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.