Tyrol (Austria) -- History -- Uprising of 1809 -- Fiction
The funeral then took place with all the impressive solemnity of the
Roman Catholic ritual, as though, by the honour they paid his remains,
the French were anxious to compensate for the injuries they had done
him while living.
The voice of bitter weeping was heard from _am Sand_. The valleys of
the Tyrol were in sorrow. Troops of dejected or indignant peasants were
seen hurrying across the mountains, to attend the funeral services in
the parish churches of the Passeyrthal. The widow and orphans refused
to be comforted. A messenger from the Emperor Francis arrived at _am
Sand_, offering the family an asylum in Austria, with money enough to
settle themselves, and a pension of two thousand florins. But, no; Anna
Hofer could not bring herself to leave _am Sand_. She accepted the
pension, and the promise to provide for her son; but she herself would
never quit the old walls.
Speckbacher was not immediately aware of Hofer's fall. We left him
in his mountain fastnesses, dwelling among perpetual snows, and only
approaching the haunts of men when impelled by hunger. On one of these
occasions, he was cautiously approaching a group of people, consisting
of a man, woman, and some children, near the little village of
Volderberg, when it struck him that they appeared to be fugitives like
himself, and would probably prove unable to assist him in his need.
On approaching them, O joy! he beheld his Maria, with her children
and honest Zoppel. They had been driven from their home, and knew
not whither to turn, unless to some humble kinsfolk of Zoppel's.
Gratitude for their reunion made them, for a time, insensible to
their privations. Zoppel's good cousin made them welcome to some
out-buildings, where Zoppel supported them for some weeks by the
labour of his hands. Even in this poor refuge, they enjoyed sweet,
though sorrowful, communion: Maria had the children to occupy her, and
Speckbacher carved chamois-horns delicately, and made those exquisite
little bassi-relievi of birds, with feathers fastened on paper, for
which the Tyrolese are so famous.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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