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Our Little Austrian Cousin

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<h2>CHAPTER IX THE HABICHT-BURG RAVENS</h2> From Botzen, the train took them through the Puster-thal, which is on the north boundary of Italy, and on to Villach in Carinthia, where they were to meet Herr Runkel. There were great demonstrations when he saw the two young lads. "Have you never been to Dalmatia?" he asked them. Both shook their heads negatively. "What a splendid thing, then, that business called me to Zara," he replied, "for Dalmatia is one of the provinces of our empire which is different from any of the others. You see, in the first place, it is on the Adriatic Sea, and could one have vision that would carry that far, he might glance over into the opposite country[125] of Italy. But, as if to make up for that lack of supernatural power, Italy has brought her customs and manners into Dalmatia, so we shall really be seeing two countries at one time." Through Carinthia the party made its way, over the Kara-Wanken Mountains into Istria and spent the night at Trieste. As neither of the boys had seen the sea before, it was a never-ending source of wonder and delight to them to wander about the wharves, to see the ships of many nations lying in the harbor, flying their flags of many colors, and to see the curious sights of a sea-town. There was nothing to remind them of Austria with its German customs, even the name of the city (Tergeste) being Roman, which was conquered by that nation, and colonized about B. C. 41. There are no longer strassen (streets), but vias, and piazzas (squares) take the place of platze. As in most Italian cities, there were narrow, winding streets, some of which were nothing[126] more than mere flights of steps lined on each side, in place of a balustrade, with houses. In the morning it had been arranged to make a hasty trip to Miramar, the charming residence of the Archduke Maximilian, the favorite brother of the emperor. "Here it is," said Herr Müller, "that the ominous ravens warned the archduke of the fatality which should overtake him in accepting the throne of Mexico at the instance of Napoleon III of France. And the raven's warning came true, for the unfortunate young prince never returned." "Tell us about the ravens, father," said Ferdinand, as they stood upon the terrace before the villa, overlooking the wonderful Adriatic. "Well, you know the house of Habsburg occupies the Austrian throne to-day," began Herr Müller. "Yawohl," replied the two simultaneously. "Well, many hundreds of years ago, the[127] founder of the Habsburg dynasty, Count Rudolph, was born in a very ancient and formidable castle in the northern part of Switzerland, somewhere near Zurich. The castle was known throughout the country by the peculiar name of the Hawk's Castle or Habicht-burg, from a story concerning one of the first counts who lived there. "This was Count Gontran, of Altenbourg. He was a brave and gallant knight and loved to spend his time among the mountains hunting, when he was not away to the war. As he was so fearless in this sport, pursuing his enemy to the remotest spots of their lairs, he gained the sobriquet of the 'Hawk Count' or Der Habicht Graf. "One day he had climbed to the top of a most peculiarly shaped rock, which much resembled a fortress. In his eagerness to reach the summit he had lost sight of his companions; but in his joy at the marvelous panorama[128] spread beneath him, he quite forgot all about them, and gave himself up only to the spell of the wildness surrounding him. "Suddenly the air grew thick with moving objects; the sun was hidden from sight, and then the count realized that numberless vultures, whose habitation he had invaded, had gathered about the rock in swarms, waiting for their time to come when they might claim him their victim. But Der Habicht Graf was no craven; he made no attempt to fight; well he knew they would not attack him until he had passed that stage when he would be able to defend himself. "All at once, while he thus stood defying his antagonists, a shrill cawing was heard on all sides; in a few moments the air was filled with innumerable ravens who seemed to have appeared from out the very heavens, so silently and unexpectedly had they come. There was a sharp battle between the two swarms, the[129] smaller birds being able to drive off the larger on account of their greater numbers. And then, when all vestige of both feathered tribes had disappeared, Count Gontran was able to find his way down the almost inaccessible rock, where he joined his companions at its base, who had given him up for lost, as their shouts had failed to reach him, and no answering call came back to them. "From that day Der Habicht Graf chose the raven for his pennon; he became their protector, feeding them in winter, until, as time went on, they became verily a pest. "Der Habicht Graf died, and others came into possession of Der Habicht-burg. There was little sentiment in these descendants concerning the ravens, and when Count Rudolph succeeded to the estate in 1240, he had them all driven away or killed. Ever since that time, the birds have taken a peculiar delight in foretelling disaster to the house of Habsburg (as[130] Habicht-burg has been corrupted into). And right here, in this garden," continued Herr Müller, "was where the ravens came and flew about the heads of the Archduke Maximilian and his young wife Carlota before they left on that fatal journey." "What happened then, father?" "Surely you must know. The Mexicans refused to accept a foreign ruler; he was sentenced to be shot, and although Carlota made the trip to France three times to beg Napoleon III to save her husband, the emperor was deaf to all her appeals." "That was because Napoleon was not born a king, father," remarked Ferdinand. "Had he been truly royal, he would have saved Maximilian." Herr Müller made no further comment, but shook his head slowly in an affirmative nod. From Trieste the boat was taken to Pola, one of the oldest cities in the country, quite at the[131] extreme tip of Istria. Although the Romans built a city here in 178 B. C., yet many of the ancient landmarks remain, among which, outside the ancient city walls, stands the splendid Amphitheatre where gladiators fought and wild beasts contended with human beings for supremacy. As Herr Runkel was obliged to make Zara on a specified day, they were not permitted to linger in the Istrian peninsula, with its almost continuous olive-groves and vineyards, famous throughout the world; but boarding a small steamer they slowly made their way to the sea-coast town of Zara in Dalmatia, stretching like a lizard along the Adriatic. No longer was there sign of modernism or progress; every object, every peasant spoke of the past, of long-flown glory, and of poverty. One could almost imagine himself back in those days, six hundred or more years before Christ, when the Argonauts inhabited the spot, and[132] who, in turn, ceded to the Celts and they to the inevitable Romans. Then Charlemagne coveted Dalmatia; later the influential Venetians wrested it from the Germans; and in 1798 it was finally ceded to Austria, to whom it has ever since belonged, except for a short period when it belonged to France. The peasants were gorgeous in their gay costumes; there were men in light-colored trousers, very tight fitting, laced with fancy cords of gold or silver thread, and most elaborately embroidered about the pockets in front; there were short jackets of bright cloth designed in intricate fashion in tinseled thread, with tassels about the edges; there were women with blue skirts, very short, over which was an apron so heavily embroidered that it seemed more like an Oriental rug than a bit of cloth, while the bodice was one mass of embroidery. Every conceivable spot was embroidered; about the neck, the shoulders, down the front and at the wrists.[133] There was color, color, color; fringes and tassels and gold thread, as if these poor gewgaws could make up to the peasant for all the poverty he suffered and the monotony of his life. But how charming they did look in their apparel; if their lives were not the sunniest, they surely tried to embody the very sunlight into their clothing, and that helps a lot, for they were never so happy as when decked in their gayest, wearing the hand-made filigree silver ornaments about their necks, in their ears and upon their fingers, even about their waists, which no persuasion nor hunger can prevail upon them to part with. Herr Runkel's younger brother Max was an apprentice in Zara; his term was about to expire and some arrangement must be made for the future. It was this which had brought Herr Runkel to Zara. While he was busy with his brother's affairs, the rest of the party wandered about the ancient city; they visited the market-place,[134] alive and riotous with brilliant coloring; they inspected the wharves, and commented upon St. Mark's Lion, which reposed over the entrance-gate from the harbor, in the city wall, a relic of Venetian invasion, as if that stone lion was yet watching for the return of his people. They even crossed over to the islands, which lie like so many bits of broken mainland, to watch the fishing which is so remunerative, the sardine fishery being one of the greatest sources of revenue of the country. His business terminated satisfactorily, Herr Runkel suggested they might return by way of the provinces of Bosnia, Croatia and Styria, because these held such wonders in sightseeing for the children. <hr class="chap" /> [135] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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