Tyrol and Its People

by Clive Holland

CHAPTER VIII

SOME TOWNS AND VILLAGES OF SOUTH TYROL—MERAN, BOZEN, KLAUSEN, BRIXEN, SPINGES, STERZING, MATREI

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.

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."

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.

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.

MERAN

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.

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]

SCHLOSS TYROL, NEAR MERAN

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.