our quarters at the shelter-hut in the pine valley were so satisfactory, and its situation so delightful, that instead of remaining only two nights, as had been originally intended, we stayed there a whole week, exploring the valley in all directions, making sketches of the principal points, and collecting supplies of the rare ferns and mosses with which the neighborhood abounded, along with the alpen-rose, which we often discovered still flowering at sheltered places.

a thorough dose of nature enjoyed in this way acts like a regenerating medicine on a mind and body wearied and weakened by a long strain of conventionalities. it is refreshing merely to look round on a beautiful scene as yet untainted by the so-called civilizing breath of man, who, too often attempting to paint the lily, invariably vulgarizes when he seeks to improve the work of the creator. what unmixed delight to see here everything unspoiled and unadulterated, each tree and flower living out its natural life, or falling into beautiful decay, without having been turned aside from its original vocation, or distorted to an unnatural use to minister to some imaginary want of sensual, cruel, greedy, rapacious man; to find one little spot where nature yet reigns supreme; to be able to gaze around and say that those splendid fir-stems will not be cut up in a noisy saw-mill, nor yet defiled by vulgar paint; those late scarlet strawberries hanging in coral fringes from pearl-gray rocks will not be sold at so much a pint and{381} cooked into sickly jams; those prickly fir-cones will not be abstracted from their rightful owners, the red-coated squirrels, to adorn the tasteless veranda of some popular beer-house; the swelling outlines of those glorious blue gentians will be flattened in no improved herbarium, nor those gorgeous butterflies invited to lay down their young lives to further the interests of science; those brown leaping trout will, thank heaven, never, never figure on an illuminated menu card as truites à la chambord, to flatter the palate of some dissipated sybarite! the pure light of the north star alone will point out my direction, and neither kant nor hegel will rise from his grave to torment me here.

the pine valley.

it is wonderful how soon one gets accustomed to roughing it, and doing without the comforts and luxuries of daily life, and it is delightful to discover that civilization is only skin-deep after all. on the second morning it seemed no hardship to perform our toilet at a mountain spring shrouded in a pine-tree boudoir; empty bottles were very worthy substitutes for silver candlesticks; and for brushing our{382} dress and cleansing our boots, a wild wallachian peasant quite as useful as a trained femme de chambre.

dress and fashion, uniforms and coffee-houses, the wearisome chit-chat of a little country town, as well as the intricacies of european politics, had all passed out of our lives as though they had never existed, leaving no regret, scarcely even a memory. it seemed hardly possible to believe that such useless and unnatural things as false hair, diamond ear-rings, military parades, cream-laid note-paper, calling-cards, sugar-tongs, intrigue, envy, and ambition existed somewhere or other about the world. were there really other forms of music extant than the lullaby of the water-fall, and the wild pibroch of the wind among the fir-stems? other sorts of perfumes than the pine wood fragrance and the breath of wild thyme?

while we were thus revelling in the pure ozone above, two emperors were meeting in some dull corner of the dingy earth below,[83] and all europe was looking on and holding its breath, in order to catch some echo of the royal syllables interchanged.

for our part, we completely skipped this page of european history, and felt none the worse of it. everything changes proportion up here, and a real eagle becomes of far more absorbing interest than a double-headed one. we were virtually as isolated as though cast on a desert island in the pacific; and but for one messenger despatched to assure us of the welfare of our respective families, we had no communication with the world we had left.

here we had a hundred other sources of interest of more absorbing and healthier kind than the so-called pleasures we had left below. first there was the water-fall, a never-failing element of beauty and interest. it was delightful to sketch it, sitting on a moss-grown stone at the edge of the torrent; it was yet more delightful to clamber up to its base, and clinging on to a rock, receive the breath of its spray full on our face, and enjoy at close quarters the musical thunder of its voice. not far from this was the place where, three years previously, the great avalanche had swept over the valley, felling prostrate every tree which came in its passage. all across one side of the glen, and half-way up the opposite hill, can still be traced the ravaging march of the destroying forces; for here the woodman never comes with his{383} axe, and each tree still lies prostrate where it was stricken down, like giant ninepins overthrown; and here they will lie undisturbed till they rot away and turn to soft red dust, mute vouchers of the terrible power of unchained nature. one felt inclined to envy the bears and eagles for this glorious sight, of which they alone can have been the fortunate spectators.

another point of interest indicated by our guides was the bridge of fir-stems over a steep ravine, where years ago a terrified flock of sheep, pursued by a bear in broad daylight, had leaped down over the precipitous edge, upwards of three hundred breaking their legs in their frenzied attempts to escape.

the shepherds who lived above in the stony valley came frequently down to our shelter-hut, and we used to find them comfortably ensconced at our camp-fire, in deep conversation with the guides. in their lonely existence it must have been a pleasant experience to have neighbors at all within reach, and our hospitable camp-fire was doubtless as good as a fashionable club to their simple minds. they brought us of their sheep’s milk and cheese. the latter, called here brindza, was very palatable, and the milk much thicker and richer than cow’s milk, but of a peculiar taste which i failed to appreciate.

there was a shepherdess, too, belonging to the establishment; but let no one, misled by the appellation, instinctively conjure up visions of delicate pastel-paintings or coquettish porcelain figurines, for anything more utterly at variance with the associations suggested by the names of watteau and vieux saxe, than the uncouth, swarthy, one-eyed damsel who inhabited the bergerie, cannot well be imagined. the male shepherds were four in number—two of them calling for no special description; the third, a boy of about fourteen, with large, senseless eyes and a fixed, idiotic stare, looked no more than semi-human. the most distinguished member of the party, and, as we ladies unanimously agreed, decidedly the flower of the flock, was a good-looking young man of some twenty years, with straight-cut, regular features, a high brown fur cap, and a wooden flute on which he played in a queer, monotonous fashion, resembling the droning tones of a bagpipe. he had come from roumania, he told us, and had been for a time tending flocks in turkey, where he had picked up something of the language. it was a curious country, he observed, and the people there had curious habits—such, for instance, as that of keeping several wives; the richer a man was, the more wives he kept.{384} our young shepherd shrugged his shoulders as he made this remark in a supercilious manner, evidently of opinion that women were an evil which should not be unnecessarily multiplied; and certainly, judging from the solitary specimen of female beauty which the stony valley contained, no man could feel tempted to embark in a very extensive harem.

we afterwards ascertained that the interesting shepherd with the fur cap and wooden flute had committed a murder over in roumania, and been obliged to fly the country on that account. this disclosure rendered us somewhat more reserved in our intercourse with our romantic neighbor, and though we could not exactly put a stop to his visits, we avoided over-intimacy, and always felt more at ease in his society when there was a gun or revolver within handy reach.

our wallachian guides proved thoroughly satisfactory in every way—active, obliging, and full of inventive resources. they were very particular about keeping their fast-days as prescribed by the greek church, and would refuse all offers of food at such times. when not fasting they were easily made happy by any scraps of cheese or bacon left over from our meals, or by a glassful of spirits of wine judiciously adulterated with water. on one occasion a parcel containing a dozen hard-boiled eggs, grown stale (to put it mildly) from having been overlooked, was received with positive rapture by one of these unsophisticated beings, who devoured them every one with a heartfelt relish not to be mistaken.

ham, sausages, and bread and cheese, formed the staple of our nourishment in this as in other transylvanian mountain excursions—for after the first day, of course, no fresh meat could be procured. also, the hungarian paprica speck—viz., raw bacon prepared with red pepper—is useful on these occasions, as it gives much nourishment in a very small compass. i never myself succeeded in reaching the point demanded by hungarian enthusiasm for this favorite national food; so that all i can conscientiously say for it is that, given the circumstances of a keen appetite, bracing mountain air, and no other available nourishment, it is quite eatable, and by a little stretch of indulgence might almost be called palatable. the magyars, however, pronounce this bacon to be of such superlatively exquisite flavor as only to be fit for the gods on a sunday! so i suppose it can only be by reason of some peculiarly ungodlike quality in my nature that i am unable to appreciate this elysian dish as it deserves.

the roumanians have, like the poles, a certain inbred sense of courtesy totally wanting in their saxon neighbors; it shows itself in many trifling acts—in the manner they rise and uncover in the presence of a superior, and the way they offer their assistance over the obstacles of the path. one day that i had hurt my foot, and was much distressed at being unable to join a longer walk, i found in the evening a large nosegay of ripe bilberries, surrounded by red autumn leaves, lying at the foot of my sleeping-place—a delicate attention on the part of our head guide, who wished thereby to console me for the pleasure i had lost.

the peasants were always pitying us for the disadvantages of our chaussure: how could we be so foolish as to submit to the torture and inconvenience of shoes and stockings, instead of adopting the comfortable opintschen they themselves wore? and they almost succeeded in persuading me to make the attempt on some future occasion, although i feel doubtful as to how far a foot corrupted by civilization could be induced to adapt itself to this unwonted covering.

we celebrated our last evening in the pine valley by ordering an extra large bonfire to be made. accordingly, three good-sized fir-trees were felled, and bound together to form a sort of pyramid. a glorious sight when the flames had scaled the heights, turning each little twig into a golden brand, and drawing a profusion of rockets from every branch—far more beautiful than any fireworks i had seen.

one of our guides, called nicola?a—the tallest and wildest-looking of the group—especially distinguished himself on this occasion. he had evidently something of the salamander in his constitution, for he seemed to be absolutely impervious to heat, and to feel, in fact, quite as comfortable inside the fire as out of it. by common consent he was generally assigned the part of cat’s-paw, to him being delegated the office of taking a boiling pot off the fire or picking the roasted potatoes from out the red-hot embers. standing as he now was, almost in the centre of the glowing pile, supporting the burning fir-trees with his sinewy arms, while a perfect shower of sparks rained thickly down all over his ragged shirt and bare, tawny chest, it required no stretch of imagination to take him for a figure designed by doré and stepped straight out of dante’s inferno.

our last morning came, and with heartfelt regret we prepared to leave the lovely valley where we had spent such a truly delicious{386} week. an additional pack-horse having been sent for from the village below, we were surprised to see the animal in question make its appearance led by the roumanian cure of the parish, who, having heard that a horse was required, had bethought himself of earning an honest penny by hiring out his beast and enacting the part of driver. anywhere else it would be a strange anomaly to see a clergyman putting himself on a level with a common peasant, attired in coarse linen shirt and meekly carrying our bundles; but here this is of every-day occurrence. the roumanian peasant, however rigorously he may adhere to the forms of his church, has, as i said before, no inordinate respect for the person of his clergyman, whose infallibility is only considered to last so long as he is standing before the altar; once outside the church walls he becomes an ordinary man to his congregation, and not necessarily a particularly respected or respectable individual. this particular popa was, as it appeared, not only accustomed to serve as driver, but likewise as beast of burden himself—as he genially volunteered to carry all the mosses and ferns we collected on the way. i am ashamed to say that we basely accepted his services, and loaded him unmercifully with the spoils of the forest, thus unceremoniously apostrophizing him: “here, popa, another hart’s-tongue;” or, “take this ivy trail, will you?” till he was wellnigh smothered in sylvan treasures.

our path to the foot of the mountains, where our carriages were to await us, was a walk of about three hours; but soon after starting, our sacerdotal porter having volunteered to show us a short cut, which should take us down in two-thirds of that time, we gladly grasped at this proposition and at the prospect of seeing a new part of the forest; and our other guides being on ahead with the horses, we blindly intrusted ourselves to the guidance of the holy man, who forthwith began to lead us through the very thickest forest-mazes, over rocks and torrents, through bogs and brier, up hill and down dale, till our clothes were torn, our hands were bleeding, and our tempers were soured. “the way must be very short, indeed, if it is so bad,” was the reflection which at first kept up our spirits; but we had yet to learn that brevity and badness do not always go hand in hand, and that an execrable path may be lengthy as well. like jaded warriors overcome by the fatigue of an excessive march, we now disburdened ourselves of our rich spoils, having no further thought but to find our way from out this bewildering labyrinth of smooth beech-stems. clumps of exquisite{387} maidenhair ferns, but now so tenderly dug up, were callously cast aside, and the much-prized layers of velvety moss were brutally left to perish. all noble instincts seemed dead within us, our weary limbs and empty stomachs being all we cared for. the forest had suddenly grown hideous, and we wondered at ourselves for ever having thought it beautiful. the priest was a ruffian luring us on to our destruction. utterly losing sight of his sacerdotal character, we abused him in harsh and vigorous language, which he meekly bore—i must say that much for him. perhaps he had heard similar language before, and was accustomed to it.

whether the popa had lost his way and did not wish to acknowledge it, or whether, as i rather suspect, he had never been in the forest before, remains an unsolved mystery; the result was, however, that after nearly seven hours of remarkably hard walking we were still lost in the depths of the forest, and apparently no nearer our destination than when we had set out.

at this juncture one of the ladies lay down on the ground, declaring herself incapable of going a step farther. she was nearly fainting with fatigue and hunger, for all our provisions had been sent on with the horses. the predicament was a most unpleasant one; for although the popa swore for at least the twentieth time that we should arrive in less than half an hour, we had been too cruelly deceived, and our confidence in him was gone. half an hour might just as well mean three or four hours farther; and even if he spoke the truth our unfortunate companion was far too much exhausted to proceed.

after a brief consultation we determined that, leaving two gentlemen in charge of the invalid, some of us should go on with the miscreant priest as guide, sending back a horse and some restoratives to the spot. this plan proved successful; for after about three-quarters of an hour more of clambering and climbing, we reached the forest edge, and found our guides waiting for us and much perplexed at our nonappearance.

“the devil take the popa!” was their hearty and unanimous exclamation when we had related our adventure; “who could be fool enough to follow the priest? did we not know that it was bad-luck even to meet a popa?” they asked us pityingly; and certainly, under the circumstances, we felt inclined for once to attach some weight to popular superstition, and inwardly to resolve never again to trust ourselves to the guidance of a roumanian popa.