The aspect of the Tyrol reminds one of Switzerland:  there is not, however, so much vigour and originality in the landscape, nor have the villages the same appearance of plenty; it is in short a fine country, which has been wisely governed, but never been free; and it is only as a mountaineer people, that it has shown itself capable of resistance.  Very few instances of remarkable men can be mentioned from the Tyrol:  first, the Austrian government is scarcely fit to develope genius; and, besides, the Tyrol, by its manners as well as by its geographical position, should have formed a part of the Swiss confederation:  its incorporation with the Austrian monarchy not being conformable to its nature, it has only developed by that union the noble qualities of mountaineers, courage and fidelity.

The postilion who drove us showed us a rock on which the emperor Maximilian, grandfather of Charles the Fifth, had nearly perished:  the ardor of the chace had stimulated him to such a degree, that he had followed the chamois to heights from which it was impossible to descend.  This tradition is still popular in the country, so necessary to nations is the admiration of the past.  The memory of the last war was still quite alive in the bosoms of the people; the peasants showed us the summits of mountains on which they had entrenched themselves:  their imagination delighted in retracing the effect of their fine warlike music, when it echoed from the tops of the hills into the vallies.  When we were shown the palace of the prince-royal of Bavaria, at Inspruck, they told us that Hofer, the courageous peasant and head of the insurrection, had lived there; they gave us an instance of the intrepidity shown by a female, when the French entered into her chateau:  in short, every thing displayed in them the desire of being a nation, much more than personal attachment to the house of Austria.

In one of the churches at Inspruck is the famous tomb of Maximilian.  I went to see it, flattering myself with the certainty of not being recognized by any person, in a place remote from the capitals where the French agents reside.  The figure of Maximilian in bronze, is kneeling upon a sarcophagus, in the body of the church, and thirty statues of the same metal ranged on each side of the sanctuary represent the relations and ancestors of the emperor.  So much past grandeur, so much of the ambition formidable in its day, collected in a family meeting round a tomb, formed a spectacle which led one to profound reflection:  there you saw Philip the Good, Charles the Rash, and Mary of Bergundy; and in the midst of these historical personages Dietrich of Berne, a fabulous hero:  the closed visor concealed the countenances of the knights, but when this visor was lifted up a brazen countenance appeared under a helmet of brass, and the features of the knight were of bronze, like his armour.  The visor of Dietrich of Berne is the only one which cannot be lifted up, the artist meaning in that manner to signify the mysterious veil which covers the history of this warrior,