The Last Day of Captivity—Quarantaine Enclosure—Baths of
Mahadia—Landscape Scenery—Peasantry of Hungary—Their
Costume—Trajan’s Road—Hungarian Village—The Mountain
Pass—The Baths—A Disappointment—The Health-Inventory—Inland
Journey—New Road.
The last day of our captivity was the most tedious portion of the whole,
for the prospect of speedy emancipation kept us in a constant state of
irritation. Our luggage was collected and arranged with a haste which by
no means added to its comfort or convenience, and which only left us an
additional hour of unoccupied restlessness; while the servants were
urged to a continual commotion that robbed us even of the tranquillity
which might have made our prison-house somewhat more endurable.
The morning of the fifteenth of October was that of our release. We were
all ready to depart at daybreak; and after the necessary ceremonies had
been gone through, we assembled in a large grassy space, bounded on one
side by the Danube, and skirted on the other by the Quarantaine
buildings. This enclosure was crowded with oxen, waggons, and bales of
merchandize; and about fifty peasants were employed in lading such
goods as were admitted to _pratique_, after their period of purification
had been accomplished. Here we also found carriages for hire, two of
which we immediately engaged to convey some of our party to the
celebrated Baths of Mahadia; which, being situated off our road, we were
anxious to reach as speedily as possible, in order to enable us to
secure our passage on board the Steam Packet, that was to leave Drinkova
at daybreak the following morning.
Three of the party accordingly took possession of a Calèche, drawn by a
trio of wiry-looking little chesnut ponies, harnessed in the most
inartificial way in the world, with bridles, traces, and reins of stout
cord; while the others mounted one of the country waggons, filled with
hay, and dragged by a couple of wild-looking horses.
Never was there a more sincere exhibition of self-gratulation than that
with which we passed the boundary gate of the Quarantaine ground; and
found ourselves beside the tall stone cross that is erected on its
outskirt, as if to claim the thanksgiving of the newly-liberated. We had
majestic hills rising before, and beside us, clothed with forest-timber,
now rich in the thousand hues of autumn—The river-tide running
rippling—would, for the sake of my landscape sketch, that I could say
_sparkling_—in the sunshine; but, alas! the lordly Danube throughout
its entire length looks like diluted dirt; and the beam must be full and
fierce indeed which can lend a brightness to its waters.—The vapours
that had during the night been pillowed on the hill-tops, or had
cinctured them with a fleecy girdle, were just beginning to roll back
beneath the influence of the sun, which was rising like a golden globe
into a horizon of the faintest pink; and as the halo widened round its
disk, deepening the clouds to amber.
The hardy Hungarian peasantry were all astir; and very picturesque they
looked as they drove forth their flocks to the green and goodly pastures
on the mountain-side; or yoked the docile oxen to their light waggons of
wicker-work, which resemble huge baskets raised on wheels. To us
everything was delightful; for like long-caged birds suddenly set free,
we were pruning our wings for a fresh flight. Ten days of happiness go
by like an Eastern twilight, or the down of the thistle; but ten days of
Quarantaine—ten days of wood and whitewash—of locks and bolts—of
walls and weariness!—No one who has not passed ten days in a _colleve_,
and its narrow court can understand all the delight of the first bound
back to freedom.
There is one of Sir Walter Scott’s ballads which from my earliest
girlhood I have always loved; it first touched my heart by its
plaintiveness, but in the quarantaine of Orsovar I learned to value it
still more for its surpassing nature—its masterly delineation of the
feelings of the human mind under captivity; the captivity, not of
despair, but of impatience—the wail of the bounding spirit held
back—and often, very often, as I paced up and down the paved court of
our plague-prison, did I murmur out my own irritation in the words of
the Mighty One of Song:
“My hawk is tired of perch and hood,
My idle greyhound loathes his food,
My horse is weary of his stall,
And I am sick of captive thrall.”
But even had we looked on the peasantry of Hungary at a less joyous
moment, we could not have failed to be struck with their extremely
picturesque costume. The men were dressed like those of Servia, even to
the ungainly sandal of untanned leather, laced above a short stocking of
checked worsted; though many among them had discarded the rude conical
cap of sheepskin, for one neatly made of white flannel, and bound with
black ribbon, which had a very cleanly and smart appearance; but the
women were in a costume which would have produced its effect at a fancy
ball. Like the maidens of Scotland, the young girls wore their hair
simply bound by a silken snood, into which they had stuck marigolds or
wild roses; while the matrons covered their heads with a handkerchief
placed very backward, and secured by bodkins, flowers, and coins, to a
cushion worn low in the neck, and concealed by a thick plait of hair. A
band of linen, a couple of inches in width, was fastened round the brow,
and completed the head-dress; and many of these were elegantly wrought
with beads and coloured worsteds; I also remarked one which was
decorated with small white cowries.
Herein alone existed any distinction of dress between the oldest matron
and the youngest maiden; the garments varying only in the richness of
their material. A chemisette of white linen reaching to the throat,
where it was confined by a band worked with coloured worsteds, continued
down the front of the bosom, and along the tops of the large, full
sleeves, was girt about the waist with two woollen aprons worn like
those of Servia, but falling only to the knee; where they terminated in
a deep fringe of the same colours as the apron, that descended to the
ancle. Some few made use of the same unsightly sandals as those of the
men, but they were principally barefooted.
The Hungarian peasantry are all soldiers when their services are
required, but resume their agricultural and domestic duties immediately
that the necessity has ceased to exist; hence they are all erect, and
smart-looking; and as they are a remarkably fine race of men, their
appearance is very striking. Of the women I cannot in candour say so
much, as they are, generally speaking, very plain; with flat features,
and expressionless countenances. There were, however, several startling
exceptions; and I know not whether in such cases it be actually the
intrinsic degree of beauty possessed by the individual, and that in a
land of plain women, Nature lavishes on the few all that she has
withheld from the many; or that the dearth of good looks in the many may
lead a stranger involuntarily to heighten to himself those of the few;
but it is certain that I saw in Hungary, as I thought at the time, half
a dozen of the loveliest girls imaginable.
We had left Orsova only a few miles behind us, when, descending a short
but precipitous declivity, we entered upon a road skirting the mountain
ridge on the one hand, and bounded on the other by the bed of a torrent;
whose waters, now in a state of comparative repose, brawled over the
masses of rock with which their own violence had cumbered the channel
during the winter storms; and ran dancing in the light, as their course
was further impeded by the fishing-dams of the peasantry; and, after
forming a thousand pigmy cascades, fell flashing back into the depths
of the ravine, to form a mirror for the overhanging hills.
Another hour of rapid travelling brought us to the ruins of Trajan’s
road. Six of the arches, built against the solid rock, still remain
nearly perfect; and hence this stupendous work may be traced for several
miles, as well as the massy fragments of a bridge across the torrent.
A lovely valley succeeded, hemmed in by hills, and dotted over with
little villages, seated on the banks of the mountain stream; looking,
from the peculiar formation of their small reed-thatched huts, like
gigantic apiaries. Every narrow shelf of rock that could be redeemed
from the forest, for such the whole line of heights, (gigantic as they
were), may literally be called, was in a high state of cultivation.
Patches of Indian corn, flourishing vineyards, green pasture lands, and
thriving orchards, were to be seen on all sides; while the effects of
the flitting light upon the autumn-touched timber were so magical, so
various, and so brilliant, that words are inadequate to paint them. Here
and there, among stretches of foliage, varying from the faint silvery
green of the river-willow, and the white lining of the aspen-leaf, to
the bright gold of the decaying beech, and the rich brown of the
withering oak, stood out a huge mass of bare calcareous rock; looking
like a giant portal closed upon the hidden treasures of the mountain’s
heart. And amid all these glorious hills, this jewel-like foliage, and
these flashing waters, we travelled on with the speed of lightning,
through an avenue of fruit-trees several miles in length.
A second stretch of the mountain-road conducted us to a spot where a
descent had been made to the bed of the torrent; and here, leaving the
direct line to the town of Mahadia, we forded the stream, and struck
into a byway, which, traversing a dense wood, led immediately to the
Baths. It was but an exchange of beauty. And, as we entered the gorge of
two stately mountains draped in forest-foliage, and lifting to the sky
their high and leafy heads; and saw the eagles planing above them in
majestic security, while flowers bloomed beside our path, and small
birds twittered among the branches; while the sound of the shepherd’s
reed-pipe came sweeping down into the valley from the giddy heights on
which his flock were browsing; and the luxurious cattle standing mid-way
in the stream, lowed out their enjoyment to their fellows, as if to lure
them from the mountain glades amid which they were wandering; I thought
that I had never traversed a country so lovely as this corner of
Hungary. I would not have missed that morning landscape for another term
of quarantaine!
We were quite unprepared for the scene that awaited us at the Baths.
The gorge in which they are built is so narrow that the rocks on either
side almost overhang the houses; and the torrent rushes brawling along
at their base, fed by continual springs. The establishment, which is
becoming every year more popular, is on a very large and handsome scale;
and the whole aspect of the place is so enchanting, so bright, so calm,
and so delightful, that, could we have woven the web of our day to a
week’s duration, I am quite sure that not one of our party would have
wearied of it.
The Baths are of Roman origin; and in the wall of one of the principal
apartments a stone is imbedded which still bears most legibly the
following inscription: “To Venus, Mercury, and Hercules, these springs,
conducive to Beauty, Activity, and Strength, are dedicated.” They are
strongly impregnated with sulphur, and produce on a first trial extreme
and almost painful exhaustion; but they are considered to be so very
efficacious, particularly in chronic diseases, that the government have
erected an Invalid Hospital and Bathing House at the extremity of the
mountain, for the use of the troops.
We partook of an excellent dinner at the Table d’Hôte on leaving the
Baths; and, greatly to our regret, were then compelled to retrace our
steps in order to reach Orsova before dusk. But we had already lingered
too long; and, on arriving in the court of the hotel where the
post-waggons were awaiting us, we were met by the declaration of the
drivers that they would not stir until daylight; the road to Drinkova
being cut along the brink of the mountain precipices, and so slightly
protected as to be even dangerous at noon-day.
We were, one and all, extremely annoyed at their decision, not knowing
if we could afford a loss of time on which we had not calculated; and we
almost began to ask ourselves whether the more incurious portion of the
party, who had quietly mounted the luggage-waggons at the
quarantaine-gate, and pursued their direct road to the steam-station,
had not been also the most prudent. For myself, despite the fatigue that
I had undergone during the day, and the enervating effect of the
sulphuric bath, I had so nerved myself for the night-journey, that I was
sincerely disappointed when assured that it was quite impracticable;
but, as there was no alternative, we resolved on retiring early to our
apartments, whose cleanliness and comfort were enhanced tenfold in our
eyes by our recent endurance of the disarray and desolation of the
quarantaine cells.
We were, however, obliged, ere we parted for the night, to receive the
Agent of the Steam-Company, and two officers of the Austrian Customs;
who, for “a consideration,” returned our books carefully sewed up in
linen, and sealed with this government-stamp in lead, accompanied by an
injunction not to remove it until we had passed the Austrian frontier.
We next paid a duty for the Turkish articles we had brought with us, and
which they did not trouble us to enumerate; as, thanks to the
“Health-Inventory” taken at the Lazaretto, they were thoroughly
acquainted with the extent of our possessions.
The official train had no sooner departed, than we busied ourselves in
superintending the arrangement of the provisions that were to accompany
us on the morrow’s journey; nothing edible, save Indian corn bread,
being purchaseable between the town of Orsova, and the station of the
steam-boat.
Few circumstances can be more provoking than the necessity which exists
of abandoning the course of the river at this particular point; as the
scenery for several successive miles is of the most majestic and
striking description. Piles of rock hem in the current, and almost
overhang it; caverns, hollowed by some fearful convulsion of nature,
tempt the venturous foot of the curious traveller; and far-spreading
forests, sweeping away into the distance, fringe the summits of the
mountains, and cast their deep shadows over the river tide.
Superadded to this disappointment, is the increase of fatigue consequent
on the compulsatory _détour_; the distance occupied by the shoal being
more than doubled by the overland journey that is made across the
loftiest of the Banût mountains, and performed in the country carriages
(the basket-work waggons already mentioned); which, although so lightly
constructed as to travel very rapidly, yet, being without springs, are
extremely fatiguing.
To obviate this inconvenience, the Steam Company have commenced the
construction of a road at the foot of the mountain-chain, the whole
length of the shoal; and it was progressing rapidly at the period of our
visit, under the auspices of the Austrian Government.[11] The necessary
outlay was said to be very great, owing to the difficult nature of the
locality, and the labour of penetrating the living rock. An entire mile
of this singular undertaking was already completed; and really afforded
an extraordinary proof of the effects produceable by human ingenuity and
perseverance. In particular spots it is entirely artificial; and is a
solid stretch of masonry based on the bed of the river—in others, it
hangs on the side of the mountain like a goat-path—and at others, again
it is a tunnel, walled and roofed with rock, and torn from the heart of
the mighty mass by blasting.
This road is intended to facilitate the passage of travellers and
merchandize, from one steam-vessel to the other, by means of
flat-bottomed boats, to be towed by horses along the hitherto impassable
portion of the river—an arrangement which will supersede the necessity
of abandoning the direct line; and save the traveller the expense,
fatigue, and inconvenience of the inland journey.