October 13th, 1878.
To her Mother.
I think you would be much interested by the old-world life here, and the customs handed down for generations. Maggie is very kind in explaining the things we see. Yesterday troops of cattle were returning from the mountain pastures to their winter homes near the farms. Each troop had its best cow decorated with a cow-crown, a high and bright erection of which the creature was very proud. She wore also a bright, broad, embroidered collar, and a gigantic sweet-toned bell, much larger than I ever saw in Switzerland. Cows, goats, oxen, sheep, and men all came together, most of them more or less adorned with flowers, ribbons, bells, and embroidery. But the principal cow, quite conscious of her honour, walked in a stately way in front. The people came out in force, in every village, to see them pass; and the greatest excitement prevailed to see in what condition they returned. To-day, after mass, they are all turned into the largest field on each farm, and the neighbours go round to pay visits to see how each herd has prospered. The senner or dairyman, who has been in charge, brings down in triumph all his butter and cheeses; and they go quite far out of their way, to pass in triumphal procession with the flocks through Bruneck itself. I suppose as a kind of type of the plenty he brings, it is the custom for him to store his pockets with cakes which he gives to the villagers on his way down. Maggie told us last year their queen cow broke her horn just before they should return; and she had to be deposed, and was very depressed; another cow had to be trained to wear a crown; they practised with a milking stool, and had to teach her to walk first. I thought Blanche would like to hear all this. We drove yesterday to Tauffers, a village twelve miles from here. It lies at the head of a valley, and six weeks ago was a lovely village full of gardens and surrounded by meadows. But, one Saturday, the river ceased to flow; and they were alarmed. It seemed a mass from an avalanche had fallen into it and blocked it; and, after the body of water had accumulated behind it, it suddenly broke thro’ the dam and tore in headlong force along, carrying great rocky sand and trees in its course. For six hours it tore along; and then the men could get out to see to the cattle. Every bridge between them and Bruneck and the outer world was torn away. There were some Austrian tourists there; and two of them volunteered to scramble over the waste of ruin, and climb along the edge of the mountain down to Bruneck with some of the villagers; and they came to the burgomaster here, and bore witness to the desolation. The burgomaster sent a great drum thro’ the town announcing the catastrophe; and all the peasants round brought food and carts and horses, and worked with a will.
LIFE OF A TYROLESE PEASANT
The Tyrol,
October 27th, 1878.
To Miranda.
Did I tell you how here the elder brother has all and the younger has nothing but the right to support, and labourers’ wages in return for labourers’ work, on the ancestral estate? Some go away to make a place for themselves elsewhere; but many don’t. They can never marry, and they grow old in a life of humble service on their brother’s land.
Mr. Howitt has been much touched by the life and character of the brother of the old man who owns this farm, and wrote these lines which he would like you to see. He told us of the old man’s silent life, strict attention to the cattle, reverent raising of his hat, and letting his grey hair be caught by the wind, as he prayed in the field when the vesper bell rang in the distant town, and of his unnoticed place among the other labourers; and how when his nephew was married, he thought he must make him a present; so he asked leave to go into the bedroom let to the Howitts, where the chest of drawers containing his own earthly possessions stood; how he took out a green little old jug made in the form of an animal, of no value, but all that he could find to give. Take care of the lines, for I like them.
Lienz,