The Initials. Baroness Jemima Montgomery Tautphoeus
isolated situation and primitive occupations are poetical—these mountains and endless forests are poetical—there is poetry in the sound of the bell, which answers to every movement of the grazing cow—in the tinkling of the little bells, which, like castanets, denote the quicker motions of the goats!”
“True,” said A. Z.; “and you would find that round-faced, thick-legged girl picturesque, if not poetical, could we remain long enough for you to hear her singing to assemble her herd, and see her surrounded by her cows and goats this evening.”
“Shall we not pass the night in one of these sorts of huts?” asked Hamilton.
“Not in a Senner hut,” replied Baron Z—. “It is the woodmen and foresters’ châlet to which we are going; the ground is Austrian, but the woods are Bavarian; and it is through the Klamm that the wood is drifted for the salt-works at Reichenhall.”
“Through the Klamm,” repeated Hamilton, slowly and musingly.
“You look as if you did not know what the word Klamm meant,” observed A. Z.
“I must confess I do not, although I looked for it yesterday evening in my pocket dictionary. The explanation was a spasm in the throat; or, close, solid, narrow——”
“Exactly,” said A. Z. “The Klamm which we are now going to see is a long, narrow passage, made by a stream of water through a mountain of solid rock; but now let us move on, or we shall have to inspect it by torchlight.”
They all hurried forward towards the ascent before them, and would probably have felt considerably fatigued had not the continual change in the scenery created unceasing interest. Far as the eye reached, all was green; and beyond, the deep-blue sky, unbroken by a single cloud. A new and gigantic world of mountains rewarded them for the toil of the ascent. Here and there a peasant’s house, with its over-hanging wooden roof, gave life to a picture that, with all its sunshine, would otherwise have been desolate in its loneliness, for no human being was visible. It seemed extraordinary that the ground was so highly cultivated, for road there was none; nor did there seem to be any communication with the world but by a narrow and in some places rather dangerous footway. Cattle were to be seen further up the mountains, on those green spots of turf described by A. Z., and which are to be found sometimes even among the bare crags. These pastures can only be used for a short time in summer; and, as the weather grows colder in autumn, the cattle are driven down lower, until finally they are brought home for the winter, covered with garlands of wild flowers! While Baron Z—was enthusiastically describing “A re-return from the alp,” they had begun to descend into the valley, and already heard the sound of rushing water. Magnificent masses of rock prepared them for the cavern, into which they entered by a natural arch, over which, carved in the stone, are the words
“ ‘Gutta cavat lapidem, non vi sed sæpe cadendo,’ 1833.”
“So the cave is altogether formed by the action of the water,” observed Hamilton, looking upwards.
“Altogether, as you will soon perceive,” replied Baron Z—. “Some years ago this was a wild place, and frightful accidents often occurred, until our king had a way made through it for the convenience and safety of the persons employed in the drifting of the wood.”
The narrow bridge-like way of which he spoke was composed of strong beams and planks; and in the twilight which always reigns in the vaulted tunnel, it appears to hang suspended in the air, being supported by iron cramps driven into the solid rock underneath. The water rages, and above the daylight enters sparingly by a few small isolated openings.
“One could fancy this the abode of the ‘Wild Huntsman,’ ” said A. Z.
“I know nothing of the Wild Huntsman,” said Hamilton, “excepting from the scenery in Der Freyschutz. Everything I have seen to-day, but most of all this wild cavern, reminds me of it. I should rather like to be here on a stormy night, to hear the wind whistling through these arches. Although not very imaginative, I could almost bring the Wild Huntsman to my view, just here where the sky begins to be visible.”
“Instead of the Wild Huntsman, substitute the forester when he opens the sluices to let the wood drift through,” said Baron Z—. “Fancy the rushing and roaring of the pent-up torrent, the dashing of the trunks of trees against these rocks, the terrific noise increased by the echo——”
“Oh! how I should like to see it,” exclaimed Hamilton, eagerly.
“I prefer a quiet sunset, like the present,” said A. Z., beginning to ascend the steps which led out of the cavern. “I can imagine what you have described, and acknowledge that wild weather heightens the effect of scenery such as this; but still just in such places I particularly enjoy the repose of nature. There is no tameness in it, for the possible change which may take place is ever unconsciously before the mind’s eye.”
“That may be true,” said Hamilton, thoughtfully. “I have seen but little wild scenery—never anything resembling this, excepting, as I said before, at the theatre, where I looked upon everything as very fine, but very impossible.”
“Few people in England are aware how very true to nature the Freyschutz is. Put the Wild Huntsman and the charmed bullets aside, and every target-shooting match in the mountains will bring the scenery and actors before you. Weber was in the habit of frequenting such places, and listening for hours to the untutored singers and zither-players.”
“Who have we here?” cried Baron Z—, as they came within view of the woodman’s house, and he perceived several persons moving backwards and forwards.
“Another party!” exclaimed A. Z. “I only hope they are not too numerous, and that we may be able to join them. I have no fancy for going on to an alp this evening.”
“But if they are all strangers——” began Hamilton.
“If they are, we shall make their acquaintance. I think I see a couple of ladies—a most fortunate circumstance for me, as they will be sure to offer to make our coffee and arrange everything. I am not at all useful on parties of this kind, but very thankful to anyone who takes care of me.”
They were strangers, and considered themselves such in a double sense—for they were Austrians! While A. Z. was explaining the extraordinary fact of Bavarians considering themselves foreigners in Austria, and vice versa, Baron Z—had entered into conversation with them, and a few minutes sufficed for him to guess the name of one who said he was there on business; and from him he heard all he required about the others. As to A. Z., she lost no time in seeking two ladies who were standing at the door of the châlet, and having confessed her want of experience in all culinary art, they, without hesitation, made the offer she desired, and were given the bags, which the guides were just taking from their shoulders.
The supper, composed of the most heterogeneous materials, was eaten under the trees near the house; and it was not until late that they took refuge from the night air in the kitchen of the châlet, where a bright fire burned on the high, open hearth, which, like a long table, occupied the middle of the room, with wooden benches round it. A zither was found in the house, and a young student, with long, fair hair flowing over his black velvet coat, who had brought a guitar, slung, troubadour-fashion, over his shoulders, sang directly he was requested. A quartette was also soon arranged; and Hamilton, seated in a corner, out of the glare of the fire, contemplated the party for a long time in silence.
At daybreak the next morning, long before the sun’s rays could reach them, they were again in the Klamm; and, passing through it, found another and much easier way than that of the previous day, which brought them to Unken. There they parted from their acquaintance of the evening before, who surrounded their carriage, bowing and shaking hands, with a mixture of formality and friendliness which afforded A. Z. and Hamilton subject of conversation for some time, the former observing that had two English parties met in the same way, they would never have joined so cordially; and, instead of conducing to each other’s amusement, would most probably have sat apart, reciprocally watching to detect whatever was disagreeable or vulgar. “I, for my part,”