's dress is undeniably
picturesque, just as it is markedly German in general character. Hats
are seldom worn, the hair is plainly and extremely neatly dressed,
brushed back off the brow, and secured in a simple knot behind by
means of a silver or silver-headed pin. The bodices are of velvet or
cloth, of the "corselet" type seen in Switzerland and many parts of
Germany as well as in Tyrol; and they are worn over a white chemisette
with puffed sleeves, which end just above the elbow and are generally
there confined by "ties" of coloured ribbon.
The men's costume is scarcely less picturesque, consisting as it does
of a high-crowned hat of felt or cloth, bound round with numerous
bands of thin red or green cord, the first colour denoting a man is
married (a useful danger signal for unwary spinsters!), and the second
denoting a bachelor, eligible or otherwise. The jacket is usually of
brown or blackish brown cloth; cloth knee breeches (we have seen
buckskin on some of the "granfers") with wide red or green braces, and
sometimes an embroidered waistcoat, completes the costume. One other
feature is almost sure to strike the observer, the white aprons which
so many of the men wear when engaged in work. On festive occasions
silver belts are worn by some of the men in the surrounding valleys,
though we fancy these are considerably less common now than they were
even ten years ago.
The variations of dress in the different valleys of Tyrol have been
ascribed by a well-known writer upon the subject as rising from the
circumstance that peasant costumes are very largely belated fashions
of the town; which, obtained perhaps three or even four generations or
longer ago, have in time come, by all save students of the subject, to
be looked upon erroneously as a mode of dress evolved by the peasant
wearers themselves. What in all probability really happened in many
cases was, some visitors to the towns when in need of fresh clothes
bought town-made and then fashionable garments which were copied by
neighbours (as do villagers in England at the present time), and thus
perpetuated from generation to generation, and not discarded until
some fresh sartorial idea percolated its way slowly and in much the
same manner to the often remote regions of these Tyrolese valleys and
upper pastures.
On the occasion of the "Hofer" celebrations or "Hero" plays one even
nowadays sees a most interesting variety of costumes in Meran,
although the differences are not so marked as in former times, and
appear rather in small details than in immediately apparent
variations.
[Illustration: MERAN]
[Sidenote: IN THE VINEYARDS]
Amongst the many "Cures" of the Continental Spas and invalid resorts
Meran possesses a unique one in the "Grape Cure." Nowhere in Tyrol can
the interesting harvesting of the grapes be better seen than at Meran.
The vineyards, for one thing, are more picturesque than in many
places, by reason of the practice of largely training the vines over
trellis work or rustic pergolas. In some vineyards these form perfect
covered walks or arcades of delightful green, through which the sun
filters to glint upon the purple and green-gold bunches of grapes
hanging in profusion on either hand and above one's head. But, as may
be imagined, the casual visitor does not have the freedom of the
vineyards on the hillsides when once the grapes are ripening off. Then
the gates, some of them adorned with rows of formidable-looking spikes
and hooks with a great and persistent affinity for clothing, are
closely shut against all intruders, and, in addition, that curious
individual the Saltner, whose name is probably derived from the Latin
word meaning forester, and hence guardian of lands of all kinds, is
placed on guard. His costume is such as to bring alarm not only to the
birds but even to human beings. Tyrolese children we believe have been
brought up to regard the Saltner as a type of "Bogey Man" of a very
efficient character. Usually he wears buckskin breeches or leggings, a
broad belt in which there shines a whole armoury of weapons of a
miscellaneous character comprising old pattern pistols, knives, and
sometimes a "horse" pistol of dimensions almost entitling it to be
spoken of as a gun. In his cap, which is of an uncommon shape, are
such a collection of feathers, martens' tails, plumes, and odds and
ends of ribbon as to cause it to resemble nothing so much as the
head-dress of a Sioux Indian.
Notwithstanding this "terrific" personage, it is not very difficult
with the expenditure of a few kreutzers to obtain permission to enter
a vineyard in process of harvesting. The labour employed is chiefly
that of women and girls, who, armed with sharp sickles or large knives
with heavy and curved blades, stand beneath the trellises and hold a
wooden tray in one hand beneath the bunch to be severed. One skilled
sweep of the sickle and the latter falls into the tray with a minimum
of damage to the luscious fruit.
Here and there along the paths are wooden tubs into which the trays
are emptied from time to time. And these tubs again are borne away by
men to the huge vats or tubs bound with iron, which are slung to a
framework or trolley on wheels to which oxen are harnessed, and by
them brought to the nearest convenient point in the vineyard. Then
when the vats are full almost to the brim, two men take up their
positions beside them, and proceed to crush and pound the grapes,
stems and all, into a dark-red, uninviting-looking mess with
long-handled, heavy wooden hammers. In many Italian vineyards it is
still the custom to "tread" the juice out, a practice which is far
less cleanly and hygienic (though it is said more thorough and
economical) than the Meran method. After the juice is all expressed it
is set aside to ferment, and the other processes of wine making are
afterwards gone through.
The famous grape cure consists apparently of eating as much of the
fruit as one possibly can. Many doctors affirm that no particular
benefit is derived or can be hoped for unless upwards of two pounds of
fruit is consumed daily, the maximum quantity desirable being nine
pounds! Immense as this may seem, we have been assured that some
"patients" have considerably exceeded this amount.
Perhaps the grape cure is so popular because, for one thing, to eat a
reasonable quantity of fully ripe and freshly gathered fruit is by no
means a disagreeable task for most people, and because it can be taken
anywhere.
In the cafés one sees crowds undergoing the cure; on the numerous and
shady seats of the Gisela Promenade one sees folks eating grapes. And
practically in every street and alley, and along the mountain paths in
the vicinity of Meran one meets people with brown-paper bags, or if
taking the cure very seriously with little baskets, all eating grapes
as though their future well-being depended upon the quantity they
could consume in a given time. The "old stagers" generally divide
their daily quantity into two or three portions; taking one early in
the morning before "Halbmittag," the second about mid-day, and the
third at sundown.
To its many other attractions Meran has added for the holiday maker
that of a good band, which performs during the season really most
excellent music in front of the Kurhaus, or in one or other of the
public gardens at Obermais. The Kurhaus, with its sheltered
Wandelhalle or promenade, naturally forms the pivot upon which the
more social side of the daily life of Meran turns. Here one meets not
only the invalid, but the traveller from all parts of the Continent;
and in the Kurhaus gardens one finds also those "birds of passage,"
who alight for a time on their way further north or south.
[Sidenote: SPORTS AND PASTIMES]
The Sports Platz is one of the best in Tyrol. On it are held tennis
tournaments, cycle races (less than formerly), trotting events, and
horse races; whilst in the winter months the centre is converted into
an excellent skating lake. The races are largely attended by Italians
as well as natives, and at the larger meetings there is generally some
event of interest and importance from a sportsman's point of view.
A big race day at Meran has many of the social and picturesque
elements of the smaller events at Chantilly. The ladies don their best
toilettes, and the beautiful surroundings and brilliant sunshine all
go to make a picture of great charm and animation.
On the outskirts and in the immediate neighbourhood of Meran are so
many ancient castles that the town might well be called the "city of
castles." Just outside the Papist Gate is the half-ruined Schloss
Zenoburg, standing on a precipitous rock; whilst prettily situated at
Obermais stands Schloss Rubein with a famous avenue of cypresses.
Along the picturesque Bozen road is Schloss Katzenstein; which, seen
across the fields from the hillside, looks like a grim outpost
guarding the valley.
Then there are also the Schloss Gojen, with its environment of shady
and odorous pine forests, and background of snow-capped mountains;
Schloss Vorst, but half an hour's drive from Meran, and finely
situated upon a rocky eminence overlooking the valley, and several
others of which could be told stories of romantic and historic
interest.
And last, but greatest of them all, there is Schloss Tyrol which was
destined to give its name to the whole of the country. As it is one of
the most famous it is probably also the best known of all castles to
the average tourist and traveller in Tyrol. So ancient is it that
historians have been able to discover a mention of it at so early a
period as the last decade of the fourth century A.D. But,
notwithstanding this fact, the records relating to its earlier days
are neither full nor reliable. Of the life that went on within it and
the fate that possibly overtook it during the period covered by the
years (about) A.D. 400 to A.D. 1000 little, indeed, is discoverable.
Its present ruinous condition arose partly from neglect during the
troublous period of the wars at the end of the eighteenth and
commencement of the nineteenth century, and partly from the fact that
during the Bavarian occupation of the country in 1808-9, the then
Government sold the castle for the ridiculous sum of a couple of
hundred pounds for the purpose of destruction so that the stones could
be used as building material![16]
[Illustration: SCHLOSS TYROL, NEAR MERAN]
[Sidenote: ANCIENT CASTLES]
Castle Tyrol stands a relic of past glories, feats of arms, strenuous
living, and chivalry on a rocky ridge or spur of the mountains above
the vineyards, which climb upwards towards the white and imposing
castle walls. Behind and above rise the pine forests running upwards
to meet the rocky slopes of the Kückelberg and Vintschgau range.
The most ancient portions of the present building are some of the
walls, a porch, and two marble doorways dating from about the twelfth
century, and the chapel. In the latter there is a fine representation
of the Fall of Man, and interesting carvings. From its commanding
position it is only to be expected that a magnificent prospect is to
be had of the Adige Valley, the chain of the Ulten-Thal and Mendel
mountains, and the vineyards upon the slopes which swell upwards from
the valley. Seen either soon after sunrise (which few people, we
imagine, do) or just at sunset, the views from the castle, more
especially that from the Kaisersaal, are of wonderful pictorial beauty
and charm.
Though we have too little space to devote to the many delightful
places in the Meran valley which invite exploration, or to mention the
numerous walks which tempt the pedestrian, we must give a passing word
or two to the Château or Castle of Schönna, which lies nearly two
thousand feet above sea-level like a hoary and time-worn sentinel at
the entrance to the Passeier Valley. It is easily reached from
Obermais by an excellent road suitable even for cyclists, and is well
worth a visit owing to the representative collection of old weapons
gathered within it, and its picturesque situation. Dating from the
early years of the twelfth century, it is an excellent example of the
ancient feudal fortress-residence of those far-off times. A mention of
the Château Lebenberg, distant about an hour and a half's walk from
Meran, is justified--although it is now a pension--by reason of its
excellent state of preservation, and the historical paintings in
several of the most interesting rooms. The walk, too, along the side
of the mountains by way of Marling and picturesque St. Anton is one to
be enjoyed and remembered.
Some ten miles northward in the Passeier Valley, just a little
distance beyond the village of St. Martin, where one sees many
examples of the wall paintings which are more especially numerous in
the towns and villages of Southern Tyrol, stands the most famous
national pilgrimage place and historic shrine, Hofer's Inn, called
_Wirth am Sand_ or the "Sandy Inn," literally the "Inn by the Sand."
It is quite an unpretentious building standing by the roadside, and
would scarcely attract the notice of passing travellers. It is entered
by a gallery reached up a short flight of steps. The interior is
scrupulously clean, and although it is plainly furnished one is rather
the more impressed by this circumstance which leaves the famous Inn,
where Hofer was born on November 22, 1767, much as we are told it was
in his time. From the pleasant dining-room on the first floor, with
curtains of spotless muslin to keep out the almost blinding sunshine
of the valley, there are fine views towards Meran, and of the towering
mountains across the stony bed of the Passer.
At the Inn there are some interesting relics of the patriot, and
pictures of him. One shows him as a big, strongly built man of not
much above average height, with a short nose, a fine and lofty
forehead, dark eyes, and a rather ruddy face, well-marked eyebrows,
and the famous long beard.
At one time Hofer wore no beard, and the story goes that his growing
one--which ultimately was declared to be the longest in the
valley--arose from the chaff of his companions, who asserted that his
wife forbade him to wear one. Whether the tale be true or not it has
very general acceptance, and we all know that Hofer's beard was
ultimately one of his distinguishing features during the campaigns in
which he was engaged. There is a very pleasant balcony on the outside
of the house which, tradition asserts, was often used by Hofer and his
companions when holding their meetings or councils of war to devise
some scheme by which their beloved country could be freed from a
foreign yoke.
[Sidenote: HOFER RELICS]
Hofer's last letter, which is one of the most treasured of the
relics, even exceeding in interest the clothes which he wore when shot
at Mantua, is a splendid testimony to the dignity and greatness of the
man, which surmounted all troubles and disasters and was not lessened
or alloyed by triumphs. In it he speaks of his old home, of the
rushing Passer, of the beautiful mountains he would see never again,
and then goes on to say, "It is the great God's good will that I die
at Mantua," and then, "Farewell, beautiful world," adding, "but at the
thought of quitting it my eyes scarcely even moisten." Then follow the
words, "I am writing this at five in the morning; at nine I shall pass
into the presence of God," with the date "20th February, 1810."
Far up the mountain side above his old home is the spot where Hofer
hid with his wife from November, 1809, till five o'clock on the
morning of January 18, 1810, when he was captured and taken under
strong escort first to Meran, and ultimately to Mantua. He had refused
to fly to Vienna or take refuge on Austrian territory. He wished to
remain amongst his people, perhaps with a vain hope of once more
attempting to accomplish Tyrol's freedom.
It is with regret that most travellers leave Hofer's old dwelling. The
whole Passeier Valley is, of course, teeming with historic memories,
of the gallant doings of the patriot and his companions. Near Schloss
Tyrol itself was fought one of the most notable engagements, and a
victory won when the French, driven from their position on the
Küchelberg, were surrounded by the peasant forces; whilst just outside
Meran another skirmish took place, as a result of which the French
troops were forced to evacuate the town.
[Sidenote: SUNNY BOZEN]
From Meran to Bozen by rail is rather less than twenty miles, and
about the same distance by the road, which runs through the valley of
the Etsch, or Adige, and in places along the lower slopes of the
hills. It is a picturesque journey by either, and for cycling quite
delightful. One crosses the Talfer just before reaching Bozen, which
lies in a wide basin at the junction of the valley of the Etsch, with
the smaller but picturesque Sarnthal, surrounded by great reddish
brown crags and precipices of the porphyry mountains on which the
semi-tropical cactus grows, and one gets sombre groups of cypresses,
and here and there vineyards, and pine-clad crags. The town is a
strange mixture of the German elements of Tyrol and the Italian. Its
architecture, too, is "an admixture of that of north Italy and South
Germany, here and there transfused so that it preserves
characteristics of both." It is perhaps for this very reason a town of
great charm, and one of considerable beauty. Its surroundings, which
include the famous Rosengarten, and many beautiful little valleys and
gorges present attractions for a longer stay than one at first
contemplates.
It is, moreover, one of the busiest (Bozen people claim that it is
_the_ busiest) towns in Tyrol, with a population going on towards
20,000, including its outskirts, yet it possesses some most delightful
gardens.
Seen from almost any point of the lower slopes of the surrounding
hills, cactus, and vine-clad, and resembling in general luxuriance of
vegetation Italy rather than the Tyrol of but a little further north,
Bozen is charming. Below one is spread out a garden-like city, which
with all its bustling life yet looks more like a holiday resort than a
commercial town, with numbers of white-walled villas dotted amidst
green fields, vineyards and gardens, in the latter of which blossom
all the flowers one knows and loves, and many less common in England.
[Illustration: A STREET IN BOZEN]
One of the oldest towns in Tyrol, it stands practically on the site of
the Pons Drusi of Roman times. It has for "time out of mind" stood at
the cross roads where the Brenner and the Vintsgau routes divide. In
the past, Roman armies have passed through it, have crossed the
Talfer, or have lain encamped in the fields of its basin-like site.
And after them came the Merchants of the Middle Ages, trading
between civilized Italy and barbarian northern lands. Still later came
Emperors and pilgrims travelling to the "Eternal City," Crusaders
outward and homeward bound, roving singers, and hordes of free lances
and mercenaries. In a word, Bozen's past must have been a stirring
one, and the lives led by her citizens full of the colour of life and
gallant deeds.
Anciently, too, the town was fought for and tossed hither and thither
by those powerful civil lords the Terriolis, Counts of Tyrol, and the
militant spiritual lords the Prince Bishops of Trent. For this reason,
and on account of many fires and "grievous o'erflowings of the Talfer
in past times," of the most ancient of all Bozens there are
comparatively few traces, though within the old town there are yet
traceable some interesting relics of the Middle Ages.
In those long back times Bozen was a place of even greater commercial
importance than now. To its four annual markets or fairs people from
many lands came, and it became the depôt and centre of the great
transport trade by the two chief passes leading from Italy into Tyrol
and thence to Germany and Austria. As was not unnatural Bozen
merchants had a standing of their own, and were, according to one
authority, "not a little purse proud and exclusive in their dealings,
save when the latter meant that financial advantage would thereby
accrue to them."
Although Bozen does not commend itself to most tourists from higher
latitudes for a lengthy stay, at least not in summer, as the basin in
which it lies, though making it delightfully sheltered in winter,
causes the town in the months of July and August to be decidedly hot
and rather enervating, there are several places in the immediate
neighbourhood to which one can flee for fresher air and cooler days.
The town has somewhat declined commercially from the high position it
once held, when the trade which flowed into Tyrol through it and
northwards out of it was chiefly along the high-roads and over the
passes; and thus through Bozen a very appreciable percentage of the
whole southern and Italian trade passed. But nevertheless it is still
a most flourishing and interesting town.
A native writer says, on this subject, "Bozen ... has during the last
decade largely recovered the ground it had temporarily lost through
the making of railways, and the decline of transport along the
high-roads of the passes owing chiefly to the increased facilities
that have arisen for conveyance of merchandize by sea." Certainly one
is soon able, when in the town, to realize that in two branches of
trade at least Bozen occupies an undoubtedly high position in the
commercial world, those of wine, and fruit growing and exporting. The
hillsides are literally studded with vineyards and orchards, and Bozen
fruit has gained for itself an almost world-wide reputation.
From the artistic side, too, Bozen claims the attention of all who are
interested in legendary lore, architecture, and antiquarian matters.
As one passes along its chief streets, or explores its byways in the
older part of it, one is delighted on almost every hand by vistas of
fine houses, shady and charming courtyards, buildings with strangely
constructed roofs, and fantastic gable ends, quaintly shaped bay
windows, vaulted colonnades, and here and there, stowed away where
least one would expect to find them, smaller courtyards with trellises
covered with vines, and perhaps an ancient well of rust-red marble to
give a finishing touch to the charming picture.
[Illustration: A SOUTH TYROL FARMSTEAD]
Numbers of artists pause at Bozen yearly on their way south into Italy
via Verona to study the rich treasures in the galleries of the cities
of Northern Italy, or to rest awhile on their return journey
northwards. In Bozen is plenty to paint and plenty to admire, and the
townsfolk are noted for the hospitality which still (notwithstanding
the great influx of tourists of late years) distinguishes the frank
and warm-hearted people of Tyrol in general.
[Sidenote: BOZEN PARISH CHURCH]
Chief amongst the buildings which will attract one's attention stands
the Pfarrkirche or Parish Church, which with its elegant tower and
open spire, over two hundred feet in height, forms a monument to the
artistic and constructive skill of its Swabian builder Johann Lutz in
the first years of the sixteenth century. The church is splendidly
situated at one corner of the fine open Waltherplatz, which is planted
with shady horse-chestnut trees, and, its roof of copper-green tiles
set in a pattern, contrasts admirably with its walls and spire of red
sandstone. In ancient times the building possessed two spires, both of
which were destroyed or so injured as to necessitate their pulling
down long before Lutz built his elegant structure. The church itself,
which contains a fine altar-piece by a pupil of Titian, and a
remarkable stone pulpit dating about the first decade of the sixteenth
century, is, in the main, fourteenth-century work, although it was not
actually finished until the third decade of the fifteenth, so some
authorities state.
In the centre of the Johann Platz stands a fine though simply
conceived statue to Walther von der Vogelweide who was born about 1160
at Lajen, near Waidbruck, in which the poet is shown standing clad in
a loose robe, with a biretta-like cap on his head and his hands
crossed whilst holding a lute. The statue is the work of the late
Heinrich Natter, one of the most famous of native sculptors, who was
also the artist of the famous Berg Isel Hofer Monument, of the very
finely conceived and well-executed statue of Ulrich Zwingli at Zurich,
and many other works.
One of the most charming of Bozen streets is undoubtedly the
Laubengasse, which greatly resembles the main street of Meran, with
its shady arcades on either side under which the shops are situated,
and where one can promenade and do one's shopping protected from the
sun in summer and the rain in winter. The Karnergasse and Silbergasse
are interesting streets, as is also the Goethestrasse leading to the
fruit market, where one finds during market hours many interesting
types of peasants from the neighbouring villages as well as of the
townsfolk themselves. We saw some of the most gorgeous of kerchiefs
worn over the shoulders and crossed over the breasts of Bozen or Gries
fruit-sellers, which gave an air of quite southern colour and
brightness to the little Platz, in which oranges, almonds, melons,
figs, and even prickly pears were displayed for sale with all the
other fruits one might expect to find, including magnificent cherries
in the earlier part of the fruit season.
The costumes of the Sarnthal with the big, broad-brimmed felt hats
worn by both men and women, and the gay "Kummerbunds" of the men worn
under short "Eton"-shaped jackets, are also seen in Bozen on festive
occasions.
The Museum, in which there are many interesting exhibits, including
some old peasant costumes well worth the attention of artists, is an
imposing building or "block" in the Königin Elizabethstrasse, with
corner turrets and an imposing central tower.
Of the more picturesque and older buildings none excels in charm the
Franciscan Monastery and Church in the Franziskanergasse. The
courtyard, shaded by trees which throw a diaper of shadow and sunlight
on the paving stones, with the delicately pretty porch leading into
the church, is a spot of sheer delight for the artist and the dreamer
of dreams; who there, amid the quietude of ancient things, can the
better conjure up visions of other days when Bozen streets rang to the
passing of armies, and men at arms, and in them were heard the cries
of mediæval merchants selling their wares drawn from north and south.
In the Franciscan Church there is a fine altar, and belonging to the
Monastery there are some beautiful cloisters. The library, too, should
not be overlooked by those interested in early books and similar
treasures.
On the outskirts of pleasant Bozen, a fine view of which is obtained
from the Calvarienberg, there are many charming excursions. Towards
the west lies the finely situated Castle of Sigmundskron on a hill
between mountains overlooking the river in which there is good
fishing: the Mendel Pass, 4500 feet, ascended either on foot, by
carriage or by the mountain railway; Tisenser Mittelgebirge, studded
with most interesting ruins, and from whence one obtains extensive and
beautiful views of the surrounding mountain chains and of Meran.
[Sidenote: CASTLE OF RUNKELSTEIN]
Towards the north lies the deeply interesting Imperial Castle of
Runkelstein, which, dating from the middle half of the thirteenth
century, was extensively restored in 1884-88, and finally presented by
the Emperor of Austria to the town of Bozen. Situated upon and almost
entirely covering a huge mass of rock, it overlooks a bend of the
swiftly flowing Talfer, and occupies one of those commanding and
almost inaccessible positions beloved of builders in the Middle Ages.
The Castle, irrespective of its interests as an architectural survival
of a long past age, is much visited on account of the famous frescoes
which are contained in a building now known as the Summer House. As
one climbs up the steep and narrow path to the castle drawbridge one
can the better realize how safe the ancient owners (who were not above
raiding the neighbourhood, and of engaging in predatory warfare with
their neighbours) must have felt when they had once heard their
iron-studded door clang behind them, and seen the ancient drawbridge
swung up by its chains.
Till the introduction of artillery, indeed, such a fastness would have
been practically impregnable.
The frescoes to which we have referred are especially interesting from
the fact that they undoubtedly exhibit a very primitive art. At the
time they are supposed to have been painted, that is to say towards
the end of the fourteenth century, art even in its home, Italy, was
in a comparatively elementary and even grotesque stage of evolution.
The figures, which are black with a pea-green background, are, as an
American girl said, "Noah's arkical and too funny for words," though
we are bound to confess that the irreverence of the remark deeply
offended a worshipper of mediæval art who was of the party. The
paintings in the first room depict a German version of the story of
Tristan and Isolde, which would appear to diverge materially from the
one of Sir Thomas Malory, as set out in the "Morte d'Arthur." The main
story can, however, be easily followed.
In the second chamber the frescoes, which were a very common form of
decoration at the period at which they were done and should not be
considered in the light of being of especial significance, depict a
complete version of the legendary story of Garel, following the
version of a Styrian[17] thirteenth century poet named Pleier. It is
generally considered that this Garel was founded upon or was identical
with the character of the Gareth or Beaumains of the "Morte d'Arthur,"
although the evidence is not absolutely conclusive. To English people
the fine fresco of the famous Knights of the Round Table sitting in
company with King Arthur and Queen Guinevere will naturally be of the
greatest interest, although each of the quaint drawings to illustrate
the mediæval legend has an abiding fascination for all to whom the
past is of moment.
Nor are the outside walls of this quaint pavilion left unadorned. On
them are single figures and others in groups of two and three
depicting well-known mediæval personages of historical and legendary
note: Tristan and Isolde; William of Orleans and Amelie; William, Duke
of Austria, and Aglei; pairs of lovers whose fame has outlived the
centuries; the three hero kings of ancient Christendom, Arthur of
England, the Emperor Charlemagne, and Godfrey de Bouillon. Amongst the
large number of figures here depicted may also be seen other groups
of three comprising celebrated knights, dwarfs, giants, and other
real, mythical, or legendary characters; a gallery of portraits which
has probably no equal in any other castle in the world. The story of
the deeds of the characters thus immortalized would fill many volumes,
and provide some of the most romantic and interesting reading
imaginable.
[Illustration: ST. CYPRIAN AND THE PEAKS OF THE ROSENGARTEN]
One quits the historic spot with a sense of the greatness of the past
as well as with a lingering regret that nothing after all can
adequately conjure up for one the stirring scenes, strenuous and
vividly "coloured" life, romance and chivalry, that the walls and
rooms of Runkelstein must have witnessed.
In an easterly direction from Bozen lies the Eggenthal and its famous
waterfall. The road through the former is one of great picturesqueness
and grandeur--along the hillsides, across high bridges, and through
gorge-like rock cuttings, which to be fully appreciated cannot be
travelled better than a-foot. In the same direction, too, lies the
beautiful Karrersee, surrounded by its belt of sombre pines above
whose feathery tops shine the rocky peaks and snow-clad summits of the
Dolomite giants.
[Sidenote: THE ROSENGARTEN]
From Bozen, too, the famous Rosengarten, which lies to the east of the
town, should be visited. But it is not a garden of roses after all,
but a collection of stupendous and rocky peaks which blush red at
sunset. Those who expect flowers other than alpen rosen, gentian, and
the like, will be disappointed, as was the young lady who undertook
the excursion in the hope of seeing roses galore such as one may find
in the "attar" districts of the Balkan Provinces and especially in
Bulgaria.
But if from Bozen one looks merely for the rosy hue to tint the
skyward-piercing pinnacles of rock, which have been poetically called
the "Rosengarten," or rambles in the picturesque and beautiful valleys
and tiny defiles at their feet, one will not be disappointed. And the
"roses," like other similar phenomena, are in a sense a weather glass;
the deeper the red they glow the finer the ensuing day. At first a
plum-hued twilight, such as one gets in the Maloja valley, seems to
fall down out of the sky, and then the mountain peaks commence to
receive their baptism of crimson. Then at last, as the sun sinks
behind the interposing Guntschna Berg, only the highest peaks continue
for a short time longer to glow with increasing, and then fading,
depth of colour, till at length the plum-bloom shadows conquer the
"roses" and the cool twilight comes.
The origin of the descriptive phrase "the Rosengarten" is (so far as
we have been able to discover) lost in the mists of antiquity. But
there is a rather pretty legend concerning the Garden itself. Long ago
(the story tells us), when men were perhaps happier and certainly less
sophisticated and cynical than they are now, and believed in fairies,
gnomes, and magic, there lived a dwarf named Laurin or Laurenz
reigning over the other dwarfs, who inhabited a country in the centre
of the Schlern. By some means or other this dwarf managed to see and
fall in love with the beautiful, golden-haired sister of a retainer of
Dietrich of Bern, in Switzerland. After having seized her he bore her
to his palace of crystal in the interior of the mountains, and there
kept her prisoner. Soon, however, the brave and gallant knight
Dietrich, and his squire, who was named Dietlieb, determined to rescue
the abducted maiden, and for this purpose they came up from Italy
where they were at the time, and finding an opening entered the
Schlern, and after a fierce fight succeeded in conquering the dwarf,
notwithstanding the fact that of course the latter was assisted by a
magician. Laurin was not, however, killed, but spared by Dietrich at
the request of Dietlieb. It was unfortunate clemency, however, as
Laurin, professing himself grateful and offering them refreshment
after their labours and fight, gave them drugged wine, so that when
they awoke they discovered that they had been bound and cast into a
dungeon of the dwarf's castle. From this predicament they were happily
freed by Dietlieb's sister, Simild, and after another fierce encounter
with the dwarfs they defeated them, and trod the famous Rosengarten
roses underfoot, their places being taken by those that bloom at
sunset upon the peaks above the site of Laurin's mythical palace.
That, at all events, is the story we have been told, and though the
Rosengarten and its miniature valleys are beautiful enough for real
roses to have their home there, none grow there now save figurative
ones caused by the sunset light.
The Rosengarten is a fine centre for mountain ascents, and the famous
Vajolett towers and other rocky pinnacles present unfailing
attractions to the adventurous rock climber, even though nowadays
there can be very few "virgin" peaks or pinnacles to scale.
From the Rosengarten itself as well as from Bozen one can witness the
blooming of the roses, and the really wonderful and entrancing play of
colour, light and shadow over the stupendous peaks which forms an
unforgettable experience when seen during the late afternoon of a
summer day and onwards till twilight comes to gradually throw its blue
and mystic mantle over the valleys and the mountain summits.
[Sidenote: KLAUSEN]
North of Bozen, prettily situated by the banks of the Adige, and some
one thousand seven hundred feet above sea-level, stands the little,
though somewhat important, town of Klausen, with its long, narrow
street following the configuration of the gorge in which most of the
houses lie, dominated by the great Benedictine monastery of Säben
perched upon a steep vine-clad promontory overlooking the town and
river, and six hundred feet above it. A castle till the end of the
seventeenth century, the convent was attacked by the French in 1809,
and from all accounts the nuns were not respected, for upon the walls
of one of the towers on the hill is a painted crucifix, which the
people of Klausen say was placed there in memory of one of the nuns
who, pursued by the soldiery, jumped to her death over the
battlements. The first impression of Klausen is that of cleanliness,
for the tall houses strike one in the brilliant sunshine of a summer
day as very white, though most of them are relieved by patches of
vivid green, where window shutters hang upon the walls or keep the
sunshine from the windows. Klausen folk are fond of flowers, too, for
many hang trailing from balconies; pink and red geraniums, a variety
of clematis, and bunches of ruby-coloured valerian, and tufts of
yellow and orange nasturtiums. There are generally many monks about
the streets, too; sombre-looking figures in rough frieze habits, who
look at the stranger with mild curiosity, and then pass on their
silent way up the hillside, or through the one long, narrow street
which runs between the mountain side and the rushing river. Klausen
women bore a brave part in Hofer's struggle against the French and
Bavarians, and dressed in their husbands' and brothers' clothes gave
material aid in driving back the French through the pass in 1797.
There is not much to see in Klausen itself, but as a typical southern
Tyrolese village it is interesting. Picturesque it certainly also is,
set amid crags and rocks of purple porphyry, whose bases and lower
slopes are beautified by the greenery of many vineyards, and half
encircled by the rushing Eisack. Near by is the famous Castle
Trostburg, romantically beautiful with grey walls and red-tiled roof
perched high above the pine forest which clothes the steep sides of
the rocky spur upon which it stands, and with a patch of vineyard
clinging to the wall of its upper square and solid-looking keep. The
climb up to it is a steep one, but the view one obtains into the
Grödener Thal and of the surrounding heights well repays one.
[Sidenote: OSWALD v. WOLKENSTEIN]
The castle is one of the comparatively few still remaining in the
possession of the family with whose history it has for many centuries
been identified. The Counts of Wolkenstein date their occupation from
the twelfth century, and one of the most famous of the line was that
Oswald born at Castle Trostburg in 1367, or about, whose romantic
adventures might form the basis or plot of half a dozen historical
novels. As a Minnesinger he set out early in life upon his travels in
a gallant and adventurous age; devoted, one must imagine, to the
service and adoration of the fair sex, as were supposed to be
Minnesingers in general. Like many another adventure-loving lad, he
ran away from his ancestral home, light of heart and equally light of
purse, to wander through the world singing his way to fame and
fortune, or to failure and poverty, as the case might happen.
He appears in the first instance to have attached himself to the suite
of one of a party of Tyrolese nobles under Duke Albrecht III., of
Austria, who were bent upon a filibustering expedition into Lithuania,
a district then lying between Poland and Courland. Afterwards he
wandered far and wide over the world, visiting in turn Russia,
England, Spain, France, and then sailing for the East, and travelling
through Asia Minor and Persia. He seems, from contemporary and other
accounts, to have been "everything by turns, and nothing long," except
that he probably always kept up his "minnesinging." He certainly was
page, soldier, sailor, and sea-cook; and for all one can tell these
were but the chief occupation of many he followed during his wandering
and adventurous life. At all events he appears to have acted at times
as tutor, turning the half score of languages he had picked up to good
and practical account. Amongst his more knightly adventures were
campaigns against the English in the service of the Earl of
Douglas--he was probably present on August 10, 1388, at the famous
battle of Otterburn (Chevy Chase)--previously against the Swedes in
Denmark in the service of Queen Margaret, who in 1397 united the
kingdoms of Denmark, Norway, and Sweden together.
Among his more peaceful victories and doings was the favour which he
found in the eyes of the Queen of Aragon, who appears to have not only
admired his poetic gifts, but to have loaded him with personal
favours, caresses, and presents of jewelry.
For several years after his visit to Spain he wandered about, and then
at last (like the prodigal son) set his face towards Tyrol. No one
recognized him, and he appears to have fallen under the spell of the
daughter of a neighbouring knight, who, however, would not consent to
marry him unless he would first obtain his knighthood by becoming a
Crusader.
Deeply in love with the fair Sabina and not doubting her sincerity,
Von Wolkenstein took ship for Palestine, and in due course attained
the coveted distinction by gallant conduct in battle, in consequence
of which he attracted the attention and gained the personal friendship
of Sigismund of Hungary.
Alas! for his hopes. On returning to Tyrol covered with glory, and a
"true knight," he did so only to find the fickle and deceitful Sabina
married to another. In addition to this he was only just in time to
see his father die. As a younger son he inherited the castles of
Castelruth and Hauenstein, Trostburg and its lands descending to his
elder brother.
[Sidenote: A KNIGHT'S ADVENTURES]
His roving disposition was not likely to be stayed now that he had
lost both his intended wife and his father, so he once more set out on
his travels, this time in the retinue of his friend Sigismund, in
whose company he visited several countries. For several years he
wandered through western Europe and as far south-east as Egypt, where
he appears to have been received with much honour. Once more back in
Tyrol in 1405, he became involved in the political upheavals which
were caused by the drastic measures of reform instituted by Duke
Frederick of the Empty Purse, against which the Tyrolese nobles
fiercely rebelled. The ex-Minnesinger took the part of the latter,
and in consequence drew down upon himself Frederick's vengeance. The
latter burned his two castles, and compelled Von Wolkenstein to flee
for his life to the protection of a relative who was the owner of the
castle of Greifenstein, which is situated on an inaccessible pinnacle
of rock between Bozen and Meran. Duke Frederick and his forces hotly
besieged the castle, but failed to reduce it; and although Oswald was
severely wounded and lost the sight of one eye he escaped, and a
little later joined an expedition against the Moors in the train of
John I., King of Portugal. During the severe fighting which took
place, and at the capture of Ceuta in 1415, he appears to have so
greatly distinguished himself that, we are told, "his fame was such
that the troubadours enshrined his deeds in their songs."
Ultimately, he came to his own in Tyrol owing to an act of the Council
of Constance in Baden, which not only condemned John Huss--amongst
many ecclesiastical enactments--to be burned, but also ordered that
Duke Frederick, now an outlaw, who had burned Oswald von Wolkenstein's
castles, should rebuild them, and restore to the knight all the
property that he and his followers had seized. It is not easy,
however, to comprehend how an outlaw who was fleeing from one place to
another in fear of his life was to accomplish these things, nor how
property taken by the soldiery years before, and probably long ago
converted into cash or other uses, could be given up and restored.
We are told, however, that after visiting France in Sigismund's train
Oswald returned to his favourite castle of Hauenstein, the ruins of
which nowadays are so lost in the vast pine forest which surrounds
them as to be almost undiscoverable.
Then Sabina, his old love, once more comes upon the scene, this time
as the claimant of the castle on account, so she alleged, of an
unrepaid loan made by her grandfather to the Wolkensteins. She
invited her old suitor Oswald to join her in a pilgrimage to some
shrine for old acquaintance sake; and when he came to her,
unsuspecting and unarmed, she promptly had him seized, thrown into a
dungeon, and there kept him a prisoner in chains. He lay in
treacherous Sabina's castle until by chance Sigismund, hearing of his
parlous state, intervened on his friend's behalf, and Oswald von
Wolkenstein was set free. He was, however, so maimed by rheumatism and
the fetters which had galled him that he ever afterwards went lame.
Once more he was cast into prison, this time by Duke Frederick's
machinations, and lay in a horrible underground and tunnel-like cell
in Vellenberg not far from Innsbruck. He had married in 1417 Margaret,
a daughter of the house of Schwangau, after a long period of
betrothal, and to her he was deeply attached. On his second release,
after three years' incarceration, he returned to Hauenstein to find
his wife dead, and his home fallen into disrepair from neglect.
A few years later we find him, unconquered in spirit though broken in
body, at Rome to attend the coronation of his friend Sigismund, who
but a year or two later was driven from the throne. In 1435 Oswald
once more, as a man of fifty-eight, returned to forest-enshrouded
Hauenstein, where he died nine years afterwards, never having again
left it.
Of course, the castle is haunted by the spirit of this unhappy and
adventurous knight and Minnesinger, and there is still this belief
amongst the peasantry of Seis and the neighbourhood round about. And
the few who have ever ventured near the ruined pile after sundown aver
that those who do are sure to hear the ancient Minnesinger chanting a
dirge-like lay, accompanying himself upon his lute. But if this be so
Oswald's spirit has wandered far from his body, for his remains repose
at Neustift near Brixen.
He was not only one of the most picturesque and romantic figures of
the band of Minnesingers who were so numerous during the Middle Ages,
but also in a measure an historical figure. By some authorities he is
considered to be the last of these strange wandering minstrel
adventurers. Probably it would be more correct to speak of him as the
last really great Tyrolese "Minnesinger;" but, whichever estimate be
right, his place on the roll of fame relating to the deeds and songs
of these is assured by reason of his gallantries, misfortunes, and
adventurous and knightly doings.
[Sidenote: ST. ULRICH]
On the way to Klausen one is wise to make a diversion down the narrow
but picturesque Grödener Thal to St. Ulrich, which charming village,
situated in a basin and almost surrounded by thickly wooded slopes,
and beyond them stupendous and rocky peaks with the serrated pinnacles
of the Langkofel in the background, is the centre of the Toy industry
of Tyrol and an increasingly popular tourist resort. The road is a
steeply ascending one, and one comes upon the first glimpse of the
village, which stands midway down the valley between Waidbruck and
Wolkenstein, quite suddenly. One's first impression is of a typical
Tyrolese village of considerable size, its white--very white--houses
standing out clear cut and prominently against the background of
dark-green pines, and the lighter green of the valley fields in which
they are, many of them, set. Of late years the clean-looking cottages
of the villagers, the balconies of which are as often as not hung with
delightful flowers, have been supplemented by good and large hotels,
villas, and other modern up-to-date tourist accommodation. But,
nevertheless, St. Ulrich is not yet spoiled, and there are still many
of the almost mahogany-coloured barns and storehouses left, with their
picturesque balconies running right round them, on which the grain and
herbs are placed to dry, wood to season, and other stores are kept,
forming so sharp a contrast to the hotels and white houses.
Although we imagine St. Ulrich's chief attraction is its quaint and
interesting toy-making industry, there are many others including most
beautiful scenery, and the numberless excursions which can be made
from it. In winter time, to quote the quaint phraseology and spelling
of a local guide-book, it has "a very strange charme for the friends
of Tobogganing and Ski-sport has the valley in the always mild and
snowy winter-time." And regarding the accommodation offered, the same
luminous authority goes on to say there are "very comfortable stabled
hotels and land-houses extraordinary fit as a summerset for residence,
likewise for a start place for numerous high-parties to the
Dolomites."
But let us give a brief description of the Toy Industry, which chiefly
serves to differentiate the village from all others in Southern Tyrol.
St. Ulrich's wares are ultimately sent all over the world, and whether
in New York, London, Paris, Berlin, Vienna, or Rome one is almost sure
to find amongst the toys, carved figures of saints, crucifixes,
artists' "lay figures," chalets, and other articles some examples of
work from this famous valley of wood carvers. The fact that nearly
3000, or about three out of every five, of the inhabitants are engaged
more or less directly in the work will give some idea of its
magnitude.
The carving industry at St. Ulrich is supposed to date from about the
commencement of the seventeenth century, and there are some figures of
the Virgin and Saints still extant in churches of the district bearing
dates of that period, and other images of apparently much earlier
date, which show that even in those remote times the carvers of St.
Ulrich and the Grödener Thal possessed considerable skill and
reputation. It was, however, one Johann von Metz who at the
commencement of the eighteenth century appears to not only have raised
the standard of the work of carving to greater perfection, but also to
have organized and extended the sphere of the trade itself.
In the years which immediately followed, the peasants were in the
habit of themselves setting out into other lands with stocks of their
work for sale; and some at least, according to tradition, found their
way to England, and even across the Atlantic, where they abandoned the
active work of carving for that of establishing trading depôts in
connection with St. Ulrich, and thus they distributed the work done in
the far-off and almost then unknown Grödener Thal throughout the
commercial world.
Nowadays to sally forth with their stock-in-trade on their backs or in
a cart is no longer the practice of the workers. The greater number
are employed by firms which act as wholesale distributing agencies for
them, to whom they take their weekly output of work. Most of the
villages of the valley are employed in the carving industry; St.
Christina, for example, making a speciality of "lay figures" and hobby
horses.
Not only are most of the men of the villages in the Grödener Thal thus
employed, but also many of the women and children. And it is no
uncommon sight to see quite mites cutting away at blocks of the softer
kinds of wood by the roadside or on the doorsteps of the cottages; and
sometimes one meets the women on their way down from the woods or
upper pastures with their barrel-like receptacles upon their backs,
roughly shaping some article which will be finished off when they get
home.
[Sidenote: "TOY LAND"]
Some of the carving done is really good, but it cannot be said to be
cheap. One cannot find bargains in St. Ulrich, or, for the matter of
that, in any of the villages of "Toy Land." The demand is too great,
and the means of distribution too well organized for the peasants to
care in the least whether one purchases a "bit" or not. There are
practically no shops where carving is sold by the workers themselves,
as nearly all are employed under contract or otherwise by wholesale
dealers. But the tourist can generally visit one or other of the large
_ateliers_, where, in particular, the carving of images and more
elaborate articles is done under the superintendence of artists. It
is an experience and a sight well worth spending an hour or two over.
In that time, by watching several figures at various stages
approaching completion, one can obtain a very good and clear idea of
the different transformations which the rough-hewn block undergoes ere
it assumes its final shape of a Virgin, St. Joseph, St. Antony, or St.
Christopher. Many of these statues and smaller figures are sent to a
different workshop for painting and gilding; and it is chiefly in the
white chalets on the mountain side that the toys and smaller articles
are made.
The goods are stored principally in the larger houses of the villages.
One of the chief depôts bears the name of the man who developed the
industry, whilst other well-known merchants are Insam, Purger, and
Prinoth. In these warehouses one sees shelf upon shelf laden with
toys, figures, dolls, and other carved work; miniature waggons,
monkeys on sticks, hobby horses painted in gay and let us add entirely
"unnatural" colours, with flaming red, jet black, or piebald manes.
The toys are of all prices, just as they are of many sizes and
qualities as regards "finish;" hobby horses costing from half-a-krone
to several florins each; dolls ranging in price from a halfpenny and
even less to five or six kronen. Figures intended to form the contents
of Noah's arks are there by the bushel, the cheaper kind bearing, it
must be admitted, but faint and partial resemblance to the animals
they are intended to represent; the better kinds being excellent
miniatures of lions, elephants, tigers, giraffes, bears (especially
good these), and the hundred and one smaller animals and insects of
the patriarch's great family party; and accompanying all the
delightful smell of freshly cut pine and other woods in the warehouses
given over to unpainted things, and the somewhat overpowering smell of
new paint in the others.
Some of the dolls, more especially those which have Tyrolese costumes
represented in wood, need great care in carving; and others are
swiftly done, some by elementary machinery. The best wood used is the
_pinus cembra_, or Swiss pine, which originally grew thickly on the
sides of the mountains, but has now largely to be imported owing to
the fact that whilst the trees have been cut down by the thousand,
scant provision appears to have been made for the future by planting
others. There is, however, plenty of the wood still left in the
immediate neighbourhood.
Nowadays at St. Ulrich there is an excellent Imperial School of
Drawing, and modelling, and there would appear to be a distinct
advance of recent years in the carving (of animals and figures
especially) in consequence of the teaching given, though in their main
characteristics the animals and small figures produced have not much
varied from the ancient types.
The church of St. Ulrich, although comparatively modern, dating only
from quite the end of the eighteenth century, has a beautifully
adorned interior; rather ornate and highly coloured perhaps, but
interesting and typical. There is also in it a Mater Dolorosa by
Maroder, and in the sacristy a fine marble Madonna by a pupil of
Canova, Andrea Colli. The restored chapel of St. Anthony is also worth
seeing, as it possesses a remarkably fine altar-piece, the work of
Deschwanden.
[Sidenote: CONCERNING DIALECT]
There is a distinct dialect in the villages of the Grödener Thal,
locally known as Ladin, which is said by philologists to be directly
derived from the Latin tongue, and to date from the days of the Roman
occupation. It is certainly so different from the dialects of modern
Italy that it is almost impossible for the stranger, even though
well-versed in those, to understand it. In some points it may be said
to resemble the Grisons Romanche, and Romanese of the Engadine; but
the parallel is not at all a close one, and needs several distinct
qualifications. Although a deeply interesting one to philologists, it
is impossible to deal with the question at all fully here. Certainly
one would be inclined to think that this peculiar dialect has an
Etruscan origin, for it is well-known that considerable remains of
that people have from time to time been unearthed in the Grödener
Thal, and, indeed, in the immediate neighbourhood of St. Ulrich
itself.
St. Ulrich is charming in winter, when the village is half-buried in
snow, and the lower slopes of the environing mountains provide
excellent toboggan "runs," and ski-ing grounds. How different the
little place appears under these conditions from the sunny spot set
amid green fields and pleasant pastures that it is in summer, only
those who have seen it under both conditions can easily realize. And
truly (as the local guide we have before quoted says) "in winter there
are many grateful excursions for the high-flying parties, and swift
ski-ing." By "high-flying parties" one should doubtless understand
those who wish to ascend the higher slopes.
Costume still survives at St. Ulrich and in the Grödener Thal, where
(although less worn than even a decade ago) one still meets with women
wearing the old style dress, with huge broad-brimmed felt hats trimmed
with wide ribbons, and having short "streamers" down behind, or the
still quainter high "sugar-loaf" hats, shaped almost like those of
dancing dervishes, fitting down over the ears and allowing only the
least suspicion of the forehead to remain visible. Wide linen collars,
almost large enough to be called capes, with either plain edges or
scalloped, and handsome aprons of silk, brocade, or other materials;
wide skirts and a profusion of ribbons go to make up a costume which
is always picturesque and often actually handsome.
From Klausen, to which one returns on one's way northward, one
proceeds to Brixen, charmingly situated in the valley of the Eisack,
amid green fields, and pastures, and afforested slopes. The twin
towers of the Cathedral in the centre of the picture at once catches
the eye from whatever point one approaches the town.
[Illustration: SUMMER TIME NEAR ST. ULRICH, GRÖDENER THAL]
Brixen, though little more in size and population than a large
village, is yet one of the most interesting places in Southern Tyrol.
It is not only historically and architecturally important, but is a
pleasant place from which to explore the beauties of the neighbouring
Puster Thal, Valser Thal, and Lusen Thal if only one's time permits.
Anciently it was one of the most notable towns in Southern Tyrol, for
it was during nearly a thousand years, and, in fact, until 1703, the
capital of an ecclesiastical principality, with a long line of
distinguished bishops, some of them almost as much noted for their
militant as their spiritual qualities. It is still the seat of a
bishopric, and in the town are many evidences of its past
ecclesiastical importance and splendour.
Artists find much in Brixen to attract them, as do also students of
architecture, and although the valley is wider than in some similar
resorts, making mountain ascents longer before one can reach the
higher peaks, there are many excursions to be made, and interesting
villages to be visited. That it is an attractive town its many
visitors make evident, and in the pleasant gardens, which seem always
cool even on the hottest summer day, situated between the Eisack and
the smaller Rienz, one meets not only with interesting Brixen types
(sometimes peasants in costume), but also most of the foreign visitors
who may be staying in the place.
[Sidenote: BRIXEN CATHEDRAL]
The Cathedral, dating from the fifteenth century, is a handsome and
even striking building, with its lofty twin towers, and their
beautifully "weathered" copper domes. These are the oldest parts, most
of the building itself having been restored and rebuilt as recently as
the middle half of the eighteenth century. There are some extremely
beautiful and interesting cloisters, with numerous frescoes on the
groined roof, and some quaint mural tablets and tombstones. The view
from the cloisters upon a sunny day across the courtyard is one of
great charm in its play of light and shade, tempting one to linger in
their hoary coolness and solitude. There is also an ancient chapel of
St. John, dating from the eleventh century, containing some good
frescoes of the thirteenth to fifteenth centuries. The tombstone of
the famous Oswald von Wolkenstein is in the inner courtyard, which
lies between the Cathedral and the Church of St. Michel, depicting the
knightly minnesinger in armour with lance, and pennon, and lyre. Near
this is also an interesting copper relief, depicting the scene of the
Resurrection, placed there as a memorial of a noted local coppersmith
named Hans Kessler, who lived in the first half of the seventeenth
century.
One reaches the Bishop's Palace by several interesting streets, in
which some of the more ancient houses are to be found. There is a
charming courtyard with colonnades, and a delightful garden, peaceful
and full of flowers and the sentiment of other days. And here,
fortunately, the traveller can gain admission for half an hour's
restful contemplation of its beauty, and perhaps the study of some of
the historical events which the town has witnessed.
From Brixen to Sterzing one traverses the widening, narrowing, and
again widening valley of the Eisack. Past Spinges, with its memories
of the fierce battle in 1797, when General Joubert was marching
through the Puster Thal to make a junction with Napoleon. His advance
was not, however, permitted unchecked. The inhabitants of Spinges
might not be many, but they were Tyrolese. It happened, too, that a
few companies of the Landsturm were in the neighbourhood, and so these
and the men of Spinges marched out to meet Joubert's immensely
superior force. The French troops were armed with bayonets as well as
guns, and the barrier they made was found unpierceable by the brave
but badly armed patriots. But the opportunity or need produced the man
as it had done rather more than four centuries before in Switzerland
when Arnold von Winkelried gathered the Austrian spears into his bosom
at Sempach. In this case it was one Anton Reinisch, of Volders, who
"played the man," and heroically leapt, scythe in hand, amongst the
French bayonets, a score of which pierced his body, and thus, hewing
right and left ere he fell, carved a way for his comrades, and enabled
them to break up the French lines.
[Sidenote: THE MAID OF SPINGES]
But Spinges will be celebrated still more in romance, as it has been
in history, by the act of that anonymous maiden "the Maid of Spinges,"
who, during the fight around the church of the village, mounted in
company with the men the wall of the churchyard, and, armed with a hay
fork, helped, by her strong arms as well as her example, to
successfully repel three fierce attacks of the French soldiery.
Unknown[18] by name, yet the fame of her courageous act, typical as it
was of those of many others of her sex during the long and fierce
struggle waged by the Tyrolese against the invaders of their beloved
land, has descended through generations.
On the other side of the valley to Spinges is Franzenfeste at the
mouth of the defile known as the Brixener Klause. Few people stop at
Franzenfeste, we imagine. To ramble on the hillsides would be an act
of foolhardiness, for they are honeycombed with forts. It is a great
strategic position, commanding the Brenner and the entrance to the
Puster Thal; and investigation of the hillsides and neighbourhood, it
is needless to say, is not encouraged by the Austrian Government. It
is possible in the future that the spot which saw much fighting in
1797 and 1809 will again be the scene of military operations, and a
struggle not less fierce, and far more bloody. Who knows?
[Sidenote: STERZING AND MATREI]
Sterzing, with its sunny main street of which a most charming vista is
got as one enters the town through the ancient gateway on the Brenner
road, and shady arcades which remind one of the "unter den Lauben" of
Meran, stands on the site of a Roman settlement, Vipitenum. It is
situated at the junction of three beautiful valleys, the Ridnaun Thal,
Pflersch Thal, Pfitscher Thal, in a broad basin-like depression,
encircled by shapely mountain slopes, and on the right bank of the
Eisack. Though nowadays possessing a population of less than 3000,
Sterzing at once strikes one as having an air of importance and
prosperity, hardly in keeping with its small size. Formerly, however,
the town was an important mining centre, and the larger of its quaint
and picturesque balconied and bay-windowed houses owe their origin to
the wealthier inhabitants of the past. Marble quarrying and polishing
is still carried on somewhat extensively, and doubtless helps to
retain an air of commercial life and industry in the quaint old place.
Sterzing is wonderfully decorative and compact in general effect; and
there are a surprising number of fine and interesting buildings to be
seen in its narrow old-time streets. The Rathaus, with its striking
bow windows, is of late Gothic architecture, and in it is a fine
fifteenth-century altar-piece, and some interesting and well-executed
wood carvings. This building, now used by the town officials and
magistrates, was formerly doubtless a mansion of a wealthy merchant.
In it is one of the best preserved specimens of a Gothic ceiling,
dating from about the middle of the fifteenth century, that we have
seen in Tyrol in any private house of similar size.
The church has been extensively, but on the whole well restored. It
dates from the sixteenth century, and has a Gothic choir of note, and
nave and aisles restored in the Rococo style, the ceiling paintings of
which are by Adam Mölckh. The general effect of the interior is good,
and the church has some interesting architectural details.
The decline of Sterzing is attributable to the same cause as that of
many other townlets and villages upon the old post-roads, and the
roads over the passes which have gradually become less and less used
as railroads have multiplied. But, in the case of Sterzing, its
gradual descent from the position of importance it once occupied,
traces of which are found in the numerous fine houses still standing,
was undoubtedly more owing to the exhaustion or abandonment of the
mining industry than to the coming of the railway which so seriously
affected the road traffic of the Brenner Pass.
Near Sterzing, it should be remembered, Hofer and his peasant forces
fought the first big engagement of the struggle in 1809, which ended
in the defeat of the Bavarians, who were driven back across the
Brenner, Hofer having crossed the Jaufen from his home at St. Martin
in the Passeier Valley.
Matrei, or, as it is also called, Deutsch-Matrei, is the only place of
any size or importance which we have not already described on the line
between Sterzing and Innsbruck, or along the Brenner road. The little
town is charmingly situated, and like others of similar character and
altitude (it lies nearly 3300 feet above sea-level), is becoming more
and more resorted to by tourists and travellers upon the Brenner
route. The Castle of Trautson, belonging to Prince Auersperg, stands
on the hillside above it. Sterzing forms a fine centre for ascents and
excursions, and there is a most interesting pilgrimage church on the
north-eastern flank of the Waldrast Spitze dedicated to the Virgin,
and known by the name of the mountain; it dates from the middle of the
fifteenth century. Its foundation was in consequence of a peasant's
dream, in which he was directed to go to the woods, lie down and rest,
and there he should be told what to do. When he had done this the
Virgin appeared to him, and bade him build a chapel on the spot over
an image of her which had miraculously appeared no one knew how some
years before. To this chapel was given the name of Maria Waldrast
(Wood's rest), and although the monastery, which was built on the
spot more than a century and a half later, in 1624, is now but a ruin,
the pilgrimage is even nowadays made by the devout to the church which
is so beautifully situated more than 5300 feet above sea-level.
FOOTNOTES:
[16] For further details of the castle's history, see Prokop's
interesting account.--C. H.
[17] Some authorities state Pleier was from Salzburg or the
Salzkammergut.
[18] A Some authorities assert that her name was Katherina Lanz, and
that from about 1820 till her death in 1854 she lived as housekeeper
to the priest at St. Virglius near Rost, high up in the Enneberg
Valley.--C. H.