[22] At the spot where, in later years, the Arlberg railway came to stride over this torrent, a memorial tablet has been erected to him. I was unaware of its existence and only learned the fact two weeks ago—from Baedeker.
[23] Douglass (John Sholto). “Die Römer in Vorarlberg.” Thüringen. Im Selbstverlage des Verfassers. 1870. 4to. Paper cover. Title page, two pages index of contents. One page with half title, 67 pages of text. At the end 4 photographic plates, one of them in color.
[24] He speaks of our primitive lake-dwellers as being of a different race and anterior to these—a race that can be proved none the less to have lingered into the Roman period; which makes him wonder why there is no mention of them in Latin writers, whereas Herodotus has left us such an excellent description. (There is a hint of them in Cæsar’s account of the Britons; and a representation, on Trajan’s Column, of what might be a Dacian palafitte.) Sundry objects of this epoch have been found at our end of Lake Constance. To other evidence showing that the inner Walgau, the Ill valley between Feldkirch and Bludenz, was at one time also or at least partially a lake, I can add a small confirmatory fact, namely, the discovery by myself, on the 13 October, 1883, of one of those spindle-whorls of burnt clay—unornamented, this one—which are characteristic of the lacustrine era. I drew it out of the earth in the then fresh railway cutting below the convent of St. Peter at Bludenz, and take some little credit to myself for detecting it, and realizing its significance, at that tender age. I know not whether other relics of lake-dwellers have been found up here; this one specimen is sufficient evidence of their existence for me. It is worth noting, too, that not a single old village of the inner Walgau lies in the plain (which may also be due to fear of Ill floods). My contribution to the antiquities of later periods consists of the statuette here figured. It was found not far from Lauterach during those Rhine-regulation works mentioned on p. 54, and I was obliged to give its owner a diamond scarf-pin which had cost me £65—those were opulent days—before he could be induced to part with it. The material is bronze, all except the iron lance-blade and rivetings under the feet; its height, to the tip of the lance, is 17½ centimeters. Every detail in this little work of art is challenging, and I will not lose myself in conjectures as to its age or origin.
[25] Ludwig Steub says that Droussa, Drossa, signifies aldertree or thicket of alders, that the Rhætian form of this word was probably tarusa or trusa, and that the valley is called Trusiana in chronicles, “which may be translated as valley of alders.” I have come across it also marked as Thrusiana, and may point out that the dwarf mountain alder (alnus viridis) is to this day called “Droosle” in our dialect. If Steub be correct, it is an odd circumstance, indeed, that this identical tree should once more have crept into the modern designation of this province: Vorarlberg, from the German Erle, an elder. “Arlberg”—“Arlenberg” in some old books—has also been derived from “Arla,” the dwarf pine, which is said to be one of its names in “German-speaking Rhætia.” It may be so. I have never heard these pines called “Aria” hereabouts, though they have several other names (see p. 6). They are sometimes called “Adla” in the Bregenxerwald.
[26] This last part is the track from which the two young men, referred to on p. 24, contrived to fall and kill themselves. I would take any child up there, though not by night. It may be that they had no nails to their boots and slipped on some rocks freshly glazed with ice, dragging each other over the brink.
[27] Nothing is known, I fancy, of the meaning of those old place-names like Schlins, Düns, Röns, and so forth. The origin of our Thüringen is held to be different from that of the German province, which has been derived from Turo, a family name; to be Celtic, and allied to Tours and Zürich (which is also marked as Türrig in old maps); to this day our people invariably call the place “z’Türrig.” Schlins is the birthplace of a remarkable man, Magister Bartholomæus Bernhardt, born 1487. He was called Velcurio from the neighboring town of Feldkirch, studied (1504) at the new University of Wittenberg which within twenty years had received over forty students from Vorarlberg; became a monk and (1519) rector of that University; thereafter to the end of his life Prior of Kemberg in Saxony. According to Sebastian Münster (1550) he was the first priest to take to himself a legitimate wife. He died 1551. His brother John, who seems to have been also a monk, wrote a commentary on Aristotle’s “Physics” and was likewise married.
[28] This reads a little jaundiced. I must contemplate my oleographs.
[29] They do not exist in this Adneter Kalk. We noticed some fair specimens the other day at the Freiburger Hut (Formarin).
[30] This tusk has been in the Bregenz Museum since 1859, with a suitable inscription. A molar, presumably of the same animal, was found by a peasant in this torrent some twenty years ago; it is now at Invery House, Banchory, N. B.
[31] “Mounts up to 7000 feet, and probably descends not much below 3000,” says Schreiber, in his Herpetologia Europea. Bludenz lies at half the latter elevation. Brehm draws the word Tattermandl from “toter Mann,” which is a philologer’s derivation; he is anything but “tot.” It might be a corruption by popular etymology, of the Latin and Italian name. Bruhin says that salamandra maculosa occurs at Thüringen. I have traversed every inch of the Thüringen territory in all seasons and weathers for the last half century, and never seen one.