Obrázky stránek
PDF
ePub

which you cannot, 'till your eyes grow accustomed to the gloom, discover either the height or the magnitude. But your guides, prepared for all this, soon disperse themselves, so as to cast over the whole just glimmer enough to make you aware that the cavern in which you are standing is at least three hundred feet in length, and of an altitude which strikes you with amazement. Moreover, like the narrow passagè through which you have passed, it is coated, roofed, and paved, with stalactites, which catching the rays of the lamps throw them back upon you in a countless variety of sparkles. You are quite thunderstruck. You have no power even to express the extent of your admiration. You stand quite still, and hold your breath, as if in doubt whether the scene be one of real nature, or a mere delusion-the phantom of a dream.

Having gazed round in this mood for some time, the roar of waters begins again to put in a claim on your attention. You ask your guide whence it arises, and he leading you forward, directs you to a rough wooden balustrade, over which you look down into the bed of a river, which is rushing along many feet beneath you. It is the same stream, the Poik, which you noticed when first you arrived in the vicinity of the cave; and your cicerone informs you that, beyond a point whence, from its subterrannean bed, it appears to sink into the very bowels of the earth, no trace of its further progress can be followed. But there is reason to believe that in reference to this matter your friend with the iron lamp is either bamboozling you, or is himself in error. There is a stream called Unz, which emerges from beneath the earth at Planina, and falls into the Adriatic, a long day's journey above Trieste. If I do not mistake, it used to be a station for the navies of ancient Rome; for there is a very pretty natural bay at its mouth, which the backwater keeps for the most part open and commodious as an anchorage. I was told at Trieste, that logs of timber thrown into the Poik outside the caves of Adelsberg, make their appearance, after a considerable interval in the Unz; and if this account be correct, without doubt the rivers, though differing in name, are in point of fact identical. But whatever degree of truth there may be in the account, it is certain that to the eye of the visiter the Poik appears to withdraw from human society in this cave. You hear the rush of its waters, but you see it no more.

Having stood to watch this remarkable phenomenon for some time, we were conducted towards a staircase; by descending which, we came to the level of the stream, and saw that it was rapid, and apparently shallow. A few planks thrown across, served as a bridge, by which we passed, and then mounting another stair, we arrived at new wonders, any attempt to describe which in detail, would be ridiculous. For a full hour and more we continued to advance from chamber to chamber, each more magnificent, both in its formation and adornments, than that which had preceded it. Of these some appeared to be supported upon pillars of spar, which sprang off along the roofs, in the finest and most exquisite tracery; forming arches not less accurate, and even more slender in their ramifications than those which the architect has drawn over the most perfect of our Gothic cathedrals. Others, more open, had yet their peculiar ornaments-curtains of stalactite hanging in the most curious drapery-thrones, pulpit, chapels, shrines, and all manner of grotesque formations-one of which, when struck with the end of an

iron chain, emitted a clear and full-toned sound, like that of a bell. Then again the ball-room, as it is called, attracted a large share of our attention. It is a hall of gigantic proportions, of which the floor is unusually smooth, where the peasants from a considerable distance round are accustomed in the month of May to meet and spend a day in dancing. And, as if Nature in one of her fits of caprice had designed that it should thus be disposed of, an orchestra of brilliant spar is planted just where the musicians could have desired-I cannot conceive any thing of the kind more perfect.

Our guides were very good-natured, and I suspect that we tried their patience not a little, for more than once they threw out hints that to proceed further could serve no purpose, without producing the smallest effect. On we went, till by and by the roof began to close in upon us; and we had to scramble over masses of what might have been mistaken for ruined pillars. We were conscious, likewise, of a gradual ascent, and the view, when turning round we gazed towards the three lamps, which purposely lingered below, surpassed in magnificence all that could be conceived of the sublime.

"Now," said the man, who accompanied us, "if we had but a pistol to discharge there would be nothing left to wish for."

In a moment, I drew one from my pocket, and without giving him the slightest warning, I fired. The effect was wonderful! From cave to cave the sound appeared to be taken up; not in one continuous roar, but report after report, as if five or six cannon had been exploded at rapid intervals, all planted on a line which receded from you. Finally, the sound having attained its utmost limits, was rolled back in an echo, which, though produced by an implement so diminutive as a pocketpistol, rivalled in its volume, a peal of thunder.

We repeated the experiment several times, and were on each occasion successful; though the effects varied according to the relative positions of the chambers in which we happened to be at the moment. From the ball-room, for example, the sound went off in different directions, and became confused almost immediately; in the outer vestibule only a lengthened roar was produced. But every where it fully bore out the declaration of the guide, that to complete the stranger's enjoyment who visits these caverns, it is necessary that he should have the means of startling the sense of hearing, not less than that of sight.

Sir Humphry Davy in his striking little volume, "Consolations of a Philosopher," mentions, that in the cavern of Adelsberg he first made acquaintance with the Proteus Anguinus. The account which he has given of that singular animal-the connecting link, as it appears to be, between the fish and the reptile-supersedes all necessity on my part to describe it: nor would I refer to the circumstance at all, had not our guides, when they discovered three or four among the slime, in a particular part of the cavern, over which water partially flows, declared that we were in high good luck; not a creature of the sort having shown himself for some time previously. I think, therefore, that the philosopher's theory concerning the origin of these animals is fully borne

out.

The rain of the previous night had doubtless swollen the lake in which they are bred, and the waters carrying them away, they were forced up where we found them, into a chamber which, except in a particular state of the weather, is always dry. We examined them by the light of the

lamps, when they appeared of a more dingy white than the specimen which had already been submitted to my inspection by Mr. Smith, at Fiume; but we did not carry any of them away. There was no end to be served by their removal; and I am sure that men have no moral right to inflict suffering on the meanest of God's creatures, unless the purposes of more than idle curiosity are to be accomplished by it.

We wandered about among these subterranean marvels three good hours, at the termination of which we found ourselves once more upon the bank of the river. We crossed as we had done before-traversed the vestibule-threaded our way along the gallery, and emerged into upper air. A bright sun was shining in a sky where there was not a cloud to obscure him, and the effect of his rays upon our visual organs was, for a long space, painful enough; but of the warmth which he communicated to our frames, we made no complaint, inasmuch as the atmosphere of the cavern is cool-wellnigh to the extent of being unpleasant. Our fees, likewise, we dispensed with exceeding good-will, adding a small voluntary donation to their amount, and then away we hied, in the best possible humour with all the world, to the sign of the Osterra Grande. There a very tolerable dinner awaited us, with some country wine, which was not to be despised; and the charge for the whole, though more extravagant than of late we had been accustomed to, gave us no legitimate reason to complain. Finally, having purchased a pamphlet descriptive of the grotto, which our landlady, as in duty bound, pressed upon us, we desired the horses to be put to; and at five or six o'clock set out on our return to Trieste.

We had taken fourteen hours to accomplish the journey which terminated at Adelsberg; we took sixteen-for what reason I cannot tell -to make good the same space of road in an opposite direction. The effect, likewise, of an adherence to our plan of night-travel, was to introduce to our notice, during the homeward progress, exactly those points in the scenery of this district of Carniola, which the darkness of the previous day had concealed from us. I cannot say that there was about them aught which would induce me to abate one jot of the sentence which I have already passed upon the whole district. I never traversed a region so perfectly repulsive in its features-so entirely placed, as it were, beyond the reach of the improver's hand. Yet the inhabitants of the towns and villages through which we passed, seemed quite contented with their condition; and the traffic along the road was, as it had been the day before, prodigious. Finally, having won the ridge of the hills about an hour after nightfall, we looked down with great interest upon the thousand lights of Trieste, the glare of which fell over the surface of the Adriatic, and brought the outlines of many hulls and masts obscurely into view. Our vetturino, however, had no wish that we should indulge our taste for the sublime too long. Both he and his horses appeared to be aware that the sooner they got to their respective homes, the longer time would be afforded them for rest. Accordingly, very much to our surprise, we trotted down the descent at a pace, which would have done credit to an English postboy a hundred years ago, and were in due course set down at the door of our hotel.

(To be continued.)

A STIR AMONG THE LETTER-WRITERS.

"Quid est aliud tollere e vita vitæ societatem, quam tollere amicorum colloquia absentium ?"-CICERO.

"From a pound to a pin! Fold it over and over; 'tis threefold too little for carrying a letter."-SHAKSPEARE.

A GREAT revolution is about to be effected in the correspondence of the nation; and every one is busied in considering how it will affect his own private interests,-that never-failing touchstone of men's judgments on all public measures. New members of parliament are quaking for the loss of their privilege," which should be worn now in its newest gloss, not cast aside so soon;" while the more knowing old ones see nothing in the abolition of franking, but the release from a most burdensome and thankless task. Men of all classes, who have business of their own to transact, hail the measure as a diminution of countinghouse expenses; while they who for their sins are condemned to occupy their leisure with other people's affairs, tremble for the additional applications with which they will be pestered. Tradesmen calculate on a large saving in the article of advertisements; while proprietors of newspapers are uneasy at a probable falling off thus occasioned' in the most profitable columns of their journals. With bagmen the matter is much worse, their trade will be utterly cut up, it seems; and then farewell the one-horse chay, the ostler's bow, the landlord's ready smile, the barmaid's welcome;

"Othello's occupation's gone !"

Reprobate sons at the Temple, and the George Barnwells of city dash and expenditure, are scarcely less excited by an apprehension of the enlarged demand that may be made on their patience, by the increased alacrity of papas in writing jobations; and they declare that for the future, they shall regard the post-office, as nothing better than a penny-tentiary. Their sister-semstresses, on the contrary, fondly anticipate at least a weekly reiteration of" lover's vows," from their sweethearts in London, to the "girls they have left behind them."

For ourselves, much as we are gratified by the probable abolition of cross-lining among our female correspondents, we cannot but look forward with dismay to a heavy addition to our already severe editorial labours. Hitherto, a salutary postage has held the "rhyming poetesses," and the "men of Mint," in some decent check; or if they were now and again so unreasonable as to saddle the New Monthly with poetry and postage too, the weight of expense has afforded an available excuse for not releasing the packet: but for the future, one pair of eyes will not suffice to skim even our overwhelming communications, and to protect our best friends from the assaults of those, whose “ ing's d-d hard reading."

easy writ

The Chancellor of the Exchequer, we are told, is not without his anxieties on account of a too possible deficit in the revenue; but it must be some comfort to him to know that the paper-makers have already raised their prices, on the prospect of an enlarged demand; and that the very beggars walk in their rags with a more confident brow, in the consciousness of how much more they are worth “as they stand.

In this general excitement of hope or of alarm, of gratification or of displeasure, we imagine that a word or two about letters and letterwriters, may not be unacceptable; while the occasion is certainly favourable to a consideration of the manifold actions and reactions, which so small a matter as the altered charge of a letter must set going among the multifarious movements of this overwrought and "go-ahead" nation. That great events may, and do spring from the most trifling causes, is a truth sufficiently commonplace; and numerous indeed is the very worthy class who live in a perpetual fever of apprehension at the passing of ill-considered turnpike-acts, and at legislative revolutions in the retailing of excised articles; but if such fears are sometimes gratuitous, we cannot doubt that the present political and social innovation has much more in it than meets the eye, and may fairly justify a little fidgety uneasiness in those, who never know to what any thing that happens may lead.

Heaven, we are told by the poet,

"First taught letters for some wretches aid,

Some banished lover, or some captive maid;"

and he seems to have imagined that the principal use of the post-office

is to

"Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,

And waft a sigh from Indus to the pole."

We doubt not, that some of our friends will therefore consider a reduction in postage as a heavy blow, and a great discouragement to the Malthusian system; and as removing one of those prudential checks which have hitherto acted favourably on the balance of demand and supply in the labour market. Parish officers will thus be led to anticipate some increase in their public duties; and poor-house guardians to cast a jealous eye on their lists of creature-comforts for the paupers. We, however, have our reasons for thinking that little harm is to be looked for in this quarter; we opine that they who do write, will probably be less likely (forgive the pun) to do wrong; and we surmise that families are not much apt to be increased by an intercourse carried on exclusively through the chaste medium of a postoffice. We happen, indeed, to have known more than one very promising matrimonial speculation broken off by men who could not stand the overflowings of their lady love's epistolary propensities, or by women who have resented a want of punctuality in the replies of their lovers. Besides, love-letters are already at so heavy a discount, that little apprehension need be entertained even from a considerable increase in Cupid's correspondence. Every man who is up to a thing or two (the fourth form Etonians and Westminsters inclusive), is aware that litera scripta manet, and that it is liable to be forthcoming in courts of justice, and elsewhere, long after the sentiment that inspired it has been transferred to another party,-which is "exceedingly inconvenient." There is, indeed, no maxim in morals more universally understood, than that which says, make love when and where you like, but write no letters. Abelard himself, in virtue of his universal genius seems to have discovered this truth through the mists of his benighted age; at least he put as much coldness and commonplace into his replies to Eloisa's burning epistles, as if he expected that they would be, one day,

« PředchozíPokračovat »