The path for the return journey from Selrain to Ober-Perfuss—or foot of the upper height—is as rugged as the other paths we have been traversing, but is even more picturesque. The church is newly restored, and contains a monument, with high-sounding Latin epitaph, to one Peter Anich, of whose labours in overcoming the difficulties of the survey and mensuration of his country, which has nowhere three square miles of plain, his co-villagers are justly proud. He was an entirely self-taught man, but most accurate in his observations, and he induced other peasants to emulate his studies. Ober-perfuss also has a mineral spring. A pleasant path over hills and fields leads in about an hour to Kematen, a very similar village; but the remains of the ruined hunting-seat of Pirschenheim, now used as an ordinary lodging-house, adds to its picturesqueness. Near by it may also be visited the pretty waterfall of the Sendersbach. A shorter and easier stage is the next, through the fields to Völs or Vels, which clusters at the foot of the Blasienberg, once the dwelling of a hermit, and still a place of pilgrimage and the residence of the priest of the village. The parish church of Vels is dedicated in honour of S. Jodok, the English saint, whose statue we saw keeping watch over Maximilian’s tomb at Innsbruck. Another hour across the level ground of the Galwiese, luxuriantly covered with Indian corn, brings us back to Innsbruck through the Innrain; the Galwiese has its name from the echo of the hills, which close in the plain as it nears the capital; wiese being a meadow, and gal the same form of Schall—resonance, which occurs in Nachtigall, nightingale; and also, strangely enough, in gellen, to sound loudly (or yell). At the cross-road (to Axams) we passed some twenty minutes out of Völs, where the way is still wild, is the so-called Schwarze Kreuz-kapelle. One Blasius Hölzl, ranger of the neighbouring forest, was once overtaken by a terrible storm; the Geroldsbach, rushing down from the Götzneralp, had obliterated the path with its torrents; the reflection of each lightning flash in the waste of waters around seemed like a sword pointed at the breast of his horse, who shied and reared, and threatened to plunge his rider in the ungoverned flood. Hölzl was a bold forester, but he had never known a night like this; and as the rapidly succeeding flashes almost drove him to distraction, he vowed to record the deliverance on the spot by a cross of iron, of equal weight to himself and his mount, if he reached his fireside in safety. Then suddenly the noisy wind subsided, the clouds owned themselves spent, and in place of the angry forks of flame only soft and friendly sheets of light played over the country, and enabled him to steer his homeward way. Hölzl kept his promise, and a black metal cross of the full weight promised long marked the spot, and gave it its present name.[9] The accompanying figures of our Lady and S. John having subsequently been thrown down, it was removed to the chapel on Blasienberg. Ferneck, a pleasant though primitive bath establishment, is prettily situated on the Innsbruck side of the Galwiese, and the church there was also once a favourite sanctuary with the people; but when the neighbouring land was taken from the monks at Wilten, who had had it ever since the days of the penitent giant Haymon, it ceased to be remembered.
Starting from Innsbruck again in a southerly direction, a little beyond Wilten, already described, we reach Berg Isel. Though invaded in part by the railway, it is still a worthy bourne of pilgrimage, by reason of the heroic victories of the patriots under Hofer. On Sunday and holiday afternoons parties of Innsbruckers may always be found refreshing these memories of their traditional prowess. It is also precious on less frequented occasions for the splendid view it affords of the whole Innthal. Two columns in the Scheisstand record the honours of April 29 and August 30, 1809, with the inscription, ‘Donec erunt montes et saxa et pectora nostra Austriacæ domini mænia semper erunt.’ I must confess, however, that the noise of the perpetual rifle-practice is a great vexation, and prevents one from preserving an unruffled memory of the patriotism of which it is the exponent; but this holds good all over Germany. Here, on May 29, fell Graf Johan v. Stachelburg, the last of his noble family, a martyr to his country’s cause. The peasants among whom he was fighting begged him not to expose his life so recklessly, but he would not listen. ‘I shall die but once,’ he replied to all their warnings; ‘and where could it befall me better than when fighting for the cause of God and Austria?’ He was mortally wounded, and carried in a litter improvised from the brushwood to Mutters, where he lies buried. A little beyond the southern incline of Berg Isel a path strikes out to the right, and ascends the heights to the two villages of Natters and Mutters, the people of which were only in 1786 released from the obligation of going to Wilten for their Mass of obligation. Natters has some remains of one of Archduke Sigismund’s high-perched hunting-seats, named Waidburg; he also instituted in 1446 a foundation for saying five Masses weekly in its chapel.
There are further several picturesque mountain walks to be found in the neighbourhood of Innsbruck, under the grandly towering Nockspitze and the Patscherkofl. Or again from either Mutters or Natters there is a path leading down to Götzens, Birgitz, Axams, and Grintzens, across westwards to the southern end of the Selrainthal. Götzens (from Götze, an idol), like the Hundskapelle, received its name for having retained its heathen worship longer than the rest of the district around. The ruins, which you see on a detached peak as you leave Götzens again, are the two towers of Liebenberger, and Völlenberger the poor remains of Schloss Völlenberg, the seat of an ancient Tirolean family of that name, who were very powerful in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. It fell in to the Crown during the reign of Friedrich mit der leeren Tasche, by the death of its last male heir. Frederick converted it into a state-prison. The noblest person it ever harboured was the poet Oswald von Wolkenstein. Himself a knight of noble lineage, he had been inclined in the early part of Frederick’s reign to join his influence with the rest of the nobility against him, because he took alarm at his familiarity with the common people. Frederick’s sudden establishment of his power, and the energetic proceedings he immediately adopted for consolidating it, took many by surprise, Oswald von Wolkenstein among the rest. He was a bard of too sweet song, however, to be shut up in a cage, and Friedl was not the man to keep the minstrel in durance when it was safe to let him be at large. He had no sooner established himself firmly on the throne than he not only released the poet, but forgetting all cause of animosity against him, placed him at his court, and delighted his leisure hours with listening to his warbling. Oswald’s wild and adventurous career had stored his mind with such subjects as Friedl would love to hear sung. But we shall have more to say of Oswald when we come to his home in the Grödnerthal.
The next village is Birgitz; and the next, after crossing the torrent which rushes down from the Alpe Lizum, is Axams, one of the most ancient in the neighbourhood, after passing the opening to the lonesome but richly pastured Sendersthal, the slopes of which meet those of the Selrainthal.
The only remaining valley of North Tirol which I have room here to treat is the Stubay Thal.[10] Of the three or four ways leading into it from Innsbruck, all rugged, the most remarkable is called by the people ‘beim Papstl’ because that traversed by Pius VI. when he passed through Tirol, as I have already narrated. The first place of any interest is Waldrast, a pilgrim’s chapel, dating from the year 1465. A poor peasant was directed by a voice he heard in his sleep to go to the woods (Wald), and lay him down to rest (Rast), and it would be told him what he should do; hence the name of the spot. There the Madonna appeared to him, and bid him build a chapel over an image of her which appeared there, no one knew how, some years before.[11] A Servite monastery, built in 1624 on the spot, is now in ruins, but the pilgrimage is still often made. It may be reached from the railway station of Matrey. The ascent of the Serlesspitz being generally undertaken from here, it is called in Innsbruck the Waldrasterspitz. Fulpmes is the largest village of the Stubay Thal. The inhabitants are all workers in iron and steel implements, and among other things are reckoned to make the best spikes for the shoes of the mountain climbers. Their works are carried all over Austria and Italy, but less now than formerly. In the church are some pictures by a peasant girl of this place. Few will be inclined to pursue this valley further; and the only remaining place of any mark is Neustift, the marshy ground round which provides the Innsbruck market with frogs. The church of Neustift was built, at considerable cost, in the tasteless style of the last century. The wood carvings by the Tirolean artists Keller, Hatter, and Zatter, however, are meritorious.
[1] Spare your bread for the poor, and escape the fate of Frau Hütt. See some legends forming a curious link between this, and that of Ottilia Milser in Stöber Sagen des Elsasses, pp. 257–8.
[2] The dog’s church or chapel.
[3] His well-known daring, emulating that of the chamois and the eagle, was of no avail now; for straight under him sinks the Martin’s Wall, the steepest cliff of the whole country-side.
He gazes down through that grave of clouds. He gazes abroad over that cloud-ocean. He glances around, and his gaze recoils.