Maiden Voyages (4 page)

But whither am I wandering? I only meant to tell you that the impression the kindness of the simple people made visible on my countenance increased my sensibility to a painful degree. I wished to have had a room to myself; for their attention, and rather distressing observation, embarrassed me extremely. Yet, as they would bring me eggs, and make my coffee, I found I could not leave them without hurting their feelings of hospitality.

It is customary here for the host and hostess to welcome their guests as master and mistress of the house.

My clothes, in their turn, attracted the attention of the females; and I could not help thinking of the foolish vanity which makes many women so proud of the observation of strangers as to take wonder very gratuitously for admiration. This error they are very apt to fall into; when arrived in foreign country, the populace stare at them as they pass; yet the make of a cap, or the singularity of a gown, is often the cause of the flattering attention, which afterwards supports a fantastic superstructure of self-conceit.

Not having brought a carriage over with me, expecting to have met a person where I landed, who was immediately to have procured me one, I was detained whilst the good people of the inn sent round to all their acquaintance to search for a vehicle. A rude sort of
cabriole
was at last found, and a driver half drunk, who was no less eager to make a good bargain on that account. I had a Danish captain of a ship and his mate with me: the former was to ride on horseback, at which he was not very expert, and the latter to partake of my seat. The driver mounted behind to guide the horses, and flourish the whip over our shoulders; he would not suffer the reins out of his own hands. There was something so grotesque in our appearance, that I could not avoid shrinking into myself when I saw a gentleman-like man in the group which crowded round the door to observe us. I could have broken the driver’s whip for cracking to call the women and children together; but
seeing a significant smile on the face, I had before remarked, I burst into a laugh, to allow him to do so too,—and away we flew. This is not a flourish of the pen; for we actually went on full gallop a long time, the horses being very good; indeed I have never met with better, if so good, post-horses, as in Norway; they are of a stouter make than the English horses, appear to be well fed, and are not easily tired.

I had to pass over, I was informed, the most fertile and best cultivated tract of country in Norway. The distance was three Norwegian miles, which are longer than the Swedish. The roads were very good; the farmers are obliged to repair them; and we scampered through a great extent of country in a more improved state then any I had viewed since I left England. Still there was sufficient of hills, dales, and rocks, to prevent the idea of a plain from entering the head, or even of such scenery as England and France afford. The prospects were also embellished by water, rivers, and lakes, before the sea proudly claimed my regard; and the road running frequently through lofty groves, rendered the landscapes beautiful, though they were not so romantic as those I had lately seen with such delight.

It was late when I reached Tønsberg; and I was glad to go to bed at a decent inn. The next morning, the 17th July, conversing with the gentlemen with whom I had business to transact, I found that I should be detained at Tønsberg three weeks; and I lamented that I had not brought my child with me.

The inn was quiet, and my room so pleasant, commanding a view of the sea, confined by an amphitheatre of hanging woods, that I wished to remain there, though no one in the house could speak English or French. The mayor, my friend, however, sent a young woman to me who spoke a little English, and she agreed to call on me twice a day, to receive my orders, and translate them to my hostess.

My not understanding the language was an excellent pretext for dining alone, which I prevailed on them to let me do at a late hour; for the early dinners in Sweden had entirely deranged my day. I could not alter it there, without disturbing the economy of a family where I was as a visitor; necessity having forced me to accept of an invitation from a private family, the lodgings were so incommodious.

Amongst the Norwegians I had the arrangement of my own time; and I determined to regulate it in such a manner, that I might enjoy as much of their sweet summer as I possibly could;—short, it is true, but “passing sweet.”

I never endured a winter in this rude clime; consequently it was not the contrast, but the real beauty of the season which made the present summer appear to me the finest I had ever seen. Sheltered from the north and eastern winds, nothing can exceed the salubrity, the soft freshness of the western gales. In the evening they also die away; the aspen leaves tremble into stillness, and reposing nature seems to be warmed by the moon, which here assumes a genial aspect; and if a light shower has chanced to fall with the sun, the juniper the underwood of the forest, exhales a wild perfume, mixed with a thousand nameless sweets, that, soothing the heart, leave images in the memory which the imagination will ever hold dear.

Nature is the nurse of sentiment—the true source of taste—yet what misery, as well as rapture, is produced by a quick perception of the beautiful and sublime, when it is exercised in observing animated nature, when every beauteous feeling and emotion excites responsive sympathy, and the harmonized soul sinks into melancholy, or rises to extasy, just as the chords are touched, like the aeolian harp agitated by the changing wind. But how dangerous is it to foster these sentiments in such an imperfect state of existence; and how difficult to eradicate them when an affection for mankind, a passion for an individual, is but the unfolding of that love which embraces all that is great and beautiful.

When a warm heart has received strong impressions, they are not to be effaced. Emotions become sentiments; and the imagination renders even transient sensations permanent, by fondly retracing them. I cannot, without a thrill of delight, recollect views I have seen, which are not to be forgotten, nor looks I have felt in every nerve which I shall never more meet. The grave has closed over a dear friend, the friend of my youth; still she is present with me, and I hear her soft voice warbling as I stray over the heath. Fate has separated me from another, the fire of whose eyes, tempered by infantine tenderness, still warms my breast; even when gazing on these tremendous cliffs, sublime emotions absorb my soul. And, smile not, if I add, that the rosy tint of morning reminds
me of a suffusion, which will never more charm my senses, unless it reappears on the cheeks of my child. Her sweet blushes I may yet hide in my bosom, and she is still too young to ask why starts the tear, so near akin to pleasure and pain?

I cannot write any more at present. Tomorrow we will talk of Tønsberg.

(1803–1844)

from
PEREGRINATIONS OF A PARIAH

When you go from Arequipa to Islay you have the sun behind you and the wind in front, so you suffer far less from the heat than you do when going from Islay to Arequipa. I stood up to the journey very well; besides, my health had improved and I felt better able to endure its rigours this time. At midnight we arrived at the inn and I threw myself fully dressed upon my bed while supper was being prepared. Mr. Smith had a miraculous talent for making light of difficulties, and now he saw to
everything—food, muleteers, animals—with remarkable speed and tact. Thanks to him we had a very good supper, after which we all stayed up talking, for none of us could sleep. At three in the morning we set out once more; the cold was so bitter that I wore three ponchos. When dawn appeared I was overcome with an irresistible desire for sleep and begged Mr. Smith to let me rest for just half an hour; I threw myself upon the ground and without giving the servant time to put down a mat for me I fell into so deep a sleep that nobody dared attempt to make me more comfortable. They let me sleep for an hour and I felt all the better for it; we were by then in the open pampa, so I mounted the horse and crossed the vast expanse at a gallop, in fact I managed the horse so well that Lieutenant Monsilla could not keep up with me, much less the two lancers. In the end Mr. Smith himself had to beg me to have mercy on his fine Chilean mare as he was afraid I would wear her out.

At midday we reached Guerrera, where we made a halt; we ate beneath the fresh shade of the trees, then arranged our beds on the ground and slept until five. We climbed the mountain at an easy pace and reached Islay at seven. Great was the surprise of Don Justo when he saw me. He is extremely kind and hospitable to all travellers and showed me particular attention. Islay was greatly changed since my previous stay. This time I was not invited to any balls. Nieto and his brave soldiers had laid the town waste in the twenty-four hours they had spent there; as well as requisitioning food they had practised every kind of extortion to obtain money from the unfortunate inhabitants. The good Don Justo never stopped repeating: “Ah! mademoiselle, if I were younger I would leave with you; these endless wars have made it impossible to live here. I have already lost two of my sons, and I expect any day to hear of the death of the third, who is in Gamarra’s army.”

I stayed three days in Islay waiting for our ship to leave, and I would have been very dull without the company of Mr. Smith, who also introduced me to the officers of an English frigate moored in the bay. I am happy to say that I have never met officers as distinguished for their manners and their intelligence as those of the
Challenger
; they all spoke French and had spent several years in Paris. They were in town clothes and their dress was remarkable for its immaculate cleanliness
and elegant simplicity. The commander was a superb man, the ideal of masculine beauty. He was only thirty-two, yet a profound melancholy weighed upon him; all his words and deeds were tinged with a sadness which was painful to behold. I asked one of his officers the reason for this, and he said: “Ah! yes, mademoiselle, he has good cause for sadness; for seven years he has been married to the loveliest woman in England; he loves her to distraction, just as she loves him, yet he must live apart from her.”

“What is the reason for this separation?”

“His profession; as he is one of our youngest captains he is always being sent on remote postings of three or four years’ duration. We have been in these latitudes for three years, and we shall not be in England for another fifteen months. Judge for yourself what cruel suffering so long an absence causes him!”

“To say nothing of his wife!… But has he no fortune, then, to remain in a career which causes him and the woman he loves such torture?”

“No fortune! He has five thousand pounds a year of his own, and his wife, the richest heiress in England, brought him two hundred thousand; she is an only child and will have twice as much again on the death of her father.”

I was astonished. “Then tell me, monsieur, what power is it that obliges your commander to live apart from his wife for four years, to languish on board his frigate and condemn so beautiful a woman to tears and grief?”

“It is necessary for him to attain a high position; our commander obtained this rich heiress from her father only on condition that he became an admiral. The young couple agreed, and to fulfil their promise he will have to stay at sea for at least another ten years, for with us, promotion depends on seniority.”

“So he accepts that he must live another ten years separated from his wife?”

“Yes, he must, in order to keep his promise; but when that time is up, he will be an admiral, he will enter the House of Lords, perhaps become a government Minister and end up one of the most powerful
figures in the state. It seems to me, mademoiselle, that to attain such a position it is worth suffering for a few years!”

Ah! I thought, for the sake of such paltry tokens of grandeur men will trample underfoot everything that is most sacred! God himself was pleased to endow these two beings with every gift, beauty, brains and wealth; and the love they bear each other should have ensured for them a happiness as great as our nature is capable of enjoying; but the arrogance of a crazy old man has destroyed this prospect of earthly felicity: he insists that the best twenty years should be struck out of his children’s lives. When they are reunited the wife will have lost her beauty, the husband his illusions; but he will be an admiral, a peer of the realm, a Minister, etc. What ridiculous vanity!