His posture became almost intolerably irksome and painful; but it effected one good thing; an entire cure of his dislocated joint; and, when he found himself growing impatient, he thought of Him who was born in a manger.
At length, just as he was beginning to feel he could bear it no longer, the soldiers ran in, began saddling their horses, and, as he gathered from them, were about to depart. In about an hour, Zoppel came in, full of suppressed joy. After carefully securing the door, "I am now going to dig you up," said he, "wash you, dress you, and trim your hair and beard; for if your wife were to see you as you are, she would take you for a wild beast."
Poor Speckbacher was quite a log in his hands; for long inaction had deprived him of the use of his limbs; and it was not in less than two or three days that he was able to quit the stable. Meanwhile, however, Zoppel, having finished his task much to their mutual satisfaction, sought Maria, and told her the wonderful secret. The joy of the meeting, when she flew into the stable, need hardly be described.
It was felt, however, that the Tyrol could not shelter him; therefore, as soon as he regained the use of his limbs, he reluctantly gave the children his farewell embrace and blessing, and started at dusk towards the Styrian Alps, accompanied the first league by his faithful wife.
Once across the Alps, he was no longer in danger; and, after a fatiguing and painful journey, he reached Vienna, where he was joined a few months afterwards by his Maria and the children. Here they remained quietly, till the Tyrol reverted to Austria, when they returned to spend the remainder of their days in their beloved country. Speckbacher lived till 1820, when he died at the age of fifty-two, and was buried with military honours. His brave son Anderl was recently, and may be now, superintendent of the iron-works at Jenbach.
Father Joachim, after hiding in various quarters, and leading a life of great peril for nearly a year, at length succeeded in crossing the Bavarian Alps to the Lake of Constance. By way of St. Gall, he reached the abbey of Einsiedeln, in Switzerland. From thence he passed into the estates of Venice; and, by way of Friuli and Carinthia, he at length reached Vienna, where he found Speckbacher. He received a golden cross and a sum of money from the emperor, in acknowledgment of his loyal service; and for some years afterwards, he officiated in different cures in Lower Austria.
In 1848, the cry went through the Tyrol, "The Rothbart is up again!" and eager volunteers flocked round the old man, who was once more, as field-chaplain, on his way to the battle-field in Italy. Danger seemed to threaten the empire from that quarter; and the Tyrolese, with their old fidelity, were again ready to fight for Austria.
In 1856, the veteran had quarters assigned him in the imperial summer-palace at Salzberg, with a pension of a thousand florins per annum. There, on fine days, he might be seen, scarcely more than a year ago, sitting under the majestic trees in tranquil meditation. His hair was silver-grey; he was slightly lame, a little deaf, and very chary of his speech: but, if spoken to of the Year Nine, his cheek would kindle, his eye would light up, and the old man would speak of his comrades and their stirring deeds as if they were but of yesterday. His jubilee,—the fiftieth anniversary of his priesthood,—was held last September. Soon afterwards, the venerable Capuchin was gathered to his fathers.
In the autumn of 1810, a wedding-train might have been seen issuing from the little church of St. Martin, and proceeding to am Sand. It was not a gay, but a sympathetic festival, for many of Hofer's companions in arms were there; and, though several spies mingled among them, they were on their guard, and would not be tempted by them to pledge the dangerous toast, "Freiheit Zur Tyrol!" But they drank health and happiness to Rudolf and Theresa, and many an old allusion was safely made, with a sigh, under the breath, and standing apart; and they felt they all loved one another the dearer for having suffered together in a generous though lost cause.