"Taufers on the Tyrol" by Charlotte J. Weeks (Magazine of Art, Illustrated, published 1878).

CRACK! Smack ! We hear the whip of the driver of the “ Stellwagen,” and the cessation of the intolerable rattling caused by the wheels of this delightful equipage over the “petrified kidney” stones of the quiet little street in Bruneck informs us that the aforesaid vehicle has stopped at the “Sun” inn, according to orders, to take up two passengers who are bound on a trip of exploration for Taufers.

Having been told that Taufers is “malerisch,” that an old castle is there, formerly inhabited by giants (so say the peasants), we determine to spy out this promised land for our sketch-books and canvas, and set out on a June morning with the freshness and energy which come specially at 6 a.m. and in Alpine atmosphere at an elevation 3,000 feet above sea-level. After a drive of an hour and a half we reach our destination — the little village of Sand, which lies immediately under the shadow, as it were, of the old castle. This interesting building, dating from the twelfth century, occupies a most commanding site on an eminence overtowered on both sides by high and thickly-wooded mountains, and in the background the glaciers and snowy peaks of the Zillerthaler Kamm rise in fairy-like beauty.

But where shall we begin among the many attractions which this neighbourhood offers us? Shall we take a peep along that road under the castle, on the left of which rises the mountainside, covered with fir-tree forests which cast a gloomy shade over the scene and heighten the weird effect of the rapid, rushing stream which dashes down the valley, forming the right-hand boundary of the road — a road destined in a few months to become the victim of this impetuous, mighty torrent at its side? The occasional peeps one gets through the trees of the distant glaciers add a magic charm to this bit of nature.

Or shall we scale the rugged eminence on the other side of the torrent, which is crowned with that hoary sentinel and hider of so many dark secrets, the “Schloss”? We will scramble up the stony, zigzag path leading to it, a work of twenty minutes, and now we stand breathless at the foot of what was once a drawbridge. The watch-towers stand faithful at their post, but where are the watchers? The arrowslits for the defenders face us indeed, but we pass unchallenged through the desolate archway, and find ourselves in a long passage between the inner and outer walls of the fortress. We come to another archway, stolid in its granite firmness, and here are traces to be found of a second drawbridge, now done away with; the old oaken doors which still remain in this archway, thickly studded with nails, are a study of colour in themselves. Passing on over the roughly paved and ascending path, we turn a corner, and through the last archway reach the courtyard, now still and green, but once how busily thronged with the retainers and men of war of the Lords of Taufers!

On the right hand as one enters is the oldest building — the house which is set apart for the female part of the family; it is far gone in ruin, but its narrow windows, with column and arch, tell of its origin in a time corresponding to our Norman period. Adjoining this is the one remaining wall of the once fatal tower known as the “Fallthurm," or Fall Tower, indicating by its name its convenient trap-door arrangement in the top storey, through which many an inconvenient personage made acquaintance for the last time with the cold steel of the pikes and halberds awaiting him below. On the other side of the courtyard is the part which is still inhabited, truly, hut by peasants, who, however, from an artistic point of view, fit better into these odd nooks and corners than we children of the present do. On the ground-floor is a large panelled room, coloured a deep, rich brown tone by the hand of time ; quaint windows, with little round panes of glass, produce a picturesque light and shade over the whole not otherwise obtainable.

Above this is another panelled room, richly carved and ornamented, a little gem of its kind; round half the chamber, as border, a riddle is carved in old German characters and orthography, hardly intelligible now. Each door is a study, in colour, form, and ornament, with hinges of cunningly worked iron; the window is alcove-shaped; and a bank runs round the wall. To describe everything in detail would be to destroy its charm. The kitchen, the windows with their little cornered seats, the old well in the courtyard, the little garden on the rock outside the outer wall — in all the artist finds material for his sketch-book, and rich suggestions for future work.

A slight history of the owners of the castle may not be uninteresting or out of place. Taufers is first mentioned in the year 1080, but not until the year 1140 does the family seem to have risen to any importance; but from then, until it died out in 1312, it was one of the most influential in that part of the Tyrol, had built and owned many castles in the vicinity, such as Neuhaus, Uttenheim, Eppem, etc., and was connected by ties of marriage with most of the noble families of the country. The last of the Taufers was Ulrich IV., and on his death the Castle of Taufers and part of the estates went to his wife's family, the Counts of Gorz and Tyrol. In their hands it remained till 1456, when it came, partly by inheritance and partly by purchase, to the Bishopric of Brixen. After much changing of hands it was bought in 1689 by the Count of Ferrari, whose family again sold it, a few years ago, to a Vienna Building Company, to whom now belong the venerable building and the wooded acres. Truly a prosaic fate ! It was in 1485 that the outer entrance and watch-towers, with part of the outer walls, were added to the castle, much to the enhancement of the general effect.

As I am not a landscape-painter, I have confined my description and sketches to that which had the most interest for me, and which I can say, without exaggeration, is a treasure-trove for genre and historical painters, viz., Schloss-Taufers. Not that I am insensible to the voice of nature, which in this picturesque district is varied as the human voice itself, bright sunshine dispelling the hazy mists of morning or tinging the mountain peaks with its parting rays, storm and cloud adding only to the grand effect of gloomy forest, mountain glade, and dashing waterfall. It is worthy of note that there are three beautiful waterfalls within an hour’s walk of the village of Sand — the Bojerhach Fall, and the first two Rainthal Falls.

I will only add, for the guidance of intending pilgrims to this “artists’ haunt,” that the nearest railway station is Bruneck, on the Pusterthaler branch line from Franzensfeste. From Bruneck the distance is about an hour and a half’s drive. Daily postal communication, and very good inns.

C. Weeks