Thursday evening, May 16.... We are to start at nine o’clock. The rain is over, but it is still cloudy. I have been for some days in Austrian dominions, but I wish to be in Austria itself. It cleared up a little just at sunset, and gave, me from the deck of the vessel, a most beautiful view of the town and harbor, with hundreds of gondolas gliding swiftly through the water in every direction....
Triest, Saturday evening, May 18, 1839.
As misfortunes never come single, I found this morning that our places were not secured in the mail-coach for Monday. The fellow who was to arrange the business found, after getting our passports in order, that there was only one place left, and supposing that we were certainly to go together, did not secure that. It was immediately arranged between us that I was to have the place, but on arriving at the office I had the mortification to find it already taken. For an hour or so we made various plans, negotiated with a vetturino, but were stopped by the information we received, that they would be five days on the road to Gratz, from where to Vienna it would require at least two days more by the same kind of conveyance, or twenty-seven hours in the mail-coach if we could get a place in it. We found that the quickest way left for us was to take places for Tuesday by the mail, and go on Monday by a private conveyance to Adelsberg, as we had intended, where we shall have a day longer than we desire; and these places we were fortunate enough to secure. So I cannot expect to reach Vienna before Friday morning of next week! I had hoped to reach that place by the twentieth.
It rained hard all the morning, so that botanizing was out of the question. So I put my collection of yesterday in press; visited Biasoletto,[99] and after dinner met Tommasini,[100] who has given me a very pretty collection of plants of the country....
Vienna, 24th May, Friday evening.
The great fête of the Grotto of Adelsberg, of which I wrote you, was to take place on Monday afternoon. Mr. Philip, the painter, and myself took a carriage to that place and arrived in good time, and saw this very strange grotto with greater advantage and under more curious circumstances, I suspect, than was ever done by an American before. I had all the next day before me, as the coach from Triest did not arrive till evening. My companion was taken somewhat ill and kept the house, while I took my portfolio and walked through the fields of this retired valley to a bold and high mountain range, more distant than I had calculated on; climbed the rocks with much difficulty; enjoyed a charming prospect from the summit; filled my portfolio with plants; got back about five o’clock, regularly tired and hungry, and just had time to eat my dinner and secure my specimens before the coach came from Triest. We took our places just at dusk, Tuesday evening, and have been on the road day and night, stopping just long enough to take our meals, until this morning; when at early daylight, just as I opened my eyes from such sleep as one might catch after three consecutive nights of such confinement, the vale of the Wien and the beautiful city of Vienna lay before me, the green fields reaching up to the very gates. It was a lovely sight. I have never seen the like. It began raining very soon, however, and has rained all day, so that I have seen little. Philip, who understands German, has been confined to his room by illness. But as soon as I got my breakfast and was fairly fixed in my lodgings, which we found as difficult to get as if we were at New York at this season (I am at the Gasthof zur Dreyfaltigkeit, a good and cheap house, and the head waiter speaks French), I took a guide to direct me to the Joseph-Platz, where the Imperial Library and Cabinet are, to find Endlicher.[101] I found the man in his den, and the moment I put my letters into his hand he recognized Bentham’s writing and addressed me by name, Bentham having apprised him of my intended visit. Endlicher received me very cordially, and I remained with him till two o’clock. He is extremely good-looking, and younger even in appearance than I expected, although Bentham told me he was about his own age; he looks about thirty-three. I had the pleasure to present in person the copy of the “Flora” designed for him.
The usual dinner hour here is from twelve to three. The common people dine at twelve, the gentry from two to four, the imperial family setting a good example by dining between one and two. After dinner I went to the police office to procure the necessary leave to remain here for a week or so, answered all the questions which are put in such cases to the traveler, such as where I stopped, how long I intended to stay, what my business was, produced my letter of credit, in order to show that I was not likely to run away with unpaid bills,—to ascertain this point is said to be the chief object of all this inquiry. When you arrive at any hotel and remain over night, you are presented with a blank formula comprising still more particular inquiries, which you are required to fill up, and it is sent to the police office. You give first your name, then your country, age, religion, occupation, state whether you are married or not! whether you are traveling alone or in company; where you came from last; your probable stay; whether you have letters of credit or not, with some equally particular inquiries! I went next to my banker’s, found no letters! I drew some money, and obtained a ticket of admission to a commercial reading-room, which is well supplied with English and French newspapers. Here I stayed until sunset, reading up my English news, in which I had got far behind, and which on the present occasion I found very interesting. I gleaned occasionally a little news from home, but vaguely. The information seemed in general satisfactory, but one letter from home were worth it all!
I have this morning changed the plants I have been drying, and have taken care of my companion Philip, who is quite sick with the fatigue of his journey and so forth. I have endured it very well, but must get into bed. Not having had my clothes off for three nights in succession, nor enjoyed rational sleep, I wonder much that I am not more fatigued. Endlicher asked me to go to the opera this evening, where there is some especially fine music, as he says, but I declined, telling him that under present circumstances I should sleep through the finest music in the world. I suppose it would be perfectly impossible to make him understand how one could have any scruples against this amusement.
Saturday, 25th, 1839.—I went early this morning to the Imperial Cabinet; remained there until two, when the rooms are closed. After dinner I explored about the city until sunset; saw many of the public buildings, the gardens, etc. I understand the localities of the town proper very well. The city itself is not large; the strong walls that inclose it are still kept up, and immediately outside of this there is a large open space, planted with trees and laid out into roads and walks. Beyond this are the faubourgs or suburbs, larger many times than the city itself; very pleasant, but rather inconvenient to reach. Most of the public buildings, the shops, etc., are in the city itself. I went to see the fine old Gothic Cathedral of St. Stephen’s. It is a very old and exceedingly fine, large building, but the roof is very awkward. The spire is the finest thing I ever saw in the way of Gothic architecture. It is four hundred and sixty-five feet high, and is the very poetry of steeples. I intend to climb to the top presently....
Monday morning, 27th May.—I find we are in a different climate from Italy. It has been cold ever since my arrival here; the first day was rainy, and yesterday it rained from morning to night, and was very cold and unpleasant; so of course I kept my room nearly all day. I had also to take care of Mr. Philip, whose indisposition has turned into intermittent fever, such as he has been subject to at Rome. It is a most distressing thing to be sick in a strange land, and I cannot be too grateful for the uninterrupted good health I have enjoyed ever since I left you.