



Produced by David Widger





DIARY AND NOTES OF HORACE TEMPLETON,

Late Secretary Of Legation At --------.

By Charles Lever,

Author Of "Harry Lorrequer," "Knight Of Gwynne," Etc. Etc.

In Two Volumes. Vol. II.

Second Edition.

London: Chapman And Hall, 186 Strand.




HORACE TEMPLETON.



CHAPTER I.

The Ortl'er is the Mont Blanc of the Tyrol, and seen from Nauders, a
village on a green, grassy table land, more than four thousand feet
above the sea, can well bear comparison with the boldest of the Swiss
Alps. Nauders itself, a type of a Tyroler village, is situated in a wild
and lonely region; it has all the picturesque elegance and neat detail
of which Tyrolers are so lavish in their houses, and, like every other
Dorf in this country, has its proud castle standing sentry over it.
The Barons of the Naudersberg were men of station in olden times, and
exacted a tribute over a tract extending deep into the Engadine; and
now, in this great hall, whose chimney would contain the heaviest
diligence that ever waddled over the Arlberg, a few Nauders notabilities
are squabbling over some mysterious passage in a despatch from Vienna,
for it is the high court of the district, while I wait patiently without
for some formality of my passport. To judge from their grave expressions
and their anxious glances towards me, one would say that I was some
dangerous or suspected personage--some one whose dark designs the
government had already fathomed, and were bent on thwarting. If they did
but know how few are, in all likelihood, the days I have yet to linger
on, they would not rob me of one hour of them in this wild mountain.

And yet I have learned something while I wait. This little dorf,
Nauders, is the birthplace of a very remarkable man, although one whose
humble name, Bartholomew Kleinhaus, is little known beyond Tyrol. Left
an orphan at five years old, he lost his sight in the small-pox, and
was taken into the house of a carpenter who compassionated his sad
condition. Here he endeavoured to learn something of his protector's
trade; but soon relinquishing the effort, he set to work, forming little
images in wood, at first from models, and then self-designed, till,
at the age of thirteen, he completed a crucifix of singular beauty and
elegance.

Following up the inspiration, he now laboured assiduously at his new
craft, and made figures of various saints and holy personages, for his
mind was entirely imbued with a feeling of religious fervour; and to
such an extent that, in order to speak his devotion by another sense, he
actually learned to play the organ, and with such a proficiency, that he
performed the duties of organist for nearly a year in the village church
of Kaltenbrunnen. As sculptor, his repute is widely spread and great in
Tyrol. A St. Francis by his hand is at present in the Ambras collection
at Vienna; many of his statues adorn the episcopal palaces of Chur and
Brixen, and the various churches throughout the province.

Leaving the sculptor and his birthplace, which already a mountain mist
is shrouding, I hasten on, for my passport is at last discovered to be
in order, and I am free to pursue my road to Meran.

Of all spots in the Tyrol, none can compare with Merah, the wildest
character of mountain uniting with a profusion of all that vegetation
can bring. The snow peak, the glacier, the oak forest, the waving fields
of yellow corn, the valley, one vast vineyard--where have such elements
of grandeur and simple beauty in scenery been so gloriously commingled?
And then the little town itself--what a strange reminiscence of
long-buried years! The street--there is properly but one--with its deep
arched passages, within which the quaint old shops, without windows,
display their wares; and the courtyards, galleried around, story above
story, and covered at top by a great awning to keep off the sun; for
already Italy is near, and the odour of the magnolia and oleander is
felt from afar.

I wandered into one of these courts last night; the twilight was
closing, and there was a strange, mysterious effect in the dim distances
upwards, where figures came and went along the high-perched galleries.
Beyond the court lay a garden, covered over