Although the men pulled vigorously, rather more than the stipulated time elapsed before we descried a dark speck at the base of the white cliffs which rose, without a strip of intervening shingle, abruptly from the water's edge. As we approached, this proved to be an aperture wide enough to admit the entrance of a boat, and crouching as we glided under the low, dark passage, we found ourselves in a lofty circular cavern, with no place for the foot to rest upon except a narrow ledge of rock, two or three feet wide, that ran round it. A mournful interest, derived from well-authenticated facts, is attached to the Grotta de' Schiavi—that is, of the slaves—to which its name especially bears reference. It was here, as the sailors told us, and the dottore confirmed, that in those times when the Adriatic coast was ruthlessly swept by the Algerine corsairs, they used temporarily to confine their prisoners, and deposit the booty they had collected. Landing them upon the narrow ledge within the grotto, they would leave them securely bound while they went in quest of further plunder, confident that no means of egress, or possibility of rescue, lay before the wretched victims they had torn from their homes and kindred.
Upon this natural platform the party now landed; and while the greater number, laughing and talking, made the circuit of the rocks, the physician stood near my cousin Lucy and me, and dwelt upon the associations to which such a spot naturally gave rise.
“I never come here,” he said, “without a host of mournful fancies presenting themselves to my mind. What shrieks and wailings, what moans of agony must have resounded within this gloomy cave!—How truly must hope have died in the hearts of those who entered it!—How many forms of beauty, and strength, and helpless childhood, have here writhed and struggled, and swayed to and fro in impotent despair, waiting till their pitiless captors should return with fresh companions in slavery to greet them!”
“And I,” exclaimed Lucy, the wonderful English spirit which animated those Italian-born girls causing the blood to mantle in her cheeks, “I, in a scene like this, can never sufficiently thank God for having made me of a nation to whom it is owing that such things have ceased to be! It was my dear England which sent forth Lord Exmouth's fleet in 1816 to the bombardment of Algiers, the liberation of Christian captives, and the suppression of piracy in all the Barbary States. Oh, Signor Dottore, it is a noble privilege to be English!—I value it next to being a Christian!”
He had known her from childhood, and smiled at her enthusiasm, while he rejoined:—“Would to Heaven, Signora Lucia, that your country, great and wonderful as she is, would not now-a-days content herself with reminiscences of her past exertions in the cause of freedom.[7] You say such things have ceased to be. What has ceased?... The inroads of Algerine corsairs, I grant you—but not the tears of Italian captives.”
He looked round. Madame V—— and the others were still at some distance; the boatmen were resting on their oars at the mouth of the cave. Eagerly, as if catching at every moment, he went on:—
“Who can count the political prisoners rotting in loathsome dungeons in various parts of Italy at this moment? Your countryman Gladstone has laid bare the horrors of the Neapolitan state prisons; but he did not tell you of Mantua, of Ferrara, of Pagliano! In the galleys of Ancona many persons, guilty of no other crime than the unguarded expression of their liberal opinions, are now wearing the felon's dress and chain. I know of some young men now languishing there, who, for having let off a few fireworks on the anniversary of the proclamation of the Roman Republic, were sentenced by the restored Papal Government to twenty years' companionship—daily and nightly companionship—with the foulest murderers. I could relate to you such stories of our prisons,—of men worn to premature dotage; of strong hearts crushed; of noble intellects palsied,—as would make you own that a worse slavery than that of Algiers exists for us!”
We would willingly have heard more, but the approach of Madame V—— checked the speaker. Good, amiable as she was, she was known to be too completely under the control of her confessor, for any liberal to venture to speak unreservedly on politics before her. The conversation was at once turned into a new channel; and in a few instants more, the bright sunshine, the sparkling waters, the ineffable beauty of the cloudless sky, as we emerged from the grotto, proved irresistible spells to chase away the gloomy impression of what the doctor had just related.
Duly drawn up on the piazza, we found, on regaining the shore, the two vetture previously bespoken, surpassing specimens of that delectable style of equipage—each with three spectral horses, whose mean bodily appearance was supposed to be atoned for by an extra supply of jingling bells and scarlet worsted tufts; the drivers fierce and bravo-like; and the interiors painfully redolent of musty straw. There were six places in each, two in the cabriolet, and four inside; and the consul and Madame V—— respectively taking the command of a division, with many expressions of thanks and good-will to the dottore, whose presence had formed a very agreeable interlude to some amongst the party, we set forth in great style. The whole mendicant population, at least half apparently of the inhabitants of Umana, escorted us, like a guard of honour, as a tribute to the largesses of our good-humoured tars, and filled the air with their benedictions; while a number of boys and girls, even after the horses had been urged into a feeble trot, pursued us indefatigably for at least a mile, the former making wheels of themselves, and bowling along after the most approved fashion; and the latter springing up to the windows to offer their bunches of flowers, and obtain a farewell token of English liberality.
After a drive of four hours or thereabouts, through country equally fertile and diversified, we drew near Loretto, situated on the brow of a very steep hill, crowned by the church of the Santa Casa. As we wound slowly up the ascent, we met the peasants in large numbers returning from some neighbouring fair, and were struck by the scowling looks with which they eyed us, and a general air of menace and defiance. Singularly enough, it is notorious that the population in the vicinity of this venerated shrine is the worst throughout the whole pontifical dominions. This is a perplexing fact to persons who, like the V—— family, were perfectly sincere in their belief of the legend of the holy house's miraculous transportation by angels from Nazareth; and who naturally would infer that the immediate presence of such a relic ought to have produced a salutary effect upon public morals. Their explanation of this inconsistency was briefly, that the town having been for centuries the resort of pilgrims of all ranks and from every clime, the Loretani had become corrupted by ever-changing intercourse with these strangers: an hypothesis we unquestioningly accepted, for it must not be forgotten we were now on delicate ground, and many an observation that might have jarred on our foreign companions, had to be altogether suppressed or carefully kept amongst ourselves. The sinister aspects of the groups we encountered gave a clue to the numerous robberies perpetrated in the neighbourhood; to say nothing of the darker tales of murder and revenge, of which the way-side crosses, so frequent during the last few miles, were ominously suggestive.