Germany, Bohemia, and Hungary, Visited in 1837. Vol. II

by G. R. Gleig

When the boy was gone we proceeded to question our landlady as to the habits of his people, and we received from her an account corresponding in all respects with that which our first informant had given us. She added, over and above, that there was no trusting them; that they were deceitful to a degree unparalleled among men, and that no arts or offices of kindness ever won their forbearance. We listened to her statements more than half disposed to credit them, yet we adhered to our original determination, nevertheless, of joining the first gypsy camp on which, during the course of our tour, we might stumble.

By this time it was necessary to move; and I state the fact in consequence of a trifling incident, illustrative, I conceive, of the extreme honesty of this simple people. We had advanced, perhaps, a quarter of an English mile towards Arnau, a town through which our route lay, when we heard a female voice shouting behind us, and on turning round saw our landlady in full pursuit. I had left behind me on the table a penknife,—of very little value, inasmuch as one of the blades was broken,—and this good woman would not permit me to be the loser of it. When I add, that she was in a state during which running must have been both inconvenient and hurtful to her, the strength of the principle which urged her to bring me my knife will be better understood.

Arnau is an old-fashioned town, with a wide market-place, in the centre of which stand two colossal statues, representing two warriors in complete armour, each armed with a sword. The people told us they were of very ancient date, and represented the two knights, by whom, in old times, the town was founded. There is, besides, a convent of Franciscan monks in the immediate neighbourhood, which contains eighty brothers; a clumsy pile, evidently of modern construction, and resembling in its exterior a manufactory, much more than a house of religious persons. One of the brothers we met in the town, to whom the children seemed to pay much respect. His dress was a brown coarse frock, a bare head, with a shaven crown, bare legs, sandals for his feet, and a rosary of black beads fastened round his middle. I asked him the way to Troutenau, and received a very short, and somewhat unsatisfactory answer.

We did not halt in Arnau, neither were we tempted to solicit admission into the convent. I had been initiated into all the mysteries of such a place of abode long ago; and my young companion appeared more anxious to reach Aderspach and Schnee-Koppee as speedily as possible, than to take his first lesson in monachism here. It was well, too, that, retaining our resolution of passing that night at Troutenau, we had self-denial enough to pass the monastery by; for a long and toilsome way was before us, which we did not compass till past seven o'clock. No doubt the march was prolific in objects to charm the sense of sight. As we drew towards them, the snowy mountains assumed continually a bolder and more striking aspect; while, several of the villages, and one schloss, which was undergoing repair, drew forth our liveliest admiration. But the journey proved to be, upon the whole, both tedious and toilsome; and right glad were we, when, on gaining the summit of a steep ascent, we beheld Troutenau at our feet. We made directly for the inn, which was recommended as the best; and, except that the house was full of workmen, our chamber small, and our beds detestable, we have no right to put down the Gasthof zum Weissen Ross, as one of the bad places of call on the march to Schnee-Koppee.

The inn was in great confusion, for unfortunately for ourselves we arrived at a moment when bricklayers, carpenters, and plasterers were busy in counteracting the effect of time and rough usage almost everywhere, except in the coffee-room. This latter, however, proved to be comfortable enough; and we enjoyed it the more that it was divided into two compartments, one of which was allotted to the humbler classes of travellers, while the other, which commanded a view of the square, was assigned to gentlefolks. Moreover there occurred two circumstances, which, by furnishing us with objects of contemplation, contributed to make the evening pass lightly away. First, we saw from our window the completion of a ceremony similar to that which at Eisenhammer we had so cruelly interrupted by our fishing. A whole posse of peasants, male and female, with crucifix and mass-book at their head, marched in procession towards the market-cross; and, after chanting a hymn, fell down upon their knees, one after another, and covered the hands and feet of the stone statues that ornamented it, with kisses. This done, the larger number dispersed, and, as it seemed, retired quietly to their homes. But there were others who appeared to think that a work so pious as that in which they had been engaged merited, on the part of the body, some refreshment. These adjourned to the inn, and drank sundry flasks of beer with great relish.

In the next place we found that the outer portion of the coffee-room was occupied in part by a band of wandering musicians,—a sort of calling which is in Bohemia very frequent, and which, both there and elsewhere in Germany, holds a higher place in public estimation than among us. These men wore a sort of uniform, namely, high-crowned white hats, with flowers in the front, gray frocks, and half-boots; and their performance, I am bound to add, was by no means contemptible. They played one or two airs very sweetly under the burgomaster's window, which, as the said window looked out into the square, enabled us, as well as a multitude of the town's-people, to share in the treat.

We retired early to bed, for we were a good deal fatigued, and the cold,—an unusual ground of complaint with us ever since we set out from home,—was disagreeable. The truth indeed is, that we were now at a great elevation above the level of the sea, and that the wind happening to blow from Schnee-Koppee, the back of which, white with the deposit of a thousand storms, lay towards us, came keen and biting. So sharp, indeed, was the temperature, that the landlord, whom we consulted relative to the nature of a river which, with a broad clear current, flows past the town, assured us that it would be vain to think of fishing in it, because though it abounded with fine trout, the season was not sufficiently advanced to admit of their being taken with the rod and line. I took the liberty in this case, as in the case of the gypsies, to credit something less than half of the intelligence conveyed to me; and I found, on the morrow, when the question was tried on its own merits, that I had come to the right conclusion.

It was a fine bright bracing morning, and the clocks were striking seven when we quitted Troutenau; a very pretty clean town, well situated, on the slope of a hill, and commanding, as I have hinted above, a noble view of the snowy ridges of the Riesengebirgen. Aderspach was our point for the day,—a place represented to us as well worth visiting on account of the remarkable rocks and fells which abound in its vicinity. As it was said, however, to be no more than three or four stunden distant, we did not think that we were required to make any extraordinary exertions, and the river looked so tempting, that, in spite of the landlord's advice to the contrary, we resolved to try it. We cannot boast much of our success. Three or four grayling, with a trout of moderate size, were all the prizes that rewarded our toil, till we came to a deep pool, into which, not without a hope of better things, I threw my fly. A magnificent fish rose instantly, and I hooked him. We had a tough battle for it, inasmuch as my tackle happened to be light, and I was standing on an awkward sort of a weir when he took the fly; but victory declared for me. After ten minutes' pleasant manœuvring, I landed a trout, which would have done no discredit, in point of size and form, to the Iser itself.

By this time, noon was approaching, and as we had no disposition to burden ourselves with some tons' weight of fish, we wound up, and restored our rods to their cases. We then turned our faces steadily towards Aderspach, and following the chaussée, found that in proportion as we got involved among the numerous green hills which overlook it, all ground of complaint on the score of a sharp temperature, was taken away. The weather, in short, became intensely oppressive, and we, in consequence, on whom the exercise of fishing had not been without its effect, began to get excessively tired. We pushed on, however, with an occasional halt, till we could calculate that half our journey was accomplished; when having arrived at a comfortable-looking village inn, we carried our fish into the tap-room, and had them cooked for dinner. They were excellent, and sufficed not only for ourselves, but for the landlord and the whole of his family, whose mittagsmahl, as the Germans call it, had, by some extraordinary accident, been delayed full two hours beyond the customary period of noon.

We found our village innkeeper, as, indeed, was the case with almost all persons of his rank and calling, a good-humoured, obliging, and intelligent man. He had been twice married, was the father of five sons, from one of whom, a jager in the Austrian service, he had just received a letter, which, as it happened to be written remarkably well, he showed us with all a father's pride. He gave us, likewise, as much information touching the local affairs of the neighbourhood as we considered it worth while to require, and spoke freely about the Torpindas, with whom he seemed to be well acquainted. The prevalent tales of their blood-thirstiness he entirely confirmed, though he seemed to insinuate that they were more free with the lives of one another, than with those of strangers; and he warned us that we should look in vain for a camp. Nothing of the kind existed, nor was permitted by the police to exist, in this quarter of Austria. "As to the people themselves," continued he, "they are an idle, good-for-nothing set, exceedingly fond of money, and great hoarders of it when they can get it. I have seen, in this room, a Torpinda produce as many as a hundred guldens; and yet he would not disburse a single kreutzer for straw to sleep upon." We were more mortified by this man's account of the gypsies than by any which we had yet received; for it bore about it a greater air of truth, and, as a necessary result, tended more than any thing which we had yet heard, to dissipate into thin air the visions of gypsy life which up to that moment we continued to cherish.