University of Virginia Library

77. LETTER LXXVII.

I left Vienna at daylight in a diligence nearly as
capacious as a steamboat—inaptly called the eil-wagon.
A Friuli count with a pair of cavalry mustaches, his
wife, a pretty Viennese of eighteen, scarce married a
year, two fashionable looking young Russians, an Austrian
midshipman, a fat Gratz lawyer, a trader from
the Danube, and a young Bavarian student, going to
seek his fortune in Egypt, were my companions. The
social habits of continental travellers had given me
thus much information by the end of the first post.

We drove on with German regularity, three days
and three nights, eating four meals a-day (and very
good ones), and improving hourly in our acquaintance.
The Russians spoke all our languages. The Friulese
and the Bavarian spoke everything but English, and
the lady, the trader, and the Gratz avocat, were confined
to their vernacular. It was a pretty idea of Babel
when the conversation became general.

We were coursing the bank of a river, in one of the
romantic passes of the mountains of Styria, with a
dark thunder-storm gathering on the summit of a
crag overhanging us. I was pointing out to one of
my companions a noble ruin of a castle seated very
loftily on the edge of one of the precipices, when a
streak of the most vivid lightning shot straight upon
the northernmost turret, and the moment after several
large masses rolled slowly down the mountain-side.
It was so like the scenery in a play, that I looked at
my companion with half a doubt that it was some optical
delusion. It reminded me of some of Martin's
engravings. The sublime is so well imitated in our
day that one is less surprised than he would suppose
when nature produces the reality.

The night was very beautiful when we reached the
summit of the mountain above Trieste. The new
moon silvered the little curved bay below like a polished
shield, and right in the path of its beams lay the
two frigates like a painting. I must confess that the
comfortable cot swinging in the ward-room of the
“United States” was the prominent thought in my
mind as I gazed upon the scene. The fatigue of
three days and nights' hard driving had dimmed my
eye for the picturesque. Leaving my companions to

the short beds[15] and narrow coverlets of a German hotel,
I jumped into the first boat at the pier, and in a
few minutes was alongside the ship. How musical is
the hail of a sentry in one's native tongue, after a short
habituation to the jargon of foreign languages!
“Boat ahoy!” It made my heart leap. The officers
had just returned from Venice, some over land by the
Friuli and some by the steamer through the gulf, and
were sitting round the table laughing with professional
merriment over their various adventures. It was
getting back to country and friends and home.

I accompanied the commodore's family yesterday in
a visit to the Grotto of Adelsburg. It is about thirty
miles back into the Friuli mountains, near the province
of Cariola. We arrived at the nearest tavern at
three in the afternoon, and subscribing our names
upon the magistrate's books, took four guides and the
requisite number of torches, and started on foot. A
half hour's walk brought us a large, rushing stream,
which, after turning a mill, disappeared with violence
into the mouth of a broad cavern, sunk in the base of
a mountain. An iron gate opened on the nearest side,
and lighting our torches, we received an addition of
half a dozen men to our party of guides, and entered.
We descended for ten or fifteem minutes, through a
capacious gallery of rock, up to the ankles in mud,
and feeling continually the drippings exuding from
the roof, till by the echoing murmurs of dashing water
we found ourselves approaching the bed of a subterraneous
river. We soon emerged in a vast cavern,
whose height, though we had twenty torches, was lost
in the darkness. The river rushed dimly below us, at
the depth of perhaps fifty feet, partially illuminated by
a row of lamps, hung on a slight wooden bridge by
which we were to cross to the opposite side.

We descended by a long flight of artificial stairs,
and stood upon the bridge. The wildness of the
scene is indescribable. A lamp or two glimmered
faintly from the lofty parapet from which we had descended,
the depth and breadth of the surrounding
cave could only be measured by the distance of the
echoes of the waters, and beneath us leaped and
foamed a dark river, which sprang from its invisible
channel, danced a moment in the faint light of our
lamps, and was lost again instantly in darkness. It
brought with it, from the green fields through which
it had come, a current of soft warm air, peculiarly delightful
after the chilliness of the other parts of the
cavern; there was a smell of new-mown hay in it
which seemed lost in the tartarean blackness around.

Our guides led on, and we mounted a long staircase
on the opposite side of the bridge. At the head of it
stood a kind of monument, engraved with the name
of the emperor of Austria, by whose munificence the
staircase had been cut and the conveniences for strangers
provided. We turned hence to the right, and
entered a long succession of natural corridors, roofed
with stalactites, with a floor of rock and mud, and so
even and wide that the lady under my protection had
seldom occasion to leave my arm. In the narrowest
part of it, the stalactites formed a sort of reversed
grove, with the roots in the roof. They were of
a snowy white, and sparkled brilliantly in the light of
the torches. One or two had reached the floor, and
formed slender and beautiful sparry columns, upon
which the names of hundreds of visiters were written
in pencil.

The spars grew white as we proceeded, and we were
constantly emerging into large halls of the size of handsome
drawing-rooms, whose glittering roofs, and sides
lined with fantastic columns, seemed like the brilliant
frost-work of a crystallized cavern of ice. Some of
the accidental formations of the stalagmites were very
curious. One large area was filled with them of the
height of small plants. It was called by the guides
the “English Garden.” At the head of another saloon,
stood a throne, with a stalactite canopy above it,
so like the work of art, that it seemed as if the sculptor
had but left the finishing undone.

We returned part of the way we had come, and
took another branch of the grotto, a little more on the
descent. A sign above informed us that it was the
“road to the infernal regions.” We walked on an hour
at a quick pace, stopping here and there to observe
the oddity of the formations. In one place, the stalactites
had enclosed a room, leaving only small openings
between the columns, precisely like the grating
of a prison. In another, the ceiling lifted out of the
reach of torch-light, and far above us we heard the
deep-toned beat as upon a muffled-bell. It was a thin
circular sheet of spar, called “the bell,” to which one
of the guides had mounted, striking upon it with a billet
of wood.

We came after a while to a deeper descent, which
opened into a magnificent and spacious hall. It is
called “the ballroom,” and used as such once a year,
on the occasion of a certain Illyrian festa. The floor
has been cleared of stalagmites, the roof and sides are
ornamented beyond all art with glittering spars, a natural
gallery with a balustrade of stalactites contains
the orchestra, and side-rooms are all around where
supper might be laid, and dressing-rooms offered in
the style of a palace. I can imagine nothing more
magnificent than such a scene. A literal description
of it even would read like a fairy tale.

A little farther on, we came to a perfect representation
of a waterfall. The impregnated water had fallen
on a declivity, and with a slightly ferruginous tinge of
yellow, poured over in the most natural resemblance
to a cascade after a rain. We proceeded for ten or
fifteen minutes, and found a small room like a chapel,
with a pulpit, in which stood one of the guides, who
gave us, as we stood beneath, an Illyrian exhortation.
There was a sounding-board above, and I have seen
pulpits in old gothic churches that seemed at a first
glance, to have less method in their architecture. The
last thing we reached, was the most beautiful. From
the cornice of a long gallery, hung a thin, translucent
sheet of spar, in the graceful and waving folds of a curtain;
with a lamp behind, the hand could be seen
through any part of it. It was perhaps twenty feet in
length, and hung five or six feet down from the roof
of the cavern. The most singular part of it was the
fringe. A ferruginous stain ran through it from one
end to the other, with the exactness of a drawn line,
and thence to the curving edge a most delicate rose-teint
faded gradually down like the last flush of sunset
through a silken curtain. Had it been a work of art,
done in alabaster, and stained with the pencil, it would
have been thought admirable.

The guide wished us to proceed, but our feet were
wet, and the air of the cavern was too chill. We were
at least four miles, they told us, from the entrance,
having walked briskly for upward of two hours. The
grotto is said to extend ten miles under the mountains,
and has never been thoroughly explored. Parties
have started with provisions, and passed forty-eight
hours in it without finding the extremity. It seems
to me that any city I ever saw might be concealed in
its caverns. I have often tried to conceive of the grottoes
of Antiparos, and the celebrated caverns of our
own country, but I received here an entirely new idea
of the possibility of space under ground. There is no
conceiving it unseen. The river emerges on the other
side of the mountain, seven or eight miles from its first
entrance.

We supped and slept at the little albergo of the village,
and returned the next day to an early dinner.

Trieste.—A ball on board the United States. The
guns were run out of the ports; the main and mizen-masts
were wound with red and white bunting; the
capstan was railed with arms and wreathed with
flowers; the wheel was tied with nose-gays; the
American eagle stood against the mainmast, with a
star of midshipmen's swords glittering above it; festoons
of evergreens were laced through the rigging;
the companion-way was arched with hoops of green
leaves and roses; the decks were tastefully chalked;
the commodore's skylight was piled with cushions and
covered with red damask for an ottoman; seats were
laid along from one carronade to the other; and the
whole was enclosed with a temporary tent lined
throughout with showy flags, and studded all over
with bouquets of all the flowers of Illyria. Chandeliers
made of bayonets, battle-lanterus, and candles in
any quantity, were disposed all over the hall. A splendid
supper was set out on the gun-deck below, draped
in with flags. Our own and the Constellation's boats
were to be at the pier at nine o'clock to bring off the
ladies, and at noon everything promised of the brightest.

First, about four in the afternoon came up a saucy-looking
cloud from the westernmost peak of the Friuli.
Then followed from every point toward the north, an
extending edge of a broad solid black sheet which rose
with the regularity of a curtain, and began to send
down a wind upon us which made us look anxiously
to our ball-room bowlines. The midshipmen were all
forward, watching it from the forecastle. The lieutenants
were in the gangway, watching it from the
ladder. The commodore looked seriously out of the
larboard cabin port. It was as grave a ship's company
as ever looked out for a shipwreck.

The country about Trieste is shaped like a bellows,
and the city and harbor lie in the nose. They have
a wind that comes down through the valley, called the
“bora,” which several times in the year is strong
enough to lift people from their feet. We could see,
by the clouds of dust on the mountain roads, that it
was coming. At six o'clock the shrouds began to
creak; the white tops flew from the waves in showers
of spray, and the roof of our sea-palace began to shiver
in the wind. There was no more hope. We had
waited even too long. All hands were called to take
down the chandeliers, sword-stars, and ottomans, and
before it was half done, the storm was upon us; the
bunting was flying and flapping, the nicely-chalked
decks were swashed with rain, and strown with leaves
of flowers, and the whole structure, the taste and labor
of the ship's company for two days, was a watery wreck.

Lieutenant C—, who had had the direction of the
whole, was the officer of the deck. He sent for his
pea-jacket, and leaving him to pace out his watch
among the ruins of his imagination, we went below to
get early to bed, and forget our disappointment in sleep.

The next morning the sun rose without a veil. The
“blue Friuli” looked clear and fresh; the southwest
wind came over softly from the shore of Italy, and we
commenced retrieving our disaster with elastic spirit.
Nothing had suffered seriously except the flowers, and
boats were despatched ashore for fresh supplies, while
the awnings were lifted higher and wider than before,
the bright-colored flags replaced, the arms polished
and arranged in improved order, and the decks rechalked
with new devices. At six in the evening everything
was swept up, and the ball-room astonished
even ourselves. It was the prettiest place for a dance
in the world.

The ship has an admirable band of twenty Italians,
collected from Naples and other ports, and a fanciful
orchestra was raised for them on the larboard side of
the mainmast. They struck up a march as the first
boatful of ladies stepped upon the deck, and in the
course of half an hour the waltzing commenced with
at least two hundred couples, while the ottoman and
seats under the hammock-cloths were filled with spectators.
The frigate has a lofty poop, and there was
room enough upon it for two quadrilles after it had
served as a reception-room. It was edged with a temporary
balustrade, wreathed with flowers and studded
with lights, and the cabin beneath (on a level with the
main ball-room), was set out with card-tables. From
the gangway entrance, the scene was like a brilliant
theatrical ballet.

An amusing part of it was the sailors' imitation on
the forward decks. They had taken the waste shrubbery
and evergreens, of which there was a great quantity,
and had formed a sort of grove, extending all
round. It was arched with festoons of leaves, with
quantities of fruit tied among them; and over the entrance
was suspended a rough picture of a frigate with
the inscription, “Free trade and sailors' rights.” The
forecastle was ornamented with cutlasses and one or
two nautical transparencies, with pistols and miniature
ships interspersed, and the whole lit up handsomely.
The men were dressed in their white duck trowsers
and blue jackets, and sat round on the guns playing at
draughts, or listening to the music, or gazing at the
ladies constantly promenading fore and aft, and to me
this was one of the most interesting parts of the spectacle.
Five hundred weather-beaten and manly faces
are a fine sight anywhere.

The dance went gayly on. The reigning belle was
an American, but we had lovely women of all nations
among our guests. There are several wealthy Jewish
families in Trieste, and their dark-eyed daughters, we
may say at this distance, are full of the thoughtful
loveliness peculiar to the race. Then we had Illyrians
and Germans, and—Terpsichore be our witness—how
they danced! My travelling companion, the Count
of Friuli, was there; and his little Viennese wife,
though she spoke no Christian language, danced as
featly as a fairy. Of strangers passing through the
Trieste, we had several of distinction. Among them
was a fascinating Milanese marchioness, a relative of
Manzoni's, the novelist (and as enthusiastic and eloquent
a lover of her country as I ever listened to on
the subject of oppressed Italy), and two handsome
young men, the counts Neipperg, sons-in-law to Maria
Louisa, who amused themselves as if they had seen
nothing better in the little dutchy of Parma.

We went below at midnight to supper, and the ladies
came up with renewed spirit to the dance. It was a
brilliant scene indeed. The officers of both ships, in
full uniform, the gentlemen from shore, mostly military,
in full dress, the gayety of the bright red bunting,
laced with white and blue, and studded, wherever they
would stand, with flowers, and the really uncommon
number of beautiful women, with the foreign features
and complexions so rich and captivating to our eyes,
produced altogether an effect unsurpassed by anything
I have ever seen even at the court fêtes of Europe.
The daylight gun fired at the close of a galopade,
and the crowded boats pulled ashore with their lovely
freight by the broad light of morning.