Volume I Part 17 (2/2)

Disappointed, then, in their hope of aid, they betook themselves to their own devices, and hit upon a plan the most perfectly adapted to the crisis, as well as the most suitable to their own means of accomplishment. Is it necessary that I should speak of what is so familiar to every reader? the rude preparations of the Tyrolers to defend their native defiles, by trunks of trees and fragments of rocks, so disposed that at a word they could be hurled from the mountains down into the valleys beneath.

The pa.s.s I here speak of was eminently suited for this, not only from its narrowness and the precipitate nature of its sides, but that the timber was large and ma.s.sive, and the rocks, in many cases, so detached by the action of the torrents, that little force was required to move them. Once free, they swept down the steep sides, crus.h.i.+ng all before them; loosening others as they went, and with a thunder louder than any artillery, plunging into the depths below. Simple as these means of defence may seem--it is but necessary to have once seen the country to acknowledge how irresistible they must have been--there was positively no chance of escape left. The road, exposed in its entire length, lay open to view; beneath it, roared a foaming torrent, above, stood cliffs and crags the hardiest hunter could not clamber; and if, perchance, some little path led upwards to a mountain _chalet_ or a Dorf, a handful of Tyrol riflemen could have defended it against an army.

All was arranged early in the year, and it was determined that the revolt should break forth a week or ten days before the time when the Bavarians were to march the reliefs to the various garrisons--a movement which, it was known, would take place in the spring. By signal-fires in the mountain-tops, intimation was to be given to those who inhabited the Alpine regions; while for those in the plains, and particularly in the valley of the Inn--the great line of operations--the signal was to be given by sawdust thrown on the surface of the stream. A month, or even more, was to elapse from the time I have just spoken of ere the preparations would be fully made. What an interval of intense anxiety was that to poor Hans!

A small detachment of Bavarian infantry, now stationed at the Pontlatzer Brucke, made it unsafe to venture often, as before, into the valley.

Such frequent coming and going would have excited suspicion; and the interval between suspicion and a drum-head tribunal was a short one, and generally had a b.l.o.o.d.y ending. Hans could do little more, then, than sit the livelong day on the brow of the cliff, watching the valley, straining his eyes along the narrow glen towards Landeck, or gazing over the wide expanse to the Kaunser-Thal. How often did his imagination people the s.p.a.ce beneath with an armed host! and how did he build up before his mind's eye the glitter of steel, the tramp and dust of mounted squadrons, the long train of ammunition waggons, the gorgeous staff--all the ”circ.u.mstance of glorious war!” And how strangely did it seem, as he rubbed his eyes and looked again, to see that silent valley and that untrodden road, the monotonous tramp of the Bavarian sentry the only sound to be heard! On the chapel door the previous Sunday some one had written in chalk, ”_Ist zeit?_--Is it time?” to which another had written for answer, ”_Bald zeit_--It will soon be!” ”Oh,” thought Hans, ”that it were come at last!” And a feverish eagerness had so gained possession of him, that he scarcely could eat or sleep, starting from his bed at night to peep out of the window and see if the signal fire was not blazing.

The devotional feeling is, as I have remarked, the most active and powerful in a Tyroler's heart; and deeply intent as each was now on the eventful time that drew nigh, the festival of Easter, which intervened, at once expelled all thoughts save those pertaining to the solemn season. Not a word, not a syllable, fell from any lip evincing an interest in their more worldly anxieties. The village chapel was crowded from before daybreak to late in the evening; the hum of prayer sounded from every cottage; and scarcely was there time for the salutations of friends, as they met, in the eagerness to continue the works of some pious ritual.

I know not if Hans Jorgle was as deeply impressed as his neighbours by these devout feelings; I only can tell that he refrained as rigidly as the others from any allusion to the coming struggle, and never by a chance word shewed that his thoughts were wandering from the holy theme.

A very prying observer, had there been such in the Dorf, might perhaps have detected that the boy's eyes, when raised in prayer, rested longer on the spot where the striped banners of Tyroler chivalry waved overhead, or that an expression of wild excitement rested on his features as the different groups, before entering the church, deposited their broadswords and rifles in the porch,--every clank of the weapons seemed to thrill through Hans' heart.

The devotional observances over, Easter Monday came with all the joyous celebrations with which the villagers were wont to _fete_ that happy day. It was a time for families to a.s.semble their scattered members, for old and attached friends to renew the pledges of their friends.h.i.+p, for those at variance with each other to become reconciled; little children paid visits to their grandfathers and grandmothers, with bouquets of spring flowers, repeating the simple verses of some village hymn to welcome in the morning; garlands and wreaths hung from every door-porch; lovers scaled up the galleries to leave a rose, or an Alp daisy, plucked some thousand feet high among the snow-peaks, at their sweethearts'

window. Pious souls made little presents to the Cure in the chapel itself. The cattle were led through the village in a great procession, with garlands on their heads and fresh flowers fastened to their horns; the villagers accompanying them with a Tyrol song, descriptive of the approaching delights of summer, when they could quit their dark dwellings and rove free and wild over their native hills. It was joy every where: in the glad faces and the glancing eyes, the heartfelt embraces of those who met and saluted with the well-known ”_Gott grilse dich_--G.o.d greet thee!” in the little dwellings pranked with holly-boughs and wild flowers; in the chapel glittering with tapers on every altar, pious offerings of simple hearts; in the tremulous accents of age, in the boisterous glee of childhood, it was joy.

It was the season of gifts, too. And what scenes of pleasure and delight were there, as some new arrival from the valley displayed before the admiring eyes of a household some little toy, the last discovery of inventive genius: Bauer-houses, that took to pieces and exhibited all their interior economy at will; saw-mills, that actually seemed to work, so vigorously did they perform the incessant time that mark their labour; dolls of every variety of attraction, but all in Tyrol taste; nutcrackers that looked like old men, but smashed nuts with the activity of the youngest; soldiers of lead, stout-looking fellows, that never quitted the posts committed to them, if the wire was not too powerful--all were there; appearing, besides, with a magic in true keeping with their wonderful properties. Some emerged from unknown pockets in the cuff of a jacket; others, from the deep waistband of particoloured leather; some, from the recesses of a hat: but all in some wonderful guise that well became them.

In one cottage only this little festive scene was not enacted. Hanserl's mother, who for some time back had been in declining health, was unable to contribute, as she was wont, to their support. Too proud to confess her poverty in the village, she contrived to keep up all the externals of their condition as before. She and her son were seen on Sunday as well dressed as ever; perhaps, if any thing, a more than ordinary attention in this respect could be detected. Her offering to the curate rather exceeded than fell short of its customary amount, These were, however, costly little sacrifices to pride; for these, their meal was made scantier and poorer; for these, the hours of the wintry night were made longer and drearier, as, to save the cost of candle-light, they sat in darkness beside the stove; a hundred little privations, such as only poverty knows or can sympathise with, fell to their lot; all, borne with fort.i.tude and patience, but in their slow process chilling and freezing up the hope from which these virtues spring.

”Hanserl, my love,” said the poor widow, and her eyes swam and her tongue faltered as she spoke, ”thou hast had none of the pleasures of this joyous day. Take these twelve kreutzers and buy thyself something in the Dorf. There be many pretty things cost not more than twelve kreutzers.”

Hanserl made no answer; his thoughts were wandering far away. Heaven knows whether they had strayed back to the bold days of Wallenstein, or the siege of Prague, or were now, with the stormy cataract of the Danube--at the iron gate, as it is called, the desperate scene of many a b.l.o.o.d.y meeting between Turks and Austrians.

”Hans, love, dost hear me? I say, thou canst buy a bow with arrows; thou hast long been wis.h.i.+ng for one. But bring no more books of battles, child,” added she, more feelingly; ”strife and war have cost us both dearly. If thy father had not served the Kaiser, he would not have fallen at Elchingen.”

”I know it well,” said the boy, his features flas.h.i.+ng as he spoke.

”He would not have stood beside the ammunition-waggons when the French dragoons bore down, and with a loud voice called out, 'Halt! these tumbrels are powder; another step and I'll explode the train!' How they reined up and fled! My father saved the train; didn't he, mother?”

”He did,” sobbed the widow; ”and fell under the wall of the citadel as the last waggon entered the gate.''

”G.o.d preserve Franz the Emperor!” said the boy, with a wild enthusiasm; ”he has given many a brave soldier a glorious grave. But for this,” here he struck his shrunken limb violently with his hand, ”I, too, had been able to serve him. But for this--” a pa.s.sion of sorrow, that found vent in tears, checked his words, and he buried his head in his hands and sobbed hysterically.

The poor mother did everything she could think of to console her son.

She appealed to his piety for submission under a visitation of G.o.d's own making; she appealed to his affection for her, since, had it not been for his helplessness, he might one day have left her to be a soldier.

”The conscription is so severe now, Hanserl that they take only sons away, like the rest--ay, and when they are but thirteen years of age!

Take them away, and leave the mothers childless! But they cannot take thee, Hans!”

”No, that they cannot,” cried the boy, in a burst of grief. ”The cripple and the maimed have not alone to weep over their infirmity, but to feel themselves dishonoured before others.”

The widow saw the unhappy turn her consolations had taken, and tried in different ways to recall her error. At last, yielding to her entreaties, Hans left the cottage, taking the twelve kreutzers in his hand to buy his Easter gift.

It was from no want of affection to his mother he acted, nor was it from any deficiency of grat.i.tude that when he left the hut he forgot all about the toy, and the twelve kreutzers, and the _fete_ itself. It was that a deeper sentiment had swallowed up every other, and left no place in his heart for aught else.

<script>