MIGRATIONS OF THE TYROLESE—THEIR FRANKNESS—THEIR ATTACHMENT TO THE HOUSE OF AUSTRIA—ANECDOTE OF THE ARCHDUCHESS ELIZABETH—LITERARY TURN OF THE TYROLESE—THEIR EXTRAORDINARY HONESTY—FONDNESS FOR PUGILISTIC EXERCISES AND THE CHASE—ANCIENT PRACTICE—MORAL CHARACTER—SUPERSTITION—MECHANICAL GENIUS—PERSONS AND COSTUMES—NATIONAL SONGS—CUSTOM OF VISITING THE GRAVES OF RELATIONS—MARRIAGE CEREMONIES OF THE TYROLESE.

The most striking feature in the character of the Tyrolese is their love of independence and their attachment to their native land. The intense cold, however, that prevails in the elevated valleys, in general compels their inhabitants to quit them in winter, when they repair to the neighbouring towns to pursue their different professions. Thus villages, nay even whole valleys are at times nearly deserted, except by the aged men, the women and the children. At stated periods, therefore, these mountaineers emigrate in bodies of thirty or forty, and spread themselves over Italy, Bavaria, and Austria. Some of them become excellent carpenters, others skilful smiths, and it is seldom that they do not follow more than one trade. They are particularly addicted to the mechanical arts. The young lads hire themselves to tend cattle. On the return of summer and the approach of harvest-time, these mountaineers set out for their respective hamlets, joyfully carrying with them their little savings. They collect in companies and march to the sound of the bagpipe, which at a distance announces their coming. All run out to meet them, and they rarely pass through a village without being supplied with refreshments. In this manner they travel forward till they reach their humble homes, where they forget their hardships and fatigues in the affectionate embraces of their wives, children and relations.

The industry of the Tyrolese does not suffer them to be content with these migrations occasioned by the inclemency of the climate. They travel all over Germany with aromatic and medicinal plants, carpets, gloves, chamois-skins, steel trinkets, or wooden wares carved with the utmost delicacy. These commodities they carry chiefly to Vienna, being encouraged by the favourable reception given to them by the inhabitants, who are delighted with their frankness and good humour. The Tyrolese always speak what they think without reserve or disguise. Like our Quakers they address every one, not excepting the emperor himself, in the second person singular; and they question the sovereign without the least ceremony respecting his intentions in regard to their country. When these plans do not harmonize with their ideas, they censure them with the utmost freedom. There have been instances of their carrying their complaints to the foot of the throne, and remonstrating with a liberty which to courtiers must appear very extraordinary.

To the honour of the sovereigns of the house of Austria, it must be confessed that any of their subjects may obtain a private audience of them with less difficulty than in other states an interview can be gained with a minister. If I were to select, says a British traveller, from among the eulogies which have been passed on monarchs, the most glowing traits, assisted by the warmest efforts of imagination, I might not, perhaps make a deeper impression upon the mind of the reader, than by the simple recital of the fact, that it is the habit of the Austrian ruler to admit into his presence and to personal interview every individual of his realm. One day in every week is devoted to this sacred duty; when the emperor, with the first dawning of the morning, attends in a private apartment to receive petitions and complaints from the mouths of even the poorest of his subjects. He listens to them freely, and though he seldom judges finally at the moment, shows his sympathy and declares his feeling in their behalf.

The known frankness and intrepidity of the Tyrolese induced Austria to grant them great liberty. Never, indeed, was government more paternal than that of Austria in regard to the Tyrol. Hence all the inhabitants went into mourning when the fortune of war transferred them a few years since to another power, which, by its ill-judged measures, only strengthened their attachment to their former sovereign. The struggle which they made in his behalf against the united force of France and Bavaria shows what exertions a nation fighting for independence is capable of making, and will occupy a conspicuous place in the history of those wars which have lately distracted Europe. The general peace which put an end to these hostilities, crowned the wishes of the faithful Tyrolese, and replaced them under the Austrian sceptre.

As the most trivial circumstances frequently impart a clearer insight into the character of an individual or a nation than those of more importance, the following authentic anecdote may be worth recording. The archduchess Elizabeth, aunt to the present emperor of Austria, who was so much beloved that the people of Vienna always called her Unsere Liese, (Our Bess) took a particular fancy to milk with her own hands the beautiful cows which she had collected at SchÖnbrunn. She had heard the Tyrolese highly extolled for their skill and cleverness in this operation, and therefore had several herdsmen brought from the Tyrol, that they might instruct her in the milking and general management of cattle. The first who arrived, seeing the princess engaged in milking her cows, gazed at her in silence for a few moments, and then burst out into the exclamation: “Get thee gone, thou awkward baggage! why, thou wouldst not earn salt to thy porridge!” After he had thus politely driven away the princess, he fell to work and milked the whole herd in less time than the archduchess would have done a single cow. During the course of this extraordinary instruction, these men never could be persuaded to soften their language or to use less frankness in their expressions. So far, however, from displeasing by their freedom, they had some difficulty to obtain permission to return to their native mountains.

The Tyrolese who travel into Germany, to carry on a little traffic in drugs and peltry, have in general several partners. At any rate the husband never goes without his wife, nor the brother without his sister. It is very rarely that a man is seen by himself disposing of his commodities. They have not failed to observe that the costume of their women excites the curiosity of strangers, and they judiciously avail themselves of it that they may find a better market for their merchandise. When they settle at Vienna, almost all of them adopt the trades of carpenter or mason.

A singular fact, and which serves to show the natural bent of this nation, is, that there is scarcely a Tyrolese peasant but has his library, however small. Though it contains perhaps no more than thirty or forty volumes, still it affords proof of a fondness for study. The Bible, the Lives of the Saints, a history of their country, or of Austria, together with a few geographical works, compose the generality of these rustic libraries. So strong is their hankering for news, that many of those in easy circumstances take in the Inspruck newspaper; which, in the long winter evenings, furnishes them with subjects for discussion and comments, in which their own country is not forgotten.

Theft and robbery are so uncommon in Tyrol, that locks are almost unknown, at least in the villages. The doors of their habitations have no other guard than the mutual integrity of the inmates. The peasants therefore have merely a latch, which is raised by means of a bit of packthread, and this method of closing the entrance to their cottages is adopted solely to keep the cattle out of them. A hundred times, says a traveller, have I stopped at inns where there was no key whatever, and yet I never lost any thing. At Vienna, and in other parts of Germany also, the Tyrolese bear the highest character for honesty and integrity, and there is no instance of any of them having abused the confidence reposed in him.

Such is their respect for the memory of deceased relatives and friends, that they scarcely ever go out of mourning for them. A person who should violate this custom would be considered as degenerate. It is not uncommon to see a widow wear mourning all her life for her husband, or a daughter for a mother. If this practice attests the excellence of their hearts, the mourning assumed by them on account of the misfortunes which befall their country equally proves the ardour of their patriotism. When I visited the Tyrol, says a French traveller, after the war in 1809, I asked a peasant why the people were all in mourning. “Look at our towns,” replied he, “you see that they are in ashes; and can you still ask why we are in mourning?” A nation endowed with such qualities, cannot fail to be deeply interesting to every enlightened mind and to every generous heart.

The Tyrolese peasants are mostly robust, and attach more value to vigour of body than to beauty of form. From their infancy they addict themselves to exercises best calculated to increase the strength and suppleness of their limbs. Some, after the example of the ancient Greeks, are professed wrestlers, and pursue the exercise with such ardour, that if they were to neglect it for some time their health would suffer. Hence they seldom pass a week without challenging other champions, and they will go many miles either to be actors in, or witnesses of such matches.

Pugilistic exercises have in consequence become an amusement inseparable from rustic weddings, fairs and parish festivals. They were formerly frequent in the vicinity of Inspruck, the capital of the country; but the police took advantage of the quarrels which they occasioned, to apprehend the combatants and force them to enlist in the army for life: so that it is only in the remote districts that they can indulge without fear in their favourite diversion.

The dress of the Tyrolese wrestlers is nearly the same as that of the other villagers, excepting that they never wear either collar or cravat, to deprive their adversaries of the advantage of seizing them by that part of the dress. The rest of their clothes, indeed, affords abundant scope for laying hold, as they have not yet adopted the practice of oiling their bodies like the combatants of Greece at the Olympic games.

These men have an extremely shrill war-cry, and are known by the cock’s feathers in their hats, the number of which always corresponds with that of the victories they have won. In regard to this point they could not easily practise deception; for the man who should set up a claim in contradiction to public notoriety, would become an object of derision, and pay dearly for his usurped finery.

We are not exactly informed of the use of the thick pewter ring which they wear on the little finger of the right hand, and which they call the ring of combat. It is not considered fair for these wrestlers to grasp their adversary with their hands; they strive to make him lose his balance, to throw him down, and then snatch from him the feathers which he has won in preceding contests. In the intervals of rest they are furnished with a pipe, which they regard as an infallible medium for recruiting their strength.

The chase is another amusement to which the Tyrolese are passionately attached, and which they pursue from their earliest infancy. Each village has a spot set apart for firing at a mark; and here boys begin to practise as soon as they can hold a gun.

The hunting of the chamois, which is indisputably the most arduous and difficult species of sport, since that animal frequents only the highest mountains, is what the Tyrolese takes most delight in. Lightly clad, having a large green hat to screen him from the sun, his gun slung at his back or in his hand, and equipped in the manner represented in the opposite plate, he traverses the deepest valleys and climbs the most rugged mountains. Here he frequently passes several successive days. A stick, terminating with an iron spike, is indispensably necessary for supporting him on the steep acclivities of the mountains. His game-bag, covered with velvet, serves him for a pillow at night; it contains some provision, a small speaking-trumpet, and a couple of cramp-irons to assist him in climbing perpendicular rocks. Some of these men have been known to cut their feet on purpose that the blood from the wounds might cover the smooth surface of the rocks and prevent their slipping.

A very interesting custom formerly existed in the Tyrol. The wealthiest of the peasants advanced to such young men as appeared to be most industrious, active, and intelligent, a sum of money, to be laid out in the productions of the country, and which were to be sold or exchanged for foreign commodities. Sometimes the fulfilment of these commissions required a voyage beyond sea. The agent, having procured his goods, set out furnished with every thing calculated to ensure the success of the enterprise. Having disposed of his merchandise, he returned home, called together his employers, and delivered to them the proceeds of the goods with which he had been entrusted. Each took up the sum he had contributed, and the overplus belonged to the young factor. This practice, now unfortunately fallen into disuse, affords a strong proof of the integrity of these honest mountaineers.

The Tyrolese has in general all the art of a man experienced in the ways of the world, with the simplicity of a child, and in consequence, perhaps, of the injuries done to him by foreign nations, he is become more mistrustful. Still he will never commit a base action out of resentment: his soul is too proud and too elevated to employ such disgraceful means. If he attacks, it is always openly. Courageous and persevering, he spares no exertion to attain his aim. Great in adversity, he is not cast down by it; prosperity always finds him proof against its dangerous illusions: his country and her independence are all that he prizes. He cannot regret wealth, for he possesses it not: he is a stranger to pleasures, excepting those that arise from the relation of husband and father: hardships do not affect his robust frame, accustomed to all sorts of privations, and inured to the inclemency of winter. Thus from his earliest youth he climbs the glaciers barefoot, and that he may be the more unrestrained in his motions, he never covers his knees with any garment. Finally, the first sports of his childhood consist in gliding from the tops of the mountains in light sledges: an amusement which, were he less expert, would expose his life a thousand times to the most imminent danger.

These people, so kind and so hospitable to the unarmed stranger, or to him who needs their protection, are most formidable to the invader of their country, or the violator of their ancient institutions. Bold and skilful marksmen, accustomed to the use of arms and to the chase, they soon become excellent soldiers, whose address is equal to their courage. It must be confessed, however, that as regular troops, the Tyrolese display greater bravery on the mountains than in the plains, where they imagine that they have not the same advantages.

Faithful husbands and tender fathers, the Tyrolese have in general a warm affection for their families: and lawsuits, or quarrels respecting property, seldom disturb the harmony that prevails among them. The simplicity of their manners is as remarkable as that of their character, and a spirit of religion contributes not a little to keep it up. Their devotion may sometimes go to the length of superstition, but never to that of fanaticism. Besides, it cannot prove dangerous, since it is confined to the belief in the existence of spirits and malignant genii. This belief is chiefly current among the peasantry of the elevated districts; hence the village girls dare scarcely go abroad after dark for fear of falling into snares laid for them by mischievous spirits. There is no sound, even to the rustling of the leaves of the trees, shaken by the evening breeze, but proclaims to their exalted imaginations the presence of ghosts. Thus their superstitious notions animate all nature. To protect themselves from the power of these imaginary beings, many Tyrolese of both sexes engrave the figure of Christ, or of some saint upon their flesh, by pricking it with a needle and rubbing gunpowder into the punctures; and this they consider as a permanent safeguard. Some, however, who are more enlightened or less credulous, adopt these figures merely by way of ornament, a practice similar to the tattowing common among most of the South Sea islanders.

The active and lively disposition of the Tyrolese urges them to imitate whatever they see. It may almost be said that they become mechanics by intuition; at any rate, no sooner do they experience the want of any instrument, than they set about making it, and though, perhaps, rude and clumsy, it always answers the purpose for which it was designed. Thus at their summer habitations on the mountains, however elevated their situation, you find small hydraulic machines, which work the stones required by the herdsmen to sharpen their implements, or to grind the corn necessary for their subsistence. Sometimes they connect a moving wheel with the piston used in churning. In another place you see a cradle rocked with a motion the more gentle as it is produced by a fall of water moderated with art. In short, a stranger who visits their country, perceives, at every step, the extraordinary turn of these people for the mechanical arts.

In addition to the instances of ingenuity mentioned above, it is not uncommon to find in the valleys of the Tyrol, painters, makers of musical instruments, and other machinery, who, without any instruction whatever, have produced truly astonishing things. There are peasants who, in the long winter evenings, have constructed piano-fortes, rather complicated instruments, and that merely from the notion acquired by a short examination of one. Neither should it be forgotten that the first good map of the country, which it is so difficult to survey, was produced by a native of the mountains of Tyrol, Peter Anich, a herdsman.

Considered merely with reference to their persons, the Tyrolese are remarkable people. An expressive and animated countenance, bright piercing eyes, and a tall robust figure, are the principal characteristics by which they are distinguished. Their step is rather heavy, owing to their habit of continually ascending mountains. Hard labour imparts strength and vigour to their limbs. Their hair, almost always of a light colour, falls in graceful locks over their shoulders. A certain air of dignity, which admirably becomes their masculine features, and their elegant costume, heighten the expression of their faces, and set off the beauty of their forms. The hat, commonly of straw, bordered with ribbons of different colours, and adorned in a picturesque manner with feathers, is worn covered with fine green silk by the single men, but generally black by such as are married. A short waistcoat and jacket fit tight upon the body. Broad braces, ornamented with figured work and crossing over the bosom, support, what in this case may justly be denominated small-clothes, since they seldom reach lower than the middle of the thigh. Stockings, either plaited or embroidered with silk of different colours, show off a handsome leg; and the shoes, equally light and elegant, are adorned with ribbons always of a different colour from themselves. Gold or silver buckles are sometimes worn in them.

Rarely unarmed, they are scarcely ever seen without a gun slung at their shoulder and a goat-skin knapsack. At once a military and an agricultural people, the Tyrolese are always ready to relinquish the plough and the herdsman’s staff for the musket. To give a more masculine character to the countenance, they shade the lips with long and thick mustaches; and in some districts let part of the beard grow, which gives a degree of fierceness and wildness to their look.

The females are rather fair than handsome: their persons are more remarkable for strength than elegance. In general of a serious disposition, their countenance, nay, their very smile, have a degree of gravity, so that the impression which they produce at first sight is by no means prepossessing. Their costume has frequently an elegance and a lightness that are extremely becoming. Green or black hats bordered with ribbons of different colours, and a velvet cap, compose their winter head-dress. In summer they let their long light tresses flow over their shoulders, or turn them up and fasten them at the back of the head with long pins. A corset laced before covers the bosom, and on this part of their dress they bestow particular pains, some decorating it with lace, and others working upon it a variety of designs in silk of different colours. Short petticoats, seldom reaching to the middle of the leg, are remarkable in general for their lively colours and their numerous plaits, which, however, are so disposed as not to hide the contours of the body. Stockings of a light colour, set off by embroidered clocks, have an elegant and graceful appearance.

In some of the mountainous districts, the women, in order to be the less encumbered in their laborious occupations, have adopted the use of drawers with such scanty petticoats as to fall considerably short of the knee. Out of mere singularity, they load their legs with stockings, so plaited, as to give them a clumsy appearance. These stockings, being too thick to be covered by shoes, have no feet, so that the ankles are left quite bare. This practice occasions swelling of the legs or pains in the feet; but nothing can induce them to relinquish it, such is the influence of habit among all the nations of the earth.

The colour of the dress of the Tyrolese is different in every valley. The women in the environs of Hall and Inspruck, in general wear gowns half black and half blue, which produce a singular effect. The head is covered with a very lofty pyramidal cap, commonly of quilted cotton, decorated with transverse stripes. In summer they exchange this awkward head-dress for an elegant hat, and leave the hair loose.

The young girls have a remarkably simple costume. A ribbon tied round the top of the head constitutes the only head-dress. The throat and upper part of the neck are uncovered; but a handkerchief of rose-coloured crape is fastened together over the bosom. A broad ribbon passing round the waist is tied behind. A white corset with sleeves, a short green petticoat, and scarlet worsted stockings complete the dress of these peasants.

The women of this part of the Tyrol have such a predilection for red and blue stockings, that they seldom wear them of any other colour. When these stockings are not plaited, they load them with embroidery and all sorts of whimsical figures. With the women, the stockings, corset and girdle, are the articles in which finery is particularly studied, as the hat, the waistcoat, and the braces are with the men.

The manners of the women of the Tyrol are gentle and sedate. Equally chaste wives and tender mothers, they devote themselves entirely to their household affairs and to the care of their children. Constant in their sentiments, the man whom they once love is the object of their everlasting affection. Kind to all around them, they are not shy at the appearance of a stranger. On the contrary, when he approaches their habitation the mother sends her daughters to meet the traveller, and with engaging modesty they offer him fruit and present him with flowers. When once introduced into the cottage, the whole family throngs around him; the most delicious milk assuages his thirst, while a dish of smoked meat is prepared to appease the hunger excited by the keen air of the mountains.

Naturally quick and hasty, the Tyrolese prosecutes with heart and soul whatever he takes in hand. His dances alone, by their irregularity and vivacity, sufficiently attest the vehemence of his character. The music which excites him to pleasure is so brisk, that he can scarcely follow the measure. In short, these people cannot do any thing in a cool and quiet manner: if they fight, it is with an ardour which never allows them to calculate the danger; and when they indulge in pleasure, they give themselves up to it entirely. Is the country in danger? mourning is in every heart, and arms are in every hand: their very apparel acquaints the stranger with their feelings and their thoughts.

The national songs of the Tyrolese likewise prove the violence of their passions. Always lively and gay, they frequently pass from low natural tones to the highest sharps. From the expressions of these songs, you may know that they belong to men wandering in vast solitudes, and whose strains, crossing deep valleys, excite the voices of the herdsmen on the opposite hills. It is to this wildness and irregularity that the national airs of the Tyrol owe the celebrity which they have acquired. What traveller, who has ever witnessed the sensations they produce, could hear them without emotion!

The same man whom we have seen pursuing with such ardour, the innocent pleasure of a rustic dance, listens to the truths of religion with such profound respect, that in the attitude of devotion you would not know him again, or be tempted to believe that he is animated alternately by two different spirits. But that you may be able to appreciate his sensibility, follow him when at the decline of day, he leads his family from his humble abode to the tombs of his forefathers. Bareheaded, with downcast eyes and the chaplet in his hand, he walks first as the monarch of the family. Sometimes, indeed, he leads by the hand the youngest of his boys, while the elder follow. After them appears the mother, covered with a veil and surrounded by her daughters, who learn from her that modesty is woman’s brightest ornament. On reaching the grave of the person whose loss they deplore, they all kneel down and pray for that eternal repose in behalf of the soul of their friend, which will one day be solicited for themselves. After a few short prayers, the eldest of the boys rises, and thrice sprinkles holy water on the grave; all then strew over it flowers mingled with their tears. A practice so general, and which is repeated every day, cannot but have a strong tendency to preserve the prevailing simplicity and purity of manners.

The marriage ceremonies of the Tyrolese are not less interesting. It is seldom that young people marry from motives of interest, or in consequence of previous arrangements between the parents. It is in their walks, or at their rural meetings, that they become acquainted. When mutually agreeable, they respectively promise faith and love, and give each other their hand in ratification of this first contract. This promise made in the utmost purity of heart satisfies the lovers. Never is the chaste damsel of the Tyrol known to repent the acknowledgment of her secret sentiments to him to whom she has avowed them, nor the latter to take an improper advantage of this confession.

When once engaged by mutual vows, the young people have nothing more to do than to acquaint their parents with the object of their choice. It is seldom that the latter throw any impediment in the way of the happiness of their children. The circumstances which too frequently oppose the union of families in our polished societies cannot exist among people who are content with the possession of a few head of cattle and a few acres of land, for which, moreover, they have to dispute with the snow on the mountains.

The lover, hurried away by his passion and his natural impetuosity, warmly extols the qualities of his mistress, and spares no pains to obtain from his parents an approval of the sentiments by which he is animated. The old folks, naturally more cool, seldom decide at once: but to satisfy themselves of the sincerity of their son’s attachment, they put it to the test in various ways. These trials differ with the age and character both of the son and of the father. Some send their sons into Switzerland, Bavaria, or Italy, with various productions of the country which they are to dispose of there, and to interest them in the success of the enterprise they give up to them all the profit. “Go,” say their parents, “earn thy wife. To be a good father, a man must be able to get bread for his children.”

Not less dutiful as a son than ardent as a lover, the young Tyrolese never opposes the commands of his parents. How painful soever it be to him to leave his mistress and his beloved mountains, he departs, but not till he has presented the idol of his heart with a pledge of his fidelity in the ribbons that adorned his hat. He, moreover, places in her bosom the flower which renews the memory of love, and which for that reason is named forget-me-not. The damsel gives him in return the girdle which encircles her waist, and in which she has secretly embroidered the initials of the name of the favoured youth. The most amorous swains do not quit the hamlet till they have played upon the rustic bagpipe some plaintive ditty, to which their mistress listens surrounded by her female companions, who are ever ready to share her sorrows.

Other fathers subject their sons to trials of shorter duration, sending them for a few months to the herdsmen’s huts on the high mountains. Here the youths tend the herds and flocks, and strive as much as possible to increase the produce from them by their management. They also gather bilberries and the leaves of the spike (valeriana celtica) which has such a delightful smell. These occupations render them robust, and habituate them to fatigue. The spike grows only on the tops of the second-rate mountains and on the steep sides of those which are crowned with snow. This aromatic plant is exported to the East, where its perfume is destined to delight the voluptuous inmates of the seraglio. The roots of the gentians also are collected on the mountains, and from these they extract the juice, which yields a spirit that is highly esteemed.

The wealthier Tyrolese have recourse to other means to assure themselves of the sincerity of the attachment of their sons. They take them out into companies where they are likely to meet young females worthy of their notice; but if the sight of fresh objects produces no change in their sentiments, the parents no longer withhold their consent.

The day on which the damsel’s hand is formally solicited, is a festival not only for the two families but for the whole hamlet. The Tyrolese in general regard each other as brothers. The father of the young man arrays himself in his best apparel. Laying aside the jacket suitable for working days only, he puts on a coat decorated with ribbons of various colours. By his dress and the pleasure that sparkles in his eyes, it is evident that he is going on a joyful errand. He takes with him his younger sons, who carry baskets in which his first presents are deposited. In one he places honeycombs, the fragrance of which is heightened by the sweet-smelling thyme and other aromatic Alpine plants, with which they are surrounded; and puts into another the finest fruits of the season, not forgetting some cakes made by a beloved daughter.

On reaching the damsel’s abode, the father is introduced by the uncle or the nearest relative. Here he finds the family of his future daughter-in-law assembled. All present rise and salute him. “Welcome, my friend!” says the head of the family to him. “What motive brings thee among us?”—“As thou art a father,” replies the visitor, “let me put a question to thy daughter.”—With these words he steps up to her, kisses her on the forehead, and thus addresses her: “God bless thee, lovely girl, who remindest me of the days of my youth. I have a son; he loves thee. Wilt thou make my declining years happy?”

The Tyrolese girls, equally modest and affectionate, can, it is said, rarely find words to answer this flattering question, so that their mothers are almost always obliged to be the interpreters of their sentiments. The lover is then introduced by a young companion: he enters, bringing the fruits of his industry and constancy, which he deposits at the feet of his new mother, whose affection he solicits. The kiss of peace assures him of the kindness of the parents by whom he is adopted, and the first salute granted by his mistress bespeaks the ardour of her love.

The young companions of the bride likewise receive a kiss from the bridegroom and wishes for their future happiness. The most intimate of her friends then conducts the bridegroom to his destined spouse and retires; on which the spokesman of the family rises and begins a long harangue on the good qualities of the young man. Though rarely listened to by the young folks, who have much to say to one another, he nevertheless relates with emphasis the various trials to which the bridegroom has been subjected, and concludes with congratulating the damsel on having inspired him with a passion so strong as to surmount them all.

The young females then sing stanzas suitable to the occasion, after which the company partake of a frugal repast consisting of bread, cheese, fresh butter, and goats’ or ewes’ milk, together with a few glasses of Meran or Brixen wine, or among the more opulent, of Hungarian wine. This repast being finished, the youths escort the bridegroom home with songs and the sound of the rustic flute. At dusk, the bridegroom serenades his beloved with a plaintive tune under her window, mingling the sounds of his voice with those of the bagpipe.

The wedding-day at length arrives, and gaiety pervades the hamlet. From the general rejoicing, a stranger would suppose all the inhabitants to belong to the same family. When the bride lives at a village remote from the residence of the bridegroom, the latter repairs thither, accompanied by a numerous party, demonstrating the harmony and brotherly love which prevail among the Tyrolese. To beguile the length of the way, the young lads stop now and then and join in the merry dance. On reaching the place of their destination, they repair to the abode of the bride, and while they enter, the musicians play the nuptial air. The music ceases, and the schoolmaster addresses a complimentary speech to the bride, who then delivers to the bridegroom the ribbons for his garters in token of his future authority. These ribbons the bridemaid attaches to his dress; he gives her a kiss, and, according to custom, she embraces him in return.

The procession then repairs to the church, headed by the musicians; next come the young men, and then the young women, who are followed by the bride and bridegroom. The former is dressed in white, with a nosegay of flowers selected by her lover in her bosom. She is placed on his right, and is attended by her bridemaid, as is the bridegroom by his man. Then come the parents and relations of the parties, whose serious looks and grave demeanour form a striking contrast with the wild mirth and frolicksome pranks of those who close the procession.

On reaching the church, a devout silence is observed by the whole assembly. The service begins, but before the priest pronounces the nuptial benediction, the young couple, falling on their knees before their parents, receive their blessing. On their return home, they are congratulated by their friends, who then partake of an entertainment provided for the occasion. When this is over, the head of the family rises, and after he has said grace, he offers up a prayer for the prosperity of the new-married couple; to give a still more solemn character to this pious ceremony, he pictures in glowing colours the virtues of their forefathers. Nor does he forget to pray for the parents whom death has snatched from them. The speaker resumes his seat, and when the tears of affection have ceased to flow, the cheerful songs of the young people awaken other emotions.

Impatient for the pleasures of the dance, the latter slip away by degrees to the meadow or the room prepared for dancing. How desirous soever the young couple may be to follow, they must not stir, till the father of the family taking hold of the bride and the mother of the bridegroom, conduct them to their companions. Here, seated side by side, they receive the congratulations of the young men, among whom the bride distributes flowers from a basket. By these flowers they prognosticate their future fortunes. If the honeysuckle or the Alpine lily falls to their share, they promise themselves extraordinary prosperity. The periwinkle and the rhododendrons betoken a happy, tranquil life; but the foxglove and the daphne are omens of misfortunes and afflictions. The young damsels then come to express their good wishes, and the bridegroom distributes among them ribbons, the different colours of which are in like manner supposed to indicate their future lot.

Next morning they do not fail to pay a visit to the young couple, because they attach great importance to the possession of a few flowers from the wreath that encircled the brow of the bride. To her greatest favourites she gives the pins which fastened the wreath, and these they regard as tokens that they shall be happily married themselves. Thus does hope reign among this people of brothers, and associate by propitious omens future happiness with present felicity.