CHAPTER XIII.

THE LATTER END OF A FRAY, AND THE BEGINNING OF A FEAST.

The loss of the Tyrolese amounted to sixty-two killed and ninety-seven wounded; of their friends the Austrians, twenty-five killed and fifty-nine wounded. Of the Bavarians were reckoned two thousand five hundred killed and wounded, including several officers.

The engagement had lasted till seven in the evening. At nine the Bavarians retreated to Kufstein under favour of the darkness. At four o'clock the next morning, the victorious peasantry flocked indiscriminately into Innsbruck, shouting and singing, without any order, but yet without the least offence in their demeanour or proceedings. At nine o'clock Hofer marched in at the head of the men of Passeyr; and with Father Joachim at his right hand. By this time the city was full to overflowing--

"You would have thought the very windows spake, So many greedy looks of young and old Through casements darted their desiring eyes Upon his visage;"

--for, certainly, the impression prevailed among the good people of Innsbruck that he was the great man of the day, and so it continued to do.

Michael Stumff, beaming like the sun, stood on the threshold of his house to catch a glimpse of the Sandwirth as he passed, vaunting much his familiarity with him to those who were willing to listen; and extolling his valour because it enhanced the honour of his acquaintance.

"Yes, yes," he repeated, wagging his head, "there's more in him than you'd think, for as homely as he looks. Why now, Chastelar,--we've had General Chastelar among us, though now, I'm sorry to hear, he has quitted the country,--and Hormayr--we've had Baron Hormayr among us too, of whose doings or misdoings at this present occasion, I suppose we shall shortly have his own account,--both of these have been counted noteworthy men,--to say nothing of our own Baron Taxis--but, to my mind, there's not a greater man among 'em all, in spite of his homely bearing, than my honest friend the Sandwirth. Ah, here he comes!--nay, not yet--How the bells are ringing! and yet there's such a din, clang, and confusion, they scarce can be heard. Here he comes, then!--yes, yes, the green jackets walking six or eight abreast--there's _he_, look you, neighbour!--there's my old ally the Sandwirth!--many a pot of beer have he and I shared together! And now, see you, he has a feather in his hat, and a sword at his side, and pistols in his belt. Hurra! hurra! I say, Sandwirth!--(Nod at him, Alouise--I'll catch his eye.) Hurra! hurra!--"

The churches received them. As many as could enter them, crowded the aisles; the rest hung about the doors. After victory and thanksgiving, naturally came feasting. Wounded men were more slowly brought into the city, and hospitably received; and numbers of escaped Tyrolese prisoners came panting back to their friends at intervals throughout the day.

The Bavarians had pretty well consumed the edibles of Innsbruck, but the damage was being repaired as fast as was possible by supplies from the country. Every house had its table spread with such things as came to hand, for the refreshment of all comers. At the inns and public rooms, dances were got up; and those who had fought overnight might now be seen cutting tremendous capers and taking wondrous leaps, with some fair partner of equal agility. But, flirting? none; the Tyrolese eminently cultivate decorum, and know how to be merry and wise. If you choose your partner, it is for the entire evening; and often proves to be your partner for life.

Late in the evening Baron Hormayr arrived at the Taxis Palace. His throat was very sore, and he was very hoarse, and not a little vexed at having had no share in the glory of the day. Flinging himself on a sofa, he desired Hofer might be instantly sought, found, and sent to him.

In due course, the Sandwirth presented himself.

"So here you are, Hofer!" cried the Baron, feverishly shaking up the cushion under his head.

"Here we are, baron--in Innsbruck--"

"Aye, aye, I suppose you are all mightily pleased. If I had not had the worst cold I ever had in my life, I should have been up with you--(Just ring for a tisane--) Regularly knocked up at Imst, my good fellow--could only dictate my orders in a whisper; and fretted to death at not being able to lead the attack at Scharnitz. Well, and so--O, you've got on Chastelar's sword and pistols, I see."

"The sword and pistols the general gave me, baron."

"Aha! Made a good show! hey?"

"Helped to do good service, I hope."

"No doubt, no doubt. The people adore you, Hofer! And yet you haven't been much of a fighting man--what makes them like you so?--hey?"

"I do not justly know, baron, save that they know I love them. Love kindles love, you know."

"Aye, aye--well, but how went the day? Eisenstecken and you, I suppose, helped Colonel Ertel in winning the day?"

"Well, baron, Eisenstecken is a good lad, but I should have said Father Joachim, Speckbacher, and I won the day, helped by Colonel Ertel. But, since it is won, it's no matter."

"Just so, you all did your best, my good friend--"

"We were quite at a stand-still at one time, for powder and bullets."

"Hofer! what a shocking want of ammunition there has been throughout this campaign! General Buol has been in a wretched state, without either ammunition or money. There he has remained, on the Brenner with twenty-three hundred men, and actually not a cartridge!--"

"Our men were making cartridges all day long, for three days before the battle. You know, baron, the Tyrol has few resources in itself; we have few powder-mills, and the frontiers are now so watched that it is exceeding difficult to get any into the country, even when we have any money to pay for it, which generally we have not."

"No, and then you waste so much in _feux-de-joie_ and such nonsense, at every rustic wedding and merry-making; every petty success. Why, I can hear your sharpshooters peppering away now!"

"Because yesterday's was not a petty success. Forgive them, baron. Every time we fight you a Berg Isel, you may afford us a _feu-de-joie_. However, the lads are wasting their powder now, I acknowledge; and, when I go hence, I will stop it."

"Do so; and--just give me that carafe of iced water and the goblet; I'm so thirsty!--Have some wine, Hofer?"

"No, baron, I thank you."

"Tell them, Hofer, for goodness' sake, to husband what little ammunition they possess, for they don't know how important it is."

"Oh yes, they do, baron! They knew, yesterday, when their own was spent; and luckily, the Bavarians' was exhausted too!"

"Ha, ha!"

"Speckbacher has a little boy, who runs into the thick of the fight, picks up bullets, and brings them to his father to use again."

"Ha, ha! Cool!--Where's Speckbacher now?"

"At the heels of the Bavarians."

"Where's Major Teimer?"

"At the heels of Speckbacher."

"Ho!--Well, Hofer, you'll just speak to your men--and to-morrow I'll put forth a proclamation--I'd dictate it to-night, only my head aches ready to split--telling every true Tyrolean, whose heart, and so forth,--had better show his love of his country by abstaining from feu-de-joieing, and by hunting up, without delay, all such arms, rifles, muskets, swords, cavalry saddles, and what not, as can be found, and bringing them with all speed to head-quarters. Bless my heart! what a number of precious lives might be taken by the ammunition these silly clodhoppers are now wasting!"

"I'll go to them at once, baron. And, if you'll take my unworthy advice, you'll go to bed, and drink something hot."

"Thank you, thank you,--I believe I shall, or something cold, for I'm very feverish--you see one eye is quite bunged up already. Good night. I'm sorry you won't take a glass of wine, though. Let me see you in the morning."

Hofer assented, with a gesture, and withdrew. "Poor man! poor gentleman, I mean," thought he. "He seems much afflicted at having a stuffing in the head; almost as much as at not having won yesterday's battle. Well, well! we must each do what we can, we are but as God made us."

Here he was joined by Giuseppe Eisenstecken, who had been drinking iced champagne, and seemed very cheerful.

"_Sanvird_," said he, clapping his hand familiarly on Hofer's shoulder, "what reward do you think I have hit on for my work of yesterday?"

"What reward have I thought of for myself or Speckbacher?" said Hofer. "Our success is reward enough for us all, I think."

"Ah, basta! I have been a good adjutant to you, _Sanvird_. Without me the day would not have been won--"

"Oh, indeed! I have yet to learn it."

"_Sanvird_, you have a daughter--"

"Three."

"Ah! Two are children--your Theresa is ... _bella, bella veramente_!"

"I have not now to learn that," said Hofer, laughing and shaking him off; "but you had better think of something else, my lad--you and she have nothing in common."

"Oh, I'm aware I am not common," said Giuseppe, "but any little advantage I may have of birth--"

"Hold, there, my boy. We Hofers have been Sandwirths of repute for many generations. Good night, now. I am very tired, and am going to bed; and I advise you to do the same."

Eisenstecken stared, shrugged his shoulders, and walked off to the theatre.

When the news of the victory of Berg Isel spread through the valleys, which it did like wildfire, much rejoicing and festivity ensued. The darling passion of the mountaineers is for music and dancing. Every cottage has its violin or guitar; and the Tyrolese not only sing, but have a gift of improvising verses, rough indeed, and with little pretension to polish or harmony, but not destitute of wit and satire, nor without occasional touches of pathos. These accomplishments were brought into play at a national festival given in honour of the victory of Berg Isel. The chief merit attained or aimed at, is a quickness at repartee; each party in the impromptu dialogue striving to make the other ridiculous. Sometimes when the cut is very unexpected, the person assailed is bereft of presence of mind; and his or her confusion affords abundant amusement to the audience.

Theresa, Rudolf, and Franz were all good at this pastime--Rudolf the best, because Theresa's bashfulness often restrained her, and Franz's satire scarcely ever rose to the value of wit. At the rustic merry-making at _am Sand_, all three were present; and Franz, nettled by Theresa's rejection of him, assailed her with several such stinging impromptus, that were no impromptus at all, having been prepared beforehand, that Theresa turned the tables on him, with a true woman's malice, for cowardice on the day of battle, and invented such a number of absurd reasons for his keeping out of harm's way, that hearty laughter resounded on all sides; and Franz, smarting more than he showed, secretly resolved to have his day of revenge.

Meanwhile, the ground was clearing for wrestlers. Almost every Tyrolese wears a thick silver or iron ring on the little finger of the right hand, to use in the pugilistic encounters they call _robeln_; and a fist so armed can inflict cruel wounds. Franz, irritated by Theresa's sarcasms, felt a burning desire to inflict some disfiguring hurt on Rudolf; and, though rather afraid of trying his strength with him, the evil desire predominated, and he challenged him to a match. But Rudolf happened to have no mind for it; and as soon as Franz clearly made out this, he never ceased pestering Rudolf, and twitting him with his backwardness, till Rudolf, at length losing patience, told him that if he did not desist, he would pitch him into the Passeyr.

Such a wicked expression came into Franz's face, on this, that it made Theresa's blood run cold; and she hastily interrupted the strife by exclaiming, "The miracle-play is just going to begin. Franz, are not you to be the Philistine?"

The subject was David and Goliath. Rudolf was David, and Franz (on stilts) Goliath. The subordinate parts were filled by other peasants. Rudolf came in, driving a real donkey, supposed to be laden with the ten cheeses for his brethren's captain; and he questioned about the fight, and answered his brother's rebuke very effectively. Franz mouthed the defiance to Israel extremely well, and straddled and swaggered about like a very Goliath. The Passeyr was very handy to represent the brook that supplied the pebbles; and Rudolf, though he slung the stone near enough to his antagonist to make Franz swerve his head considerably to one side, was at pains not really to hit him. Franz did not know this, however; he thought the pebble was slung unreasonably and maliciously close; therefore, when Rudolf ran up to his prostrate body to make believe to sever his head with the Sandwirth's own sword, Franz hooked his foot round his rival's ankle, and suddenly brought him with violence to the ground. This was so unexpected a catastrophe, that a cry, mingled with laughter, arose from the audience. But Rudolf was not to be so baffled; he clasped his arms strictly round his foe, who already was under him, and writhing, struggling, and rolling, they twisted one another about till Rudolf finally got his antagonist to the water's edge, and soused him in the Passeyr. Whereupon there naturally ensued a clamour of laughter and applause; and the victor was tumultuously greeted; while the drenched giant slunk moodily out of sight.

Rudolf now triumphantly mounted the stilts, and strode round the green; but Hofer, who had played King Saul, and who liked a joke as well as any one, aimed a large turnip so well at the right stilt, that Rudolf was suddenly laid prostrate. As his encumbrances effectually prevented his rising, (the ends being seized by several little boys, and big ones too,) he lay quite at the mercy of the public, especially of Theresa, who sang a requiem over him, much in the style of "Who killed cock robin?"

Who killed poor David? Can this be he who late was seen The pride of every village-green? Alas, poor David!

Who fetched him down? On lordly stilts we saw him stride A season brief, too swollen with pride-- Alas, poor David!

Take warning, all with pride elate, Behold this hapless youngster's fate; A turnip vile has cracked his pate. Alas, poor David!

It was remarked that as soon as Theresa began to sing, the prostrate victim lay quite still; and as soon as she ceased, he declared in a loud voice that since he was dead, he was determined to be buried. "Four proper youths and tall" immediately stepped forward, and raised him, stiff as a log, on their shoulders, then bore him with decent solemnity to the dust heap.

After this deportation, Rudolf seemed to think himself exonerated from further communication with any of his fellow-mortals, except Theresa, with whom he was seen, by those who thought it worth while to look after him, in earnest conversation at the dairy-door.