Its present ruinous condition arose partly from neglect during the troublous period of the wars at the end of the eighteenth and commencement of the nineteenth century, and partly from the fact that during the Bavarian occupation of the country in 1808-9, the then Government sold the castle for the ridiculous sum of a couple of hundred pounds for the purpose of destruction so that the stones could be used as building material![16]

[Ill.u.s.tration: SCHLOSS TYROL, NEAR MERAN]

[Sidenote: ANCIENT CASTLES]

Castle Tyrol stands a relic of past glories, feats of arms, strenuous living, and chivalry on a rocky ridge or spur of the mountains above the vineyards, which climb upwards towards the white and imposing castle walls. Behind and above rise the pine forests running upwards to meet the rocky slopes of the Kuckelberg and Vintschgau range.

The most ancient portions of the present building are some of the walls, a porch, and two marble doorways dating from about the twelfth century, and the chapel. In the latter there is a fine representation of the Fall of Man, and interesting carvings. From its commanding position it is only to be expected that a magnificent prospect is to be had of the Adige Valley, the chain of the Ulten-Thal and Mendel mountains, and the vineyards upon the slopes which swell upwards from the valley. Seen either soon after sunrise (which few people, we imagine, do) or just at sunset, the views from the castle, more especially that from the Kaisersaal, are of wonderful pictorial beauty and charm.

Though we have too little s.p.a.ce to devote to the many delightful places in the Meran valley which invite exploration, or to mention the numerous walks which tempt the pedestrian, we must give a pa.s.sing word or two to the Chateau or Castle of Schonna, which lies nearly two thousand feet above sea-level like a h.o.a.ry and time-worn sentinel at the entrance to the Pa.s.seier Valley. It is easily reached from Obermais by an excellent road suitable even for cyclists, and is well worth a visit owing to the representative collection of old weapons gathered within it, and its picturesque situation. Dating from the early years of the twelfth century, it is an excellent example of the ancient feudal fortress-residence of those far-off times. A mention of the Chateau Lebenberg, distant about an hour and a half's walk from Meran, is justified--although it is now a pension--by reason of its excellent state of preservation, and the historical paintings in several of the most interesting rooms. The walk, too, along the side of the mountains by way of Marling and picturesque St. Anton is one to be enjoyed and remembered.

Some ten miles northward in the Pa.s.seier Valley, just a little distance beyond the village of St. Martin, where one sees many examples of the wall paintings which are more especially numerous in the towns and villages of Southern Tyrol, stands the most famous national pilgrimage place and historic shrine, Hofer's Inn, called _Wirth am Sand_ or the "Sandy Inn," literally the "Inn by the Sand."

It is quite an unpretentious building standing by the roadside, and would scarcely attract the notice of pa.s.sing travellers. It is entered by a gallery reached up a short flight of steps. The interior is scrupulously clean, and although it is plainly furnished one is rather the more impressed by this circ.u.mstance which leaves the famous Inn, where Hofer was born on November 22, 1767, much as we are told it was in his time. From the pleasant dining-room on the first floor, with curtains of spotless muslin to keep out the almost blinding sunshine of the valley, there are fine views towards Meran, and of the towering mountains across the stony bed of the Pa.s.ser.

At the Inn there are some interesting relics of the patriot, and pictures of him. One shows him as a big, strongly built man of not much above average height, with a short nose, a fine and lofty forehead, dark eyes, and a rather ruddy face, well-marked eyebrows, and the famous long beard.

At one time Hofer wore no beard, and the story goes that his growing one--which ultimately was declared to be the longest in the valley--arose from the chaff of his companions, who a.s.serted that his wife forbade him to wear one. Whether the tale be true or not it has very general acceptance, and we all know that Hofer's beard was ultimately one of his distinguishing features during the campaigns in which he was engaged. There is a very pleasant balcony on the outside of the house which, tradition a.s.serts, was often used by Hofer and his companions when holding their meetings or councils of war to devise some scheme by which their beloved country could be freed from a foreign yoke.

[Sidenote: HOFER RELICS]

Hofer's last letter, which is one of the most treasured of the relics, even exceeding in interest the clothes which he wore when shot at Mantua, is a splendid testimony to the dignity and greatness of the man, which surmounted all troubles and disasters and was not lessened or alloyed by triumphs. In it he speaks of his old home, of the rushing Pa.s.ser, of the beautiful mountains he would see never again, and then goes on to say, "It is the great G.o.d's good will that I die at Mantua," and then, "Farewell, beautiful world," adding, "but at the thought of quitting it my eyes scarcely even moisten." Then follow the words, "I am writing this at five in the morning; at nine I shall pa.s.s into the presence of G.o.d," with the date "20th February, 1810."

Far up the mountain side above his old home is the spot where Hofer hid with his wife from November, 1809, till five o'clock on the morning of January 18, 1810, when he was captured and taken under strong escort first to Meran, and ultimately to Mantua. He had refused to fly to Vienna or take refuge on Austrian territory. He wished to remain amongst his people, perhaps with a vain hope of once more attempting to accomplish Tyrol's freedom.

It is with regret that most travellers leave Hofer's old dwelling. The whole Pa.s.seier Valley is, of course, teeming with historic memories, of the gallant doings of the patriot and his companions. Near Schloss Tyrol itself was fought one of the most notable engagements, and a victory won when the French, driven from their position on the Kuchelberg, were surrounded by the peasant forces; whilst just outside Meran another skirmish took place, as a result of which the French troops were forced to evacuate the town.

[Sidenote: SUNNY BOZEN]

From Meran to Bozen by rail is rather less than twenty miles, and about the same distance by the road, which runs through the valley of the Etsch, or Adige, and in places along the lower slopes of the hills. It is a picturesque journey by either, and for cycling quite delightful. One crosses the Talfer just before reaching Bozen, which lies in a wide basin at the junction of the valley of the Etsch, with the smaller but picturesque Sarnthal, surrounded by great reddish brown crags and precipices of the porphyry mountains on which the semi-tropical cactus grows, and one gets sombre groups of cypresses, and here and there vineyards, and pine-clad crags. The town is a strange mixture of the German elements of Tyrol and the Italian. Its architecture, too, is "an admixture of that of north Italy and South Germany, here and there transfused so that it preserves characteristics of both." It is perhaps for this very reason a town of great charm, and one of considerable beauty. Its surroundings, which include the famous Rosengarten, and many beautiful little valleys and gorges present attractions for a longer stay than one at first contemplates.

It is, moreover, one of the busiest (Bozen people claim that it is _the_ busiest) towns in Tyrol, with a population going on towards 20,000, including its outskirts, yet it possesses some most delightful gardens.

Seen from almost any point of the lower slopes of the surrounding hills, cactus, and vine-clad, and resembling in general luxuriance of vegetation Italy rather than the Tyrol of but a little further north, Bozen is charming. Below one is spread out a garden-like city, which with all its bustling life yet looks more like a holiday resort than a commercial town, with numbers of white-walled villas dotted amidst green fields, vineyards and gardens, in the latter of which blossom all the flowers one knows and loves, and many less common in England.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A STREET IN BOZEN]

One of the oldest towns in Tyrol, it stands practically on the site of the Pons Drusi of Roman times. It has for "time out of mind" stood at the cross roads where the Brenner and the Vintsgau routes divide. In the past, Roman armies have pa.s.sed through it, have crossed the Talfer, or have lain encamped in the fields of its basin-like site.

And after them came the Merchants of the Middle Ages, trading between civilized Italy and barbarian northern lands. Still later came Emperors and pilgrims travelling to the "Eternal City," Crusaders outward and homeward bound, roving singers, and hordes of free lances and mercenaries. In a word, Bozen's past must have been a stirring one, and the lives led by her citizens full of the colour of life and gallant deeds.

Anciently, too, the town was fought for and tossed hither and thither by those powerful civil lords the Terriolis, Counts of Tyrol, and the militant spiritual lords the Prince Bishops of Trent. For this reason, and on account of many fires and "grievous o'erflowings of the Talfer in past times," of the most ancient of all Bozens there are comparatively few traces, though within the old town there are yet traceable some interesting relics of the Middle Ages.

In those long back times Bozen was a place of even greater commercial importance than now. To its four annual markets or fairs people from many lands came, and it became the depot and centre of the great transport trade by the two chief pa.s.ses leading from Italy into Tyrol and thence to Germany and Austria. As was not unnatural Bozen merchants had a standing of their own, and were, according to one authority, "not a little purse proud and exclusive in their dealings, save when the latter meant that financial advantage would thereby accrue to them."

Although Bozen does not commend itself to most tourists from higher lat.i.tudes for a lengthy stay, at least not in summer, as the basin in which it lies, though making it delightfully sheltered in winter, causes the town in the months of July and August to be decidedly hot and rather enervating, there are several places in the immediate neighbourhood to which one can flee for fresher air and cooler days.

The town has somewhat declined commercially from the high position it once held, when the trade which flowed into Tyrol through it and northwards out of it was chiefly along the high-roads and over the pa.s.ses; and thus through Bozen a very appreciable percentage of the whole southern and Italian trade pa.s.sed. But nevertheless it is still a most flourishing and interesting town.

A native writer says, on this subject, "Bozen ... has during the last decade largely recovered the ground it had temporarily lost through the making of railways, and the decline of transport along the high-roads of the pa.s.ses owing chiefly to the increased facilities that have arisen for conveyance of merchandize by sea." Certainly one is soon able, when in the town, to realize that in two branches of trade at least Bozen occupies an undoubtedly high position in the commercial world, those of wine, and fruit growing and exporting. The hillsides are literally studded with vineyards and orchards, and Bozen fruit has gained for itself an almost world-wide reputation.

From the artistic side, too, Bozen claims the attention of all who are interested in legendary lore, architecture, and antiquarian matters.

As one pa.s.ses along its chief streets, or explores its byways in the older part of it, one is delighted on almost every hand by vistas of fine houses, shady and charming courtyards, buildings with strangely constructed roofs, and fantastic gable ends, quaintly shaped bay windows, vaulted colonnades, and here and there, stowed away where least one would expect to find them, smaller courtyards with trellises covered with vines, and perhaps an ancient well of rust-red marble to give a finishing touch to the charming picture.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A SOUTH TYROL FARMSTEAD]

Numbers of artists pause at Bozen yearly on their way south into Italy via Verona to study the rich treasures in the galleries of the cities of Northern Italy, or to rest awhile on their return journey northwards. In Bozen is plenty to paint and plenty to admire, and the townsfolk are noted for the hospitality which still (notwithstanding the great influx of tourists of late years) distinguishes the frank and warm-hearted people of Tyrol in general.

[Sidenote: BOZEN PARISH CHURCH]

Chief amongst the buildings which will attract one's attention stands the Pfarrkirche or Parish Church, which with its elegant tower and open spire, over two hundred feet in height, forms a monument to the artistic and constructive skill of its Swabian builder Johann Lutz in the first years of the sixteenth century. The church is splendidly situated at one corner of the fine open Waltherplatz, which is planted with shady horse-chestnut trees, and, its roof of copper-green tiles set in a pattern, contrasts admirably with its walls and spire of red sandstone. In ancient times the building possessed two spires, both of which were destroyed or so injured as to necessitate their pulling down long before Lutz built his elegant structure. The church itself, which contains a fine altar-piece by a pupil of t.i.tian, and a remarkable stone pulpit dating about the first decade of the sixteenth century, is, in the main, fourteenth-century work, although it was not actually finished until the third decade of the fifteenth, so some authorities state.

In the centre of the Johann Platz stands a fine though simply conceived statue to Walther von der Vogelweide who was born about 1160 at Lajen, near Waidbruck, in which the poet is shown standing clad in a loose robe, with a biretta-like cap on his head and his hands crossed whilst holding a lute. The statue is the work of the late Heinrich Natter, one of the most famous of native sculptors, who was also the artist of the famous Berg Isel Hofer Monument, of the very finely conceived and well-executed statue of Ulrich Zwingli at Zurich, and many other works.

One of the most charming of Bozen streets is undoubtedly the Laubenga.s.se, which greatly resembles the main street of Meran, with its shady arcades on either side under which the shops are situated, and where one can promenade and do one's shopping protected from the sun in summer and the rain in winter. The Karnerga.s.se and Silberga.s.se are interesting streets, as is also the Goethestra.s.se leading to the fruit market, where one finds during market hours many interesting types of peasants from the neighbouring villages as well as of the townsfolk themselves. We saw some of the most gorgeous of kerchiefs worn over the shoulders and crossed over the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of Bozen or Gries fruit-sellers, which gave an air of quite southern colour and brightness to the little Platz, in which oranges, almonds, melons, figs, and even p.r.i.c.kly pears were displayed for sale with all the other fruits one might expect to find, including magnificent cherries in the earlier part of the fruit season.

The costumes of the Sarnthal with the big, broad-brimmed felt hats worn by both men and women, and the gay "k.u.mmerbunds" of the men worn under short "Eton"-shaped jackets, are also seen in Bozen on festive occasions.

The Museum, in which there are many interesting exhibits, including some old peasant costumes well worth the attention of artists, is an imposing building or "block" in the Konigin Elizabethstra.s.se, with corner turrets and an imposing central tower.

Of the more picturesque and older buildings none excels in charm the Franciscan Monastery and Church in the Franziskanerga.s.se. The courtyard, shaded by trees which throw a diaper of shadow and sunlight on the paving stones, with the delicately pretty porch leading into the church, is a spot of sheer delight for the artist and the dreamer of dreams; who there, amid the quietude of ancient things, can the better conjure up visions of other days when Bozen streets rang to the pa.s.sing of armies, and men at arms, and in them were heard the cries of mediaeval merchants selling their wares drawn from north and south.

In the Franciscan Church there is a fine altar, and belonging to the Monastery there are some beautiful cloisters. The library, too, should not be overlooked by those interested in early books and similar treasures.

On the outskirts of pleasant Bozen, a fine view of which is obtained from the Calvarienberg, there are many charming excursions. Towards the west lies the finely situated Castle of Sigmundskron on a hill between mountains overlooking the river in which there is good fishing: the Mendel Pa.s.s, 4500 feet, ascended either on foot, by carriage or by the mountain railway; Tisenser Mittelgebirge, studded with most interesting ruins, and from whence one obtains extensive and beautiful views of the surrounding mountain chains and of Meran.

[Sidenote: CASTLE OF RUNKELSTEIN]

Towards the north lies the deeply interesting Imperial Castle of Runkelstein, which, dating from the middle half of the thirteenth century, was extensively restored in 1884-88, and finally presented by the Emperor of Austria to the town of Bozen. Situated upon and almost entirely covering a huge ma.s.s of rock, it overlooks a bend of the swiftly flowing Talfer, and occupies one of those commanding and almost inaccessible positions beloved of builders in the Middle Ages.

The Castle, irrespective of its interests as an architectural survival of a long past age, is much visited on account of the famous frescoes which are contained in a building now known as the Summer House. As one climbs up the steep and narrow path to the castle drawbridge one can the better realize how safe the ancient owners (who were not above raiding the neighbourhood, and of engaging in predatory warfare with their neighbours) must have felt when they had once heard their iron-studded door clang behind them, and seen the ancient drawbridge swung up by its chains.

Till the introduction of artillery, indeed, such a fastness would have been practically impregnable.

The frescoes to which we have referred are especially interesting from the fact that they undoubtedly exhibit a very primitive art. At the time they are supposed to have been painted, that is to say towards the end of the fourteenth century, art even in its home, Italy, was in a comparatively elementary and even grotesque stage of evolution.

The figures, which are black with a pea-green background, are, as an American girl said, "Noah's arkical and too funny for words," though we are bound to confess that the irreverence of the remark deeply offended a worshipper of mediaeval art who was of the party. The paintings in the first room depict a German version of the story of Tristan and Isolde, which would appear to diverge materially from the one of Sir Thomas Malory, as set out in the "Morte d'Arthur." The main story can, however, be easily followed.

In the second chamber the frescoes, which were a very common form of decoration at the period at which they were done and should not be considered in the light of being of especial significance, depict a complete version of the legendary story of Garel, following the version of a Styrian[17] thirteenth century poet named Pleier. It is generally considered that this Garel was founded upon or was identical with the character of the Gareth or Beaumains of the "Morte d'Arthur,"

although the evidence is not absolutely conclusive. To English people the fine fresco of the famous Knights of the Round Table sitting in company with King Arthur and Queen Guinevere will naturally be of the greatest interest, although each of the quaint drawings to ill.u.s.trate the mediaeval legend has an abiding fascination for all to whom the past is of moment.

Nor are the outside walls of this quaint pavilion left unadorned. On them are single figures and others in groups of two and three depicting well-known mediaeval personages of historical and legendary note: Tristan and Isolde; William of Orleans and Amelie; William, Duke of Austria, and Aglei; pairs of lovers whose fame has outlived the centuries; the three hero kings of ancient Christendom, Arthur of England, the Emperor Charlemagne, and G.o.dfrey de Bouillon. Amongst the large number of figures here depicted may also be seen other groups of three comprising celebrated knights, dwarfs, giants, and other real, mythical, or legendary characters; a gallery of portraits which has probably no equal in any other castle in the world. The story of the deeds of the characters thus immortalized would fill many volumes, and provide some of the most romantic and interesting reading imaginable.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ST. CYPRIAN AND THE PEAKS OF THE ROSENGARTEN]

One quits the historic spot with a sense of the greatness of the past as well as with a lingering regret that nothing after all can adequately conjure up for one the stirring scenes, strenuous and vividly "coloured" life, romance and chivalry, that the walls and rooms of Runkelstein must have witnessed.

In an easterly direction from Bozen lies the Eggenthal and its famous waterfall. The road through the former is one of great picturesqueness and grandeur--along the hillsides, across high bridges, and through gorge-like rock cuttings, which to be fully appreciated cannot be travelled better than a-foot. In the same direction, too, lies the beautiful Karrersee, surrounded by its belt of sombre pines above whose feathery tops shine the rocky peaks and snow-clad summits of the Dolomite giants.

[Sidenote: THE ROSENGARTEN]

From Bozen, too, the famous Rosengarten, which lies to the east of the town, should be visited. But it is not a garden of roses after all, but a collection of stupendous and rocky peaks which blush red at sunset. Those who expect flowers other than alpen rosen, gentian, and the like, will be disappointed, as was the young lady who undertook the excursion in the hope of seeing roses galore such as one may find in the "attar" districts of the Balkan Provinces and especially in Bulgaria.

But if from Bozen one looks merely for the rosy hue to tint the skyward-piercing pinnacles of rock, which have been poetically called the "Rosengarten," or rambles in the picturesque and beautiful valleys and tiny defiles at their feet, one will not be disappointed. And the "roses," like other similar phenomena, are in a sense a weather gla.s.s; the deeper the red they glow the finer the ensuing day. At first a plum-hued twilight, such as one gets in the Maloja valley, seems to fall down out of the sky, and then the mountain peaks commence to receive their baptism of crimson. Then at last, as the sun sinks behind the interposing Guntschna Berg, only the highest peaks continue for a short time longer to glow with increasing, and then fading, depth of colour, till at length the plum-bloom shadows conquer the "roses" and the cool twilight comes.

The origin of the descriptive phrase "the Rosengarten" is (so far as we have been able to discover) lost in the mists of antiquity. But there is a rather pretty legend concerning the Garden itself. Long ago (the story tells us), when men were perhaps happier and certainly less sophisticated and cynical than they are now, and believed in fairies, gnomes, and magic, there lived a dwarf named Laurin or Laurenz reigning over the other dwarfs, who inhabited a country in the centre of the Schlern. By some means or other this dwarf managed to see and fall in love with the beautiful, golden-haired sister of a retainer of Dietrich of Bern, in Switzerland. After having seized her he bore her to his palace of crystal in the interior of the mountains, and there kept her prisoner. Soon, however, the brave and gallant knight Dietrich, and his squire, who was named Dietlieb, determined to rescue the abducted maiden, and for this purpose they came up from Italy where they were at the time, and finding an opening entered the Schlern, and after a fierce fight succeeded in conquering the dwarf, notwithstanding the fact that of course the latter was a.s.sisted by a magician. Laurin was not, however, killed, but spared by Dietrich at the request of Dietlieb. It was unfortunate clemency, however, as Laurin, professing himself grateful and offering them refreshment after their labours and fight, gave them drugged wine, so that when they awoke they discovered that they had been bound and cast into a dungeon of the dwarf's castle. From this predicament they were happily freed by Dietlieb's sister, Simild, and after another fierce encounter with the dwarfs they defeated them, and trod the famous Rosengarten roses underfoot, their places being taken by those that bloom at sunset upon the peaks above the site of Laurin's mythical palace.