LDS & World E-texts

---

Return to Table of Contents

A Visit to Iceland and the Scandinavian North
Translated from German

by Madame Ida Pfeiffer




ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION



The success which attended the publication in this Series of
Illustrated Works of A Woman's Journey round the World, has induced
the publication of the present volume on a country so little known
as Iceland, and about which so little recent information exists.

The translation has been carefully made, expressly for this Series,
from the original work published at Vienna; and the Editor has added
a great many notes, wherever they seemed necessary to elucidate the
text.

In addition to the matter which appeared in the original work, the
present volume contains a translation of a valuable Essay on
Icelandic poetry, by M. Bergmann; a translation of an Icelandic
poem, the 'Voluspa;' a brief sketch of Icelandic History; and a
translation of Schiller's ballad, 'The Diver,' which is prominently
alluded to by Madame Pfeiffer in her description of the Geysers. {1}

The Illustrations have been printed in tints, so as to make the work
uniform with the Journey round the World.

London, August 1, 1852.



AUTHOR'S PREFACE



"Another journey--a journey, moreover, in regions which every one
would rather avoid than seek. This woman only undertakes these
journeys to attract attention."

"The first journey, for a woman ALONE, was certainly rather a bold
proceeding. Yet in that instance she might still have been excused.
Religious motives may perhaps have actuated her; and when this is
the case, people often go through incredible things. At present,
however, we can see no just reason which could excuse an undertaking
of this description."

Thus, and perhaps more harshly still, will the majority judge me.
And yet they will do me a grievous wrong. I am surely simple and
harmless enough, and should have fancied any thing in the world
rather than that it would ever be my fate to draw upon myself in any
degree the notice of the public. I will merely indicate, as briefly
as may be, my character and circumstances, and then I have no doubt
my conduct will lose its appearance of eccentricity, and seem
perfectly natural.

When I was but a little child, I had already a strong desire to see
the world. Whenever I met a travelling-carriage, I would stop
involuntarily, and gaze after it until it had disappeared; I used
even to envy the postilion, for I thought he also must have
accomplished the whole long journey.

As I grew to the age of from ten to twelve years, nothing gave me so
much pleasure as the perusal of voyages and travels. I ceased,
indeed, to envy the postilions, but envied the more every navigator
and naturalist.

Frequently my eyes would fill with tears when, having ascended a
mountain, I saw others towering before me, and could not gain the
summit.

I made several journeys with my parents, and, after my marriage,
with my husband; and only settled down when it became necessary that
my two boys should visit particular schools. My husband's affairs
demanded his entire attention, partly in Lemberg, partly in Vienna.
He therefore confided the education and culture of the two boys
entirely to my care; for he knew my firmness and perseverance in all
I undertook, and doubted not that I would be both father and mother
to his children.

When my sons' education had been completed, and I was living in
peaceful retirement, the dreams and aspirations of my youth
gradually awoke once more. I thought of strange manners and
customs, of distant regions, where a new sky would be above me, and
new ground beneath my feet. I pictured to myself the supreme
happiness of treading the land once hallowed by the presence of our
Saviour, and at length made up my mind to travel thither.

As dangers and difficulties rose before my mind, I endeavoured to
wean myself from the idea I had formed--but in vain. For privation
I cared but little; my health was good and my frame hardy: I did
not fear death. And moreover, as I was born in the last century, I
could travel ALONE. Thus every objection was overcome; every thing
had been duly weighed and considered. I commenced my journey to
Palestine with a feeling of perfect rapture; and behold, I returned
in safety. I now feel persuaded that I am neither tempting
Providence, nor justly incurring the imputation of wishing to be
talked about, in following the bent of my inclinations, and looking
still further about me in the world I chose Iceland for my
destination, because I hoped there to find Nature in a garb such as
she wears nowhere else. I feel so completely happy, so brought into
communion with my Maker, when I contemplate sublime natural
phenomena, that in my eyes no degree of toil or difficulty is too
great a price at which to purchase such perfect enjoyment.

And should death overtake me sooner or later during my wanderings, I
shall await his approach in all resignation, and be deeply grateful
to the Almighty for the hours of holy beauty in which I have lived
and gazed upon His wonders.

And now, dear reader, I would beg thee not to be angry with me for
speaking so much of myself; it is only because this love of
travelling does not, according to established notions, seem proper
for one of my sex, that I have allowed my feelings to speak in my
defence.

Judge me, therefore, not too harshly; but rather grant me the
enjoyment of a pleasure which hurts no one, while it makes me happy.

THE AUTHOR.



VISIT TO ICELAND



CHAPTER I



In the year 1845 I undertook another journey; {2} a journey,
moreover, to the far North. Iceland was one of those regions
towards which, from the earliest period of my consciousness, I had
felt myself impelled. In this country, stamped as it is by Nature
with features so peculiar, as probably to have no counterpart on the
face of the globe, I hoped to see things which should fill me with
new and inexpressible astonishment. How deeply grateful do I feel
to Thee, O Thou that hast vouchsafed to me to behold the fulfilment
of these my cherished dreams!

The parting from all my dear ones had this time far less bitterness;
I had found by experience, that a woman of an energetic mind can
find her way through the world as well as a man, and that good
people are to be met with every where. To this was added the
reflection, that the hardships of my present voyage would be of
short duration, and that five or six months might see me restored to
my family.

I left Vienna at five o'clock on the morning of the tenth of April.
As the Danube had lately caused some devastations, on which occasion
the railroad had not entirely escaped, we rode for the first four
miles, as far as Florisdorf, in an omnibus--not the most agreeable
mode of travelling. Our omnibuses are so small and narrow, that one
would suppose they were built for the exclusive accommodation of
consumptive subjects, and not for healthy, and in some cases portly
individuals, whose bulk is further increased by a goodly assemblage
of cloaks, furs, and overcoats.

At the barriers a new difficulty arose. We delivered up our pass-
warrants (passirscheine) in turn, with the exception of one young
man, who was quite astounded at the demand. He had provided nothing
but his passport and testimonials, being totally unaware that a
pass-warrant is more indispensable than all the rest. In vain did
he hasten into the bureau to expostulate with the officials,--we
were forced to continue our journey without him.

We were informed that he was a student, who, at the conclusion of
term, was about to make holiday for a few weeks at his parents'
house near Prague. Alas, poor youth! he had studied so much, and
yet knew so little. He had not even an idea of the overwhelming
importance of the document in question. For this trifling omission
he forfeited the fare to Prague, which had been paid in advance.

But to proceed with my journey.

At Florisdorf a joyful surprise awaited me. I met my brother and my
son, who had, it appears, preceded me. We entered the train to
proceed in company to Stockerau, a place between twelve and thirteen
miles off; but were obliged to alight halfway, and walk a short
distance. The Embankment had given way. Luckily the weather was
favourable, inasmuch as we had only a violent storm of wind. Had it
rained, we should have been wetted to the skin, besides being
compelled to wade ankle-deep in mud. We were next obliged to remain
in the open air, awaiting the arrival of the train from Stockerau,
which unloaded its freight, and received us in exchange.

At Stockerau I once more took leave of my companions, and was soon
securely packed in the post-carriage for transmission.

In travelling this short distance, I had thus entered four
carriages; a thing sufficiently disagreeable to an unencumbered
person, but infinitely more so to one who has luggage to watch over.
The only advantage I could discover in all this was, that we had
saved half an hour in coming these seventeen miles. For this,
instead of 9 fl. 26 kr. from Vienna to Prague, we paid 10 fl. 10 kr.
from Stockerau to Prague, without reckoning expense of omnibus and
railway. It was certainly a dearly-bought half-hour. {3}

The little town of Znaim, with its neighbouring convent, is situated
on a large plain, extending from Vienna to Budwitz, seventeen miles
beyond Znaim; the monotony of the view is only broken here and there
by low hills.

Near Schelletau the scenery begins to improve. On the left the view
is bounded by a range of high hills, with a ruined castle,
suggestive of tragical tales of centuries gone by. Fir and pine
forests skirt the road, and lie scattered in picturesque groups over
hill and dale.

April 11th.

Yesterday the weather had already begun to be ungracious to us. At
Znaim we found the valleys still partly covered with snow, and the
fog was at times so thick, that we could not see a hundred paces in
advance; but to-day it was incomparably worse. The mist resolved
itself into a mild rain, which, however, lost so much of its
mildness as we passed from station to station, that every thing
around us was soon under water. But not only did we ride through
water, we were obliged to sit in it also. The roof of our carriage
threatened to become a perfect sieve, and the rain poured steadily
in. Had there been room for such a proceeding, we should all have
unfurled our umbrellas.

On occasions like these, I always silently admire the patience of my
worthy countrymen, who take every thing so good-humouredly. Were I
a man, I should pursue a different plan, and should certainly not
fail to complain of such carelessness. But as a woman, I must hold
my peace; people would only rail at my sex, and call it ill-
humoured. Besides, I thanked my guardian-angel for these
discomforts, looking upon them as a preparation for what was to
befall me in the far North.

Passing several small towns and villages, we at length entered the
Bohemian territory, close behind Iglau. The first town which we saw
was Czaslau, with its large open square, and a few neat houses; the
latter provided with so-called arbours (or verandahs), which enable
one to pass round the square dry-footed, even in the most rainy
weather.

Journeying onwards, we noticed the fine cathedral and town of
Kuttenberg, once famous for its gold and silver mines. {4} Next
comes the great tobacco-manufactory of Sedlitz, near which we first
see the Elbe, but only for a short time, as it soon takes another
direction. Passing the small town of Collin, we are whirled close
by the battle-field where, in the year 1757, the great King
Frederick paid his score to the Austrians. An obelisk, erected a
few years since to the memory of General Daun, occupies a small
eminence on the right. On the left is the plain of Klephorcz, where
the Austrian army was drawn up. {5}

At eleven o'clock on the same night we reached


PRAGUE.


As it was my intention to pursue my journey after two days, my first
walk on the following morning was to the police-office, to procure a
passport and the all-important pass-warrant; my next to the custom-
house, to take possession of a small chest, which I had delivered up
five days before my departure, and which, as the expeditor affirmed,
I should find ready for me on my arrival at Prague. {6} Ah, Mr.
Expeditor! my chest was not there. After Saturday comes Sunday; but
on Sunday the custom-house is closed. So here was a day lost, a day
in which I might have gone to Dresden, and even visited the opera.

On Monday morning I once more hastened to the office in anxious
expectation; the box was not yet there. An array of loaded wagons
had, however, arrived, and in one of these it might be. Ah, how I
longed to see my darling little box, in order that I might--NOT
press it to my heart, but unpack it in presence of the excise
officer!

I took merely a cursory glance at Prague, as I had thoroughly
examined every thing there some years before. The beautiful
"Graben" and Horse-market once more excited my admiration. It was
with a peculiar feeling that I trod the old bridge, from which St.
John of Nepomuk was cast into the Moldau for refusing to publish the
confession of King Wenceslaus' consort. {7} On the opposite bank I
mounted the Hradschin, and paid a visit to the cathedral, in which a
large sarcophagus, surrounded and borne by angels, and surmounted by
a canopy of crimson damask, is dedicated to the memory of the saint.
The monument is of silver, and the worth of the metal alone is
estimated at 80,000 florins. The church itself is not spacious, but
is built in the noble Gothic style; the lesser altars, however, with
their innumerable gilded wooden figures, look by contrast extremely
puny. In the chapel are many sarcophagi, on which repose bishops
and knights hewn in stone, but so much damaged, that many are
without hands and feet, while some lack heads. To the right, at the
entrance of the church, is the celebrated chapel of St. Wenceslaus,
with its walls ornamented with frescoes, of which the colours and
designs are now almost obliterated. It is further enriched with
costly stones.

Not far from the cathedral is situated the palace of Count Czernin,
a building particularly favoured with windows, of which it has one
for every day in the year. I was there in an ordinary year, and saw
365; how they manage in leap-year I do not know. The view from the
belvedere of this palace well repays the observer. It takes in the
old and new town, the noble river with its two bridges (the ancient
venerable-looking stone structure, and the graceful suspension-
bridge, six hundred paces long), and the hills round about, clothed
with gardens, among which appear neat country-houses.

The streets of the "Kleinseite" are not particularly attractive,
being mostly tortuous, steep, and narrow. They contain, however,
several remarkable palaces, among which that of Wallenstein Duke of
Friedland stands pre-eminent. {8}

After visiting St. Nicholas' Church, remarkable for the height of
its spire and its beautifully arched cupola, I betook myself to
Wimmer's gardens, and thence to the "Bastei," a place of public
resort with the citizens of Prague.

I could now observe the devastation caused by the rising of the
water shortly before my arrival. The Moldau had overstepped its
banks in so turbulent a manner, as to carry along with it several
small houses, and even a little village not far from Prague, besides
damaging all the dwellings upon its banks. The water had indeed
already fallen, but the walls of the houses were soaked through and
through; the doors had been carried away, and from the broken
windows no faces looked out upon the passers-by. The water had
risen two feet more than in 1784, in which year the Moldau had also
attained an unusual height.

From the same tower of observation, I looked down upon the great
open space bought a few years ago, and intended to be occupied by
the termini of the Vienna and Dresden railroads. Although several
houses were only just being pulled down, and the foundations of but
few buildings were laid, I was assured that within six months every
thing would be completed.

I have still to mention a circumstance which struck me during my
morning peregrinations, namely, the curious method in which milk,
vegetables, and other provisions are here brought to town. I could
have fancied myself transported to Lapland or Greenland, on meeting
every where carts to which two, three, or four dogs were harnessed.
One pair of dogs will drag three hundredweight on level ground; but
when they encounter a hill, the driver must lend a helping hand.
These dogs are, besides, careful guardians; and I would not advise
any one to approach a car of this kind, as it stands before the inn-
door, while the proprietor is quenching his thirst within, on the
money he has just earned.

At five o'clock on the morning of the 15th of April I left Prague,
and rode for fourteen miles in the mail-carriage, as far as Obristwy
on the Elbe, at which place I embarked for Dresden, on board the
steamer Bohemia, of fifty-horse power, a miserable old craft,
apparently a stranger to beauty and comfort from her youth up. The
price charged for this short passage of eight or nine hours is
enormously dear. The travellers will, however, soon have their
revenge on the extortionate proprietors; a railroad is constructing,
by means of which this distance will be traversed in a much shorter
time, and at a great saving of expense.

But at any rate the journey by water is the more agreeable; the way
lies through very picturesque scenery, and at length through "Saxon
Switzerland" itself. The commencement of the journey is, however,
far from pleasing. On the right are naked hills, and on the left
large plains, over which, last spring, the swollen stream rolled,
partly covering the trees and the roofs of the cottages. Here I
could for the first time see the whole extent of the calamity. Many
houses had been completely torn down, and the crops, and even the
loose alluvial earth swept away; as we glided by each dreary scene
of devastation, another yet more dismal would appear in its place.

This continued till we reached Melnick, where the trees become
higher, and groups of houses peer forth from among the innumerable
vineyards. Opposite this little town the Moldau falls into the
Elbe. On the left, in the far distance, the traveller can descry
St. George's Mount, from which, as the story goes, Czech took
possession of all Bohemia.

Below the little town of Raudnitz the hills gave place to mountains,
and as many enthusiasts can only find those regions romantic where
the mountains are crowned with half-ruined castles and strongholds,
good old Time has taken care to plant there two fine ruins,
Hafenberg and Skalt, for the delectation of such sentimental
observers.

Near Leitmeritz, a small town with a handsome castle, and a church
and convent, the Eger flows into the Elbe, and a high-arched wooden
bridge connects the two banks. Here our poor sailors had difficult
work to lower the mast and the funnel.

The rather pretty village of Gross-Czernoseck is remarkable for its
gigantic cellars, hewn out of the rock. A post-carriage could
easily turn round in one of these. The vats are of course
proportioned to the cellars, particularly the barrels called the
"twelve apostles," each of which holds between three and four
thousand gallons. It would be no more than fair to stop here
awhile, to give every hero of the bottle an opportunity to enjoy a
sight of these palace-cellars, and to offer a libation to the twelve
apostles; but the steamer passed on, and we were obliged to make the
most of the descriptions furnished by those who were more at home in
these parts, and had no doubt frequently emerged in an inspired
state from the depths of the cellars in question.

The view now becomes more and more charming: the mountains appear
to draw closer together, and shut in the bed of the stream; romantic
groups of rocks, with summits crowned by rains yet more romantic,
tower between. The ancient but well-preserved castle of
Schreckenstein, built on a rock rising boldly out of the Elbe, is
particularly striking; the approaches to it are by serpentine walks
hewn out of the rock.

Near the small town of Aussig we find the most considerable coal-
mines in Bohemia. In their neighbourhood is situated the little
mountain estate Paschkal, which produces a kind of wine said to
resemble champagne.

The mountains now become higher and higher, but above them all
towers the gigantic Jungfernsprung (Maiden's Leap). The beauty of
this region is only surpassed by the situation of the town and
castle of Tetschen. The castle stands on a rock, between twenty and
thirty feet high, which seems to rise out of the Elbe; it is
surrounded by hot-houses and charming gardens, shelving downwards as
far as the town, which lies in a blooming valley, near a little
harbour. The valley itself, encompassed by a chain of lofty
mountains, seems quite shut out from the rest of the world.

The left bank of the river is here so crowded with masses and walls
of rock, that there is only room at intervals for an isolated farm
or hut. Suddenly the tops of masts appear between the high rocks, a
phenomenon which is soon explained; a large gap in one of the rocky
walls forms a beautiful basin.

And now we come to Schandau, a place consisting only of a few
houses; it is a frontier town of the Saxon dominions. Custom-house
officers, a race of beings ever associated with frontier towns, here
boarded our vessel, and rummaged every thing. My daguerreotype
apparatus, which I had locked up in a small box, was looked upon
with an eye of suspicion; but upon my assertion that it was
exclusively intended for my own use, I and my apparatus were
graciously dismissed.

In our onward journey we frequently observed rocks of peculiar
shapes, which have appropriate names, such as the "Zirkelstein,"
"Lilienstein," &c. The Konigstein is a collection of jagged masses
of rock, on which is built the fortress of the same name, used at
present as a prison for great criminals. At the foot of the rocks
lies the little town of Konigstein. Not far off, on the right bank,
a huge rock, resting on others, bears a striking resemblance to a
human head. The more distant groups of rocks are called those of
"Rathen," but are considered as belonging to Saxon Switzerland. The
"Basteien" (Bastions) of this Switzerland, close by which we now
pass, are most wonderful superpositions of lofty and fantastically
shaped rocks. Unfortunately, the steamer whirled us so rapidly on
our way, that whilst we contemplated one bank, the beauteous scenes
on the opposite side had already glided from our view. In much too
short a time we had passed the town of Pirna, situate at the
commencement of this range of mountains. The very ancient gate of
this town towers far above all the other buildings.

Lastly we see the great castle Sonnenstein, built on a rock, and now
used as an asylum for lunatics.

All the beautiful and picturesque portion of our passage is now
past, and the royal villa of Pillnitz, with its many Chinese gables,
looks insignificant enough, after the grand scenes of nature. A
chain of hills, covered with the country-houses of citizens, adjoins
it; and on the right extends a large plain, at the far end of which
we can dimly descry the Saxon metropolis. But what is that in the
distance? We have hardly time to arrange our luggage, when the
anchor is let go near the fine old Dresden Bridge.

This bridge had not escaped unscathed by the furious river. One of
the centre arches had given way, and the cross and watchbox which
surmounted it were precipitated into the flood. At first, carriages
still passed over the bridge; it was not until some time afterwards
that the full extent of the damage was ascertained, and the passage
of carriages over the bridge discontinued for many months.

As I had seen the town of Dresden several years before, and the only
building new to me was the splendid theatre, I took advantage of the
few evening hours of my stay to visit this structure.

Standing in the midst of the beautiful Cathedral-square, its noble
rotunda-like form at once rivets the attention. The inner theatre
is surrounded by a superb broad and lofty corridor, with fine bow-
windows and straight broad staircases, leading in different
directions towards the galleries. The interior of the theatre is
not so spacious as, judging from the exterior, one would imagine it
to be, but the architecture and decorations are truly gorgeous and
striking. The boxes are all open, being separated from each other
merely by a low partition; the walls and chairs are covered with
heavy silken draperies, and the seats of the third and fourth
galleries with a mixture of silk and cotton. One single
circumstance was disagreeable to me in an acoustic point of view--I
could hear the slightest whisper of the prompter as distinctly as
though some one had been behind me reading the play. The curtain
had scarcely fallen before the whole house was empty, and yet there
was no crowding to get out. This first drew my attention to the
numerous and excellently contrived doors.


April 16th.

The Dresden omnibuses may be cited as models of comfort; one is
certain of plenty of room, and there is no occasion to dread either
the corpulent persons or the furs and cloaks of fellow-passengers.
A bell-pull is fixed in the interior of the carriage, so that each
individual can give the coachman a signal when he or she wishes to
alight. These omnibuses call at the principal inns, and wait for a
moment; but the traveller who is not ready in advance is left
behind.

At half-past five in the morning it called at our hotel. I was
ready and waiting, and drove off comfortably to the railway. The
distance from Dresden to Leipzig is reckoned at fifty-six miles, and
the journey occupied three hours.

The first fourteen miles are very agreeable; gardens, fields, and
meadows, pine-forests in the plain and on the hills, and between
these, villages, farms, country-houses, and solitary chapels,
combine to form a very pretty landscape. But the scene soon
changes, and the town of Meissen (famous for its porcelain
manufactory), on the right hand, seems to shut out from our view all
that is picturesque and beautiful.

From here to Leipzig we travel through a wearisome monotonous plain,
enlivened at long intervals by villages and scattered farms. There
is nothing to see but a great tunnel, and the river Pleisse--the
latter, or rather the Elster, is rendered famous by the death of
Prince Poniatowski. {9}

The town of Leipzig, celebrated far and wide for its fairs, and more
for its immense publishing trade, presents an appearance of noise
and bustle proportionate to its commercial importance. I found
streets, squares, and inns alike crowded. {10}

Perhaps there does not exist a town with its houses, and
consequently its streets, so disfigured with announcements, in all
sizes and shapes, covering its walls, and sometimes projecting
several feet, as Leipzig.

Among the public buildings, those which pleased me most were the
Augusteum and the Burgerschule. The Bucherhalle (book-hall) I
should suppose indebted for its celebrity rather to its literary
contents than to its architectural beauty or its exterior. The hall
itself is indeed large, and occupies the whole length of the
building, while the lower story consists of several rooms. The
hall, the chambers, and the exterior are all plain, and without
particular decoration. The Tuchhalle (cloth-hall) is simply a large
house, with spacious chambers, containing supplies of cloth. The
Theatre stands on a very large square, and does not present a very
splendid appearance, whether viewed from within or from without.
The plan of having stalls in front of the boxes in the second and
third galleries was a novelty to me. The orchestra I could only
hear, but could not discover its whereabouts; most probably it was
posted behind the scenes. On inquiry, I was told that this was only
done on extraordinary occasions, when the seats in the orchestra
were converted into stalls, as was the case on the night of my
visit. The play given was "the original Tartuffe," a popular piece
by Gutzkow. It was capitally performed.

In the Leipzig theatre I had a second opportunity of observing, that
as regards the love of eating our good Saxons are not a whit behind
the much-censured Viennese. In the Dresden theatre I had admired a
couple of ladies who sat next me. They came provided with a neat
bag, containing a very sufficient supply of confectionery, to which
they perseveringly applied themselves between the acts. But at
Leipzig I found a delicate-looking mother and her son, a lad of
fifteen or sixteen years, regaling themselves with more solid
provisions--white bread and small sausages. I could not believe my
eyes, and had made up my mind that the sausages were artificially
formed out of some kind of confectionery--but alas! my nose came
forward but too soon, as a potent witness, to corroborate what I was
so unwilling to believe!

Neither did these two episodes take place in the loftiest regions of
Thalia's temple, but in the stalls of the second tier.

Beautiful alleys are planted round Leipzig. I took a walk into the
Rosenthal (Valley of Roses), which also consists of splendid avenues
and lawns. A pretty coffee-house, with a very handsome alcove,
built in a semicircular form, invites the weary traveller to rest
and refreshment, while a band of agreeable music diffuses mirth and
good humour around.

The rest of the scenery around Leipzig presents the appearance of a
vast and monotonous plain.


April 17th.

I had intended to continue my journey to Hamburgh via Berlin, but
the weather was so cold and stormy, and the rain poured down so
heavily, that I preferred the shorter way, and proceeded by rail to
Magdeburg. Flying through the dismal plain past Halle, Kothen, and
other towns, of which I could only discern groups of houses, we
hurriedly recognised the Saale and the Elbe; and towards 10 o'clock
in the morning arrived at Magdeburg, having travelled seventy miles
in three hours and a quarter.

As the steamer for Hamburgh was not to start until 3 o'clock, I had
ample time to look at the town.

Magdeburg is a mixed pattern of houses of ancient, mediaeval, and
modern dates. Particularly remarkable in this respect is the
principal street, the "Broadway," which runs through the whole of
the town. Here we can see houses dating their origin from the most
ancient times; houses that have stood proof against sieges and
sackings; houses of all colours and forms; some sporting peaked
gables, on which stone figures may still be seen; others covered
from roof to basement with arabesques; and in one instance I could
even detect the remains of frescoes. In the very midst of these
relics of antiquity would appear a house built in the newest style.
I do not remember ever having seen a street which produced so
remarkable an impression on me. The finest building is
unquestionably the venerable cathedral. In Italy I had already seen
numbers of the most beautiful churches; yet I remained standing in
mute admiration before this masterpiece of Gothic architecture.

The monument with the twelve Apostles in this church is a worthy
memorial of the celebrated sculptor Vischer. In order to view it,
it is necessary to obtain the special permission of the commandant.

The cathedral square is large, symmetrical, and decorated with two
alleys of trees; it is also used as a drilling-ground for the
soldiers' minor manoeuvres. I was particularly struck with the
number of military men to be seen here. Go where I would, I was
sure to meet soldiers and officers, frequently in large companies;
in time of war it could scarcely have been worse. This was an
unmistakeable token that I was on Prussian territory.

The open canals, which come from all the houses, and meander through
the streets, are a great disfigurement to the town.

Half-past three o'clock came only too quickly, and I betook myself
on board the steamer Magdeburg, of sixty-horse power, to proceed to
Hamburgh. Of the passage itself I can say nothing, except that a
journey on a river through execrable scenery is one of the most
miserable things that can well be imagined. When, in addition to
this, the weather is bad, the ship dirty, and one is obliged to pass
a night on board, the discomfort is increased. It was my lot to
endure all this: the weather was bad, the ship was dirty, the
distance more than 100 miles, so that we had the pleasant prospect
of a delightful night on board the ship. There were, moreover, so
many passengers, that we were forced to sit crowded together; so
there we sat with exemplary patience, stared at each other, and
sighed bitterly. Order was entirely out of the question; no one had
time to think of such a thing. Smoking and card-playing were
perseveringly carried on all day and all night; it can easily be
imagined that things did not go so quietly as at an English whist-
party. The incessant rain rendered it impossible to leave the cabin
even for a short time. The only consolation I had was, that I made
the acquaintance of the amiable composer Lorzing, a circumstance
which delighted me the more, as I had always been an admirer of his
beautiful original music.



CHAPTER II



Morning dawned at length, and in a short time afterwards we reached
the great commercial city, which, half destroyed by the dreadful
conflagration of 1842, had risen grander and more majestic from its
ashes. {11} I took up my quarters with a cousin, who is married to
the Wurtemburg consul, the merchant Schmidt, in whose house I spent
a most agreeable and happy week. My cousin-in-law was polite enough
to escort me every where himself, and to shew me the lions of
Hamburgh.

First of all we visited the Exchange between the hours of one and
two, when it is at the fullest, and therefore best calculated to
impress a stranger with an idea of the extent and importance of the
business transacted there. The building contains a hall of great
size, with arcades and galleries, besides many large rooms, which
are partly used for consultations, partly for the sale of
refreshments. The most interesting thing of all is, however, to sit
in the gallery, and looking downwards, to observe the continually
increasing crowd passing and repassing each other in the immense
hall and through the galleries and chambers, and to listen to the
hubbub and noise of the thousands of eager voices talking at once.
At half-past one o'clock the hall is at its fullest, and the noise
becomes absolutely deafening; for now they are marking up the rates
of exchange, by which the merchants regulate their monetary
transactions.

Leaving the Exchange, we bent our steps towards the great harbour,
and entering a small boat, cruised in and about it in all
directions. I had resolved to count only the three-masted ships;
but soon gave it up, for their number seemed overwhelming, even
without reckoning the splendid steamers, brigs, sloops, and craft.
In short, I could only gaze and wonder, for at least 900 ships lay
before me.

Let any one fancy an excursion amidst 900 ships, great and small,
which lined both shores of the Elbe in tiers of three deep or more;
the passing to and fro of countless boats busily employed in loading
or unloading these vessels; these things, together with the shouting
and singing of the sailors, the rattling of anchors which are being
weighed, and the rush and swell of passing steamers, combine to
constitute a picture not to be surpassed in any city except in that
metropolis of the world, London. {12}

The reason of this unusual activity in the harbour lay in the
severity of the past winter. Such a winter had not been experienced
for seventy years: the Elbe and the Baltic lay for months in icy
chains, and not a ship could traverse the frozen river, not an
anchor could be weighed or lowered. It was only a short time before
my arrival that the passage had once more become free.

In the neighbourhood of the harbour are situated the greater number
of the so-called "yards." I had read concerning them that, viewed
from the exterior, they look like common houses; but that they
constitute separate communities, and contain alleys and streets,
serving as the domicile of innumerable families. I visited several
of these places, and can assure the reader that I saw nothing
extraordinary in them. Houses with two large wings, forming an
alley of from eighty to a hundred paces in length, are to be met
with in every large town; and that a number of families should
inhabit such a house is not remarkable, considering that they are
all poor, and that each only possesses a single small apartment.

The favourite walk in the town is the "Jungfernstieg" (Maiden's
Walk), a broad alley, extending round a spacious and beautiful basin
of the Alster. On one side are splendid hotels, with which Hamburgh
is richly provided; on the other, a number of private residences of
equal pretensions. Other walks are, the "Wall," surrounding the
town, and the "Botanical Garden," which resembles a fine park. The
noblest building, distinguished alike as regards luxury, skill,
tastefulness of design, and stability, is the Bazaar. It is truly a
gigantic undertaking, and the more to be admired from the fact that
it is not built upon shares, but at the expense of a single
individual, Herr Carl Sillem; the architect's name is Overdick. The
building itself is constructed entirely of stone, and the walls of
the great room and of the hall are inlaid with marble. A lofty
cupola and an immense glazed dome cover both the great room and the
hall; the upper staircases are ornamented with beautiful statues.
When in the evening it is brilliantly lighted with gas, and further
ornamented by a tasteful display of the richest wares, the spectator
can almost fancy himself transported to a fairy palace.

Altogether the shops in Hamburgh are very luxurious. The wares lie
displayed in the most tasteful manner behind huge windows of plate-
glass, which are often from five to six feet broad, and eight or ten
feet high; a single sheet frequently costs 600 florins. This plate-
glass luxury is not confined to shops, but extends to windows
generally, not only in Hamburgh, but also in Altona, and is also
seen in the handsomest country-houses of the Hamburghers. Many a
pane costs eight or ten florins; and the glass is insured in case of
breakage, like houses in case of fire.

This display of glass is equalled by the costliness of the
furniture, which is almost universally of mahogany; a wood which is
here in such common use, that in some of the most elegant houses the
very stair-banisters are constructed of it. Even the pilots have
often mahogany furniture.

The handsomest and most frequented street is the "Neue Wall" (New
Wall). I was particularly struck with the number of shops and
dwellings underground, to which one descends by a flight of six or
eight stairs; an iron railing is generally placed before the
entrance, to prevent the passers-by from falling down.

A very practical institution is the great slaughterhouse, in which
all cattle are killed on certain days of the week.

Concerning the town of Altona, I have only to observe that it
appeared to me a continuation of Hamburgh; from which town, indeed,
it is only separated by a wooden door. A very broad, handsome
street, or, more properly speaking, an elongated square, planted
with a double row of large trees, is the most remarkable thing about
Altona, which belongs to the Danish Government, and is considered,
after Copenhagen, the most important place in the kingdom.

It is a delicious ride to the village of Blankenese, distant nine
miles from Hamburgh; the road lies among beautiful country-houses
and large park-like gardens. Blankenese itself consists of
cottages, grouped in a picturesque manner round the Sulberg, a hill
from which the traveller enjoys a very extended view over the great
plain, in which it is the only elevated point. The course of the
Elbe, as it winds at moderate speed towards the sea, is here to be
traced almost to its embouchure at Cuxhaven.

The breadth of the Elbe at Blankenese exceeds two miles.

Another interesting excursion is to the "New Mills," a little
village on the Elbe, not more than half a mile from Altona, and
inhabited only by fishermen and pilots. Whoever wishes to form an
idea of Dutch prettiness and cleanliness should come here.

The houses are mostly one story high, neatly and tastefully built;
the brightest of brass handles adorn the street-doors; the windows
are kept scrupulously clean, and furnished with white curtains.

In Saxony I had found many dwellings of the peasantry tidy and neat
enough, displaying at any rate more opulence than we are accustomed
to find with this class of people; but I had seen none to compete
with this pretty village.

Among the peasants' costumes, I only liked that worn by the women
from the "Vierlanden." They wear short full skirts of black stuff,
fine white chemisettes with long sleeves, and coloured bodices,
lightly fastened in front with silk cords or silver buckles. Their
straw hats have a most comical appearance; the brim of the hat is
turned up in such a manner that the crown appears to have completely
sunk in. Many pretty young girls dressed in this manner come to
Hamburgh to sell flowers, and take up their position in front of the
Exchange.

The 26th of April, the day appointed for my departure, arrived only
too speedily. To part is the unavoidable fate of the traveller; but
sometimes we part gladly, sometimes with regret. I need not write
many pages to describe my feelings at the parting in Hamburgh. I
was leaving behind me my last relations, my last friends. Now I was
going into the wide world, and among strangers.

At eight o'clock in the morning I left Altona, and proceeded by
railway to Kiel.

I noticed with pleasure that on this railway even the third-class
carriages were securely covered in, and furnished with glass
windows. In fact, they only differed from those of the first and
second class in being painted a different colour, and having the
seats uncushioned.

The whole distance of seventy miles was passed in three hours; a
rapid journey, but agreeable merely by its rapidity, for the whole
neighbourhood presents only widely-extended plains, turf-bogs and
moorlands, sandy places and heaths, interspersed with a little
meadow or arable land. From the nature of the soil, the water in
the ditches and fields looked black as ink.

Near Binneburg we notice a few stunted plantations of trees. From
Eisholm a branch-line leads to Gluckstadt, and another from
Neumunster, a large place with important cloth-factories, to
Rendsburg.

From here there is nothing to be seen but a convent, in which many
Dukes of Holstein lie buried, and several unimportant lakes; for
instance, those of Bernsholm, Einfeld, and Schulhof. The little
river Eider would have passed unnoticed by me, had not some of my
fellow-passengers made a great feature of it. In the finest
countries I have found the natives far less enthusiastic about what
was really grand and beautiful, than they were here in praise of
what was neither the one nor the other. My neighbour, a very
agreeable lady, was untiring in laudation of her beautiful native
land. In her eyes the crippled wood was a splendid park, the waste
moorland an inexhaustible field for contemplation, and every trifle
a matter of real importance. In my heart I wished her joy of her
fervid imagination; but unfortunately my colder nature would not
catch the infection.

Towards Kiel the plain becomes a region of low hills. Kiel itself
is prettily situated on the Baltic, which, viewed from thence, has
the appearance of a lake of middling size. The harbour is said to
be good; but there were not many ships there. {13} Among these was
the steamer destined to carry me to Copenhagen. Little did I
anticipate the good reason I should have to remember this vessel.

Thanks to the affectionate forethought of my cousin Schmidt, I found
one of his relations, Herr Brauer, waiting for me at the railway. I
was immediately introduced to his family, and passed the few hours
of my stay very agreeably in their company.

Evening approached, and with it the hour of embarkation. My kind
friends the Brauers accompanied me to the steamer, and I took a
grateful leave of them.

I soon discovered the steamer Christian VIII., of 180-horse power,
to be a vessel dirtier and more uncomfortable than any with which I
had become acquainted in my maritime excursions. Scrubbing and
sweeping seemed things unknown here. The approach to the cabin was
by a flight of stairs so steep, that great care was requisite to
avoid descending in an expeditious but disagreeable manner, by a
fall from top to bottom. In the fore-cabin there was no attempt at
separate quarters for ladies and gentlemen. In short, the
arrangements seemed all to have been made with a view of impressing
the ship vividly on the recollection of every traveller.

At nine o'clock we left Kiel. The day and the twilight are here
already longer than in the lands lying to the south and the west.
There was light enough to enable me to see, looming out of the
surrounding darkness, the fortress "Friedrichsort," which we passed
at about ten o'clock.


April 27th.

To-day I still rose with the sun; but that will soon be a difficult
matter to accomplish; for in the north the goddess of light makes
amends in spring and summer for her shortcomings during the winter.
I went on deck, and looked on the broad expanse of ocean. No land
was to be seen; but soon a coast appeared, then disappeared, and
then a new and more distant one rose out of the sea. Towards noon
we reached the island of Moen, which lies about forty {14} miles
distant from Copenhagen. It forms a beautiful group of rocks,
rising boldly from the sea. They are white as chalk, and have a
smooth and shining appearance. The highest of these walls of rock
towers 400 feet above the level of the surrounding ocean. Soon we
saw the coast of Sweden, then the island of Malmo; and at last
Copenhagen itself, where we landed at four o'clock in the afternoon.
The distance from Kiel to Copenhagen is 136 sea-miles.

I remained seven days at Copenhagen, and should have had ample time
to see every thing, had the weather been more favourable. But it
blew and rained so violently, that I was obliged to give up all
thoughts of visiting the surrounding parks, and was fain to content
myself with seeing a few of the nearest walks, which I accomplished
with some difficulty.

The first street in Copenhagen which I traversed on coming from the
harbour generally produces a great impression. It is called the
"Broad Street," and leads from the harbour through the greater part
of the town. In addition to its breadth it is very long and
regular, and the splendid palaces and houses on either side give it
a remarkably grand appearance.

It is a peculiar sight, when, in the midst of this fine quarter, we
come suddenly upon a ruin, a giant building resting on huge pillars,
but half completed, and partly covered with moss and lichens. It
was intended for a splendid church, and is built entirely of marble;
but the soft ground would not bear the immense weight. The half-
finished building began to sink, and the completion of the
undertaking became for ever impossible.

Many other streets rival the "Broad Street" in size and
magnificence. Foremost among them comes the Amalienstrasse. The
most bustling, but by far not the finest, are the Oster and
Gotherstrasse. To walk in these is at first quite a difficult
undertaking for a stranger. On one side of the pavement, which is
raised about a foot above the carriage-way, he comes continually in
contact with stairs, leading sometimes to warehouses above, at
others to subterranean warehouses below the level of the street.
The approaches to the latter are not guarded by railings as in
Hamburgh. The other side of the pavement is bounded by a little
unostentatious rivulet, called by unpoetical people "canal," into
which tributaries equally sweet pour from all the neighbouring
houses. It is therefore necessary to take great care, lest you
should fall into the traitorous depths on the one side, or stumble
over the projecting steps on the other. The pavement itself is
covered with a row of stone slabs, a foot and a half wide, on which
one walks comfortably enough. But then every body contends for the
possession of these, to avoid the uneven and pointed stones at the
side. This, added to the dreadful crowding, renders the street one
which would scarcely be chosen for a walk, the less so as the shops
do not contain any thing handsome, the houses are neither palace-
like nor even tastefully built, and the street itself is neither of
the broadest nor of the cleanest.

The squares are all large and regularly built. The finest is the
Kongensnytorf (King's New Market). Some fine mansions, the chief
guard-house, the theatre, the chief coffee-houses and inns, the
academy of the fine arts, and the building belonging to the
botanical garden, the two last commonly known by the name of
"Charlottenburg," are among the ornaments of this magnificent
square, in the midst of which stands a beautiful monument,
representing Christian V. on horseback, and surrounded by several
figures.

Smaller, but more beautiful in its perfect symmetry, is the
"Amalienplatz," containing four royal palaces, built exactly alike,
and intersected by four broad streets in the form of a cross. This
square also is decorated by a monument standing in the midst, and
representing Frederick V. In another fine square, the "Nytorf" (New
Market), there is a fountain. Its little statue sends forth very
meagre jets of water, and the fountain is merely noticeable as being
the only one I could find at Copenhagen.

The traveller can hardly fail of being surprised by the number and
magnificence of the palaces, at sight of which he could fancy
himself in the metropolis of one of the largest kingdoms. The
"Christianensburg" is truly imperial; it was completely destroyed by
fire in the year 1794, but has since been rebuilt with increased
splendour. The chapel of this palace is very remarkable. The
interior has the appearance rather of a concert-room than of a
building devoted to purposes of worship. Tastefully decorated
boxes, among which we notice that of the king, together with
galleries, occupy the upper part of the chapel; the lower is filled
with benches covered with red velvet and silk. The pulpit and altar
are so entirely without decoration, that, on first entering, they
wholly escape notice.

In the "Christianensburg" is also the "Northern Museum," peculiarly
rich in specimens of the ornaments, weapons, musical instruments,
and other mementoes of northern nations.

The Winter Riding-school, in which concerts are frequently given, is
large and symmetrical. I admired the stalls, and yet more the grey
horses which occupied them--descendants of the pure Arabian and wild
Norwegian breeds--creatures with long manes and tails of fine silky
hair. Every one who sees these horses, whether he be a connoisseur
or one of the uninitiated, must admire them.

Adjoining the "Christianensburg" is Thorwaldsen's Museum, a square
building with fine saloons, lighted from above. When I saw it, it
was not completed; the walls were being painted in fresco by some of
the first native artists. The sculptured treasures were there, but
unfortunately yet unpacked.

In the midst of the courtyard Thorwaldsen's mausoleum is being
erected. There his ashes will rest, with his exquisitely finished
lion as a gravestone above them. {15}

The largest among the churches is the "Woman's Church." The
building has no architectural beauty; the pillars, galleries, and
cupola are all of wood, covered with a mixture of sand and plaster.
But whatever may be wanting in outward splendour is compensated by
its contents, for this church contains the masterpieces of
Thorwaldsen. At the high altar stands his glorious figure of our
Saviour, in the niches of the wall his colossal twelve apostles.

In the contemplation of these works we forget the plainness of the
building which contains them. May the fates be prosperous, and no
conflagration reach this church, built as it is half of wood!

The Catholic Church is small, but tasteful beyond expression. The
late emperor of Austria presented to it a good full-toned organ, and
two oil-paintings, one by Kuppelweiser, the other by a pupil of this
master.

In the "Museum of Arts" I was most interested in the ancient chair,
used in days of yore by Tycho de Brahe. {16}

The Exchange is a curious ancient building. It is very long and
narrow, and surmounted by nine peaks, from the centre of which
protrudes a remarkable pointed tower, formed of four crocodiles'
tails intertwined.

The hall itself is small, low, and dark; it contains a full-length
portrait in oil of Tycho de Brahe. Nearly all the upper part of the
building is converted into a kind of bazaar, and the lower portion
contains a number of small and dingy booths.

Several canals, having an outlet into the sea, give a peculiar charm
to the town. They are, in fact, so many markets; for the craft
lying in them are laden with provisions of all kinds, which are here
offered for sale.

The Sailors' Town, adjoining Copenhagen, and situated near the
harbour, is singularly neat and pretty. It consists of three long,
broad, straight streets, built of houses looking so exactly alike,
that on a foggy night an accurate knowledge of the locality is
requisite to know one from the other. It looks as though, on each
side of the way, there were only one long house of a single floor,
with a building one story high in the middle. In the latter dwell
the commandant and overseers.

The lighting of the streets is managed in Copenhagen in the same way
as in our smaller German towns. When "moonlight" is announced in
the calendar, not a lamp is lighted. If the lady moon chooses to
hide behind dark clouds, that is her fault. It would be insolent to
attempt to supply the place of her radiance with miserable lamps--a
wise arrangement! (?)

Of the near walks, the garden of the "Rosenburg," within the town,
pleased me much; as did also the "Long Line," an alley of beautiful
trees extending parallel with the sea, and in which one can either
walk or ride. A coffee-house, in front of which there is music in
fine weather, attracts many of the loungers. The most beautiful
place of all is the "Kastell," above the "Long Line," from whence
one can enjoy a beautiful view. The town lies displayed below in
all its magnificence: the harbour, with its many ships; the
sparkling blue Sound, which spreads its broad expanse between the
coasts of Denmark and Sweden, and washes many a beautiful group of
islands belonging to one or the other of these countries. The
background of the picture alone is uninteresting, as there is no
chain of mountains to form a horizon, and the eye wanders over the
boundless flats of Denmark.

Among the vessels lying at anchor in the harbour I saw but few
three-masters, and still fewer steamers. The ships of the fleet
presented a curious appearance; at the first view they look like
great houses with flag-staves, for every ship is provided with a
roof, out of which the masts rise into the air; they are besides
very high out of the water, so that all the port-holes and the
windows of the cabins appear in two or three stories, one above the
other.

A somewhat more distant excursion, which can be very conveniently
made in a capital omnibus, takes you to the royal chateau
"Friedrichsberg," lying before the water-gate, two miles distant
from the town. Splendid avenues lead to this place, where are to be
found all the delights that can combine to draw a citizen into the
country. There are a tivoli, a railway, cabinets, and booths with
wax-figures, and countless other sights, besides coffee-houses,
beer-rooms, and music. The gardens are planted at the sides with a
number of small arbours, each containing a table and. chairs, and
all open in front, so as to shew at one view all the visitors of
these pretty natural huts. On Sundays, when the gardens are
crowded, this is a very animated sight.

On the way to this "Prater" of Copenhagen, we pass many handsome
villas, each standing in a fine garden.

The royal palace is situated on the summit of a hill, at the end of
the avenue, and is surrounded by a beautiful park; it commands a
view of a great portion of the town, with the surrounding country
and the sea; still I far prefer the prospect from the "Kastell."
The Park contains a considerable island, which, during some part of
the year, stands in the midst of an extensive lake. This island is
appropriated to the Court, but the rest of the park is open to the
public.

Immediately outside the water-gate stands an obelisk, remarkable
neither for its beauty nor for the skill displayed in its erection,
for it consists of various stones, and is not high, but interesting
from the circumstance to which it owes its origin. It was erected
by his grateful subjects in memory of the late king Christian VII.,
to commemorate the abolition of feudal service. Surely no feeling
person can contemplate without joyful emotion a monument like this.

I have here given a faithful account of what I saw during my short
stay at Copenhagen. It only remains for me to describe a few
peculiar customs of the people, and so I will begin as it were at
the end, with the burial of the dead. In Denmark, as in fact in the
whole of Scandinavia, not excepting Iceland, it is customary not to
bury the dead until eight or ten days have elapsed. In winter-time
this is not of so much consequence, but in summer it is far from
healthy for those under the same roof with the corpse. I was
present at Copenhagen at the funeral of Dr. Brandis, physician to
the king. Two of the king's carriages and a number of private
equipages attended. Nearly all these were empty, and the servants
walked beside them. Among the mourners I did not notice a single
woman; I supposed that this was only the case at the funerals of
gentlemen, but on inquiry I found that the same rule is observed at
the burial of women. This consideration for the weaker sex is
carried so far, that on the day of the funeral no woman may be seen
in the house of mourning. The mourners assemble in the house of the
deceased, and partake of cold refreshments. At the conclusion of
the ceremony they are again regaled. What particularly pleased me
in Copenhagen was, that I never on any occasion saw beggars, or even
such miserably clad people as are found only too frequently in our
great cities. Here there are no doubt poor people, as there are
such every where else in the world, but one does not see them beg.
I cannot help mentioning an arrangement which certainly deserves to
be universally carried out;--I mean, the setting apart of many large
houses, partly belonging to the royal family, partly to rich private
people or to companies, for the reception of poor people, who are
here lodged at a much cheaper rate than is possible in ordinary
dwellings.

The costumes of the peasants did not particularly please me. The
women wear dresses of green or black woollen stuff, reaching to the
ankle, and trimmed at the skirt with broad coloured woollen borders.
The seams of the spenser, and the arm-holes, are also trimmed with
smaller coloured borders. On their heads they wear a handkerchief,
and over this a kind of shade, like a bonnet. On Sundays I saw many
of them in small, pretty caps, worked with silk, with a border of
lace of more than a hand's breadth, plaited very stiffly; at the
back they have large bows of fine riband, the ends of which reach
half down to their feet. I found nothing very remarkable in the
dress of the peasants. As far as strength and beauty were
concerned, I thought these peasants were neither more nor less
gifted than those of Austria. As regards the beauty of the fair
sex, I should certainly give the preference to the Austrians. Fair
hair and blue eyes predominate.

I saw but few soldiers; their uniforms, particularly those worn by
the king's life-guards, are very handsome.

I especially noticed the drummers; they were all little lads of ten
or twelve years old. One could almost have exclaimed, "Drum,
whither art thou carrying that boy?" To march, and to join in
fatiguing manoeuvres, carrying such a drum, and beating it bravely
at the same time, is rather cruel work for such young lads. Many a
ruined constitution may be ascribed to this custom.

During my stay in Copenhagen I spent many very delightful hours with
Professor Mariboe and his amiable family, and with the kind
clergyman of the embassy, Herr Zimmermann. They received me with
true politeness and hospitality, and drew me into their circle,
where I soon felt myself quite at ease. I shall never forget their
friendship, and shall make use of every opportunity to shew them my
appreciation of it. Herr Edouard Gottschalk and Herr Knudson have
also my best thanks. I applied to the first of these gentlemen to
procure me a passage to Iceland, and he was kind enough to use his
interest with Herr Knudson on my behalf.

Herr Knudson is one of the first general dealers in Copenhagen, and
carries on a larger and more extended commerce with Iceland than any
other house trading thither. He is already beginning to retire, as
the continual journeys are becoming irksome to him; but he still
owns a number of great and small vessels, which are partly employed
in the fisheries, and partly in bringing all kinds of articles of
consumption and luxury to the different harbours of Iceland.

He himself goes in one of his ships every year, and stays a few
months in Iceland to settle his affairs there. On the
recommendation of Herr Gottschalk, Herr Knudson was kind enough to
give me a passage in the ship in which he made the journey himself;
a favour which I knew how to value. It is certainly no small
kindness to take a lady passenger on such a journey. Herr Knudson
knew neither my fortitude nor my perseverance; he did not know
whether I should be able to endure the hardships of a journey to the
north, whether I would bear sea-sickness philosophically, or even if
I had courage enough, in case of storms or bad weather, to abstain
from annoying the captain by my fears or complaints at a time when
he would only have too much to harass him. The kind man allowed no
such considerations to influence him. He believed me when I
promised to behave courageously come what might, and took me with
him. Indeed his kindness went so far that it is to him I owe every
comfort I enjoyed in Iceland, and every assistance in furthering the
attainment of my journey's object. I could certainly not have
commenced a voyage under better auspices.

All ships visiting Iceland leave Copenhagen at the end of April, or
at the latest in the middle of May. After this time only one ship
is despatched, to carry the mails of the Danish government. This
vessel leaves Copenhagen in October, remains in Iceland during the
winter months, and returns in March. The gain or loss of this
expedition is distributed in shares among the merchants of
Copenhagen.

Besides this, a French frigate comes to Iceland every spring, and
cruises among the different harbours until the middle of August.
She superintends the fishing vessels, which, attracted by the large
profits of the fisheries, visit these seas in great numbers during
the summer. {17}

Opportunities of returning from Iceland occur during the summer
until the end of September, by means of the merchant-ships, which
carry freights from the island to Denmark, England, and Spain.

At length, on Sunday the 4th of May, a favourable wind sprung up.
Herr Knudson sent me word to be ready to embark at noon on board the
fine brig John.

I immediately proceeded on board. The anchor was weighed, and the
sails, unfolding themselves like giant wings, wafted us gently out
of the harbour of Copenhagen. No parting from children, relations,
or old-cherished friends embittered this hour. With a glad heart I
bade adieu to the city, in the joyful hope soon to see the
fulfilment of my long-expected journey.

The bright sky smiled above us, and a most favourable wind filled
our sails. I sat on deck and revelled in the contemplation of
scenes so new to me. Behind us lay spread the majestic town; before
us the Sound, an immense natural basin, which I could almost compare
to a great Swiss lake; on the right and left were the coasts of
Sweden and Denmark, which here approach each other so closely that
they seem to oppose a barrier to the further progress of the
adventurous voyager.

Soon we passed the little Swedish town of Carlscrona, and the
desolate island Hveen, on which Tycho de Brahe passed the greater
portion of his life, occupied with stellar observations and
calculations. Now came a somewhat dangerous part, and one which
called into action all the careful seamanship of the captain to
bring us safely through the confined sea and the strong current,--
the entrance of the Sound into the Cattegat.

The two coasts here approach to within a mile of each other. On the
Swedish side lies the pretty little town of Helsingborg, on the
Danish side that of Helsingor, and at the extremity of a projecting
neck of land the fortress Kronburg, which demands a toll of every
passing ship, and shews a large row of threatening cannon in case of
non-compliance. Our toll had already been paid before leaving
Copenhagen; we had been accurately signalled, and sailed fearlessly
by. {18}

The entrance once passed, we entered the Cattegat, which already
looked more like the great ocean: the coasts retired on each side,
and most of the shifts and barques, which till now had hovered
around us on all sides, bade us "farewell." Some bent their course
towards the east, others towards the west; and we alone, on the
broad desert ocean, set sail for the icy north. Twilight did not
set in until 9 o'clock at night; and on the coasts the flaming
beacons flashed up, to warn the benighted mariner of the proximity
of dangerous rocks.

I now offered up my thanksgiving to Heaven for the protection
hitherto vouchsafed me, with a humble prayer for its continuance.
Then I descended to the cabin, where I found a convenient bunk (a
kind of crib fixed to the side of the ship); I laid myself down, and
was soon in a deep and refreshing sleep.

I awoke full of health and spirits, which, however, I enjoyed but
for a short time. During the night we had left behind us the
"Cattegat" and the "Skagerrack," and were driving through the stormy
German Ocean. A high wind, which increased almost to a gale,
tumbled our poor ship about in such a manner, that none but a good
dancer could hope to maintain an upright position. I had
unfortunately been from my youth no votary of Terpsichore, and what
was I to do? The naiads of this stormy region seized me, and
bandied me to and fro, until they threw me into the arms of what
was, according to my experience, if not exactly after Schiller's
interpretation, "the horrible of horrors,"--sea-sickness. At first
I took little heed of this, thinking that sea-sickness would soon be
overcome by a traveller like myself, who should be inured to every
thing. But in vain did I bear up; I became worse and worse, till I
was at length obliged to remain in my berth with but one consoling
thought, namely, that we were to-day on the open sea, where there
was nothing worthy of notice. But the following day the Norwegian
coast was in sight, and at all hazards I must see it; so I crawled
on deck more dead than alive, looked at a row of mountains of
moderate elevation, their tops at this early season still sparkling
with their snowy covering, and then hurried back, benumbed by the
piercing icy wind, to my good warm feather-bed. Those who have
never experienced it can have no conception of the biting,
penetrating coldness of a gale of wind in the northern seas. The
sun shone high in the heavens; the thermometer (I always calculate
according to Reaumur) stood 3 degrees above zero; I was dressed much
more warmly than I should have thought necessary when, in my
fatherland, the thermometer was 8 degrees or 10 degrees BELOW zero,
and yet I felt chilled to the heart, and could have fancied that I
had no clothes on at all.

On the fourth night we sailed safely past the Shetland Islands; and
on the evening of the fifth day we passed so near the majestic rocky
group of the Feroe Islands, that we were at one time apprehensive of
being cast upon the rocks by the unceasing gale. {19}

Already on the seventh day we descried the coast of Iceland. Our
passage had been unprecedentedly quick; the sailors declared that a
favourable gale was to be preferred even to steam, and that on our
present voyage we should certainly have left every steamer in our
wake. But I, wretched being that I was, would gladly have dispensed
with the services both of gale and steam for the sake of a few
hours' rest. My illness increased so much, that on the seventh day
I thought I must succumb. My limbs were bathed in a cold
perspiration; I was as weak as an infant, and my mouth felt parched
and dry. I saw that I must now either make a great effort or give
up entirely; so I roused myself, and with the assistance of the
cabin-boy gained a seat, and promised to take any and every remedy
which should be recommended. They gave me hot-water gruel with wine
and sugar; but it was not enough to be obliged to force this down, I
was further compelled to swallow small pieces of raw bacon highly
peppered, and even a mouthful of rum. I need not say what strong
determination was required to make me submit to such a regimen. I
had, however, but one choice, either to conquer my repugnance or
give myself up a victim to sea-sickness; so with all patience and
resignation I received the proffered gifts, and found, after a trial
of many hours, that I could manage to retain a small dose. This
physicking was continued for two long, long days, and then I began
slowly to recover.

I have here circumstantially described both my illness and its cure,
because so many people are unfortunately victims to the complaint,
and when under its influence cannot summon resolution to take
sustenance. I should advise all my friends not to hold out so long
as I did, but to take food at once, and continue to do so until the
system will receive it.

As I was now convalescent, I tried to recruit my wearied mind by a
diligent study of the mode of life and customs of the mariners of
the northern seas.

Our ship's company consisted of Herr Knudson, Herr Bruge (a merchant
whom we were to land at the Westmann Islands), the captain, the
mate, and six or seven sailors. Our mode of life in the cabin was
as follows: in the morning, at seven o'clock, we took coffee, but
whence this coffee came, heaven knows! I drank it for eleven days,
and could never discover any thing which might serve as a clue in my
attempt to discover the country of its growth. At ten o'clock we
had a meal consisting of bread and butter and cheese, with cold beef
or pork, all excellent dishes for those in health; the second course
of this morning meal was "tea-water." In Scandinavia, by the way,
they never say, "I drink TEA," the word "water" is always added: "I
drink TEA-WATER." Our "tea-water" was, if possible, worse than its
predecessor, the incomparable coffee. Thus I was beaten at all
points; the eatables were too strong for me, the drinkables too--
too--I can find no appropriate epithet--probably too artificial. I
consoled myself with the prospect of dinner; but, alas, too soon
this sweet vision faded into thin air! On the sixth day I made my
first appearance at the covered table, and could not help at once
remarking the cloth which had been spread over it. At the
commencement of our journey it might perhaps have been white; now it
was most certainly no longer of that snowy hue. The continual
pitching and rolling of the ship had caused each dish to set its
peculiar stamp upon the cloth. A sort of wooden network was now
laid upon it, in the interstices of which the plates and glasses
were set, and thus secured from falling. But before placing it on
the table, our worthy cabin-boy took each plate and glass
separately, and polished it on a towel which hung near, and in
colour certainly rather resembling the dingy floor of the cabin than
the bight-hued rainbow. This could still have been endured, but the
article in question really did duty AS A TOWEL in the morning,
before extending its salutary influence over plates and glasses for
the remainder of the day.

On making discoveries such as these, I would merely turn away my
eyes, and try to think that perhaps MY GLASS and MY PLATE would be
more delicately manipulated, or probably escape altogether; and then
I would turn my whole attention to the expected dishes.

First came soup; but instead of gravy-soup, it was water-soup, with
rice and dried plums. This, when mingled with red wine and sugar,
formed a most exquisite dish for Danish appetites, but it certainly
did not suit mine. The second and concluding course consisted of a
large piece of beef, with which I had no fault to find, except that
it was too heavy for one in my weak state of health. At supper we
had the same dishes as at dinner, and each meal was followed by
"tea-water." At first I could not fancy this bill of fare at all;
but within a few days after my convalesence, I had accustomed myself
to it, and could bear the sea-diet very well. {20}

As the rich owner of the vessel was on board, there was no lack of
the best wines, and few evenings passed on which a bowl of punch was
not emptied. There was, however, a reason found why every bottle of
wine or bowl of punch should be drunk: for instance, at our
embarkation, to drink the health of the friends we were leaving, and
to hope for a quick and prosperous voyage; then, when the wind was
favourable, its health was drunk, with the request that it would
remain so; when it was contrary, with the request that it would
change; when we saw land, we saluted it with a glass of wine, or
perhaps with several, but I was too ill to count; when we lost sight
of it, we drank a farewell glass to its health: so that every day
brought with it three or four distinct and separate occasions for
drinking wine. {21}

The sailors drank tea-water without sugar every morning and evening,
with the addition of a glass of brandy; for dinner they had pease,
beans, barley, or potatoes, with salted cod, bacon, "or junk;" good
sea-biscuit they could get whenever they chose.

The diet is not the worst part of these poor people's hardships.
Their life may be called a continual fight against the elements; for
it is precisely during the most dreadful storms, with rain and
piercing cold, that they have to be continually upon deck. I could
not sufficiently admire the coolness, or rather the cheerfulness and
alacrity with which they fulfilled their onerous duties. And what
reward have they? Scanty pay, for food the diet I have just
described, and for their sleeping-place the smallest and most
inconvenient part of the ship, a dark place frequently infested with
vermin, and smelling offensively from being likewise used as a
receptacle for oil-colours, varnish, tar, salt-fish, &c. &c.

To be cheerful in the midst of all this requires a very quiet and
contented mind. That the Danish sailors are contented, I had many
opportunities of observing during the voyage of which I am speaking,
and on several other occasions.

But after all this long description, it is high time that I should
return to the journey itself.

The favourable gale which had thus wafted us to the coast of Iceland
within seven days, now unfortunately changed its direction, and
drove us back. We drifted about in the storm-tost ocean, and many a
Spanish wave {22} broke completely over our ship. Twice we
attempted to approach the Westmann Islands {23} (a group belonging
to Iceland) to watch an opportunity of casting anchor, and setting
ashore our fellow-traveller Herr Bruge; but it was in vain, we were
driven back each time. At length, at the close of the eleventh day,
we reached Havenfiord, a very good harbour, distant nine miles from
Reikjavik, the capital of Iceland.

In spite of the very inopportune change in the direction of the
wind, we had had an unprecedentedly quick passage. The distance
from Copenhagen to Iceland, in a straight line, is reckoned at 1200
geographical miles; for a sailing vessel, which must tack now and
then, and must go as much with the wind as possible, 1500 to 1600
miles. Had the strong wind, which was at first so favourable,
instead of changing on the seventh day, held on for thirty or forty
hours longer, we should have landed in Iceland on the eighth or
ninth day--even the steamer could not have accomplished the passage
so quickly.

The shores of Iceland appeared to me quite different from what I had
supposed them to be from the descriptions I had read. I had fancied
them naked, without tree or shrub, dreary and desert; but now I saw
green hills, shrubs, and even what appeared to be groups of stunted
trees. As we came nearer, however, I was enabled to distinguish
objects more clearly, and the green hills became human dwellings
with small doors and windows, while the supposed groups of trees
proved in reality to be heaps of lava, some ten or twelve feet high,
thickly covered with moss and grass. Every thing was new and
striking to me; I waited in great impatience till we could land.

At length the anchor descended; but it was not till next morning
that the hour of disembarkation and deliverance came.

But one more night, and then, every difficulty overcome, I should
tread the shores of Iceland, the longed-for, and bask as it were in
the wonders of this island, so poor in the creations of art, so rich
in the phenomena of Nature.


Before I land in Iceland, I must trouble the reader with a few
preliminary observations regarding this island. They are drawn from
Mackenzie's Description of Iceland, a book the sterling value of
which is appreciated every where. {24}

The discovery of Iceland, about the year of our Lord 860, is
attributed to the spirit of enterprise of some Swedish and Norwegian
pirates, who were drifted thither on a voyage to the Feroe Isles.
It was not till the year 874 that the island was peopled by a number
of voluntary emigrants, who, feeling unhappy under the dominion of
Harold Harfraga (fine hair), arrived at the island under the
direction of Ingold. {25} As the newcomers are said to have found
no traces of dwellings, they are presumed to be the first who took
possession of the island.

At this time Iceland was still so completely covered with underwood,
that at some points it was necessary to cut a passage. Bringing
with them their language, religion, customs, and historical
monuments, the Norwegians introduced a kind of feudal system, which,
about the year 928, gave place to a somewhat aristocratic
government, retaining, however, the name of a republic. The island
was divided into four provinces, over each of which was placed an
hereditary governor or judge.

The General Assembly of Iceland (called Allthing) was held annually
on the shores of the Lake Thingvalla. The people possessed an
excellent code of laws, in which provision had been made for every
case which could occur.

This state of things lasted for more than 300 years, a period which
may be called the golden age of Iceland. Education, literature, and
even refined poetry flourished among the inhabitants, who took part
in commerce and in the sea-voyages which the Norwegians undertook
for purposes of discovery.

The "Sagas," or histories of this country, contain many tales of
personal bravery. Its bards and historians visited other climes,
became the favourites of monarchs, and returned to their island
covered with honour and loaded with presents. The Edda, by Samund,
is one of the most valued poems of the ancient days of Iceland. The
second portion of the Edda, called Skalda, dates from a later
period, and is ascribed by many to the celebrated Snorri Sturluson.
Isleif, first Bishop of Skalholt, was the earliest Icelandic
historian; after him came the noted Snorri Sturluson, born in 1178,
who became the richest and mightiest man in Iceland.

Snorri Sturluson was frequently followed to the General Assembly of
Iceland by a splendid retinue of 800 armed men. He was a great
historian and poet, and possessed an accurate knowledge of the Greek
and Latin tongues, besides being a powerful orator. He was also the
author of the Heims-kringla.

The first school was founded at Skalholt, about the middle of the
eleventh century, under Isleif, first Bishop of Iceland; four other
schools and several convents soon followed. Poetry and music seem
to have formed a staple branch of education.

The climate of Iceland appears to have been less inclement than is
now the case; corn is said to have grown, and trees and shrubs were
larger and thicker than we find them at present. The population of
Iceland was also much more numerous than it is now, although there
were neither towns nor villages. The people lived scattered
throughout the island; and the General Assembly was held at
Thingvalla, in the open air.

Fishing constituted the chief employment of the Icelanders. Their
clothing was woven from the wool of their sheep. Commerce with
neighbouring countries opened to them another field of occupation.

The doctrines of Christianity were first introduced into Iceland, in
the year 981, by Friederich, a Saxon bishop. Many churches were
built, and tithes established for the maintenance of the clergy.
Isleif, first Bishop of Skalholt, was ordained in the year 1057.
After the introduction of Christianity, all the Icelanders enjoyed
an unostentatious but undisturbed practice of their religion.

Greenland and the most northern part of America are said to have
been discovered by Icelanders.

In the middle of the thirteenth century Iceland came into the power
of the Norwegian kings. In the year 1380 Norway was united to the
crown of Denmark; and Iceland incorporated, without resistance, in
the Danish monarchy. Since the cession of the island to Norway, and
then to Denmark, peace and security took the place of the internal
commotions with which, before this time, Iceland had been frequently
disturbed; but this state of quiet brought forth indolence and
apathy. The voyages of discovery were interfered with by the new
government, and the commerce gradually passed into the hands of
other nations. The climate appears also to have changed; and the
lessened industry and want of perseverance in the inhabitants have
brought agriculture completely into decline.

In the year 1402 the plague broke out upon the island, and carried
off two-thirds of the population.

The first printing-press was established at Hoolum, about the year
1530, under the superintendence of the Bishop, John Areson.

The reformation in the Icelandic Church was not brought about
without disturbance. It was legally established in the year 1551.

During the fifteenth century the Icelanders suffered more from the
piratical incursions of foreigners. As late as the year 1616 the
French and English nations took part in these enormities. The most
melancholy occurrence of this kind took place in 1627, in which year
a great number of Algerine pirates made a descent upon the Icelandic
coast, murdered about fifty of the inhabitants, and carried off
nearly 400 others into captivity. {26}

The eighteenth century commenced with a dreadful mortality from the
smallpox; of which disease more than 16,000 of the inhabitants died.
In 1757 a famine swept away about 10,000 souls.

The year 1783 was distinguished by most dreadful volcanic outbreaks
in the interior of the island. Tremendous streams of lava carried
all before them; great rivers were checked in their course, and
formed lakes. For more than a year a thick cloud of smoke and
volcanic ashes covered the whole of Iceland, and nearly darkened the
sunlight. Horned cattle, sheep, and horses were destroyed; famine
came, with its accompanying illnesses; and once more appeared the
malignant small-pox. In a few years more than 11,000 persons had
died; more than one-fourth of the whole present population of the
island.

Iceland lies in the Atlantic ocean; its greatest breadth is 240
geographical miles, and its extreme length from north to south 140
miles. The number of inhabitants is estimated at 48,000, and the
superficial extent of the island at 29,800 square miles.



CHAPTER III



On the morning of the 16th of May I landed in the harbour of
Havenfiord, and for the first time trod the shores of Iceland.
Although I was quite bewildered by sea-sickness, and still more by
the continual rocking of the ship, so that every object round me
seemed to dance, and I could scarcely make a firm step, still I
could not rest in the house of Herr Knudson, which he had obligingly
placed at my disposal. I must go out at once, to see and
investigate every thing. I found that Havenfiord consisted merely
of three wooden houses, a few magazines built of the same material,
and some peasants' cottages.

The wooden houses are inhabited by merchants or by their factors,
and consist only of a ground-floor, with a front of four or six
windows. Two or three steps lead up to the entrance, which is in
the centre of the building, and opens upon a hall from which doors
lead into the rooms to the right and left. At the back of the house
is situated the kitchen, which opens into several back rooms and
into the yard. A house of this description consists only of five or
six rooms on the ground-floor and a few small attic bedrooms.

The internal arrangements are quite European. The furniture--which
is often of mahogany,--the mirrors, the cast-iron stoves, every
thing, in short, come from Copenhagen. Beautiful carpets lie spread
before the sofas; neat curtains shade the windows; English prints
ornament the whitewashed walls; porcelain, plate, cut-glass, &c.,
are displayed on chests and on tables; and flower-pots with roses,
mignonnette, and pinks spread a delicious fragrance around. I even
found a grand pianoforte here. If any person could suddenly, and
without having made the journey, be transported into one of these
houses, he would certainly fancy himself in some continental town,
rather than in the distant and barren island of Iceland. And as in
Havenfiord, so I found the houses of the more opulent classes in
Reikjavik, and in all the places I visited.

From these handsome houses I betook myself to the cottages of the
peasants, which have a more indigenous, Icelandic appearance. Small
and low, built of lava, with the interstices filled with earth, and
the whole covered with large pieces of turf, they would present
rather the appearance of natural mounds of earth than of human
dwellings, were it not that the projecting wooden chimneys, the low-
browed entrances, and the almost imperceptible windows, cause the
spectator to conclude that they are inhabited. A dark narrow
passage, about four feet high, leads on one side into the common
room, and on the other to a few compartments, some of which are used
as storehouses for provisions, and the rest as winter stables for
the cows and sheep. At the end of this passage, which is purposely
built so low, as an additional defence against the cold, the
fireplace is generally situated. The rooms of the poorer class have
neither wooden walls nor floors, and are just large enough to admit
of the inhabitants sleeping, and perhaps turning round in them. The
whole interior accommodation is comprised in bedsteads with very
little covering, a small table, and a few drawers. Beds and chests
of drawers answer the purpose of benches and chairs. Above the beds
are fixed rods, from which depend clothes, shoes, stockings, &c. A
small board, on which are arranged a few books, is generally to be
observed. Stoves are considered unnecessary; for as the space is
very confined, and the house densely populated, the atmosphere is
naturally warm.

Rods are also placed round the fireplace, and on these the wet
clothes and fishes are hung up in company to dry. The smoke
completely fills the room, and slowly finds its way through a few
breathing-holes into the open air.

Fire-wood there is none throughout the whole island. The rich
inhabitants have it brought from Norway or Denmark; the poor burn
turf, to which they frequently add bones and other offal of fish,
which naturally engender a most disagreeable smoke.

On entering one of these cottages, the visitor is at a loss to
determine which of the two is the more obnoxious--the suffocating
smoke in the passage or the poisoned air of the dwelling-room,
rendered almost insufferable by the crowding together of so many
persons. I could almost venture to assert, that the dreadful
eruption called Lepra, which is universal throughout Iceland, owes
its existence rather to the total want of cleanliness than to the
climate of the country or to the food.

Throughout my subsequent journeys into the interior, I found the
cottages of the peasants every where alike squalid and filthy. Of
course I speak of the majority, and not of the exceptions; for here
I found a few rich peasants, whose dwellings looked cleaner and more
habitable, in proportion to the superior wealth or sense of decency
of the owners. My idea is, that the traveller's estimate of a
country should be formed according to the habits and customs of the
generality of its inhabitants, and not according to the doings of a
few individuals, as is often the case. Alas, how seldom did I meet
with these creditable exceptions!

The neighbourhood of Havenfiord is formed by a most beautiful and
picturesque field of lava, at first rising in hills, then sinking
into hollows, and at length terminating in a great plain which
extends to the base of the neighbouring mountains. Masses of the
most varied forms, often black and naked, rise to the height of ten
or fifteen feet, forming walls, ruined pillars, small grottoes, and
hollow spaces. Over these latter large slabs often extend, and form
bridges. Every thing around consists of suddenly cooled heaped-up
masses of lava, in some instances covered to their summits with
grass and moss; this circumstance gives them, as already stated, the
appearance of groups of stunted trees. Horses, sheep, and cows were
clambering about, diligently seeking out every green place. I also
clambered about diligently; I could not tire of gazing and wondering
at this terribly beautiful picture of destruction.

After a few hours I had so completely forgotten the hardships of my
passage, and felt myself so much strengthened, that I began my
journey to Reikjavik at five o'clock on the evening of the same day.
Herr Knudson seemed much concerned for me; he warned me that the
roads were bad, and particularly emphasised the dangerous abysses I
should be compelled to pass. I comforted him with the assurance
that I was a good horsewoman, and could hardly have to encounter
worse roads than those with which I had had the honour to become
acquainted in Syria. I therefore took leave of the kind gentleman,
who intended to stay a week or ten days in Havenfiord, and mounting
a small horse, set out in company of a female guide.

In my guide I made the acquaintance of a remarkable antiquity of
Iceland, who is well worthy that I should devote a few words to her
description. She is above seventy years of age, but looks scarcely
fifty; her head is surrounded by tresses of rich fair hair. She is
dressed like a man; undertakes, in the capacity of messenger, the
longest and most fatiguing journeys; rows a boat as skilfully as the
most practised fisherman; and fulfils all her missions quicker and
more exactly than a man, for she does not keep up so good an
understanding with the brandy-bottle. She marched on so sturdily
before me, that I was obliged to incite my little horse to greater
speed with my riding-whip.

At first the road lay between masses of lava, where it certainly was
not easy to ride; then over flats and small acclivities, from whence
we could descry the immense plain in which are situated Havenfiord,
Bassastadt, Reikjavik, and other places. Bassastadt, a town built
on a promontory jutting out into the sea, contains one of the
principal schools, a church built of masonry, and a few cottages.
The town of Reikjavik cannot be seen, as it is hidden behind a hill.
The other places consist chiefly of a few cottages, and only meet
the eye of the traveller when he approaches them nearly. Several
chains of mountains, towering one above the other, and sundry
"Jokuls," or glaciers, which lay still sparkling in their wintry
garb, surround this interminable plain, which is only open at one
end, towards the sea. Some of the plains and hills shone with
tender green, and I fancied I beheld beautiful meadows. On a nearer
inspection, however, they proved to be swampy places, and hundreds
upon hundreds of little acclivities, sometimes resembling mole-
hills, at others small graves, and covered with grass and moss.

I could see over an area of at least thirty or forty miles, and yet
could not descry a tree or a shrub, a bit of meadow-land or a
friendly village. Every thing seemed dead. A few cottages lay
scattered here and there; at long intervals a bird would hover in
the air, and still more seldom I heard the kindly greeting of a
passing inhabitant. Heaps of lava, swamps, and turf-bogs surrounded
me on all sides; in all the vast expanse not a spot was to be seen
through which a plough could be driven.

After riding more than four miles, I reached a hill, from which I
could see Reikjavik, the chief harbour, and, in fact, the only town
on the island. But I was deceived in my expectations; the place
before me was a mere village.

The distance from Havenfiord to Reikjavik is scarcely nine miles;
but as I was unwilling to tire my good old guide, I took three hours
to accomplish it. The road was, generally speaking, very good,
excepting in some places, where it lay over heaps of lava. Of the
much-dreaded dizzy abysses I saw nothing; the startling term must
have been used to designate some unimportant declivities, along the
brow of which I rode, in sight of the sea; or perhaps the "abysses"
were on the lava-fields, where I sometimes noticed small chasms of
fifteen or sixteen feet in depth at the most.

Shortly after eight o'clock in the evening I was fortunate enough to
reach Reikjavik safe and well. Through the kind forethought of Herr
Knudson, a neat little room had been prepared for me in one of his
houses occupied by the family of the worthy baker Bernhoft, and
truly I could not have been better received any where.

During my protracted stay the whole family of the Bernhofts shewed
me more kindness and cordiality than it has been my lot frequently
to find. Many an hour has Herr Bernhoft sacrificed to me, in order
to accompany me in my little excursions. He assisted me most
diligently in my search for flowers, insects, and shells, and was
much rejoiced when he could find me a new specimen. His kind wife
and dear children rivalled him in willingness to oblige. I can only
say, may Heaven requite them a thousand-fold for their kindness and
friendship!

I had even an opportunity of hearing my native language spoken by
Herr Bernhoft, who was a Holsteiner by birth, and had not quite
forgotten our dear German tongue, though he had lived for many years
partly in Denmark, partly in Iceland.

So behold me now in the only town in Iceland, {27} the seat of the
so-called cultivated classes, whose customs and mode of life I will
now lay before my honoured readers.

Nothing was more disagreeable to me than a certain air of dignity
assumed by the ladies here; an air which, except when it is natural,
or has become so from long habit, is apt to degenerate into
stiffness and incivility. On meeting an acquaintance, the ladies of
Reikjavik would bend their heads with so stately and yet so careless
an air as we should scarcely assume towards the humblest stranger.
At the conclusion of a visit, the lady of the house only accompanies
the guest as far as the chamber-door. If the husband be present,
this civility is carried a little further; but when this does not
happen to be the case, a stranger who does not know exactly through
which door he can make his exit, may chance to feel not a little
embarrassed. Excepting in the house of the "Stiftsamtmann" (the
principal official on the island), one does not find a footman who
can shew the way. In Hamburgh I had already noticed the beginnings
of this dignified coldness; it increased as I journeyed further
north, and at length reached its climax in Iceland.

Good letters of recommendation often fail to render the northern
grandees polite towards strangers. As an instance of this fact, I
relate the following trait:

Among other kind letters of recommendation, I had received one
addressed to Herr von H-, the "Stiftsamtmann" of Iceland. On my
arrival at Copenhagen, I heard that Herr von H- happened to be
there. I therefore betook myself to his residence, and was shewn
into a room where I found two young ladies and three children. I
delivered my letter, and remained quietly standing for some time.
Finding at length that no one invited me to be seated, I sat down
unasked on the nearest chair, never supposing for an instant that
the lady of the house could be present, and neglect the commonest
forms of politeness which should be observed towards every stranger.
After I had waited for some time, Herr von H- graciously made his
appearance, and expressed his regret that he should have very little
time to spare for me, as he intended setting sail for Iceland with
his family in a short time, and in the interim had a number of
weighty affairs to settle at Copenhagen; in conclusion, he gave me
the friendly advice to abandon my intention of visiting Iceland, as
the fatigues of travelling in that country were very great; finding,
however, that I persevered in my intention, he promised, in case I
set sail for Reikjavik earlier than himself, to give me a letter of
recommendation. All this was concluded in great haste, and we stood
during the interview. I took my leave, and at first determined not
to call again for the letter. On reflection, however, I changed my
mind, ascribed my unfriendly reception to important and perhaps
disagreeable business, and called again two days afterwards. Then
the letter was handed to me by a servant; the high people, whom I
could hear conversing in the adjoining apartment, probably
considered it too much trouble to deliver it to me personally.

On paying my respects to this amiable family in Reikjavik, I was not
a little surprised to recognise in Frau von H- one of those ladies
who in Copenhagen had not had the civility to ask me to be seated.
Five or six days afterwards, Herr von H- returned my call, and
invited me to an excursion to Vatne. I accepted the invitation with
much pleasure, and mentally asked pardon of him for having formed
too hasty an opinion. Frau von H-, however, did not find her way to
me until the fourth week of my stay in Reikjavik; she did not even
invite me to visit her again, so of course I did not go, and our
acquaintance terminated there. As in duty bound, the remaining
dignitaries of this little town took their tone from their chief.
My visits were unreturned, and I received no invitations, though I
heard much during my stay of parties of pleasure, dinners, and
evening parties. Had I not fortunately been able to employ myself,
I should have been very badly off. Not one of the ladies had
kindness and delicacy enough to consider that I was alone here, and
that the society of educated people might be necessary for my
comfort. I was less annoyed at the want of politeness in the
gentlemen; for I am no longer young, and that accounts for every
thing. When the women were wanting in kindliness, I had no right to
expect consideration from the gentlemen.

I tried to discover the reason of this treatment, and soon found
that it lay in a national characteristic of these people--their
selfishness.

It appears I had scarcely arrived at Reikjavik before diligent
inquiries were set on foot as to whether I was RICH, and should see
much company at my house, and, in fact, whether much could be got
out of me.

To be well received here it is necessary either to be rich, or else
to travel as a naturalist. Persons of the latter class are
generally sent by the European courts to investigate the remarkable
productions of the country. They make large collections of
minerals, birds, &c.; they bring with them numerous presents,
sometimes of considerable value, which they distribute among the
dignitaries; they are, moreover, the projectors of many an
entertainment, and even of many a little ball, &c.; they buy up
every thing they can procure for their cabinets, and they always
travel in company; they have much baggage with them, and
consequently require many horses, which cannot be hired in Iceland,
but must be bought. On such occasions every one here is a dealer:
offers of horses and cabinets pour in on all sides.

The most welcome arrival of all is that of the French frigate, which
visits Iceland every year; for sometimes there are dejeuners a la
fourchette on board, sometimes little evening parties and balls.
There is at least something to be got besides the rich presents; the
"Stiftsamtmann" even receives 600 florins per annum from the French
government to defray the expense of a few return balls which he
gives to the naval officers.

With me this was not the case: I gave no parties--I brought no
presents--they had nothing to expect from me; and therefore they
left me to myself. {28}

For this reason I affirm that he only can judge of the character of
a people who comes among them without claim to their attention, and
from whom they have nothing to expect. To such a person only do
they appear in their true colours, because they do not find it worth
while to dissemble and wear a mask in his presence. In these cases
the traveller is certainly apt to make painful discoveries; but
when, on the other hand, he meets with good people, he may be
certain of their sincerity; and so I must beg my honoured readers to
bear with me, when I mention the names of all those who heartily
welcomed the undistinguished foreigner; it is the only way in which
I can express my gratitude towards them.

As I said before, I had intercourse with very few people, so that
ample time remained for solitary walks, during which I minutely
noticed every thing around me.

The little town of Reikjavik consists of a single broad street, with
houses and cottages scattered around. The number of inhabitants
does not amount to 500.

The houses of the wealthier inhabitants are of wood-work, and
contain merely a ground-floor, with the exception of a single
building of one story, to which the high school, now held at
Bassastadt, will be transferred next year. The house of the
"Stiftsamtmann" is built of stone. It was originally intended for a
prison; but as criminals are rarely to be met with in Iceland, the
building was many years ago transformed into the residence of the
royal officer. A second stone building, discernible from Reikjavik,
is situated at Langarnes, half a mile from the town. It lies near
the sea, in the midst of meadows, and is the residence of the
bishop.

The church is capable of holding only at the most from 100 to 150
persons; it is built of stone, with a wooden roof. In the chambers
of this roof the library, consisting of several thousand volumes, is
deposited. The church contains a treasure which many a larger and
costlier edifice might envy,--a baptismal font by Thorwaldsen, whose
parents were of Icelandic extraction. The great sculptor himself
was born in Denmark, and probably wished, by this present, to do
honour to the birth-place of his ancestors.

To some of the houses in Reikjavik pieces of garden are attached.
These gardens are small plots of ground where, with great trouble
and expense, salad, spinach, parsley, potatoes, and a few varieties
of edible roots, are cultivated. The beds are separated from each
other by strips of turf a foot broad, seldom boasting even a few
field-flowers.

The inhabitants of Iceland are generally of middle stature, and
strongly built, with light hair, frequently inclining to red, and
blue eyes. The men are for the most part ugly; the women are better
favoured, and among the girls I noticed some very sweet faces. To
attain the age of seventy or eighty years is here considered an
extraordinary circumstance. {29} The peasants have many children,
and yet few; many are born, but few survive the first year. The
mothers do not nurse them, and rear them on very bad food. Those
who get over the first year look healthy enough; but they have
strangely red cheeks, almost as though they had an eruption.
Whether this appearance is to be ascribed to the sharp air, to which
the delicate skin is not yet accustomed, or to the food, I know not.

In some places on the coast, when the violent storms prevent the
poor fishermen for whole weeks from launching their boats, they live
almost entirely on dried fishes' heads. {30} The fishes themselves
have been salted down and sold, partly to pay the fishermen's taxes,
and partly to liquidate debts for the necessaries of the past
season, among which brandy and snuff unfortunately play far too
prominent a part.

Another reason why the population does not increase is to be found
in the numerous catastrophes attending the fisheries during the
stormy season of the year. The fishermen leave the shore with songs
and mirth, for a bright sky and a calm sea promise them good
fortune. But, alas, tempests and snow-storms too often overtake the
unfortunate boatmen! The sea is lashed into foam, and mighty waves
overwhelm boats and fishermen together, and they perish inevitably.
It is seldom that the father of a family embarks in the same boat
with his sons. They divide themselves among different parties, in
order that, if one boat founder, the whole family may not be
destroyed.

I found the cottages of the peasants at Reikjavik smaller, and in
every respect worse provided, than those at Havenfiord. This seems,
however, to be entirely owing to the indolence of the peasants
themselves; for stones are to be had in abundance, and every man is
his own builder. The cows and sheep live through the winter in a
wretched den, built either in the cottage itself or in its immediate
neighbourhood. The horses pass the whole year under the canopy of
heaven, and must find their own provender. Occasionally only the
peasant will shovel away the snow from a little spot, to assist the
poor animals in searching for the grass or moss concealed beneath.
It is then left to the horses to finish clearing away the snow with
their feet. It may easily be imagined that this mode of treatment
tends to render them very hardy; but the wonder is, how the poor
creatures manage to exist through the winter on such spare diet, and
to be strong and fit for work late in the spring and in summer.
These horses are so entirely unused to being fed with oats, that
they will refuse them when offered; they are not even fond of hay.

As I arrived in Iceland during the early spring, I had an
opportunity of seeing the horses and sheep in their winter garments.
The horses seemed to be covered, not with hair, but with a thick
woolly coat; their manes and tails are very long, and of surprising
thickness. At the end of May or the beginning of June the tail and
mane are docked and thinned, their woolly coat falls of itself, and
they then look smooth enough. The sheep have also a very thick coat
during the winter. It is not the custom to shear them, but at the
beginning of June the wool is picked off piece by piece with the
hand. A sheep treated in this way sometimes presents a very comical
appearance, being perfectly naked on one side, while on the other it
is still covered with wool.

The horses and cows are considerably smaller than those of our
country. No one need journey so far north, however, to see stunted
cattle. Already, in Galicia, the cows and horses of the peasants
are not a whit larger or stronger than those in Iceland. The
Icelandic cows are further remarkable only for their peculiarly
small horns; the sheep are also smaller than ours.

Every peasant keeps horses. The mode of feeding them is, as already
shewn, very simple; the distances are long, the roads bad, and large
rivers, moorlands, and swamps must frequently be passed; so every
one rides, both men, women, and children. The use of carriages is
as totally unknown throughout the island as in Syria.

The immediate vicinity of Reikjavik is pretty enough. Some of the
townspeople go to much trouble and expense in sometimes collecting
and sometimes breaking the stones around their dwellings. With the
little ground thus obtained they mix turf, ashes, and manure, until
at length a soil is formed on which something will grow. But this
is such a gigantic undertaking, that the little culture bestowed on
the spots wholly neglected by nature cannot be wondered at. Herr
Bernhoft shewed me a small meadow which he had leased for thirty
years, at an annual rent of thirty kreutzers. In order, however, to
transform the land he bought into a meadow, which yields winter
fodder for only one cow, it was necessary to expend more than 150
florins, besides much personal labour and pains. The rate of wages
for peasants is very high when compared with the limited wants of
these people: they receive thirty or forty kreutzers per diem, and
during the hay-harvest as much as a florin.

For a long distance round the town the ground consists of stones,
turf, and swamps. The latter are mostly covered with hundreds upon
hundreds of great and small mounds of firm ground. By jumping from
one of these mounds to the next, the entire swamp may be crossed,
not only without danger, but dry-footed.

In spite of all this, one of these swamps put me in a position of
much difficulty and embarrassment during one of my solitary
excursions. I was sauntering quietly along, when suddenly a little
butterfly fluttered past me. It was the first I had seen in this
country, and my eagerness to catch it was proportionately great. I
hastened after it; thought neither of swamp nor of danger, and in
the heat of the chase did not observe that the mounds became every
moment fewer and farther between. Soon I found myself in the middle
of the swamp, and could neither advance nor retreat. Not a human
being could I descry; the very animals were far from me; and this
circumstance confirmed me as to the dangerous nature of the ground.
Nothing remained for me but to fix my eyes upon one point of the
landscape, and to step out boldly towards it. I was often obliged
to hazard two or three steps into the swamp itself, in order to gain
the next acclivity, upon which I would then stand triumphantly, to
determine my farther progress. So long as I could distinguish
traces of horses' hoofs, I had no fear; but even these soon
disappeared, and I stood there alone in the morass. I could not
remain for ever on my tower of observation, and had no resource but
to take to the swamp once more. I must confess that I experienced a
very uncomfortable feeling of apprehension when my foot sank
suddenly into the soft mud; but when I found that it did not rise
higher than the ankles, my courage returned; I stepped out boldly,
and was fortunate enough to escape with the fright and a thorough
wetting.

The most arduous posts in the country are those of the medical men
and clergymen. Their sphere of action is very enlarged,
particularly that of the medical man, whose practice sometimes
extends over a distance of eighty to a hundred miles. When we add
to this the severity of the winter, which lasts for seven or eight
months, it seems marvellous that any one can be found to fill such a
situation.

In winter the peasants often come with shovels, pickaxes, and horses
to fetch the doctor. They then go before him, and hastily repair
the worst part of the road; while the doctor rides sometimes on one
horse, sometimes on another, that they may not sink under the
fatigue. And thus the procession travels for many, many miles,
through night and fog, through storm and snow, for on the doctor's
promptitude life and death often hang. When he then returns, quite
benumbed, and half dead with cold, to the bosom of his family, in
the expectation of rest and refreshment, and to rejoice with his
friends over the dangers and hardships he has escaped, the poor
doctor is frequently compelled to set off at once on a new and
important journey, before he has even had time to greet the dear
ones at home.

Sometimes he is sent for by sea, where the danger is still greater
on the storm-tost element.

Though the salary of the medical men is not at all proportionate to
the hardships they are called upon to undergo, it is still far
better than that of the priests.

The smallest livings bring in six to eight florins annually, the
richest 200 florins. Besides this, the government supplies for each
priest a house, often not much better than a peasant's cottage, a
few meadows, and some cattle. The peasants are also required to
give certain small contributions in the way of hay, wool, fish, &c.
The greater number of priests are so poor, that they and their
families dress exactly like the peasants, from whom they can
scarcely be distinguished. The clergyman's wife looks after the
cattle, and milks cows and ewes like a maid-servant; while her
husband proceeds to the meadow, and mows the grass with the
labourer. The intercourse of the pastor is wholly confined to the
society of peasants; and this constitutes the chief element of that
"patriarchal life" which so many travellers describe as charming. I
should like to know which of them would wish to lead such a life!

The poor priest has, besides, frequently to officiate in two, three,
or even four districts, distant from four to twelve miles from his
residence. Every Sunday he must do duty at one or other of these
districts, taking them in turn, so that divine service is only
performed at each place once in every three or four weeks. The
journeys of the priest, however, are not considered quite so
necessary as those of the doctor; for if the weather is very bad on
Sundays, particularly during the winter, he can omit visiting the
most distant places. This is done the more readily, as but few of
the peasants would be at church; all who lived at a distance
remaining at home.

The Sysselmann (an officer similar to that of the sheriff of a
county) is the best off. He has a good salary with little to do,
and in some places enjoys in addition the "strand-right," which is
at times no inconsiderable privilege, from the quantity of drift
timber washed ashore from the American continent.

Fishing and the chase are open to all, with the exception of the
salmon-fisheries in the rivers; these are farmed by the government.
Eider-ducks way not be shot, under penalty of a fine. There is no
military service, for throughout the whole island no soldiers are
required. Even Reikjavik itself boasts only two police-officers.

Commerce is also free; but the islanders possess so little
commercial spirit, that even if they had the necessary capital, they
would never embark in speculation.

The whole commerce of Iceland thus lies in the hands of Danish
merchants, who send their ships to the island every year, and have
established factories in the different ports where the retail trade
is carried on.

These ships bring every thing to Iceland, corn, wood, wines,
manufactured goods, and colonial produce, &c. The imports are free,
for it would not pay the government to establish offices, and give
servants salaries to collect duties upon the small amount of produce
required for the island. Wine, and in fact all colonial produce,
are therefore much cheaper than in other countries.

The exports consist of fish, particularly salted cod, fish-roe,
tallow, train-oil, eider-down, and feathers of other birds, almost
equal to eider-down in softness, sheep's wool, and pickled or salted
lamb. With the exception of the articles just enumerated, the
Icelanders possess nothing; thirteen years ago, when Herr Knudson
established a bakehouse, {31} he was compelled to bring from
Copenhagen, not only the builder, but even the materials for
building, stones, lime, &c.; for although the island abounds with
masses of stone, there are none which can be used for building an
oven, or which can be burnt into lime: every thing is of lava.

Two or three cottages situated near each other are here dignified by
the name of a "place." These places, as well as the separate
cottages, are mostly built on little acclivities, surrounded by
meadows. The meadows are often fenced in with walls of stone or
earth, two or three feet in height, to prevent the cows, sheep, and
horses from trespassing upon them to graze. The grass of these
meadows is made into hay, and laid up as a winter provision for the
cows.

I did not hear many complaints of the severity of the cold in
winter; the temperature seldom sinks to twenty degrees below zero;
the sea is sometimes frozen, but only a few feet from the shore.
The snowstorms and tempests, however, are often so violent, that it
is almost impossible to leave the house. Daylight lasts only for
five or six hours, and to supply its place the poor Icelanders have
only the northern light, which is said to illumine the long nights
with a brilliancy truly marvellous.

The summer I passed in Iceland was one of the finest the inhabitants
had known for years. During the month of June the thermometer often
rose at noon to twenty degrees. The inhabitants found this heat so
insupportable, that they complained of being unable to work or to go
on messages during the day-time. On such warm days they would only
begin their hay-making in the evening, and continued their work half
the night.

The changes in the weather are very remarkable. Twenty degrees of
heat on one day would be followed by rain on the next, with a
temperature of only five degrees; and on the 5th of June, at eight
o'clock in the morning, the thermometer stood at one degree below
zero. It is also curious that thunderstorms happen in Iceland in
winter, and are said never to occur during the summer.

From the 16th or 18th of June to the end of the month there is no
night. The sun appears only to retire for a short time behind a
mountain, and forms sunset and morning-dawn at the same time. As on
one side the last beam fades away, the orb of day re-appears at the
opposite one with redoubled splendour.

During my stay in Iceland, from the 15th of May to the 29th of July,
I never retired to rest before eleven o'clock at night, and never
required a candle. In May, and also in the latter portion of the
month of July, there was twilight for an hour or two, but it never
became quite dark. Even during the last days of my stay, I could
read until half-past ten o'clock. At first it appeared strange to
me to go to bed in broad daylight; but I soon accustomed myself to
it, and when eleven o'clock came, no sunlight was powerful enough to
cheat me of my sleep. I found much pleasure in walking at night, at
past ten o'clock, not in the pale moonshine, but in the broad blaze
of the sun.

It was a much more difficult task to accustom myself to the diet.
The baker's wife was fully competent to superintend the cooking
according to the Danish and Icelandic schools of the art; but
unfortunately these modes of cookery differ widely from ours. One
thing only was good, the morning cup of coffee with cream, with
which the most accomplished gourmand could have found no fault:
since my departure from Iceland I have not found such coffee. I
could have wished for some of my dear Viennese friends to breakfast
with me. The cream was so thick, that I at first thought my hostess
had misunderstood me, and brought me curds. The butter made from
the milk of Icelandic cows and ewes did not look very inviting, and
was as white as lard, but the taste was good. The Icelanders,
however, find the taste not sufficiently "piquant," and generally
qualify it with train-oil. Altogether, train-oil plays a very
prominent part in the Icelandic kitchen; the peasant considers it a
most delicious article, and thinks nothing of devouring a quantity
of it without bread, or indeed any thing else. {32}

I did not at all relish the diet at dinner; this meal consisted of
two dishes, namely, boiled fish, with vinegar and melted butter
instead of oil, and boiled potatoes. Unfortunately I am no admirer
of fish, and now this was my daily food. Ah, how I longed for beef-
soup, a piece of meat, and vegetables, in vain! As long as I
remained in Iceland, I was compelled quite to give up my German
system of diet.

After a time I got on well enough with the boiled fish and potatoes,
but I could not manage the delicacies of the island. Worthy Madame
Bernhoft, it was so kindly meant on her part; and it was surely not
her fault that the system of cookery in Iceland is different from
ours; but I could not bring myself to like the Icelandic delicacies.
They were of different kinds, consisting sometimes of fishes, hard-
boiled eggs, and potatoes chopped up together, covered with a thick
brown sauce, and seasoned with pepper, sugar, and vinegar; at
others, of potatoes baked in butter and sugar. Another delicacy was
cabbage chopped very small, rendered very thin by the addition of
water, and sweetened with sugar; the accompanying dish was a piece
of cured lamb, which had a very unpleasant "pickled" flavour.

On Sundays we sometimes had "Prothe Grutze," properly a Scandinavian
dish, composed of fine sago boiled to a jelly, with currant-juice or
red wine, and eaten with cream or sugar. Tapfen, a kind of soft
cheese, is also sometimes eaten with cream and sugar.

In the months of June and July the diet improved materially. We
could often procure splendid salmon, sometimes roast lamb, and now
and then birds, among which latter dainties the snipes were
particularly good. In the evening came butter, cheese, cold fish,
smoked lamb, and eggs of eider-ducks, which are coarser than hen's
eggs. In time I became so accustomed to this kind of food, that I
no longer missed either soup or beef, and felt uncommonly well.

My drink was always clear fresh water; the gentlemen began their
dinner with a small glass of brandy, and during the meal all drank
beer of Herr Bernhoft's own brewing, which was very good. On
Sundays, a bottle of port or Bordeaux sometimes made its appearance
at our table; and as we fared at Herr Bernhoft's, so it was the
custom in the houses of all the merchants and officials.

At Reikjavik I had an opportunity of witnessing a great religious
ceremony. Three candidates of theology were raised to the
ministerial office. Though the whole community here is Lutheran,
the ceremonies differ in many respects from those of the continent
of Europe, and I will therefore give a short sketch of what I saw.
The solemnity began at noon, and lasted till four o'clock. I
noticed at once that all the people covered their faces for a moment
on entering the church, the men with their hats, and the women with
their handkerchiefs. Most of the congregation sat with their faces
turned towards the altar; but this rule had its exceptions. The
vestments of the priests were the same as those worn by our
clergymen, and the commencement of the service also closely
resembled the ritual of our own Church; but soon this resemblance
ceased. The bishop stepped up to the altar with the candidates, and
performed certain ceremonies; then one would mount the pulpit and
read part of a sermon, or sing a psalm, while the other clergymen
sat round on chairs, and appeared to listen; then a second and a
third ascended the pulpit, and afterwards another sermon was
preached from the altar, and another psalm sung; then a sermon was
again read from the pulpit. While ceremonies were performed at the
altar, the sacerdotal garments were often put on and taken off
again. I frequently thought the service was coming to a close, but
it always began afresh, and lasted, as I said before, until four
o'clock. The number of forms surprised me greatly, as the ritual of
the Lutheran Church is in general exceedingly simple.

On this occasion a considerable number of the country people were
assembled, and I had thus a good opportunity of noticing their
costumes. The dresses worn by the women and girls are all made of
coarse black woollen stuffs. The dress consists of a long skirt, a
spencer, and a coloured apron. On their heads they wear a man's
nightcap of black cloth, the point turned downwards, and terminating
in a large tassel of wool or silk, which hangs down to the shoulder.
Their hair is unbound, and reaches only to the shoulder: some of
the women wear it slightly curled. I involuntarily thought of the
poetical descriptions of the northern romancers, who grow
enthusiastic in praise of ideal "angels' heads with golden tresses."
The hair is certainly worn in this manner here, and our poets may
have borrowed their descriptions from the Scandinavians. But the
beautiful faces which are said to beam forth from among those golden
locks exist only in the poet's vivid imagination.

Ornamental additions to the costume are very rare. In the whole
assembly I only noticed four women who were dressed differently from
the others. The cords which fastened their spencers, and also their
girdles, were ornamented with a garland worked in silver thread.
Their skirts were of fine black cloth, and decorated with a border
of coloured silk a few inches broad. Round their necks they wore a
kind of stiff collar of black velvet with a border of silver thread,
and on their heads a black silk handkerchief with a very strange
addition. This appendage consisted of a half-moon fastened to the
back of the head, and extending five or six inches above the
forehead. It was covered with white lawn arranged in folds; its
breadth at the back of the head did not exceed an inch and a half,
but in front it widened to five or six inches.

The men, I found, were clothed almost like our peasants. They wore
small-clothes of dark cloth, jackets and waistcoats, felt hats, or
fur caps; and instead of boots a kind of shoe of ox-hide, sheep, or
seal-skin, bound to the feet by a leather strap. The women, and
even the children of the officials, all wear shoes of this
description.

It was very seldom that I met people so wretchedly and poorly clad
as we find them but too often in the large continental towns. I
never saw any one without good warm shoes and stockings.

The better classes, such as merchants, officials, &c. are dressed in
the French style, and rather fashionably. There is no lack of silk
and other costly stuffs. Some of these are brought from England,
but the greater part come from Denmark.

On the king's birthday, which is kept every year at the house of the
Stiftsamtmann, the festivities are said to be very grand; on this
occasion the matrons appear arrayed in silk, and the maidens in
white jaconet; the rooms are lighted with wax tapers.

Some speculative genius or other has also established a sort of club
in Reikjavik. He has, namely, hired a couple of rooms, where the
townspeople meet of an evening to discuss "tea-water," bread and
butter, and sometimes even a bottle of wine or a bowl of punch. In
winter the proprietor gives balls in these apartments, charging 20
kr. for each ticket of admission. Here the town grandees and the
handicraftsmen, in fact all who choose to come, assemble; and the
ball is said to be conducted in a very republican spirit. The
shoemaker leads forth the wife of the Stiftsamtmann to the dance,
while that official himself has perhaps chosen the wife or daughter
of the shoemaker or baker for his partner. The refreshments consist
of "tea-water" and bread and butter, and the room is lighted with
tallow candles. The music, consisting of a kind of three-stringed
violin and a pipe, is said to be exquisitely horrible.

In summer the dignitaries make frequent excursions on horse-back;
and on these occasions great care is taken that there be no lack of
provisions. Commonly each person contributes a share: some bring
wine, others cake; others, again, coffee, and so on. The ladies use
fine English side-saddles, and wear elegant riding-habits, and
pretty felt hats with green veils. These jaunts, however, are
confined to Reikjavik; for, as I have already observed, there is,
with the exception of this town, no place in Iceland containing more
than two or three stores and some half-dozen cottages.

To my great surprise, I found no less than six square piano-fortes
belonging to different families in Reikjavik, and heard waltzes by
our favourite composers, besides variations of Herz, and some pieces
of Liszt, Wilmers, and Thalberg. But such playing! I do not think
that these talented composers would have recognised their own works.

In conclusion, I must offer a few remarks relative to the travelling
in this country.

The best time to choose for this purpose is from the middle of June
to the end of August at latest. Until June the rivers are so
swollen and turbulent, by reason of the melting snows, as to render
it very dangerous to ride through them. The traveller must also
pass over many a field of snow not yet melted by the sun, and
frequently concealing chasms and masses of lava; and this is
attended with danger almost as great. At every footstep the
traveller sinks into the snow; and he may thank his lucky stars if
the whole rotten surface does not give way. In September the
violent storms of wind and rain commence, and heavy falls of snow
may be expected from day to day.

A tent, provisions, cooking utensils, pillows, bed-clothes, and warm
garments, are highly necessary for the wayfarer's comfort. This
paraphernalia would have been too expensive for me to buy, and I was
unprovided with any thing of the kind; consequently I was forced to
endure the most dreadful hardships and toil, and was frequently
obliged to ride an immense distance to reach a little church or a
cottage, which would afford me shelter for the night. My sole food
for eight or ten days together was often bread and cheese; and I
generally passed the night upon a chest or a bench, where the cold
would often prevent my closing my eyes all night.

It is advisable to be provided with a waterproof cloak and a
sailor's tarpaulin hat, as a defence against the rain, which
frequently falls. An umbrella would be totally useless, as the rain
is generally accompanied by a storm, or, at any rate, by a strong
wind; when we add to this, that it is necessary in some places to
ride quickly, it will easily be seen that holding an umbrella open
is a thing not to be thought of.

Altogether I found the travelling in this country attended with far
more hardship than in the East. For my part, I found the dreadful
storms of wind, the piercing air, the frequent rain, and the cold,
much less endurable than the Oriental heat, which never gave me
either cracked lips or caused scales to appear on my face. In
Iceland my lips began to bleed on the fifth day; and afterwards the
skin came off my face in scales, as if I had had the scrofula.
Another source of great discomfort is to be found in the long
riding-habit. It is requisite to be very warmly clad; and the heavy
skirts, often dripping with rain, coil themselves round the feet of
the wearer in such a manner, as to render her exceedingly awkward
either in mounting or dismounting. The worst hardship of all,
however, is the being obliged to halt to rest the horses in a meadow
during the rain. The long skirts suck up the water from the damp
grass, and the wearer has often literally not a dry stitch in all
her garments.

Heat and cold appear in this country to affect strangers in a
remarkable degree. The cold seemed to me more piercing, and the
heat more oppressive in Iceland, than when the thermometer stood at
the same points in my native land.

In summer the roads are marvellously good, so that one can generally
ride at a pretty quick pace. They are, however, impracticable for
vehicles, partly because they are too narrow, and partly also on
account of some very bad places which must occasionally be
encountered. On the whole island not a single carriage is to be
found.

The road is only dangerous when it leads through swamps and moors,
or over fields of lava. Among these fields, such as are covered
with white moss are peculiarly to be feared, for the moss frequently
conceals very dangerous holes, into which the horse can easily
stumble. In ascending and descending the hills very formidable
spots sometimes oppose the traveller's progress. The road is at
times so hidden among swamps and bogs, that not a trace of it is to
be distinguished, and I could only wonder how my guide always
succeeded in regaining the right path. One could almost suppose
that on these dangerous paths both horse and man are guided by a
kind of instinct.

Travelling is more expensive in Iceland than any where else,
particularly when one person travels alone, and must bear all the
expense of the baggage, the guide, ferries, &c. Horses are not let
out on hire, they must be bought. They are, however, very cheap; a
pack-horse costs from eighteen to twenty-four florins, and a riding-
horse from forty to fifty florins. To travel with any idea of
comfort it is necessary to have several pack-horses, for they must
not be heavily laden; and an additional servant must likewise be
hired, as the guide only looks after the saddle-horses, and, at
most, one or two of the pack-horses. If the traveller, at the
conclusion of the journey, wishes to sell the horses, such a
wretchedly low price is offered, that it is just as well to give
them away at once. This is a proof of the fact that men are every
where alike ready to follow up their advantage. These people are
well aware that the horses must be left behind at any rate, and
therefore they will not bid for them. I must confess that I found
the character of the Icelanders in every respect below the estimate
I had previously formed of it, and still further below the standard
given in books.

In spite of their scanty food, the Icelandic horses have a
marvellous power of endurance; they can often travel from thirty-
five to forty miles per diem for several consecutive days. But the
only difficulty is to keep the horse moving. The Icelanders have a
habit of continually kicking their heels against the poor beast's
sides; and the horse at last gets so accustomed to this mode of
treatment, that it will hardly go if the stimulus be discontinued.
In passing the bad pieces of road it is necessary to keep the bridle
tight in hand, or the horse will stumble frequently. This and the
continual urging forward of the horse render riding very fatiguing.
{33}

Not a little consideration is certainly required before undertaking
a journey into the far north; but nothing frightened me,--and even
in the midst of the greatest dangers and hardships I did not for one
moment regret my undertaking, and would not have relinquished it
under any consideration.

I made excursions to every part of Iceland, and am thus enabled to
place before my readers, in regular order, the chief curiosities of
this remarkable country. I will commence with the immediate
neighbourhood of Reikjavik.



CHAPTER IV



May 25th.

Stiftsamtmann von H- was today kind enough to pay me a visit, and to
invite me to join his party for a ride to the great lake Vatne. I
gladly accepted the invitation, for, according to the description
given by the Stiftsamtmann, I hoped to behold a very Eden, and
rejoiced at the prospect of observing the recreations of the higher
classes, and at the same time gaining many acquisitions in specimens
of plants, butterflies, and beetles. I resolved also to test the
capabilities of the Icelandic horses more thoroughly than I had been
able to do during my first ride from Havenfiord to Reikjavik, as I
had been obliged on that occasion to ride at a foot-pace, on account
of my old guide.

The hour of starting was fixed for two o'clock. Accustomed as I am
to strict punctuality, I was ready long before the appointed time,
and at two o'clock was about to hasten to the place of rendezvous,
when my hostess informed me I had plenty of time, for Herr von H-
was still at dinner. Instead of meeting at two o'clock, we did not
assemble until three, and even then another quarter of an hour
elapsed before the cavalcade started. Oh, Syrian notions of
punctuality and dispatch! Here, almost at the very antipodes, did I
once more greet ye.

The party consisted of the nobility and the town dignitaries. Among
the former class may be reckoned Stiftsamtmann von H- and his lady;
a privy councillor, Herr von B-, who had been sent from Copenhagen
to attend the "Allthing" (political assembly); and a Danish baron,
who had accompanied the councillor. I noticed among the town
dignitaries the daughter and wife of the apothecary, and the
daughters of some merchants resident here.

Our road lay through fields of lava, swamps, and very poor grassy
patches, in a great valley, swelling here and there into gentle
acclivities, and shut in on three sides by several rows of
mountains, towering upwards in the most diversified shapes. In the
far distance rose several jokuls or glaciers, seeming to look
proudly down upon the mountains, as though they asked, "Why would ye
draw men's eyes upon you, where we glisten in our silver sheen?" In
the season of the year at which I beheld them, the glaciers were
still very beautiful; not only their summits, but their entire
surface, as far as visible, being covered with snow. The fourth
side of the valley through which we travelled was washed by the
ocean, which melted as it were into the horizon in immeasurable
distance. The coast was dotted with small bays, having the
appearance of so many lakes.

As the road was good, we could generally ride forward at a brisk
pace. Occasionally, however, we met with small tracts on which the
Icelandic horse could exercise its sagacity and address. My horse
was careful and free from vice; it carried me securely over masses
of stone and chasms in the rocks, but I cannot describe the
suffering its trot caused me. It is said that riding is most
beneficial to those who suffer from liver-complaints. This may be
the case; but I should suppose that any one who rode upon an
Icelandic horse, with an Icelandic side-saddle, every day for the
space of four weeks, would find, at the expiration of that time, her
liver shaken to a pulp, and no part of it remaining.

All the rest of the party had good English saddles, mine alone was
of Icelandic origin. It consisted of a chair, with a board for the
back. The rider was obliged to sit crooked upon the horse, and it
was impossible to keep a firm seat. With much difficulty I trotted
after the others, for my horse would not be induced to break into a
gallop.

At length, after a ride of an hour and a half, we reached a valley.
In the midst of a tolerably green meadow I descried what was, for
Iceland, a farm of considerable dimensions, and not far from this
farm was a very small lake. I did not dare to ask if this was the
GREAT lake Vatne, or if this was the delicious prospect I had been
promised, for my question would have been taken for irony. I could
not refrain from wonder when Herr von H- began praising the
landscape as exquisite, and farther declaring the effect of the lake
to be bewitching. I was obliged, for politeness' sake, to
acquiesce, and leave them in the supposition that I had never seen a
larger lake nor a finer prospect.

We now made a halt, and the whole party encamped in the meadow.
While the preparations for a social meal were going on, I proceeded
to satisfy my curiosity.

The peasant's house first attracted my attention. I found it to
consist of one large chamber, and two of smaller size, besides a
storeroom and extensive stables, from which I judged that the
proprietor was rich in cattle. I afterwards learnt that he owned
fifty sheep, eight cows, and five horses, and was looked upon as one
of the richest farmers in the neighbourhood. The kitchen was
situated at the extreme end of the building, and was furnished with
a chimney that seemed intended only as a protection against rain and
snow, for the smoke dispersed itself throughout the whole kitchen,
drying the fish which hung from the ceiling, and slowly making its
exit through an air-hole.

The large apartment boasted a wooden bookshelf, containing about
forty volumes. Some of these I turned over, and in spite of my
limited knowledge of the Danish language, could make out enough to
discover that they were chiefly on religious subjects. But the
farmer seemed also to love poetry; among the works of this class in
his library, I noticed Kleist, Muller, and even Homer's Odyssey. I
could make nothing of the Icelandic books; but on inquiring their
contents, I was told that they all treated of religious matters.

After inspecting these, I walked out into the meadow to search for
flowers and herbs. Flowers I found but few, as it was not the right
time of the year for them; my search for herbs was more successful,
and I even found some wild clover. I saw neither beetles nor
butterflies; but, to my no small surprise, heard the humming of two
wild bees, one of which I was fortunate enough to catch, and took
home to preserve in spirits of wine.

On rejoining my party, I found them encamped in the meadow around a
table, which had in the meantime been spread with butter, cheese,
bread, cake, roast lamb, raisins and almonds, a few oranges, and
wine. Neither chairs nor benches were to be had, for even wealthy
peasants only possess planks nailed to the walls of their rooms; so
we all sat down upon the grass, and did ample justice to the capital
coffee which made the commencement of the meal. Laughter and jokes
predominated to such an extent, that I could have fancied myself
among impulsive Italians instead of cold Northmen.

There was no lack of wit; but to-day I was unfortunately its butt.
And what was my fault?--only my stupid modesty. The conversation
was carried on in the Danish language; some members of our party
spoke French and others German, but I purposely abstained from
availing myself of their acquirements, in order not to disturb the
hilarity of the conversation. I sat silently among them, and was
perfectly contented in listening to their merriment. But my
behaviour was set down as proceeding from stupidity, and I soon
gathered from their discourse that they were comparing me to the
"stone guest" in Mozart's Don Giovanni. If these kind people had
only surmised the true reason of my keeping silence, they would
perhaps have thanked me for doing so.

As we sat at our meal, I heard a voice in the farmhouse singing an
Icelandic song. At a distance it resembled the humming of bees; on
a nearer approach it sounded monotonous, drawling, and melancholy.

While we were preparing for our departure, the farmer, his wife, and
the servants approached, and shook each of us by the hand. This is
the usual mode of saluting such HIGH people as we numbered among our
party. The true national salutation is a hearty kiss.

On my arrival at home the effect of the strong coffee soon began to
manifest itself. I could not sleep at all, and had thus ample
leisure to make accurate observations as to the length of the day
and of the twilight. Until eleven o'clock at night I could read
ordinary print in my room. From eleven till one o'clock it was
dusk, but never so dark as to prevent my reading in the open air.
In my room, too, I could distinguish the smallest objects, and even
tell the time by my watch. At one o'clock I could again read in my
room.


EXCURSION TO VIDOE.


The little island of Vidoe, four miles distant from Reikjavik, is
described by most travellers as the chief resort of the eider-duck.
I visited the island on the 8th of June, but was disappointed in my
expectations. I certainly saw many of these birds on the
declivities and in the chasms of the rocks, sitting quietly on their
nests, but nothing approaching the thousands I had been led to
expect. On the whole, I may perhaps have seen from one hundred to a
hundred and fifty nests.

The most remarkable circumstance connected with the eider-ducks is
their tameness during the period of incubation. I had always
regarded as myths the stories told about them in this respect, and
should do so still had I not convinced myself of the truth of these
assertions by laying hands upon the ducks myself. I could go quite
up to them and caress them, and even then they would not often leave
their nests. Some few birds, indeed, did so when I wished to touch
them; but they did not fly up, but contented themselves with coolly
walking a few paces away from the nest, and there sitting quietly
down until I had departed. But those which already had live young,
beat out boldly with their wings when I approached, struck at me
with their bills, and allowed themselves to be taken up bodily
rather than leave the nest. They are about the size of our ducks;
their eggs are of a greenish grey, rather larger than hen's eggs,
and taste very well. Altogether they lay about eleven eggs. The
finest down is that with which they line their nests at first; it is
of a dark grey colour. The Icelanders take away this down, and the
first nest of eggs. The poor bird now robs herself once more of a
quantity of down (which is, however, not of so fine a quality as the
first), and again lays eggs. For the second time every thing is
taken from her; and not until she has a third time lined the nest
with her down is the eider-duck left in peace. The down of the
second, and that of the third quality especially, are much lighter
than that of the first. I also was sufficiently cruel to take a few
eggs and some down out of several of the nests. {34}

I did not witness the dangerous operation of collecting this down
from between the clefts of rocks and from unapproachable precipices,
where people are let down, or to which they are drawn up, by ropes,
at peril of their lives. There are, however, none of these break-
neck places in the neighbourhood of Reikjavik.


SALMON FISHERY.


I made another excursion to a very short distance (two miles) from
Reikjavik, in the company of Herr Bernhoft and his daughter, to the
Laxselv (salmon river) to witness the salmon-fishing, which takes
place every week from the middle of June to the middle of August.
It is conducted in a very simple manner. The fish come up the river
in the spawning season; the stream is then dammed up with several
walls of stone loosely piled to the height of some three feet; and
the retreat of the fish to the sea is thus cut off. When the day
arrives on which the salmon are to be caught, a net is spread behind
each of these walls. Three or four such dams are erected at
intervals, of from eighty to a hundred paces, so that even if the
fishes escape one barrier, they are generally caught at the next.
The water is now made to run off as much as possible; the poor
salmon dart to and fro, becoming every moment more and more aware of
the sinking of the water, and crowd to the weirs, cutting themselves
by contact with the sharp stones of which they are built. This is
the deepest part of the water; and it is soon so thronged with fish,
that men, stationed in readiness, can seize them in their hands and
fling them ashore.

The salmon possess remarkable swiftness and strength. The fisherman
is obliged to take them quickly by the head and tail, and to throw
them ashore, when they are immediately caught by other men, who
fling them still farther from the water. If this is not done with
great quickness and care, many of the fishes escape. It is
wonderful how these creatures can struggle themselves free, and leap
into the air. The fishermen are obliged to wear woollen mittens, or
they would be quite unable to hold the smooth salmon. At every
day's fishing, from five hundred to a thousand fish are taken, each
weighing from five to fifteen pounds. On the day when I was present
eight hundred were killed. This salmon-stream is farmed by a
merchant of Reikjavik.

The fishermen receive very liberal pay,--in fact, one-half of the
fish taken. And yet they are dissatisfied, and show so little
gratitude, as seldom to finish their work properly. So, for
instance, they only brought the share of the merchant to the harbour
of Reikjavik, and were far too lazy to carry the salmon from the
boat to the warehouse, a distance certainly not more than sixty or
seventy paces from the shore. They sent a message to their
employer, bidding him "send some fresh hands, for they were much too
tired." Of course, in a case like this, all remonstrance is
unavailing.

As in the rest of the world, so also in Iceland, every occasion that
offers is seized upon for a feast or a merry-making. The day on
which I witnessed the salmon-fishing happened to be one of the few
fine days that occur during a summer in Iceland. It was therefore
unanimously concluded by several merchants, that the day and the
salmon-fishing should be celebrated by a dejeuner a la fourchette.
Every one contributed something, and a plentiful and elegant
breakfast was soon arranged, which quite resembled an entertainment
of the kind in our country; this one circumstance excepted, that we
were obliged to seat ourselves on the ground, by reason of a
scarcity of tables and benches. Spanish and French wines, as well
as cold punch, were there in plenty, and the greatest hilarity
prevailed.

I made a fourth excursion, but to a very inconsiderable distance,--
in fact, only a mile and a half from Reikjavik. It was to see a hot
and slightly sulphurous spring, which falls into a river of cold
water. By this lucky meeting of extremes, water can be obtained at
any temperature, from the boiling almost to the freezing point. The
townspeople take advantage of this good opportunity in two ways, for
bathing and for washing clothes. The latter is undoubtedly the more
important purpose of application, and a hut has been erected, in
order to shield the poor people from wind and rain while they are at
work. Formerly this hut was furnished with a good door and with
glazed windows, and the key was kept at an appointed place in the
town, whence any one might fetch it. But the servants and peasant
girls were soon too lazy to go for the key; they burst open the
lock, and smashed the windows, so that now the hut has a very
ruinous appearance, and affords but little protection against the
weather. How much alike mankind are every where, and how seldom
they do right, except when it gives them no trouble, and then,
unfortunately, there is not much merit to be ascribed to them, as
their doing right is merely the result of a lucky chance! Many
people also bring fish and potatoes, which they have only to lay in
the hot water, and in a short time both are completely cooked.

This spring is but little used for the purpose of bathing; at most
perhaps by a few children and peasants. Its medicinal virtues, if
it possesses any, are completely unknown.


THE SULPHUR-SPRINGS AND SULPHUR-MOUNTAINS OF KRISUVIK.


The 4th of June was fixed for my departure. I had only to pack up
some bread and cheese, sugar and coffee, then the horses were
saddled, and at seven o'clock the journey was happily commenced. I
was alone with my guide, who, like the rest of his class, could not
be considered as a very favourable specimen of humanity. He was
very lazy, exceedingly self-interested, and singularly loath to
devote any part of his attention either to me or to the horses,
preferring to concentrate it upon brandy, an article which can
unfortunately be procured throughout the whole country.

I had already seen the district between Reikjavik and Havenfiord at
my first arrival in Iceland. At the present advanced season of the
year it wore a less gloomy aspect: strawberry-plants and violets,--
the former, however, without blossoms, and the latter inodorous,--
were springing up between the blocks of lava, together with
beautiful ferns eight or ten inches high. In spite of the trifling
distance, I noticed, as a rule, that vegetation was here more
luxuriant than at Reikjavik; for at the latter place I had found no
strawberry-plants, and the violets were not yet in blossom. This
difference in the vegetation is, I think, to be ascribed to the high
walls of lava existing in great abundance round Havenfiord; they
protect the tender plants and ferns from the piercing winds. I
noticed that both the grass and the plants before mentioned throve
capitally in the little hollows formed by masses of lava.

A couple of miles beyond Havenfiord I saw the first birch-trees,
which, however, did not exceed two or three feet in height, also
some bilberry-plants. A number of little butterflies, all of one
colour, and, as it seemed to me, of the same species, fluttered
among the shrubs and plants.

The manifold forms and varied outline of the lava-fields present a
remarkable and really a marvellous appearance. Short as this
journey is--for ten hours are amply sufficient for the trip to
Krisuvik,--it presents innumerable features for contemplation. I
could only gaze and wonder. I forgot every thing around me, felt
neither cold nor storm, and let my horse pick his way as slowly as
he chose, so that I had once almost become separated from my guide.

One of the most considerable of the streams of lava lay in a
spacious broad valley. The lava-stream itself, about two miles
long, and of a considerable breadth, traversing the whole of the
plain, seemed to have been called into existence by magic, as there
was no mountain to be seen in the neighbourhood from which it could
have emerged. It appeared to be the covering of an immense crater,
formed, not of separate stones and blocks, but of a single and
slightly porous mass of rock ten or twelve feet thick, broken here
and there by clefts about a foot in breadth.

Another, and a still larger valley, many miles in circumference, was
filled with masses of lava shaped like waves, reminding the beholder
of a petrified sea. From the midst rose a high black mountain,
contrasting beautifully with the surrounding masses of light-grey
lava. At first I supposed the lava must have streamed forth from
this mountain, but soon found that the latter was perfectly smooth
on all sides, and terminated in a sharp peak. The remaining
mountains which shut in the valley were also perfectly closed, and I
looked in vain for any trace of a crater.

We now reached a small lake, and soon afterwards arrived at a larger
one, called Kleinfarvatne. Both were hemmed in by mountains, which
frequently rose abruptly from the waters, leaving no room for the
passage of the horses. We were obliged sometimes to climb the
mountains by fearfully dizzy paths; at others to scramble downwards,
almost clinging to the face of the rock. At some points we were
even compelled to dismount from our horses, and scramble forward on
our hands and knees. In a word, these dangerous points, which
extended over a space of about seven miles, were certainly quite as
bad as any I had encountered in Syria; if any thing, they were even
more formidable.

I was, however, assured that I should have no more such places to
encounter during all my further journeys in Iceland, and this
information quite reconciled me to the roads in this country. For
the rest, the path was generally tolerably safe even during this
tour, which continually led me across fields of lava.

A journey of some eight-and-twenty miles brought us at length into a
friendly valley; clouds of smoke, both small and great, were soon
discovered rising from the surrounding heights, and also from the
valley itself; these were the sulphur-springs and sulphur-mountains.

I could hardly restrain my impatience while we traversed the couple
of miles which separated us from Krisuvik. A few small lakes were
still to be crossed; and at length, at six o'clock in the evening,
we reached our destination.

With the exception of a morsel of bread and cheese, I had eaten
nothing since the morning; still I could not spare time to make
coffee, but at once dismounted, summoned my guide, and commenced my
pilgrimage to the smoking mountains. At the outset our way lay
across swampy places and meadow lands; but soon we had to climb the
mountains themselves, a task rendered extremely difficult by the
elastic, yielding soil, in which every footstep imprinted itself
deeply, suggesting to the traveller the unpleasant possibility of
his sinking through,--a contingency rendered any thing but agreeable
by the neighbourhood of the boiling springs. At length I gained the
summit, and saw around me numerous basins filled with boiling water,
while on all sides, from hill and valley, columns of vapour rose out
of numberless clefts in the rocks. From a cleft in one rock in
particular a mighty column of vapour whirled into the air. On the
windward side I could approach this place very closely. The ground
was only lukewarm in some places, and I could hold my hand for
several moments to the gaps from which steam issued. No trace of a
crater was to be seen. The bubbling and hissing of the steam, added
to the noise of the wind, occasioned such a deafening clamour, that
I was very glad to feel firmer ground beneath my feet, and to leave
the place in haste. It really seemed as if the interior of the
mountain had been a boiling caldron. The prospect from these
mountains is very fine. Numerous valleys and mountains innumerable
offered themselves to my view, and I could even discern the isolated
black rock past which I had ridden five or six hours previously.

I now commenced my descent into the valley; at a few hundred paces
the bubbling and hissing were already inaudible. I supposed that I
had seen every thing worthy of notice; but much that was remarkable
still remained. I particularly noticed a basin some five or six
feet in diameter, filled with boiling mud. This mud has quite the
appearance of fine clay dissolved in water; its colour was a light
grey.

From another basin, hardly two feet in diameter, a mighty column of
steam shot continually into the air with so much force and noise
that I started back half stunned, and could have fancied the vault
of heaven would burst. This basin is situated in a corner of the
valley, closely shut in on three sides by hills. In the
neighbourhood many hot springs gushed forth; but I saw no columns of
water, and my guide assured me that such a phenomenon was never
witnessed here.

There is more danger in passing these spots than even in traversing
the mountains. In spite of the greatest precautions, I frequently
sank in above the ankles, and would then draw back with a start, and
find my foot covered with hot mud. From the place where I had
broken through, steam and hot mud, or boiling water, rose into the
air.

Though my guide, who walked before me, carefully probed the ground
with his stick, he several times sank through half-way to the knee.
These men are, however, so much accustomed to contingencies of this
kind that they take little account of them. My guide would quietly
repair to the next spring and cleanse his clothes from mud. As I
was covered with it to above the ankles, I thought it best to follow
his example.

For excursions like these it is best to come provided with a few
boards, five or six feet in length, with which to cover the most
dangerous places.

At nine o'clock in the evening, but yet in the full glare of the
sun, we arrived at Krisuvik. I now took time to look at this place,
which I found to consist of a small church and a few miserable huts.

I crept into one of these dens; it was so dark that a considerable
time elapsed before I could distinguish objects, the light was only
admitted through a very small aperture. I found in this hut a few
persons who were suffering from the eruption called "lepra," a
disease but too commonly met with in Iceland. Their hands and faces
were completely covered with this eruption; if it spreads over the
whole body the patient languishes slowly away, and is lost without
remedy.

Churches are in this country not only used for purposes of public
worship, but also serve as magazines for provisions, clothes, &c.,
and as inns for travellers. I do not suppose that a parallel
instance of desecration could be met with even among the most
uncivilised nations. I was assured, indeed, that these abuses were
about to be remedied. A reform of this kind ought to have been
carried out long ago; and even now the matter seems to remain an
open point; for wherever I came the church was placed at my disposal
for the night, and every where I found a store of fish, tallow, and
other equally odoriferous substances.

The little chapel at Krisuvik is only twenty-two feet long by ten
broad; on my arrival it was hastily prepared for my reception.
Saddles, ropes, clothes, hats, and other articles which lay
scattered about, were hastily flung into a corner; mattresses and
some nice soft pillows soon appeared, and a very tolerable bed was
prepared for me on a large chest in which the vestments of the
priest, the coverings of the altar, &c., were deposited. I would
willingly have locked myself in, eaten my frugal supper, and
afterwards written a few pages of my diary before retiring to rest;
but this was out of the question. The entire population of the
village turned out to see me, old and young hastened to the church,
and stood round in a circle and gazed at me.

Irksome as this curiosity was, I was obliged to endure it patiently,
for I could not have sent these good people away without seriously
offending them; so I began quietly to unpack my little portmanteau,
and proceeded to boil my coffee over a spirit-lamp. A whispering
consultation immediately began; they seemed particularly struck by
my mode of preparing coffee, and followed every one of my movements
with eager eyes. My frugal meal dispatched, I resolved to try the
patience of my audience, and, taking out my journal, began to write.
For a few minutes they remained quiet, then they began to whisper
one to another, "She writes, she writes," and this was repeated
numberless times. There was no sign of any disposition to depart; I
believe I could have sat there till doomsday, and failed to tire my
audience out. At length, after this scene had lasted a full hour, I
could stand it no longer, and was fain to request my amiable
visitors to retire, as I wished to go to bed.

My sleep that night was none of the sweetest. A certain feeling of
discomfort always attaches to the fact of sleeping in a church
alone, in the midst of a grave-yard. Besides this, on the night in
question such a dreadful storm arose that the wooden walls creaked
and groaned as though their foundations were giving way. The cold
was also rather severe, my thermometer inside the church shewing
only two degrees above zero. I was truly thankful when approaching
day brought with it the welcome hour of departure.


June 5th.

The heavy sleepiness and extreme indolence of an Icelandic guide
render departure before seven o'clock in the morning a thing not to
be thought of. This is, however, of little consequence, as there is
no night in Iceland at this time of year.

Although the distance was materially increased by returning to
Reikjavik by way of Grundivik and Keblevik, I chose this route in
order to pass through the wildest of the inhabited tracts in
Iceland.

The first stage, from Krisuvik to Grundivik, a distance of twelve to
fourteen miles, lay through fields of lava, consisting mostly of
small blocks of stone and fragments, filling the valley so
completely that not a single green spot remained. I here met with
masses of lava which presented an appearance of singular beauty.
They were black mounds, ten or twelve feet in height, piled upon
each other in the most varied forms, their bases covered with a
broad band of whitish-coloured moss, while the tops were broken into
peaks and cones of the most fantastic shapes. These lava-streams
seem to date from a recent period, as the masses are somewhat scaly
and glazed.

Grundivik, a little village of a few wretched cottages, lies like an
oasis in this desert of lava.

My guide wished to remain here, asserting that there was no place
between this and Keblevik where I could pass the night, and that it
would be impossible for our horses, exhausted as they were with
yesterday's march, to carry us to Keblevik that night. The true
reason of this suggestion was that he wished to prolong the journey
for another day.

Luckily I had a good map with me, and by dint of consulting it could
calculate distances with tolerable accuracy; it was also my custom
before starting on a journey to make particular inquiries as to how
I should arrange the daily stages.

So I insisted upon proceeding at once; and soon we were wending our
way through fields of lava towards Stad, a small village six or
seven miles distant from Grundivik.

On the way I noticed a mountain of most singular appearance. In
colour it closely resembled iron; its sides were perfectly smooth
and shining, and streaks of the colour of yellow ochre traversed it
here and there.

Stad is the residence of a priest. Contrary to the assertions of my
guide, I found this place far more cheerful and habitable than
Grundivik. Whilst our horses were resting, the priest paid me a
visit, and conducted me, not, as I anticipated, into his house, but
into the church. Chairs and stools were quickly brought there, and
my host introduced his wife and children to me, after which we
partook of coffee, bread and cheese, &c. On the rail surrounding
the altar hung the clothes of the priest and his family, differing
little in texture and make from those of the peasants.

The priest appeared to be a very intelligent, well-read man. I
could speak the Danish language pretty fluently, and was therefore
able to converse with him on various subjects. On hearing that I
had already been in Palestine, he put a number of questions to me,
from which I could plainly see that he was alike well acquainted
with geography, history, natural science, &c. He accompanied me
several miles on my road, and we chatted away the time very
pleasantly.

The distance between Krisuvik and Keblevik is about forty-two miles.
The road lies through a most dreary landscape, among vast desert
plains, frequently twenty-five to thirty miles in circumference,
entirely divested of all traces of vegetation, and covered
throughout their extreme area by masses of lava--gloomy monuments of
volcanic agency. And yet here, at the very heart of the
subterranean fire, I saw only a single mountain, the summit of which
had fallen in, and presented the appearance of a crater. The rest
were all completely closed, terminating sometimes in a beautiful
round top, and sometimes in sharp peaks; in other instances they
formed long narrow chains.

Who can tell whence these all-destroying masses of lava have poured
forth, or how many hundred years they have lain in these petrified
valleys?

Keblevik lies on the sea-coast; but the harbour is insecure, so that
ships remain here at anchor only so long as is absolutely necessary;
there are frequently only two or three ships in the harbour.

A few wooden houses, two of which belong to Herr Knudson, and some
peasants' cottages, are the only buildings in this little village.
I was hospitably received, and rested from the toils of the day at
the house of Herr Siverson, Herr Knudson's manager.

On the following day (June 6th) I had a long ride to Reikjavik,
thirty-six good miles, mostly through fields of lava.

The whole tract of country from Grundivik almost to Havenfiord is
called "The lava-fields of Reikianes."

Tired and almost benumbed with cold, I arrived in the evening at
Reikjavik, with no other wish than to retire to rest as fast as
possible.

In these three days I had ridden 114 miles, besides enduring much
from cold, storms, and rain. To my great surprise, the roads had
generally been good; there were, however, many places highly
dangerous and difficult.

But what mattered these fatigues, forgotten, as they were, after a
single night's rest? what were they in comparison to the unutterably
beautiful and marvellous phenomena of the north, which will remain
ever present to my imagination so long as memory shall be spared me?

The distances of this excursion were: From Reikjavik to Krisuvik,
37 miles; from Krisuvik to Keblevik, 39 miles; from Keblevik to
Reikjavik, 38 miles: total, 114 miles.



CHAPTER V



As the weather continued fine, I wished to lose no time in
continuing my wanderings. I had next to make a tour of some 560
miles; it was therefore necessary that I should take an extra horse,
partly that it might carry my few packages, consisting of a pillow,
some rye-bread, cheese, coffee, and sugar, but chiefly that I might
be enabled to change horses every day, as one horse would not have
been equal to the fatigue of so long a journey.

My former guide could not accompany me on my present journey, as he
was unacquainted with most of the roads. My kind protectors, Herr
Knudson and Herr Bernhoft, were obliging enough to provide another
guide for me; a difficult task, as it is a rare occurrence to find
an Icelander who understands the Danish language, and who happens to
be sober when his services are required. At length a peasant was
found who suited our purpose; but he considered two florins per diem
too little pay, so I was obliged to give an additional zwanziger.
On the other hand, it was arranged that the guide should also take
two horses, in order that he might change every day.

The 16th of June was fixed for the commencement of our journey.
From the very first day my guide did not shew himself in an amiable
point of view. On the morning of our departure his saddle had to be
patched together, and instead of coming with two horses, he appeared
with only one. He certainly promised to buy a second when we should
have proceeded some miles, adding that it would be cheaper to buy
one at a little distance from the "capital." I at once suspected
this was merely an excuse of the guide's, and that he wished thereby
to avoid having the care of four horses. The event proved I was
right; not a single horse could be found that suited, and so my poor
little animal had to carry the guide's baggage in addition to my
own.

Loading the pack-horses is a business of some difficulty, and is
conducted in the following manner: sundry large pieces of dried
turf are laid upon the horse's back, but not fastened; over these is
buckled a round piece of wood, furnished with two or three pegs. To
these pegs the chests and packages are suspended. If the weight is
not quite equally balanced, it is necessary to stop and repack
frequently, for the whole load at once gets askew.

The trunks used in this country are massively constructed of wood,
covered with a rough hide, and strengthened on all sides with nails,
as though they were intended to last an eternity. The poor horses
have a considerable weight to bear in empty boxes alone, so that
very little real luggage can be taken. The weight which a horse has
to carry during a long journey should never exceed 150lbs.

It is impossible to remember how many times our baggage had to be
repacked during a day's journey. The great pieces of turf would
never stay in their places, and every moment something was wrong.
Nothing less than a miracle, however, can prevail on an Icelander to
depart from his regular routine. His ancestors packed in such and
such a manner, and so he must pack also. {35}

We had a journey of above forty miles before us the first day, and
yet, on account of the damaged saddle, we could not start before
eight o'clock in the morning.

The first twelve or fourteen miles of our journey lay through the
great valley in which Reikjavik is situated; the valley contains
many low hills, some of which we had to climb. Several rivers,
chief among which was the Laxselv, opposed our progress, but at this
season of the year they could be crossed on horseback without
danger. Nearly all the valleys through which we passed to-day were
covered with lava, but nevertheless offered many beautiful spots.

Many of the hills we passed seemed to me to be extinct volcanoes;
the whole upper portion was covered with colossal slabs of lava, as
though the crater had been choked up with them. Lava of the same
description and colour, but in smaller pieces, lay strewed around.

For the first twelve or fourteen miles the sea is visible from the
brow of every successive hill. The country is also pretty generally
inhabited; but afterwards a distance of nearly thirty miles is
passed, on which there is not a human habitation. The traveller
journeys from one valley into another, and in the midst of these
hill-girt deserts sees a single small hut, erected for the
convenience of those who, in the winter, cannot accomplish the long
distance in one day, and must take up their quarters for the night
in the valley. No one must, however, rashly hope to find here a
human being in the shape of a host. The little house is quite
uninhabited, and consists only of a single apartment with four naked
walls. The visitor must depend on the accommodation he carries with
him.

The plains through which we travelled to-day were covered throughout
with one and the same kind of lava. It occurs in masses, and also
in smaller stones, is not very porous, of a light grey colour, and
mixed, in many instances, with sand or earth.

Some miles from Thingvalla we entered a valley, the soil of which is
fine, but nevertheless only sparingly covered with grass, and full
of little acclivities, mostly clothed with delicate moss. I have no
doubt that the indolence of the inhabitants alone prevents them from
materially improving many a piece of ground. The worst soil is that
in the neighbourhood of Reikjavik; yet there we see many a garden,
and many a piece of meadow-land, wrung, as it were, from the barren
earth by labour and pains. Why should not the same thing be done
here--the more so as nature has already accomplished the preliminary
work?

Thingvalla, our resting-place for to-night, is situate on a lake of
the same name, and only becomes visible when the traveller is close
upon it. The lake is rather considerable, being almost three miles
in length, and at some parts certainly more than two miles in
breadth; it contains two small islands,--Sandey and Nesey.

My whole attention was still riveted by the lake and its naked and
gloomy circle of mountains, when suddenly, as if by magic, I found
myself standing on the brink of a chasm, into which I could scarcely
look without a shudder; involuntarily I thought of Weber's
Freyschutz and the "Wolf's Hollow." {36}

The scene is the more startling from the circumstance that the
traveller approaching Thingvalla in a certain direction sees only
the plains beyond this chasm, and has no idea of its existence. It
was a fissure some five or six fathoms broad, but several hundred
feet in depth; and we were forced to descend by a small, steep,
dangerous path, across large fragments of lava. Colossal blocks of
stone, threatening the unhappy wanderer with death and destruction,
hang loosely, in the form of pyramids and of broken columns, from
the lofty walls of lava, which encircle the whole long ravine in the
form of a gallery. Speechless, and in anxious suspense, we descend
a part of this chasm, hardly daring to look up, much less to give
utterance to a single sound, lest the vibration should bring down
one of these avalanches of stone, to the terrific force of which the
rocky fragments scattered around bear ample testimony. The
distinctness with which echo repeats the softest sound and the
lightest footfall is truly wonderful.

The appearance presented by the horses, which are allowed to come
down the ravine after their masters have descended, is most
peculiar. One could fancy they were clinging to the walls of rock.

This ravine is known by the name of Almanagiau. Its entire length
is about a mile, but a small portion only can be traversed; the rest
is blocked up by masses of lava heaped one upon the other. On the
right hand, the rocky wall opens, and forms an outlet, over
formidable masses of lava, into the beautiful valley of Thingvalla.
I could have fancied I wandered through the depths of a crater,
which had piled around itself these stupendous barriers during a
mighty eruption in times long gone by.

The valley of Thingvalla is considered one of the most beautiful in
Iceland. It contains many meadows, forming, as it were, a place of
refuge for the inhabitants, and enabling them to keep many head of
cattle. The Icelanders consider this little green valley the finest
spot in the world. Not far from the opening of the ravine, on the
farther bank of the river Oxer, lies the little village of
Thingvalla, consisting of three or four cottages and a small chapel.
A few scattered farms and cottages are situated in the
neighbourhood.

Thingvalla was once one of the most important places in Iceland; the
stranger is still shewn the meadow, not far from the village, on
which the Allthing (general assembly) was held annually in the open
air. Here the people and their leaders met, pitching their tents
after the manner of nomads. Here it was also that many an opinion
and many a decree were enforced by the weight of steel.

The chiefs appeared, ostensibly for peace, at the head of their
tribe; yet many of them returned not again, but beneath the sword-
stroke of their enemies obtained that peace which no man seeketh,
but which all men find.

On one side the valley is skirted by the lake, on the other it is
bounded by lofty mountains, some of them still partly covered with
snow. Not far from the entrance of the ravine, the river Oxer
rushes over a wall of rock of considerable height, forming a
beautiful waterfall.

It was still fine clear daylight when I reached Thingvalla, and the
sky rose pure and cloudless over the far distance. It seemed
therefore the more singular to me to see a few clouds skimming over
the surface of the mountains, now shrouding a part of them in
vapour, now wreathing themselves round their summits, now vanishing
entirely, to reappear again at a different point.

This is a phenomenon frequently observed in Iceland during the
finest days, and one I had often noticed in the neighbourhood of
Reikjavik. Under a clear and cloudless sky, a light mist would
appear on the brow of a mountain,--in a moment it would increase to
a large cloud, and after remaining stationary for a time, it
frequently vanished suddenly, or soared slowly away. However often
it may be repeated, this appearance cannot fail to interest the
observer.

Herr Beck, the clergyman at Thingvalla, offered me the shelter of
his hut for the night; as the building, however, did not look much
more promising than the peasants' cottages by which it was
surrounded, I preferred quartering myself in the church, permission
to do so being but too easily obtained on all occasions. This
chapel is not much larger than that at Krisuvik, and stands at some
distance from the few surrounding cottages. This was perhaps the
reason why I was not incommoded by visitors. I had already
conquered any superstitious fears derived from the proximity of my
silent neighbours in the churchyard, and passed the night quietly on
one of the wooden chests of which I found several scattered about.
Habit is certainly every thing; after a few nights of gloomy
solitude one thinks no more about the matter.


June 17th.

Our journey of to-day was more formidable than that of yesterday. I
was assured that Reikholt (also called Reikiadal) was almost fifty
miles distant. Distances cannot always be accurately measured by
the map; impassable barriers, only to be avoided by circuitous
routes, often oppose the traveller's progress. This was the case
with us to-day. To judge from the map, the distance from Thingvalla
to Reikholt seemed less by a great deal than that from Reikjavik to
Thingvalla, and yet we were full fourteen hours accomplishing it--
two hours longer than on our yesterday's journey.

So long as our way lay through the valley of Thingvalla there was no
lack of variety. At one time there was an arm of the river Oxer to
cross, at another we traversed a cheerful meadow; sometimes we even
passed through little shrubberies,--that is to say, according to the
Icelandic acceptation of the term. In my country these lovely
shrubberies would have been cleared away as useless underwood. The
trees trail along the ground, seldom attaining a height of more than
two feet. When one of these puny stems reaches four feet in height,
it is considered a gigantic tree. The greater portion of these
miniature forests grow on the lava with which the valley is covered.

The formation of the lava here assumes a new character. Up to this
point it has mostly appeared either in large masses or in streams
lying in strata one above the other; but here the lava covered the
greater portion of the ground in the form of immense flat slabs or
blocks of rock, often split in a vertical direction. I saw long
fissures of eight or ten feet in breadth, and from ten to fifteen
feet in depth. In these clefts the flowers blossom earlier, and the
fern grows taller and more luxuriantly, than in the boisterous upper
world.

After the valley of Thingvalla has been passed the journey becomes
very monotonous. The district beyond is wholly uninhabited, and we
travelled many miles without seeing a single cottage. From one
desert valley we passed into another; all were alike covered with
light-grey or yellowish lava, and at intervals also with fine sand,
in which the horses sunk deeply at every step. The mountains
surrounding these valleys were none of the highest, and it was
seldom that a jokul or glacier shone forth from among them. The
mountains had a certain polished appearance, their sides being
perfectly smooth and shining. In some instances, however, masses of
lava formed beautiful groups, bearing a great resemblance to ruins
of ancient buildings, and standing out in peculiarly fine relief
from the smooth walls.

These mountains are of different colours; they are black or brown,
grey or yellow, &c.; and the different shades of these colours are
displayed with marvellous effect in the brilliant sunshine.

Nine hours of uninterrupted riding brought us into a large tract of
moorland, very scantily covered with moss. Yet this was the first
and only grazing-place to be met with in all the long distance from
Thingvalla. We therefore made a halt of two hours, to let our poor
horses pick a scanty meal. Large swarms of minute gnats, which
seemed to fly into our eyes, nose, and mouth, annoyed us dreadfully
during our stay in this place.

On this moor there was also a small lake; and here I saw for the
first time a small flock of swans. Unfortunately these creatures
are so very timid, that the most cautious approach of a human being
causes them to rise with the speed of lightning into the air. I was
therefore obliged perforce to be content with a distant view of
these proud birds. They always keep in pairs, and the largest flock
I saw did not consist of more than four such pairs.

Since my first arrival in Iceland I had considered the inhabitants
an indolent race of people; to-day I was strengthened in my opinion
by the following slight circumstance. The moorland on which we
halted to rest was separated from the adjoining fields of lava by a
narrow ditch filled with water. Across this ditch a few stones and
slabs had been laid, to form a kind of bridge. Now this bridge was
so full of holes that the horses could not tell where to plant their
feet, and refused obstinately to cross it, so that in the end we
were obliged to dismount and lead them across. We had scarcely
passed this place, and sat down to rest, when a caravan of fifteen
horses, laden with planks, dried fish, &c. arrived at the bridge.
Of course the poor creatures observed the dangerous ground, and
could only be driven by hard blows to advance. Hardly twenty paces
off there were stones in abundance; but rather than devote a few
minutes to filling up the holes, these lazy people beat their horses
cruelly, and exposed them to the risk of breaking their legs. I
pitied the poor animals, which would be compelled to recross the
bridge, so heartily, that, after they are gone, I devoted a part of
my resting-time to collecting stones and filling up the holes,--a
business which scarcely occupied me a quarter of an hour.

It is interesting to notice how the horses know by instinct the
dangerous spots in the stony wastes, and in the moors and swamps.
On approaching these places they bend their heads towards the earth,
and look sharply round on all sides. If they cannot discover a firm
resting-place for the feet, they stop at once, and cannot be urged
forward without many blows.

After a halt of two hours we continued our journey, which again led
us across fields of lava. At past nine o'clock in the evening we
reached an elevated plain, after traversing which for half an hour
we saw stretched at our feet the valley of Reikholt or Reikiadal; it
is fourteen to seventeen miles long, of a good breadth, and girt
round by a row of mountains, among which several jokuls sparkle in
their icy garments.

A sunset seen in the sublime wildness of Icelandic scenery has a
peculiarly beautiful effect. Over these vast plains, divested of
trees or shrubs, covered with dark lava, and shut in by mountains
almost of a sable hue, the parting sun sheds an almost magical
radiance. The peaks of the mountains shine in the bright parting
rays, the jokuls are shrouded in the most delicate roseate hue,
while the lower parts of the mountains lie in deep shadow, and frown
darkly on the valleys, which resemble a sheet of dark blue water,
with an atmosphere of a bluish-red colour floating above it. The
most impressive feature of all is the profound silence and solitude;
not a sound can be heard, not a living creature is to be seen; every
thing appears dead. Throughout the broad valleys not a town nor a
village, no, not even a solitary house or a tree or shrub, varies
the prospect. The eye wanders over the vast desert, and finds not
one familiar object on which it can rest.

To-night, as at past eleven o'clock we reached the elevated plain, I
saw a sunset which I shall never forget. The sun disappeared behind
the mountains, and in its stead a gorgeous ruddy gleam lighted up
hill and valley and glacier. It was long ere I could turn away my
eyes from the glittering heights, and yet the valley also offered
much that was striking and beautiful.

Throughout almost its entire length this valley formed a meadow,
from the extremities of which columns of smoke and boiling springs
burst forth. The mists had almost evaporated, and the atmosphere
was bright and clear, more transparent even than I had seen it in
any other country. I now for the first time noticed, that in the
valley itself the radiance was almost as clear as the light of day,
so that the most minute objects could be plainly distinguished.
This was, however, extremely necessary, for steep and dangerous
paths lead over masses of lava into the valley. On one side ran a
little river, forming many picturesque waterfalls, some of them
above thirty feet in height.

I strained my eyes in vain to discover any where, in this great
valley, a little church, which, if it only offered me a hard bench
for a couch, would at any rate afford me a shelter from the sharp
night-wind; for it is really no joke to ride for fifteen hours, with
nothing to eat but bread and cheese, and then not even to have the
pleasant prospect of a hotel a la villa de Londres or de Paris.
Alas, my wishes were far more modest. I expected no porter at the
gate to give the signal of my arrival, no waiter, and no
chambermaid; I only desired a little spot in the neighbourhood of
the dear departed Icelanders. I was suddenly recalled from these
happy delusions by the voice of the guide, who cried out: "Here we
are at our destination for to-night." I looked joyfully round;
alas! I could only see a few of those cottages which are never
observed until you almost hit your nose against one of them, as the
grass-covered walls can hardly be distinguished from the surrounding
meadow.

It was already midnight. We stopped, and turned our horses loose,
to seek supper and rest in the nearest meadow. Our lot was a less
fortunate one. The inhabitants were already buried in deep
slumbers, from which even the barking set up by the dogs at our
approach failed to arouse them. A cup of coffee would certainly
have been very acceptable to me; yet I was loath to rouse any one
merely for this. A piece of bread satisfied my hunger, and a
draught of water from the nearest spring tasted most deliciously
with it. After concluding my frugal meal, I sought out a corner
beside a cottage, where I was partially sheltered from the too-
familiar wind; and wrapping my cloak around me, lay down on the
ground, having wished myself, with all my heart, a good night's rest
and pleasant dreams, in the broad daylight, {37} under the canopy of
heaven. Just dropping off to sleep, I was surprised by a mild rain,
which, of course, at once put to flight every idea of repose. Thus,
after all, I was obliged to wake some one up, to obtain the shelter
of a roof.

The best room, i.e. the store-room, was thrown open for my
accommodation, and a small wooden bedstead placed at my disposal.
Chambers of this kind are luckily found wherever two or three
cottages lie contiguous to each other; they are certainly far from
inviting, as dried fish, train-oil, tallow, and many other articles
of the same description combine to produce a most unsavoury
atmosphere. Yet they are infinitely preferable to the dwellings of
the peasants, which, by the by, are the most filthy dens that can be
imagined. Besides being redolent of every description of bad odour,
these cottages are infested with vermin to a degree which can
certainly not be surpassed, except in the dwellings of the
Greenlanders and Laplanders.


June 18th.

Yesterday we had been forced to put upon our poor horses a wearisome
distance of more than fifty miles, as the last forty miles led us
through desert and uninhabited places, boasting not even a single
cottage. To-day, however, our steeds had a light duty to perform,
for we only proceeded seven miles to the little village of
Reikiadal, where I halted to-day, in order to visit the celebrated
springs.

The inconsiderable village called Reikiadal, consisting only of a
church and a few cottages, is situated amidst pleasant meadows.
Altogether this valley is rich in beautiful meadow-lands;
consequently one sees many scattered homesteads and cottages, with
fine herds of sheep, and a tolerable number of horses; cows are less
plentiful.

The church at Reikiadal is among the neatest and most roomy of those
which came under my observation. The dwelling of the priest too,
though only a turf-covered cottage, is large enough for the comfort
of the occupants. This parish extends over a considerable area, and
is not thinly inhabited.

My first care on my arrival was to beg the clergyman, Herr Jonas
Jonason, to procure for me, as expeditiously as possible, fresh
horses and a guide, in order that I might visit the springs. He
promised to provide me with both within half an hour; and yet it was
not until three hours had been wasted, that, with infinite pains, I
saw my wish fulfilled. Throughout my stay in Iceland, nothing
annoyed me more than the slowness and unconcern displayed by the
inhabitants in all their undertakings. Every wish and every request
occupies a long time in its fulfilment. Had I not been continually
at the good pastor's side, I believe I should scarcely have attained
my object. At length every thing was ready, and the pastor himself
was kind enough to be my guide.

We rode about four miles through this beautiful vale, and in this
short distance were compelled at least six times to cross the river
Sidumule, which rolls its most tortuous course through the entire
valley. At length the first spring was reached; it emerges from a
rock about six feet in height, standing in the midst of a moor. The
upper cavity of the natural reservoir, in which the water
continually boils and seethes, is between two and three feet in
diameter. This spring never stops; the jet of water rises two, and
sometimes even four feet high, and is about eighteen inches thick.
It is possible to increase the volume of the jet for a few seconds,
by throwing large stones or lumps of earth into the opening, and
thus stirring up the spring. The stones are cast forcibly forth,
and the lumps of earth, dissolved by the action of the water, impart
to the latter a dingy colour.

Whoever has seen the jet of water at Carlsbad, in Bohemia, can well
imagine the appearance of this spring, which closely resembles that
of Carlsbad. {38}

In the immediate neighbourhood of the spring is an abyss, in which
water is continually seething, but never rises into the air. At a
little distance, on a high rock, rising out of the river Sidumule,
not far from the shore, are other springs. They are three in
number, each at a short distance from the next, and occupy nearly
the entire upper surface of the rock. Lower down we find a
reservoir of boiling water; and at the foot of the rock, and on the
nearest shore, are many more hot springs; but most of these are
inconsiderable. Many of these hot springs emerge almost from the
cold river itself.

The chief group, however, lies still farther off, on a rock which
may be about twenty feet in height, and fifty in length. It is
called Tunga Huer, and rises from the midst of a moor. On this rock
there are no less than sixteen springs, some emerging from its base,
others rather above the middle, but none from the top of the rock.

The construction of the basins and the height and diameter of the
jets were precisely similar to those I have already described. All
these sixteen springs are so near each other that they do not even
occupy two sides of the rock. It is impossible to form an idea of
the magnificence of this singular spectacle, which becomes really
fairy-like, if the beholder have the courage to climb the rock
itself, a proceeding of some danger, though of little difficulty.
The upper stratum of the rock is soft and warm, presenting almost
the appearance of mud thickened with sand and small stones. Every
footstep leaves a trace behind it, and the visitor has continually
before his eyes the fear of breaking through, and falling into a hot
spring hidden from view by a thin covering. The good pastor walked
in advance of me, with a stick, and probed the dangerous surface as
much as possible. I was loath to stay behind, and suddenly we found
ourselves at the summit of the rock. Here we could take in, at one
view, the sixteen springs gushing from both its sides. If the view
from below had been most interesting and singular, how shall I
describe its appearance as seen from above? Sixteen jets of water
seen at one glance, sixteen reservoirs, in all their diversity of
form and construction, opening at once beneath the feet of the
beholder, seemed almost too wonderful a sight. Forgetting all
pusillanimous feelings, I stood and honoured the Creator in these
his marvellous works. For a long time I stood, and could not tire
of gazing into the abysses from whose darkness the masses of white
and foaming water sprung hissing into the air, to fall again, and
hasten in quiet union towards the neighbouring river. The good
pastor found it necessary to remind me several times that our
position here was neither of the safest nor of the most comfortable,
and that it was therefore high time to abandon it. I had ceased to
think of the insecurity of the ground we trod, and scarcely noticed
the mighty clouds of hot vapour which frequently surrounded and
threatened to suffocate us, obliging us to step suddenly back with
wetted faces. It was fortunate that these waters contain but a very
small quantity of brimstone, otherwise we could scarcely have long
maintained our elevated position.

The rock from which these springs rise is formed of a reddish mass,
and the bed of the river into which the water flows is also
completely covered with little stones of the same colour.

On our way back we noticed, near a cottage, another remarkable
phenomenon. It was a basin, in whose depths the water boils and
bubbles violently; and near this basin are two unsightly holes, from
which columns of smoke periodically rise with a great noise. Whilst
this is going on, the basin fills itself more and more with water,
but never so much as to overflow, or to force a jet of water into
the air; then the steam and the noise cease in both cavities, and
the water in the reservoir sinks several feet.

This strange phenomenon generally lasts about a minute, and is
repeated so regularly, that a bet could almost be made, that the
rising and falling of the water, and the increased and lessened
noise of the steam, shall be seen and heard sixty or sixty-five
times within an hour.

In communication with this basin is another, situate at a distance
of about a hundred paces in a small hollow, and filled like the
former with boiling water. As the water in the upper basin
gradually sinks, and ceases to seethe, it begins to rise in the
lower one, and is at length forced two or three feet into the air;
then it falls again, and thus the phenomenon is continually repeated
in the upper and the lower basin alternately.

At the upper spring there is also a vapour-bath. This is formed by
a small chamber situate hard by the basin, built of stones and
roofed with turf. It is further provided with a small and narrow
entrance, which cannot be passed in an upright position. The floor
is composed of stone slabs, probably covering a hot spring, for they
are very warm. The person wishing to use this bath betakes himself
to this room, and carefully closes every cranny; a suffocating heat,
which induces violent perspiration over the whole frame, is thus
generated. The people, however, seldom avail themselves of this
bath.

On my return I had still to visit a basin with a jet of water, in a
fine meadow near the church; a low wall of stone has been erected
round this spring to prevent the cattle from scalding themselves if
they should approach too near in the ardour of grazing. Some eighty
paces off is to be seen the wool-bath erected by Snorri Sturluson.
It consists of a stone basin three or four feet in depth, and
eighteen or twenty in diameter. The approach is by a few steps
leading to a low stone bench, which runs round the basin. The water
is obtained from the neighbouring spring, but is of so high a
temperature that it is impossible to bathe without previously
cooling it. The bath stands in the open air, and no traces are left
of the building which once covered it. It is now used for clothes
and sheep's wool.

I had now seen all the interesting springs on this side of the
valley. Some columns of vapour, which may be observed from the
opposite end of the valley, proceed from thermal springs, that offer
no remarkable feature save their heat.

On our return the priest took me to the churchyard, which lay at
some distance from his dwelling, and showed me the principal graves.
Though I thought the sight very impressive, it was not calculated to
invigorate me, when I considered that I must pass the approaching
night alone in the church, amidst these resting-places of the
departed.

The mound above each grave is very high, and the greater part of
them are surmounted by a kind of wooden coffin, which at first sight
conveys the impression that the dead person is above ground. I
could not shake off a feeling of discomfort; and such is the power
of prejudice, that--I acknowledge my weakness--I was even induced to
beg that the priest would remove one of the covers. Though I knew
full well that the dead man was slumbering deep in the earth, and
not in this coffin, I felt a shudder pass over me as the lid was
removed, and I saw--as the priest had assured me I should do--merely
a tombstone with the usual inscription, which this coffin-like
covering is intended to protect against the rude storms of the
winter.

Close beside the entrance to the church is the mound beneath which
rest the bones of Snorri Sturluson, the celebrated poet; {39} over
this grave stands a small runic stone of the length of the mound
itself. This stone is said to have once been completely covered
with runic characters; but all trace of these has been swept away by
the storms of five hundred winters, against which the tomb had no
protecting coffin. The stone, too, is split throughout its entire
length into two pieces. The mound above the grave is often renewed,
so that the beholder could often fancy he saw a new-made grave. I
picked all the buttercups I could find growing on the grave, and
preserved them carefully in a book. Perhaps I may be able to give
pleasure to several of my countrywomen by offering them a floweret
from the grave of the greatest of Icelandic poets.


June 19th.

In order to pursue my journey without interruption, I hired fresh
horses, and allowed my own, which were rather fatigued, to accompany
us unloaded. My object in this further excursion was to visit the
very remarkable cavern of Surthellir, distant a good thirty-three
miles from this place. The clergyman was again kind enough to make
the necessary arrangements for me, and even to act as my Mentor on
the journey.

Though we were only three strong, we departed with a retinue of
seven horses, and for nearly ten miles rode back the same way by
which I had come from Reikholt on the preceding morning; then we
turned off to the left, and crossing hills and acclivities, reached
other valleys, which were partly traversed by beautiful streams of
lava, and partly interspersed with forests--FORESTS, as I have
already said, according to Icelandic notions. The separate stems
were certainly slightly higher than those in the valley of
Thingvalla.

At Kalmannstunga we left the spare horses, and took with us a man to
serve as guide in the cavern, from which we were now still some
seven miles distant. The great valley in which this cavern lies is
reckoned among the most remarkable in Iceland. It is a most perfect
picture of volcanic devastation. The most beautiful masses of lava,
in the most varied and picturesque forms, occupy the whole
immeasurable valley. Lava is to be seen there in a rough glassy
state, forming exquisite flames and arabesques; and in immense
slabs, lying sometimes scattered, sometimes piled in strata one
above the other, as though they had been cast there by a flood.
Among these, again, lie mighty isolated streams, which must have
been frozen in the midst of their course. From the different
colours of the lava, and their transitions from light grey to black,
we can judge of the eruptions which have taken place at different
periods. The mountains surrounding this valley are mostly of a
sombre hue; some are even black, forming a striking contrast to the
neighbouring jokuls, which, in their large expanse, present the
appearance almost of a sea of ice. I found one of these jokuls of a
remarkable size; its shining expanse extended far down into the
valley, and its upper surface was almost immeasurable.

The other mountains were all smooth, as though polished by art; in
the foreground I only noticed one which was covered with wonderful
forms of dried lava. A deathlike silence weighed on the whole
country round, on hill and on valley alike. Every thing seemed
dead, all round was barren and desert, so that the effect was truly
Icelandic. The greater portion of Iceland might be with justice
designated the "Northern Desert."

The cavern of Surthellir lies on a slightly elevated extended plain,
where it would certainly not be sought for, as we are accustomed to
see natural phenomena of this description only in the bowels of
rocks. It is, therefore, with no little surprise that the traveller
sees suddenly opening before him a large round basin about fifteen
fathoms in diameter, and four in depth. It was with a feeling of
awe that I looked downwards on the countless blocks of rock piled
one upon the other, extending on one side to the edge of the hollow,
across which the road led to the dark ravines farther on.

We were compered to scramble forward on our hands and knees, until
we reached a long broad passage, which led us at first imperceptibly
downwards, and then ran underneath the plain, which formed a rocky
cavern above our heads. I estimated the different heights of this
roof at not less than from eighteen to sixty feet; but it seldom
reached a greater elevation than the latter. Both roof and walls
are in some places very pointed and rough: a circumstance to be
ascribed to the stalactites which adhere to them, without, however,
forming figures or long sharp points.

From this principal path several smaller ones lead far into the
interior of this stony region; but they do not communicate with each
other, and one is compelled to return from each side-path into the
main road. Some of these by-paths are short, narrow, and low;
others, on the contrary, are long, broad, and lofty.

In one of the most retired of these by-paths I was shewn a great
number of bones, which, I was told, were those of slaughtered sheep
and other animals. I could gather, from the account given by the
priest of the legend concerning them, that, in days of yore, this
cave was the resort of a mighty band of robbers. This must have
been a long, long time ago, as this is related as a legend or a
fable.

For my part, I could not tell what robbers had to do in Iceland.
Pirates had often come to the island; but for these gentry this
cavern was too far from the sea. I cannot even imagine beasts of
prey to have been there; for the whole country round about is desert
and uninhabited, so that they could have found nothing to prey upon.
In fact, I turned over in my mind every probability, and can only
say that it appeared to me a most remarkable circumstance to find in
this desert place, so far from any living thing, a number of bones,
which, moreover, looked as fresh as if the poor animals to whom they
once belonged had been eaten but a short time ago. Unfortunately I
could obtain no satisfactory information on this point.

It is difficult to imagine any thing more laborious than to wander
about in this cavern. As the road had shewed itself at the entrance
of the cavern, so it continued throughout its whole extent. The
path consisted entirely of loose fragments of lava heaped one upon
the other, over which we had to clamber with great labour. None of
us could afford to help the others; each one was fully occupied with
himself. There was not a single spot to be seen on which we could
have stood without holding fast at the same time with our hands. We
were sometimes obliged to seat ourselves on a stone, and so to slide
down; at others, to take hands and pull one another to the top of
high blocks of stone.

We came to several immense basins, or craters, which opened above
our heads, but were inaccessible, the sides being too steep for us
to climb. The light which entered through these openings was
scarcely enough to illumine the principal path, much less the
numerous by-paths.

At Kalmannstunga I had endeavoured to procure torches, but was
obliged to consider myself fortunate in getting a few tapers. It is
necessary to provide oneself with torches at Reikjavik.

The parts of the cavern beneath the open craters were still covered
with a considerable quantity of snow, by which our progress was
rendered very dangerous. We frequently sunk in, and at other times
caught our feet between the stones, so that we could scarcely
maintain our balance. In the by-paths situated near these openings
an icy rind had formed itself, which was now covered with water.
Farther on, the ice had melted; but it was generally very dirty, as
a stratum of sand mixed with water lay there in place of the stones.
The chief path alone was covered with blocks of lava; in the smaller
paths I found only strata of sand and small pieces of lava.

The magical illumination produced by the sun's rays shining through
one of these craters into the cavern produced a splendid effect.
The sun shone perpendicularly through the opening, spread a dazzling
radiance over the snow, and diffused a pale delicate light around
us. The effect of this point of dazzling light was the more
remarkable from its contrasting strongly with the two dark chasms,
from the first of which we had emerged to continue our journey
through the obscurity of the second.

This subterranean labyrinth is said to extend in different
directions for many miles. We explored a portion of the chief path
and several by-paths, and after a march of two hours returned
heartily tired to the upper world. We then rested a quarter of an
hour, and afterwards returned at a good round pace to Kalmannstunga.

Unfortunately I do not possess sufficient geognostic knowledge to be
able to set this cavern down as an extinct volcano. But in
travelling in a country where every hill and mountain, every thing
around, in fact, consists of lava, even the uninitiated in science
seeks to discover the openings whence these immense masses have
poured. The stranger curiously regards the top of each mountain,
thinking every where to behold a crater, but both hill and dale
appear smooth and closed. With what joy then does he hail the
thought of having discovered, in this cavern, something to throw
light upon the sources of these things! I, at least, fancied myself
walking on the hearth of an extinct volcano; for all I saw, from the
masses of stone piled beneath my feet and the immense basin above my
head, were both of lava. If I am right in my conjecture, I do not
know; I only speak according to my notions and my views.

I was obliged to pass this night in a cottage. Kalmannstunga
contains three such cottages, but no chapel. Luckily I found one of
these houses somewhat larger and more cleanly than its neighbours;
it could almost come under the denomination of a farm. The
occupants, too, had been employed during my ride to the cavern in
cleansing the best chamber, and preparing it, as far as possible,
for my reception. The room in question was eleven feet long by
seven broad; the window was so small and so covered with dirt that,
although the sun was shining in its full glory, I could scarcely see
to write. The walls, and even the floor, were boarded--a great
piece of luxury in a country where wood is so scarce. The furniture
consisted of a broad bedstead, two chests of drawers, and a small
table. Chairs and benches are a kind of terra incognita in the
dwellings of the Icelandic peasantry; besides, I do not know where
such articles could be stowed in a room of such dimensions as that
which I occupied.

My hostess, the widow of a wealthy peasant, introduced to me her
four children, who were very handsome, and very neatly dressed. I
begged the good mother to tell me the names of the young ones, so
that I might at least know a few Icelandic names. She appeared much
flattered at my request, and gave me the names as follows:
Sigrudur, Gudrun, Ingebor, and Lars.

I should have felt tolerably comfortable in my present quarters,
accustomed as I am to bear privations of all kinds with
indifference, if they would but have left me in peace. But the
reader may fancy my horror when the whole population, not only of
the cottage itself, but also of the neighbouring dwellings, made
their appearance, and, planting themselves partly in my chamber and
partly at the door, held me in a far closer state of siege than even
at Krisuvik. I was, it appeared, quite a novel phenomenon in the
eyes of these good people, and so they came one and all and stared
at me; the women and children were, in particular, most unpleasantly
familiar; they felt my dress, and the little ones laid their dirty
little countenances in my lap. Added to this, the confined
atmosphere from the number of persons present, their lamentable want
of cleanliness, and their filthy habit of spitting, &c., all
combined to form a most dreadful whole. During these visits I did
more penance than by the longest fasts; and fasting, too, was an
exercise I seldom escaped, as I could touch few Icelandic dishes.
The cookery of the Icelandic peasants is wholly confined to the
preparation of dried fish, with which they eat fermented milk that
has often been kept for months; on very rare occasions they have a
preparation of barley-meal, which is eaten with flat bread baked
from Icelandic moss ground fine.

I could not but wonder at the fact that most of these people
expected to find me acquainted with a number of things generally
studied only by men; they seemed to have a notion that in foreign
parts women should be as learned as men. So, for instance, the
priests always inquired if I spoke Latin, and seemed much surprised
on finding that I was unacquainted with the language. The common
people requested my advice as to the mode of treating divers
complaints; and once, in the course of one of my solitary wanderings
about Reikjavik, on my entering a cottage, they brought before me a
being whom I should scarcely have recognised as belonging to the
same species as myself, so fearfully was he disfigured by the
eruption called "lepra." Not only the face, but the whole body also
was covered with it; the patient was quite emaciated, and some parts
of his body were covered with sores. For a surgeon this might have
been an interesting sight, but I turned away in disgust.

But let us turn from this picture. I would rather tell of the
angel's face I saw in Kalmannstunga. It was a girl, ten or twelve
years of age, beautiful and lovely beyond description, so that I
wished I had been a painter. How gladly would I have taken home
with me to my own land, if only on canvass, the delicate face, with
its roguish dimples and speaking eyes! But perhaps it is better as
it is; the picture might by some unlucky chance have fallen into the
hands of some too-susceptible youth, who, like Don Sylvio de
Rosalva, in Wieland's Comical Romance, would immediately have
proceeded to travel through half the world to find the original of
this enchanting portrait. His spirit of inquiry would scarcely have
carried him to Iceland, as such an apparition would never be
suspected to exist in such a country, and thus the unhappy youth
would be doomed to endless wandering.


June 20th.

The distance from Kalmannstunga to Thingvalla is fifty-two miles,
and the journey is certainly one of the most dreary and fatiguing of
all that can be made in Iceland. The traveller passes from one
desert valley into another; he is always surrounded by high
mountains and still higher glaciers, and wherever he turns his eyes,
nature seems torpid and dead. A feeling of anxious discomfort
seizes upon the wanderer, he hastens with redoubled speed through
the far-stretched deserts, and eagerly ascends the mountains piled
up before him, in the hope that better things lie beyond. It is in
vain; he only sees the same solitudes, the same deserts, the same
mountains.

On the elevated plateaux several places were still covered with
snow; these we were obliged to cross, though we could frequently
hear the rushing of the water beneath its snowy covering. We were
compelled also to pass over coatings of ice spread lightly over
rivers, and presenting that blue colour which is a certain sign of
danger.

Our poor horses were sometimes very restive; but it was of no use;
they were beaten without mercy until they carried us over the
dangerous places. The pack-horse was always driven on in front with
many blows; it had to serve as pioneer, and try if the road was
practicable. Next came my guide, and I brought up the rear. Our
poor horses frequently sank up to their knees in the snow, and twice
up to the saddle-girths. This was one of the most dangerous rides I
have ever had. I could not help continually thinking what I should
do if my guide were to sink in so deeply that he could not extricate
himself; my strength would not have been sufficient to rescue him,
and whither should I turn to seek for help? All around us was
nothing but a desert and snow. Perhaps my lot might have been to
die of hunger. I should have wandered about seeking dwellings and
human beings, and have entangled myself so completely among these
wastes that I could never have found my way.

When at a distance I descried a new field of snow (and unfortunately
we came upon them but too frequently), I felt very uncomfortable;
those alone who have themselves been in a similar situation can
estimate the whole extent of my anxiety.

If I had been travelling in company with others, these fears would
not have disturbed me; for there reciprocal assistance can be
rendered, and the consciousness of this fact seems materially to
diminish the danger.

During the season in which the snow ceases to form a secure
covering, this road is but little travelled. We saw nowhere a trace
of footsteps, either of men or animals; we were the only living
beings in this dreadful region. I certainly scolded my guide
roundly for bringing me by such a road. But what did I gain by
this? It would have been as dangerous to turn back as to go on.

A change in the weather, which till now had been rather favourable,
increased the difficulties of this journey. Already when we left
Kalmannstunga, the sky began to be overcast, and the sun enlivened
us with its rays only for a few minutes at a time. On our reaching
the higher mountains the weather became worse; for here we
encountered clouds and fog, which wreaked their vengeance upon us,
and which only careered by to make room for others. An icy storm
from the neighbouring glaciers was their constant companion, and
made me shiver so much that I could scarcely keep my saddle. We had
now ridden above thirteen hours. The rain poured down incessantly,
and we were half dead with cold and wet; so I at length determined
to halt for the night at the first cottage: at last we found one
between two or three miles from Thingvalla. I had now a roof above
my head; but beyond this I had gained nothing. The cottage
consisted of a single room, and was almost completely filled by four
broad bedsteads. I counted seven adults and three children, who had
all to be accommodated in these four beds. In addition to this, the
kvef, a kind of croup, prevailed this spring to such an extent that
scarcely any one escaped it. Wherever I went, I found the people
afflicted with this complaint; and here this was also the case; the
noise of groaning and coughing on all sides was quite deplorable.
The floor, moreover, was revoltingly dirty.

The good people were so kind as immediately to place one of their
beds at my disposal; but I would rather have passed the night on the
threshold of the door than in this disgusting hole. I chose for my
lodging-place the narrow passage which separated the kitchen from
the room; I found there a couple of blocks, across which a few
boards had been laid, and this constituted the milk-room: it might
have been more properly called the smoke-room; for in the roof were
a few air-holes, through which the smoke escaped. In this smoke or
milk-room--whichever it may be called--I prepared to pass the night
as best I could. My cloak being wet through, I had been compelled
to hang it on a stick to dry; and thus found myself under the
necessity of borrowing a mattress from these unhealthy people. I
laid myself down boldly, and pretended sleepiness, in order to
deliver myself from the curiosity of my entertainers. They retired
to their room, and so I was alone and undisturbed. But yet I could
not sleep; the cold wind, blowing in upon me through the air-holes,
chilled and wetted as I already was, kept me awake against my will.
I had also another misfortune to endure. As often as I attempted to
sit upright on my luxurious couch, my head would receive a severe
concussion. I had forgotten the poles which are fixed across each
of these antechambers, for the purpose of hanging up fish to dry,
&c. Unfortunately I could not bear this arrangement in mind until
after I had received half a dozen salutations of this description.


June 21st.

At length the morning so long sighed for came; the rain had indeed
ceased; but the clouds still hung about the mountains, and promised
a speedy fall; I nevertheless resolved rather to submit myself to
the fury of the elements than to remain longer in my present
quarters, and so ordered the horses to be saddled.

Before my departure roast lamb and butter were offered me. I
thanked my entertainers; but refrained from tasting any thing,
excusing myself on the plea of not feeling hungry, which was in
reality the case; for if I only looked at the dirty people who
surrounded me, my appetite vanished instantly. So long as my stock
of bread and cheese lasted, I kept to it, and ate nothing else.

Taking leave of my good hosts, we continued our journey to
Reikjavik, by the same road on which I had travelled on my journey
hither. This had not been my original plan on starting from
Reikjavik; I had intended to proceed from Thingvalla directly to the
Geyser, to Hecla, &c.; but the horses were already exhausted, and
the weather so dreadfully bad, without prospect of speedy amendment,
that I preferred returning to Reikjavik, and waiting for better
times in my pleasant little room at the house of the good baker.

We rode on as well as we could amidst ceaseless storms of wind and
rain. The most disagreeable circumstance of all was our being
obliged to spend the hours devoted to rest in the open air, under a
by no means cloudless sky, as during our whole day's journey we saw
not a single hut, save the solitary one in the lava desert, which
serves as a resting-place for travellers during the winter. So we
continued our journey until we reached a scanty meadow. Here I had
my choice either to walk about for two hours, or to sit down upon
the wet grass. I could find nothing better to do than to turn my
back upon the wind and rain, to remain standing on one spot, to have
patience, and for amusement to observe the direction in which the
clouds scudded by. At the same time I discussed my frugal meal,
more for want of something to do than from hunger; if I felt
thirsty, I had only to turn round and open my mouth.

If there are natures peculiarly fitted for travelling, I am
fortunate in being blessed with such an one. No rain or wind was
powerful enough to give me even a cold. During this whole excursion
I had tasted no warm or nourishing food; I had slept every night
upon a bench or a chest; had ridden nearly 255 miles in six days;
and had besides scrambled about bravely in the cavern of Surthellir;
and, in spite of all this privation and fatigue, I arrived at
Reikjavik in good health and spirits.

Short summary of this journey:

Miles
First day, from Reikjavik to Thingvalla 46
Second day, from Thingvalla to Reikholt 51
Third day, from Reikholt to the different
springs, and back again 19
Fourth day, from Reikholt to Surthellir, and
back to Kalmannstunga 40
Fifth day, from Kalmannstunga to Thingvalla 51
Sixth day, from Thingvalla to Reikjavik 46
Total 253



CHAPTER VI



The weather soon cleared up, and I continued my journey to the
Geyser and to Mount Hecla on the 24th June. On the first day, when
we rode to Thingvalla, we passed no new scenery, but saw instead an
extremely beautiful atmospheric phenomenon.

As we approached the lake, some thin mist-clouds lowered over it and
over the earth, so that it seemed as if it would rain. One portion
of the firmament glowed with the brightest blue; while the other
part was obscured by thick clouds, through which the sun was just
breaking. Some of its rays reached the clouds of mist, and
illuminated them in a wonderfully beautiful manner. The most
delicate shades of colour seemed breathed, as it were, over them
like a dissolving rainbow, whose glowing colours were intermingled
and yet singly perceptible. This play of colours continued for half
an hour, then faded gradually till it vanished entirely, and the
ordinary atmosphere took its place. It was one of the most
beautiful appearances I had ever witnessed.


June 25th.

The roads separate about a mile behind the little town of
Thingvalla; the one to the left goes to Reikholt, the right-hand one
leads to the Geyser. We rode for some time along the shores of the
lake, and found at the end of the valley an awful chasm in the rock,
similar to the one of Almanagiau, which we had passed on such a
wretched road.

The contiguous valley bore a great resemblance to that of
Thingvalla; but the third one was again fearful. Lava covered it,
and was quite overgrown with that whitish moss, which has a
beautiful appearance when it only covers a portion of the lava, and
when black masses rise above it, but which here presented a most
monotonous aspect.

We also passed two grottoes which opened at our feet. At the
entrance of one stood a pillar of rock supporting an immense slab of
lava, which formed an awe-inspiring portal. I had unfortunately not
known of the existence of these caves, and was consequently
unprepared to visit them. Torches, at least, would have been
requisite. But I subsequently heard that they were not at all deep,
and contained nothing of interest.

In the course of the day we passed through valleys such as I had
seen nowhere else in Iceland. Beautiful meadow-lawns, perfectly
level, covered the country for miles. These rich valleys were, of
course, tolerably well populated; we frequently passed three or four
contiguous cottages, and saw horses, cows, and sheep grazing on
these fields in considerable numbers.

The mountains which bounded these valleys on the left seemed to me
very remarkable; they were partly brown, black, or dark blue, like
the others; but the bulk of which they were composed I considered to
be fine loam-soil layers, if I may trust my imperfect mineralogical
knowledge. Some of these mountains were topped by large isolated
lava rocks, real giants; and it seemed inexplicable to me how they
could stand on the soft soil beneath.

In one of these valleys we passed a considerable lake, on and around
which rose circling clouds of steam proceeding from hot springs, but
of no great size. But after we had already travelled about twenty-
five miles, we came to the most remarkable object I had ever met
with; this was a river with a most peculiar bed.

This river-bed is broad and somewhat steep; it consists of lava
strata, and is divided lengthwise in the middle by a cleft eighteen
to twenty feet deep, and fifteen to eighteen feet broad, towards
which the bubbling and surging waters rush, so that the sound is
heard at some distance. A little wooden bridge, which stands in the
middle of the stream, and over which the high waves constantly play,
leads over the chasm. Any one not aware of the fact can hardly
explain this appearance to himself, nor understand the noise and
surging of the stream. The little bridge in the centre would be
taken for the ruins of a fallen bridge, and the chasm is not seen
from the shore, because the foaming waves overtop it. An
indescribable fear would seize upon the traveller when he beheld the
venturous guide ride into the stream, and was obliged to follow
without pity or mercy.

The priest of Thingvalla had prepared me for the scene, and had
advised me to WALK over the bridge; but as the water at this season
stood so high that the waves from both sides dashed two feet above
the bridge, I could not descend from my horse, and was obliged to
ride across.

The whole passage through the stream is so peculiar, that it must be
seen, and can scarcely be described. The water gushes and plays on
all sides with fearful force; it rushes into the chasm with
impetuous violence, forms waterfalls on both sides, and breaks
itself on the projecting rocks. Not far from the bridge the cleft
terminates; and the whole breadth of the waters falls over rocks
thirty to forty feet high. The nearer we approached the centre, the
deeper, more violent, and impetuous grew the stream, and the more
deafening was the noise. The horses became restless and shy; and
when we came to the bridge, they began to tremble, they reared, they
turned to all sides but the right one, and refused to obey the
bridle. With infinite trouble we at last succeeded in bringing them
across this dangerous place.

The valley which is traversed by this peculiar river is narrow, and
quite enclosed by lava mountains and hills; the inanimate, silent
nature around is perfectly adapted to imprint this scene for ever on
the traveller's memory.

This remarkable stream had been the last difficulty; and now we
proceeded quietly and safely through the beautiful valleys till we
approached the Geyser, which a projecting hillock enviously
concealed from my anxiously curious gaze. At last this hillock was
passed; and I saw the Geyser with its surrounding scenery, with its
immense steam pillars, and the clouds and cloudlets rising from it.
The hill was about two miles distant from the Geyser and the other
hot springs. There they were, boiling and bubbling all around, and
through the midst lay the road to the basin. Eighty paces from it
we halted.

And now I stood before the chief object of my journey; I saw it, it
was so near me, and yet I did not venture to approach it. But a
peasant who had followed us from one of the neighbouring cottages,
and had probably guessed my anxiety and my fear, took me by the hand
and constituted himself my cicerone. He had unfortunately, it being
Sunday, paid too great a devotion to the brandy-bottle, so that he
staggered rather than walked, and I hesitated to trust myself to the
guidance of this man, not knowing whether he had reason enough left
to distinguish how far we might with safety venture. My guide, who
had accompanied me from Reikjavik, assured me indeed that I might
trust him in spite of his intoxication, and that he would himself go
with us to translate the peasant's Icelandic jargon into Danish; but
nevertheless I followed with great trepidation.

He led me to the margin of the basin of the great Geyser, which lies
on the top of a gentle elevation of about ten feet, and contains the
outer and the inner basins. The diameter of the outer basin may be
about thirty feet; that of the inner one six to seven feet. Both
were filled to the brim, the water was pure as crystal, but boiled
and bubbled only slightly. We soon left this spot; for when the
basins are quite filled with water it is very dangerous to approach
them, as they may empty themselves any moment by an eruption. We
therefore went to inspect the other springs.

My unsteady guide pointed those out which we might unhesitatingly
approach, and warned me from the others. Then we returned to the
great Geyser, where he gave me some precautionary rules, in case of
an intervening eruption, and then left me to prepare some
accommodation for my stay. I will briefly enumerate the rules he
gave me.

"The pillar of water always rises perpendicularly, and the
overflowing water has its chief outlets on one and the same side.
The water does indeed escape on the other side, but only in
inconsiderable quantities, and in shapeless little ducts, which one
may easily evade. On this side one may therefore approach within
forty paces even during the most violent eruptions. The eruption
announces itself by a dull roaring; and as soon as this is heard,
the traveller must hastily retire to the above-named distance, as
the eruption always follows very quickly after the noise. The
water, however, does not rise high every time, often only very
inconsiderably, so that, to see a very fine explosion, it is often
necessary to stay some days here."

The French scholar, M. P. Geimard, has provided for the
accommodation of travellers with a truly noble disinterestedness.
He traversed the whole of Iceland some years ago and left two large
tents behind him; one here, and the other in Thingvalla. The one
here is particularly appropriate, as travellers are frequently
obliged, as stated above, to wait several days for a fine eruption.
Every traveller certainly owes M. Geimard the warmest thanks for
this convenience. A peasant, the same who guides travellers to the
springs, has the charge of it, and is bound to pitch it for any one
for a fee of one or two florins.

When my tent was ready it was nearly eleven o'clock. My companions
retired, and I remained alone.

It is usual to watch through the night in order not to miss an
eruption. Now, although an alternate watching is no very arduous
matter for several travellers, it became a very hard task for me
alone, and an Icelandic peasant cannot be trusted; an eruption of
Mount Hecla would scarcely arouse him.

I sat sometimes before and sometimes in my tent, and listened with
anxious expectation for the coming events; at last, after midnight--
the witching hour--I heard some hollow sounds, as if a cannon were
being fired at a great distance, and its echoing sounds were borne
by the breeze. I rushed from my tent and expected subterranean
noises, violent cracking and trembling of the earth, according to
the descriptions I had read. I could scarcely repress a slight
sensation of fear. To be alone at midnight in such a scene is
certainly no joke.

Many of my friends may remember my telling them, before my
departure, that I expected I should need the most courage on my
Icelandic journey during the nights at the Geyser.

These hollow sounds were repeated, at very short intervals, thirteen
times; and each time the basin overflowed and ejected a considerable
quantity of water. The sounds did not seem to proceed from
subterranean ragings, but from the violent agitation of the waters.
In a minute and a half all was over; the water no longer overflowed,
the caldron and basin remained filled, and I returned to my tent
disappointed in every way. This phenomenon was repeated every two
hours and a half, or, at the latest, every three hours and a half.
I saw and heard nothing else all night, the next day, or the second
night. I waited in vain for an eruption.

When I had accustomed myself to these temporary effusions of my
neighbour, I either indulged in a gentle slumber in the intermediate
time, or I visited the other springs and explored. I wished to
discover the boiling vapour and the coloured springs which many
travellers assert they have seen here.

All the hot-springs are united with a circumference of 800 to 900
paces: several of them are very remarkable, but the majority
insignificant.

They are situated in the angle of an immense valley at the foot of a
hill, behind which extends a chain of mountains. The valley is
entirely covered with grass, and the vegetation only decreases a
little in the immediate vicinity of the springs. Cottages are built
every where in the neighbourhood; the nearest to the springs are
only about 700 to 800 paces distant.

I counted twelve large basins with boiling and gushing springs; of
smaller ones there were many more.

Among the gushing springs the Strokker is the most remarkable. It
boils and bubbles with most extraordinary violence at a depth of
about twenty feet, shoots up suddenly, and projects its waters into
the air. Its eruptions sometimes last half an hour, and the column
occasionally ascends to a height of forty feet. I witnessed several
of its eruptions; but unfortunately not one of the largest. The
highest I saw could not have been above thirty feet, and did not
last more than a quarter of an hour. The Strokker is the only
spring, except the Geyser, which has to be approached with great
caution. The eruptions sometimes succeed each other quickly, and
sometimes cease for a few hours, and are not preceded by any sign.
Another spring spouts constantly, but never higher than three to
four feet. A third one lies about four or five feet deep, in a
rather broad basin, and produces only a few little bubbles. But
this calmness is deceptive: it seldom lasts more than half a
minute, rarely two or three minutes; then the spring begins to
bubble, to boil, and to wave and spout to a height of two or three
feet; without, however, reaching the level of the basin. In some
springs I heard boiling and foaming like a gentle bellowing; but saw
no water, sometimes not even steam, rising.

Two of the most remarkable springs which can perhaps be found in the
world are situated immediately above the Geyser, in two openings,
which are separated by a wall of rock scarcely a foot wide. This
partition does not rise above the surface of the soil, but descends
into the earth; the water boils slowly, and has an equable, moderate
discharge. The beauty of these springs consists in their remarkable
transparency. All the varied forms and caves, the projecting peaks,
and edges of rock, are visible far down, until the eye is lost in
the depths of darkness. But the greatest beauty of the spring is
the splendid colouring proceeding from the rock; it is of the
tenderest, most transparent, pale blue and green, and resembles the
reflection of a Bengal flame. But what is most strange is, that
this play of colour proceeds from the rock, and only extends eight
to ten inches from it, while the other water is colourless as common
water, only more transparent, and purer.

I could not believe it at first, and thought it must be occasioned
by the sun; I therefore visited the springs at different times,
sometimes when the sun shone brightly, sometimes when it was
obscured by clouds, once even after its setting; but the colouring
always remained the same.

One may fearlessly approach the brink of these springs. The
platform which projects directly from them, and under which one can
see in all directions, is indeed only a thin ledge of rock, but
strong enough to prevent any accident. The beauty consists, as I
have said, in the magical illumination, and in the transparency, by
which all the caves and grottoes to the greatest depths become
visible to the eye. Involuntarily I thought of Schiller's Diver.
{40} I seemed to see the goblet hang on the peaks and jags of the
rock; I could fancy I saw the monsters rise from the bottom. It
must be a peculiar pleasure to read this splendid poem in such an
appropriate spot.

I found scarcely any basins of Brodem or coloured waters. The only
one of the kind which I saw was a small basin, in which a brownish-
red substance, rather denser than water, was boiling. Another
smaller spring, with dirty brown water, I should have quite
overlooked, if I had not so industriously searched for these
curiosities.

At last, after long waiting, on the second day of my stay, on the
27th June, at half-past eight in the morning, I was destined to see
an eruption of the Geyser in its greatest perfection. The peasant,
who came daily in the morning and in the evening to inquire whether
I had already seen an eruption, was with me when the hollow sounds
which precede it were again heard. We hastened out, and I again
despaired of seeing any thing; the water only overflowed as usual,
and the sound was already ceasing. But all at once, when the last
sounds had scarcely died away, the explosion began. Words fail me
when I try to describe it: such a magnificent and overpowering
sight can only be seen once in a lifetime.

All my expectations and suppositions were far surpassed. The water
spouted upwards with indescribable force and bulk; one pillar rose
higher than the other; each seemed to emulate the other. When I had
in some measure recovered from the surprise, and regained composure,
I looked at the tent. How little, how dwarfish it seemed as
compared to the height of these pillars of water! And yet it was
about twenty feet high. It did, indeed, lie ten feet lower than the
basin of the Geyser; but if tent had been raised above tent, these
ten feet could only be deducted once, and I calculated, though my
calculation may not be correct, that one would need to pile up five
or six tents to have the height of one of the pillars. Without
exaggeration, I think the largest spout rose above one hundred feet
high, and was three to four feet in diameter.

Fortunately I had looked at my watch at the beginning of the hollow
sounds, the forerunners of the eruption, for during its continuance
I should probably have forgotten to do so. The whole lasted four
minutes, of which the greater half must have been taken up by the
eruption itself.

When this wonderful scene was over, the peasant accompanied me to
the basin. We could now approach it and the boiler without danger,
and examine both at leisure. There was now nothing to fear; the
water had entirely disappeared from the outer basin. We entered it
and approached the inner basin, in which the water had sunk seven or
eight feet, where it boiled and bubbled fiercely.

With a hammer I broke some crust out of the outer as well as out of
the inner basin; the former was white, the latter brown. I also
tasted the water; it had not an unpleasant taste, and can only
contain an inconsiderable proportion of sulphur, as the steam does
not even smell of it.

I went to the basin of the Geyser every half hour to observe how
much time was required to fill it again. After an hour I could
still descend into the outer basin; but half an hour later the inner
basin was already full, and commenced to overflow. As long as the
water only filled the inner basin it boiled violently; but the
higher it rose in the outer one, the less it boiled, and nearly
ceased when the basin was filled: it only threw little bubbles here
and there.

After a lapse of two hours--it was just noon--the basin was filled
nearly to the brim; and while I stood beside it the water began
again to bubble violently, and to emit the hollow sounds. I had
scarcely time to retreat, for the pillars of water rose immediately.
This time they spouted during the noise, and were more bulky than
those of the first explosion, which might proceed from their not
rising so high, and therefore remaining more compact. Their height
may have been from forty to fifty feet. The basins this time
remained nearly as full after the eruption as before.

I had now seen two eruptions of the Geyser, and felt amply
compensated for my persevering patience and watchfulness. But I was
destined to be more fortunate, and to experience its explosions in
all their variety. The spring spouted again at seven o'clock in the
evening, ascended higher than at noon, and brought up some stones,
which looked like black spots and points in the white frothy water-
column. And during the third night it presented itself under
another phase: the water rose in dreadful, quickly-succeeding
waves, without throwing rays; the basin overflowed violently, and
generated such a mass of steam as is rarely seen. The wind
accidentally blew it to the spot where I stood, and it enveloped me
so closely that I could scarcely see a few feet off. But I
perceived neither smell nor oppression, merely a slight degree of
warmth.


June 28th.

As I had now seen the Geyser play so often and so beautifully, I
ordered my horses for nine o'clock this morning, to continue my
journey. I made the more haste to leave, as a Dutch prince was
expected, who had lately arrived at Reikjavik, with a large retinue,
in a splendid man-of-war.

I had the luck to see another eruption before my departure at half-
past eight o'clock; and this one was nearly as beautiful as the
first. This time also the outer basin was entirely emptied, and the
inner one to a depth of six or seven feet. I could therefore again
descend into the basin, and bid farewell to the Geyser at the very
brink of the crater, which, of course, I did.

I had now been three nights and two days in the immediate vicinity
of the Geyser, and had witnessed five eruptions, of which two were
of the most considerable that had ever been known. But I can assure
my readers that I did not find every thing as I had anticipated it
according to the descriptions and accounts I had read. I never
heard a greater noise than I have mentioned, and never felt any
trembling of the earth, although I paid the greatest attention to
every little circumstance, and held my head to the ground during an
eruption.

It is singular how many people repeat every thing they hear from
others--how some, with an over-excited imagination, seem to see,
hear, and feel things which do not exist; and how others, again,
tell the most unblushing falsehoods. I met an example of this in
Reikjavik, in the house of the apothecary Moller, in the person of
an officer of a French frigate, who asserted that he had "ridden to
the very edge of the crater of Mount Vesuvius." He probably did not
anticipate meeting any one in Reikjavik who had also been to the
crater of Vesuvius. Nothing irritates me so much as such falsehoods
and boastings; and I could not therefore resist asking him how he
had managed that feat. I told him that I had been there, and feared
danger as little as he could do; but that I had been compelled to
descend from my donkey near the top of the mountain, and let my feet
carry me the remainder of the journey. He seemed rather
embarrassed, and pretended he had meant to say NEARLY to the crater;
but I feel convinced he will tell this story so often that he will
at last believe it himself.

I hope I do not weary my readers by dwelling so long on the subject
of the Geyser. I will now vary the subject by relating a few
circumstances that came under my notice, which, though trifling in
themselves, were yet very significant. The most unimportant facts
of an almost unknown country are often interesting, and are often
most conclusive evidences of the general character of the nation.

I have already spoken of my intoxicated guide. It is yet
inexplicable to me how he could have conducted me so safely in such
a semi-conscious state; and had he not been the only one, I should
certainly not have trusted myself to his guidance.

Of the want of cleanliness of the Icelanders, no one who has not
witnessed it can have any idea; and if I attempted to describe some
of their nauseous habits, I might fill volumes. They seem to have
no feeling of propriety, and I must, in this respect, rank them as
far inferior to the Bedouins and Arabs--even to the Greenlanders. I
can, therefore, not conceive how this nation could once have been
distinguished for wealth, bravery, and civilisation.

On this day I proceeded on my journey about twenty-eight miles
farther to Skalholt.

For the first five miles we retraced our former road; then we turned
to the left and traversed the beautiful long valley in which the
Geyser is situated. For many miles we could see its clouds of steam
rising to the sky. The roads were tolerable only when they passed
along the sides of hills and mountains; in the plains they were
generally marshy and full of water. We sometimes lost all traces of
a road, and only pushed on towards the quarter in which the place of
our destination was situated; and feared withal to sink at every
pace into the soft and unresisting soil.

I found the indolence of the Icelandic peasants quite unpardonable.
All the valleys through which we passed were large morasses richly
overgrown with grass. If the single parishes would unite to dig
trenches and drain the soil, they would have the finest meadows.
This is proved near the many precipices where the water has an
outlet; in these spots the grass grows most luxuriantly, and daisies
and herbs flourish there, and even wild clover. A few cottages are
generally congregated on these oases.

Before arriving at the village of Thorfastadir, we already perceived
Hecla surrounded by the beautiful jokuls.

I arrived at Thorfastadir while a funeral was going on. As I
entered the church the mourners were busily seeking courage and
consolation in the brandy-bottle. The law commands, indeed, that
this be not done in the church; but if every one obeyed the law,
what need would there be of judges? The Icelanders must think so,
else they would discontinue the unseemly practice.

When the priest came, a psalm or a prayer--I could not tell which it
was, being Icelandic--was so earnestly shouted by peasants under the
leadership of the priest and elders, that the good people waxed
quite warm and out of breath. Then the priest placed himself before
the coffin, which, for want of room, had been laid on the backs of
the seats, and with a very loud voice read a prayer which lasted
more than half an hour. With this the ceremony within the church
was concluded, and the coffin was carried round the church to the
grave, followed by the priest and the rest of the company. This
grave was deeper than any I had ever seen. When the coffin had been
lowered, the priest threw three handfuls of earth upon it, but none
of the mourners followed his example. Among the earth which had
been dug out of the grave I noticed four skulls, several human
bones, and a board of a former coffin. These were all thrown in
again upon the coffin, and the grave filled in presence of the
priest and the people. One man trod the soil firm, then a little
mound was made and covered with grass-plots which were lying ready.
The whole business was completed with miraculous speed.

The little town of Skalholt, my station this night, was once as
celebrated in religious matters as Thingvalla had been politically
famous. Here, soon after the introduction of Christianity, the
first bishopric was founded in 1098, and the church is said to have
been one of the largest and richest. Now Skalholt is a miserable
place, and consists of three or four cottages, and a wretched wooden
church, which may perhaps contain a hundred persons; it has not even
its own priest, but belongs to Thorfastadir.

My first business on arriving was to inspect the yet remaining
relics of past ages. First I was shewn an oil-picture which hangs
in the church, and is said to represent the first bishop of
Skalholt, Thorlakur, who was worshipped almost as a saint for his
strict and pious life.

After this, preparations were made to clear away the steps of the
altar and several boards of the flooring. I stood expectantly
looking on, thinking that I should now have to descend into a vault
to inspect the embalmed body of the bishop. I must confess this
prospect was not the most agreeable, when I thought of the
approaching night which I should have to spend in this church,
perhaps immediately over the grave of the old skeleton. I had
besides already had too much to do with the dead for one day, and
could not rid myself of the unpleasant grave-odour which I had
imbibed in Thorfastadir, and which seemed to cling to my dress and
my nose. {41} I was therefore not a little pleased when, instead of
the dreaded vault and mummy, I was only shewn a marble slab, on
which were inscribed the usual notifications of the birth, death,
&c. of this great bishop. Besides this, I saw an old embroidered
stole and a simple golden chalice, both of which are said to be
relics of the age of Thorlakar.

Then we ascended into the so-called store-room, which is only
separated from the lower portion of the church by a few boards, and
which extends to the altar. Here are kept the bells and the organ,
if the church possesses one, the provisions, and a variety of tools.
They opened an immense chest for me there, which seemed to contain
only large pieces of tallow made in the form of cheeses; but under
this tallow I found the library, where I discovered an interesting
treasure. This was, besides several very old books in the Icelandic
tongue, three thick folio volumes, which I could read very easily;
they were German, and contained Luther's doctrines, letters,
epistles, &c.

I had now seen all there was to be seen, and began to satisfy my
physical wants by calling for some hot water to make coffee, &c. As
usual, all the inhabitants of the place ranged themselves in and
before the church, probably to increase their knowledge of the human
race by studying my peculiarities. I soon, however, closed the
door, and prepared a splendid couch for myself. At my first
entrance into the church, I had noticed a long box, quite filled
with sheep's wool. I threw my rugs over this, and slept as
comfortably as in the softest bed. In the morning I carefully
teased the wool up again, and no one could then have imagined where
I had passed the night.

Nothing amused me more, when I had lodgings of this description,
than the curiosity of the people, who would rush in every morning,
as soon as I opened the door. The first thing they said to each
other was always, "Krar hefur hun sovid" (Where can she have
slept?). The good people could not conceive how it was possible to
spend a night ALONE in a church surrounded by a churchyard; they
perhaps considered me an evil spirit or a witch, and would too
gladly have ascertained how such a creature slept. When I saw their
disappointed faces, I had to turn away not to laugh at them.


June 29th.

Early the next morning I continued my journey. Not far from
Skalholt we came to the river Thiorsa, which is deep and rapid. We
crossed in a boat; but the horses had to swim after us. It is often
very troublesome to make the horses enter these streams; they see at
once that they will have to swim. The guide and boatmen cannot
leave the shore till the horses have been forced into the stream;
and even then they have to throw stones, to threaten them with the
whip, and to frighten them by shouts and cries, to prevent them from
returning.

When we had made nearly twelve miles on marshy roads, we came to the
beautiful waterfall of the Huitha. This fall is not so remarkable
for its height, which is scarcely more than fifteen to twenty feet,
as for its breadth, and for its quantity of water. Some beautiful
rocks are so placed at the ledge of the fall, that they divide it
into three parts; but it unites again immediately beneath them. The
bed of the river, as well as its shores, is of lava.

The colour of the water is also a remarkable feature in this river;
it inclines so much to milky white, that, when the sun shines on it,
it requires no very strong imaginative power to take the whole for
milk.

Nearly a mile above the fall we had to cross the Huitha, one of the
largest rivers in Iceland. Thence the road lies through meadows,
which are less marshy than the former ones, till it comes to a broad
stream of lava, which announces the vicinity of the fearful volcano
of Hecla.

I had hitherto not passed over such an expanse of country in Iceland
as that from the Geyser to this place without coming upon streams of
lava. And this lava-stream seemed to have felt some pity for the
beautiful meadows, for it frequently separated into two branches,
and thus enclosed the verdant plain. But it could not withstand the
violence of the succeeding masses; it had been carried on, and had
spread death and destruction everywhere. The road to it, through
plains covered with dark sand, and over steep hills intervening, was
very fatiguing and laborious.

We proceeded to the little village of Struvellir, where we stopped
to give our horses a few hours' rest. Here we found a large
assembly of men and animals. {42} It happened to be Sunday, and a
warm sunny day, and so a very full service was held in the pretty
little church. When it was over, I witnessed an amusing rural
scene. The people poured out of the church,--I counted ninety-six,
which is an extraordinarily numerous assemblage for Iceland,--formed
into little groups, chatting and joking, not forgetting, however, to
moisten their throats with brandy, of which they had taken care to
bring an ample supply. Then they bridled their horses and prepared
for departure; now the kisses poured in from all sides, and there
was no end of leave-taking, for the poor people do not know whether
they shall ever meet again, and when.

In all Iceland welcome and farewell is expressed by a loud kiss,--a
practice not very delightful for a non-Icelander, when one considers
their ugly, dirty faces, the snuffy noses of the old people, and the
filthy little children. But the Icelanders do not mind this. They
all kissed the priest, and the priest kissed them; and then they
kissed each other, till the kissing seemed to have no end. Rank is
not considered in this ceremony; and I was not a little surprised to
see how my guide, a common farm-labourer, kissed the six daughters
of a judge, or the wife and children of a priest, or a judge and the
priest themselves, and how they returned the compliment without
reserve. Every country has its peculiar customs!

The religious ceremonies generally begin about noon, and last two or
three hours. There being no public inn in which to assemble, and no
stable in which the horses can be fastened, all flock to the open
space in front of the church, which thus becomes a very animated
spot. All have to remain in the open air.

When the service was over, I visited the priest, Herr Horfuson; he
was kind enough to conduct me to the Salsun, nine miles distant,
principally to engage a guide to Hecla for me.

I was doubly rejoiced to have this good man at my side, as we had to
cross a dangerous stream, which was very rapid, and so deep that the
water rose to the horses' breasts. Although we raised our feet as
high as possible, we were yet thoroughly wet. This wading across
rivers is one of the most unpleasant modes of travelling. The horse
swims more than it walks, and this creates a most disagreeable
sensation; one does not know whither to direct one's eyes; to look
into the stream would excite giddiness, and the sight of the shore
is not much better, for that seems to move and to recede, because
the horse, by the current, is forced a little way down the river.
To my great comfort the priest rode by my side to hold me, in case I
should not be able to keep my seat. I passed fortunately through
this probation; and when we reached the other shore, Herr Horfuson
pointed out to me how far the current had carried us down the river.

The valley in which Salsun and the Hecla are situated is one of
those which are found only in Iceland. It contains the greatest
contrasts. Here are charming fields covered with a rich green
carpet of softest grass, and there again hills of black, shining
lava; even the fertile plains are traversed by streams of lava and
spots of sand. Mount Hecla notoriously has the blackest lava and
the blackest sand; and it may be imagined how the country looks in
its immediate neighbourhood. One hill only to the left of Hecla is
reddish brown, and covered with sand and stones of a similar colour.
The centre is much depressed, and seems to form a large crater.
Mount Hecla is directly united with the lava-mountains piled round
it, and seems from the plain only as a higher point. It is
surrounded by several glaciers, whose dazzling fields of snow
descend far down, and whose brilliant plains have probably never
been trod by human feet; several of its sides were also covered with
snow. To the left of the valley near Salsun, and at the foot of a
lava-hill, lies a lovely lake, on whose shores a numerous flock of
sheep were grazing. Near it rises another beautiful hill, so
solitary and isolated, that it looks as if it had been cast out by
its neighbours and banished hither. Indeed, the whole landscape
here is so peculiarly Icelandic, so strange and remarkable, that it
will ever remain impressed on my memory.

Salsun lies at the foot of Mount Hecla, but is not seen before one
reaches it.

Arrived at Salsun, our first care was to seek a guide, and to
bargain for every thing requisite for the ascension of the mountain.
The guide was to procure a horse for me, and to take me and my
former guide to the summit of Hecla. He demanded five thaler and
two marks (about fifteen shillings), a most exorbitant sum, on which
he could live for a month. But what could we do? He knew very well
that there was no other guide to be had, and so I was forced to
acquiesce. When all was arranged, my kind companion left me,
wishing me success on my arduous expedition.

I now looked out for a place in which I could spend the night, and a
filthy hole fell to my lot. A bench, rather shorter that my body,
was put into it, to serve as my bed; beside it hung a decayed fish,
which had infected the whole room with its smell. I could scarcely
breathe; and as there was no other outlet, I was obliged to open the
door, and thus receive the visits of the numerous and amiable
inhabitants. What a strengthening and invigorating preparation for
the morrow's expedition!

At the foot of Mount Hecla, and especially in this village, every
thing seems to be undermined. Nowhere, not even on Mount Vesuvius,
had I heard such hollow, droning sounds as here,--the echoes of the
heavy footsteps of the peasants. These sounds made a very awful
impression on me as I lay all night alone in that dark hole.

My Hecla guide, as I shall call him to distinguish him from my other
guide, advised me to start at two o'clock in the morning, to which I
assented, well knowing, however, that we should not have mounted our
horses before five o'clock.

As I had anticipated, so it happened. At half-past five we were
quite prepared and ready for departure. Besides bread and cheese, a
bottle of water for myself, and one of brandy for my guides, we were
also provided with long sticks, tipped with iron points to sound the
depth of the snow, and to lean upon.

We were favoured by a fine warm sunny morning, and galloped briskly
over the fields and the adjoining plains of sand. My guide
considered the fine weather a very lucky omen, and told me that M.
Geimard, the before-mentioned French scholar, had been compelled to
wait three days for fine weather. Nine years had elapsed, and no
one had ascended the mountain since then. A prince of Denmark, who
travelled through Iceland some years before, had been there, but had
returned without effecting his purpose.

Our road at first led us through beautiful fields, and then over
plains of black sand enclosed on all sides by streams, hillocks, and
mountains of piled-up lava. Closer and closer these fearful masses
approach, and scarcely permit a passage through a narrow cleft; we
had to climb over blocks and hills of lava, where it is difficult to
find a firm resting-place for the foot. The lava rolled beside and
behind us, and we had to proceed carefully not to fall or be hit by
the rolling lava. But most dangerous were the chasms filled with
snow over which we had to pass; the snow had been softened by the
warmth of the season, so that we sank into it nearly every step, or,
what was worse, slipped back more than we had advanced. I scarcely
think there can be another mountain whose ascent offers so many
difficulties.

After a labour of about three hours and a half we neared the summit
of the mountain, where we were obliged to leave our horses. I
should, indeed, have preferred to do so long before, as I was
apprehensive of the poor animals falling as they climbed over these
precipices--one might almost call them rolling mountains--but my
guide would not permit it. Sometimes we came to spots where they
were useful, and then he maintained that I must ride as far as
possible to reserve my strength for the remaining difficulties. And
he was right; I scarcely believe I should have been able to go
through it on foot, for when I thought we were near the top, hills
of lava again rose between us, and we seemed farther from our
journey's end than before.

My guide told me that he had never taken any one so far on
horseback, and I can believe it. Walking was bad enough--riding was
fearful.

At every fresh declivity new scenes of deserted, melancholy
districts were revealed to us; every thing was cold and dead, every
where there was black burnt lava. It was a painful feeling to see
so much, and behold nothing but a stony desert, an immeasurable
chaos.

There were still two declivities before us,--the last, but the
worst. We had to climb steep masses of lava, sharp and pointed,
which covered the whole side of the mountain. I do not know how
often I fell and cut my hands on the jagged points of the lava. It
was a fearful journey!

The dazzling whiteness of the snow contrasted with the bright black
lava beside it had an almost blinding effect. When crossing fields
of snow I did not look at the lava; for having tried to do so once
or twice, I could not see my way afterwards, and had nearly grown
snow-blind.

After two hours' more labour we reached the summit of the mountain.
I stood now on Mount Hecla, and eagerly sought the crater on the
snowless top, but did not find it. I was the more surprised, as I
had read detailed accounts of it in several descriptions of travel.

I traversed the whole summit of the mountain and climbed to the
adjoining jokul, but did not perceive an opening, a fissure, a
depressed space, nor any sign of a crater. Lower down in the sides
of the mountain, but not in the real cone, I saw some clefts and
fissures from which the streams of lava probably poured. The height
of the mountain is said to be 4300 feet.

During the last hour of our ascent the sun had grown dim. Clouds of
mist blown from the neighbouring glaciers enshrouded the hill-tops,
and soon enveloped us so closely that we could scarcely see ten
paces before us. At last they dissolved, fortunately not in rain
but in snow, which profusely covered the black uneven lava. The
snow remained on the ground, and the thermometer stood at one degree
of cold.

In a little while the clear blue sky once more was visible, and the
sun again shone over us. I remained on the top till the clouds had
separated beneath us, and afforded me a better distant view over the
country.

My pen is unfortunately too feeble to bring vividly before my
readers the picture such as I beheld it here, and to describe to
them the desolation, the extent and height of these lava-masses. I
seemed to stand in a crater, and the whole country appeared only a
burnt-out fire. Here lava was piled up in steep inaccessible
mountains; there stony rivers, whose length and breadth seemed
immeasurable, filled the once-verdant fields. Every thing was
jumbled together, and yet the course of the last eruption could be
distinctly traced.

I stood there, in the centre of horrible precipices, caves, streams,
valleys, and mountains, and scarcely comprehended how it was
possible to penetrate so far, and was overcome with terror at the
thought which involuntarily obtruded itself--the possibility of
never finding my way again out of these terrible labyrinths.

Here, from the top of Mount Hecla, I could see far into the
uninhabited country, the picture of a petrified creation, dead and
motionless, and yet magnificent,--a picture which once seen can
never again fade from the memory, and which alone amply compensates
for all the previous troubles and dangers. A whole world of
glaciers, lava-mountains, snow and ice-fields, rivers and lakes,
into which no human foot has ever ventured to penetrate. How nature
must have laboured and raged till these forms were created! And is
it over now? Has the destroying element exhausted itself; or does
it only rest, like the hundred-headed Hydra, to break forth with
renewed strength, and desolate those regions which, pushed to the
verge of the sea-shore, encircle the sterile interior as a modest
wreath? I thank God that he has permitted me to behold this chaos
in his creation; but I thank him more heartily that he has placed me
to dwell in regions where the sun does more than merely give light;
where it inspires and fertilises animals and plants, and fills the
human heart with joy and thankfulness towards its Creator. {43}

The Westmann Isles, which are said to be visible from the top of
Hecla, I could not see; they were probably covered by clouds.

During the ascent of the Hecla I had frequently touched lava,--
sometimes involuntarily, when I fell; sometimes voluntarily, to find
a hot or at least a warm place. I was unfortunate enough only to
find cold ones. The falling snow was therefore most welcome, and I
looked anxiously around to see a place where the subterranean heat
would melt it. I should then have hastened thither and found what I
sought. But unfortunately the snow remained unmelted every where.
I could neither see any clouds of smoke, although I gazed steadily
at the mountain for hours, and could from my post survey it far down
the sides.

As we descended we found the snow melting at a depth of 500 to 600
feet; lower down, the whole mountain smoked, which I thought was the
consequence of the returning warmth of the sun, for my thermometer
now stood at nine degrees of heat. I have noticed the same
circumstance often on unvolcanic mountains. The spots from which
the smoke rose were also cold.

The smooth jet-black, bright, and dense lava is only found on the
mountain itself and in its immediate vicinity. But all lava is not
the same: there is jagged, glassy, and porous lava; the former is
black, and so is the sand which covers one side of Hecla. The
farther the lava and sand are from the mountain, the more they lose
this blackness, and their colour plays into iron-colour and even
into light-grey; but the lighter-coloured lava generally retains the
brightness and smoothness of the black lava.

After a troublesome descent, having spent twelve hours on this
excursion, we arrived safely at Salsun; and I was on the point of
returning to my lodging, somewhat annoyed at the prospect of
spending another night in such a hole, when my guide surprised me
agreeably by the proposition to return to Struvellir at once. The
horses, he said, were sufficiently rested, and I could get a good
room there in the priest's house. I soon packed, and in a short
time we were again on horseback. The second time I came to the deep
Rangaa, I rode across fearlessly, and needed no protection at any
side. Such is man: danger only alarms him the first time; when he
has safely surmounted it once, he scarcely thinks of it the second
time, and wonders how he can have felt any fear.

I saw five little trees standing in a field near the stream. The
stems of these, which, considering the scarcity of trees in Iceland,
may be called remarkable phenomena, were crooked and knotty, but yet
six or seven feet high, and about four or five inches in diameter.

As my guide had foretold, I found a very comfortable room and a good
bed in the priest's house. Herr Horfuson is one of the best men I
have ever met with. He eagerly sought opportunities for giving me
pleasure, and to him I owe several fine minerals and an Icelandic
book of the year 1601. May God reward his kindness and benevolence!


July 1st.

We retraced our steps as far as the river Huitha, over which we
rowed, and then turned in another direction. Our journey led us
through beautiful valleys, many of them producing abundance of
grass; but unfortunately so much moss grew among it, that these
large plains were not available for pastures, and only afforded
comfort to travellers by their aspect of cheerfulness. They were
quite dry.

The valley in which Hjalmholm, our resting-place for this night, was
situated, is traversed by a stream of lava, which had, however, been
modest enough not to fill up the whole valley, but to leave a space
for the pretty stream Elvas, and for some fields and hillocks, on
which many cottages stood. It was one of the most populous valleys
I had seen in Iceland.

Hjalmholm is situated on a hill. In it lives the Sysselmann of the
Rangaar district, in a large and beautiful house such as I saw no
where in Iceland except in Reikjavik. He had gone to the capital of
the island as member of the Allthing; but his daughters received me
very hospitably and kindly.

We talked and chatted much; I tried to display my knowledge of the
Danish language before them, and must often have made use of curious
phrases, for the girls could not contain their laughter. But that
did not abash me; I laughed with them, applied to my dictionary,
which I carried with me, and chatted on. They seemed to gather no
very high idea of the beauty of my countrywomen from my personal
appearance; for which I humbly crave the forgiveness of my
countrywomen, assuring them that no one regrets the fact more than I
do. But dame Nature always treats people of my years very harshly,
and sets a bad example to youth of the respect due to age. Instead
of honouring us and giving us the preference, she patronises the
young folks, and every maiden of sixteen can turn up her nose at us
venerable matrons. Besides my natural disqualifications, the sharp
air and the violent storms to which I had been subjected had
disfigured my face very much. They had affected me more than the
burning heat of the East. I was very brown, my lips were cracked,
and my nose, alas, even began to rebel against its ugly colour. It
seemed anxious to possess a new, dazzling white, tender skin, and
was casting off the old one in little bits.

The only circumstance which reinstated me in the good opinion of the
young girls was, that having brushed my hair unusually far out of my
face, a white space became visible. The girls all cried out
simultaneously, quite surprised and delighted: "Hun er quit" (she
is white). I could not refrain from laughing, and bared my arm to
prove to them that I did not belong to the Arab race.

A great surprise was destined me in this house; for, as I was
ransacking the Sysselmann's book-case, I found Rotteck's Universal
History, a German Lexicon, and several poems and writings of German
poets.


July 2d.

The way from Kalmannstunga to Thingvalla leads over nothing but
lava, and the one to-day went entirely through marshes. As soon as
we had crossed one, another was before us. Lava seemed to form the
soil here, for little portions of this mineral rose like islands out
of the marshes.

The country already grew more open, and we gradually lost sight of
the glaciers. The high mountains on the left seemed like hills in
the distance, and the nearer ones were really hills. After riding
about nine miles we crossed the large stream of Elvas in a boat, and
then had to tread carefully across a very long, narrow bank, over a
meadow which was quite under water. If a traveller had met us on
this bank, I do not know what we should have done; to turn round
would have been as dangerous as to sink into the morass.
Fortunately one never meets any travellers in Iceland.

Beyond the dyke the road runs for some miles along the mountains and
hills, which all consist of lava, and are of a very dark, nearly
black colour. The stones on these hills were very loose; in the
plain below many colossal pieces were lying, which must have fallen
down; and many others threatened to fall every moment. We passed
the dangerous spot safely, without having had to witness such a
scene.

I often heard a hollow sound among these hills; I at first took it
for distant thunder, and examined the horizon to discover the
approaching storm. But when I saw neither clouds nor lightning, I
perceived that I must seek the origin of the sounds nearer, and that
they proceeded from the falling portions of rock.

The higher mountains to the left fade gradually more and more from
view; but the river Elvas spreads in such a manner, and divides into
so many branches, that one might mistake it for a lake with many
islands. It flows into the neighbouring sea, whose expanse becomes
visible after surmounting a few more small hills.

The vale of Reikum, which we now entered, is, like that of Reikholt,
rich in hot springs, which are congregated partly in the plain,
partly on or behind the hills, in a circumference of between two and
three miles.

When we had reached the village of Reikum I sent my effects at once
to the little church, took a guide, and proceeded to the boiling
springs. I found very many, but only two remarkable ones; these,
however, belong to the most noteworthy of their kind. The one is
called the little Geyser, the other the Bogensprung.

The little Geyser has an inner basin of about three feet diameter.
The water boils violently at a depth of from two to three feet, and
remains within its bounds till it begins to spout, when it projects
a beautiful voluminous steam of from 20 to 30 feet high.

At half-past eight in the evening I had the good fortune to see one
of these eruptions, and needed not, as I had done at the great
Geyser, to bivouac near it for days and nights. The eruption lasted
some time, and was tolerably equable; only sometimes the column of
water sank a little, to rise to its former height with renewed
force. After forty minutes it fell quite down into the basin again.
The stones we threw in, it rejected at once, or in a few seconds,
shivered into pieces, to a height of about 12 to 15 feet. Its bulk
must have been 1 to 1.5 feet in diameter. My guide assured me that
this spring generally plays only twice, rarely thrice, in twenty-
four hours, and not, as I have seen it stated, every six minutes. I
remained near it till midnight, but saw no other eruption.

This spring very much resembles the Strukker near the great Geyser,
the only difference being that the water sinks much lower in the
latter.

The second of the two remarkable springs, the arched spring, is
situated near the little Geyser, on the declivity of a hill. I had
never seen such a curious formation for the bed of a spring as this
is. It has no basin, but lies half open at your feet, in a little
grotto, which is separated into various cavities and holes, and
which is half-surrounded by a wall of rock bending over it slightly
at a height of about 2 feet, and then rises 10 to 12 feet higher.
This spring never is at rest more than a minute; then it begins to
rise and boil quickly, and emits a voluminous column, which,
striking against the projecting rock, is flattened by it, and rises
thence like an arched fan. The height of this peculiarly-spread jet
of water may be about 12 feet, the arch it describes 15 to 20 feet,
and its breadth 3 to 8 feet. The time of eruption is often longer
than that of repose. After an eruption the water always sinks a few
feet into the cave, and for 15 or 20 seconds admits of a glance into
this wonderful grotto. But it rises again immediately, fills the
grotto and the basin, which is only a continuation of the grotto,
and springs again.

I watched this miraculous play of nature for more than an hour, and
could not tear myself from it. This spring, which is certainly the
only one of its kind, gratified me much more than the little Geyser.

There is another spring called the roaring Geyser; but it is nothing
more than a misshapen hole, in which one hears the water boil, but
cannot see it. The noise is, also, not at all considerable.


July 3d.

Near Reikum we crossed a brook into which all the hot springs flow,
and which has a pretty fall. We then ascended the adjoining
mountain, and rode full two hours on the high plain. The plain
itself was monotonous, as it was only covered with lava-stones and
moss, but the prospect into the valley was varied and beautiful.
Vale and sea were spread before me, and I saw the Westmann Islands,
with their beautiful hills, which the envious clouds had concealed
from me on the Hecla, lying in the distance. Below me stood some
houses in the port-town, Eierbach, and near them the waters of the
Elvas flow into the sea.

At the end of this mountain-level a valley was situated, which was
also filled with lava, but with that jagged black lava which
presents such a beautiful appearance. Immense streams crossed it
from all sides, so that it almost resembled a black lake separated
from the sea by a chain of equally black mountains.

We descended into this sombre vale through piles of lava and fields
of snow, and went on through valleys and chasms, over fields of
lava, plains of meadow-land, past dark mountains and hills, till we
reached the chief station of my Icelandic journey, the town of
Reikjavik.

The whole country between Reikum and Reikjavik, a distance of 45 to
50 miles, is, for the most part, uninhabited. Here and there, in
the fields of lava, stand little pyramids of the same substance,
which serve as landmarks; and there are two houses built for such
persons as are obliged to travel during the winter. But we found
much traffic on the road, and often overtook caravans of 15 to 20
horses. Being the beginning of August, it was the time of trade and
traffic in Iceland. Then the country people travel to Reikjavik
from considerable distances, to change their produce and
manufactures, partly for money, partly for necessaries and luxuries.
At this period the merchants and factors have not hands enough to
barter the goods or close the accounts which the peasants wish to
settle for the whole year.

At this season an unusual commotion reigns in Reikjavik. Numerous
groups of men and horses fill the streets; goods are loaded and
unloaded; friends who have not met for a year or more welcome each
other, others take leave. On one spot curious tents {44} are
erected, before which children play; on another drunken men stagger
along, or gallop on horseback, so that one is terrified, and fears
every moment to see them fall.

This unusual traffic unfortunately only lasts six or eight days.
The peasant hastens home to his hay-harvest; the merchant must
quickly regulate the produce and manufactures he has purchased, and
load his ships with them, so that they may sail and reach their
destination before the storms of the autumnal equinox.

Miles.

From Reikjavik to Thingvalla is 45
From Thingvalla to the Geyser 36
From the Geyser to Skalholt 28
From Skalholt to Salsun 36
From Salsun to Struvellir 9
From Struvellir to Hjalmholm 28
From Hjalmholm to Reikum 32
From Reikum to Reikjavik 45
259



CHAPTER VII



During my travels in Iceland I had of course the opportunity of
becoming acquainted with its inhabitants, their manners and customs.
I must confess that I had formed a higher estimate of the peasants.
When we read in the history of that country that the first
inhabitants had emigrated thither from civilised states; that they
had brought knowledge and religion with them; when we hear of the
simple good-hearted people, and their patriarchal mode of life in
the accounts of former travellers, and which we know that nearly
every peasant in Iceland can read and write, and that at least a
Bible, but generally other religions books also, are found in every
cot,--one feels inclined to consider this nation the best and most
civilised in Europe. I deemed their morality sufficiently secured
by the absence of foreign intercourse, by their isolated position,
and the poverty of the country. No large town there affords
opportunity for pomp or gaiety, or for the commission of smaller or
greater sins. Rarely does a foreigner enter the island, whose
remoteness, severe climate, inhospitality, and poverty, are
uninviting. The grandeur and peculiarity of its natural formation
alone makes it interesting, and that does not suffice for the
masses.

I therefore expected to find Iceland a real Arcadia in regard to its
inhabitants, and rejoiced at the anticipation of seeing such an
Idyllic life realised. I felt so happy when I set foot on the
island that I could have embraced humanity. But I was soon
undeceived.

I have often been impatient at my want of enthusiasm, which must be
great, as I see every thing in a more prosaic form than other
travellers. I do not maintain that my view is RIGHT, but I at least
possess the virtue of describing facts as I see them, and do not
repeat them from the accounts of others.

I have already described the impoliteness and heartlessness of the
so-called higher classes, and soon lost the good opinion I had
formed of them. I now came to the working classes in the vicinity
of Reikjavik. The saying often applied to the Swiss people, "No
money, no Swiss," one may also apply to the Icelanders. And of this
fact I can cite several examples.

Scarcely had they heard that I, a foreigner, had arrived, than they
frequently came to me, and brought quite common objects, such as can
be found any where in Iceland, and expected me to pay dearly for
them. At first I purchased from charity, or to be rid of their
importunities, and threw the things away again; but I was soon
obliged to give this up, as I should else have been besieged from
morning to night. Their anxiety to gain money without labour
annoyed me less than the extortionate prices with which they tried
to impose on a stranger. For a beetle, such as could be found under
every stone, they asked 5 kr. (about 2d.); as much for a
caterpillar, of which thousands were lying on the beach; and for a
common bird's egg, 10 to 20 kr. (4d. to 8d.) Of course, when I
declined buying, they reduced their demand, sometimes to less than
half the original sum; but this was certainly not in consequence of
their honesty. The baker in whose house I lodged also experienced
the selfishness of these people. He had engaged a poor labourer to
tar his house, who, when he had half finished his task, heard of
other employment. He did not even take the trouble to ask the baker
to excuse him for a few days; he went away, and did not return to
finish the interrupted work for a whole week. This conduct was the
more inexcusable as his children received bread, and even butter,
twice a week from the baker.

I was fortunate enough to experience similar treatment. Herr
Knudson had engaged a guide for me, with whom I was to take my
departure in a few days. But it happened that the magistrate wished
also to take a trip, and sent for my guide. The latter expected to
be better paid by him, and went; he did not come to me to discharge
himself, but merely sent me word on the eve of my departure, that he
was ill, and could therefore not go with me. I could enumerate many
more such examples, which do not much tend to give a high estimate
of Icelandic morality.

I consoled myself with the hope of finding simplicity and honesty in
the more retired districts, and therefore anticipated a twofold
pleasure from my journey into the interior. I found many virtues,
but unfortunately so many faults, that I am no longer inclined to
exalt the Icelandic peasants as examples.

The best of their virtues is their honesty. I could leave my
baggage unguarded any where for hours, and never missed the least
article, for they did not even permit their children to touch any
thing. In this point they are so conscientious, that if a peasant
comes from a distance, and wishes to rest in a cottage, he never
fails to knock at the door, even if it is open. If no one calls
"come in," he does not enter. One might fearlessly sleep with open
doors.

Crimes are of such rare occurrence here, that the prison of
Reikjavik was changed into a dwelling-house for the chief warden
many years since. Small crimes are punished summarily, either in
Reikjavik or at the seat of the Sysselmann. Criminals of a deeper
dye are sent to Copenhagen, and are sentenced and punished there.

My landlord at Reikjavik, the master-baker Bernhoft, told me that
only one crime had been committed in Iceland during the thirteen
years that he had resided there. This was the murder of an
illegitimate child immediately after its birth. The most frequently
occurring crime is cow-stealing.

I was much surprised to find that nearly all the Icelanders can read
and write. The latter quality only was somewhat rarer with the
women. Youths and men often wrote a firm, good hand. I also found
books in every cottage, the Bible always, and frequently poems and
stories, sometimes even in the Danish language.

They also comprehend very quickly; when I opened my map before them,
they soon understood its use and application. Their quickness is
doubly surprising, if we consider that every father instructs his
own children, and sometimes the neighbouring orphans. This is of
course only done in the winter; but as winter lasts eight months in
Iceland, it is long enough.

There is only one school in the whole island, which originally was
in Bessestadt, but has been removed to Reikjavik since 1846. In
this school only youths who can read and write are received, and
they are either educated for priests, and may complete their studies
here, or for doctors, apothecaries, or judges, when they must
complete their studies in Copenhagen.

Besides theology, geometry, geography, history, and several
languages, such as Latin, Danish, and, since 1846, German and also
French, are taught in the school of Reikjavik.

The chief occupation of the Icelandic peasants consists in fishing,
which is most industriously pursued in February, March, and April.
Then the inhabitants of the interior come to the coasting villages
and hire themselves to the dwellers on the beach, the real
fishermen, as assistants, taking a portion of the fish as their
wages. Fishing is attended to at other times also, but then
exclusively by the real fishermen. In the months of July and August
many of the latter go into the interior and assist in the hay-
harvest, for which they receive butter, sheep's wool, and salt lamb.
Others ascend the mountains and gather the Iceland moss, of which
they make a decoction, which they drink mixed with milk, or they
grind it to flour, and bake flat cakes of it, which serve them in
place of bread.

The work of the women consists in the preparation of the fish for
drying, smoking, or salting; in tending the cattle, in knitting,
sometimes in gathering moss. In winter both men and women knit and
weave.

As regards the hospitality of the Icelanders, {45} I do not think
one can give them so very much credit for it. It is true that
priests and peasants gladly receive any European traveller, and
treat him to every thing in their power; but they know well that the
traveller who comes to their island is neither an adventurer nor a
beggar, and will therefore pay them well. I did not meet one
peasant or priest who did not accept the proffered gift without
hesitation. But I must say of the priests that they were every
where obliging and ready to serve me, and satisfied with the
smallest gift; and their charges, when I required horses for my
excursions, were always moderate. I only found the peasant less
interested in districts where a traveller scarcely ever appeared;
but in such places as were more visited, their charges were often
exorbitant. For example, I had to pay 20 to 30 kr. (8d. to 1s.) for
being ferried over a river; and then my guide and I only were rowed
in the boat, and the horses had to swim. The guide who accompanied
me on the Hecla also overcharged me; but he knew that I was forced
to take him, as there is no choice of guides, and one does not give
up the ascent for the sake of a little money.

This conduct shows that the character of the Icelanders does not
belong to the best; and that they take advantage of travellers with
as much shrewdness as the landlords and guides on the continent.

A besetting sin of the Icelanders is their drunkenness. Their
poverty would probably not be so great if they were less devoted to
brandy, and worked more industriously. It is dreadful to see what
deep root this vice has taken. Not only on Sundays, but also on
week-days, I met peasants who were so intoxicated that I was
surprised how they could keep in their saddle. I am, however, happy
to say that I never saw a woman in this degrading condition.

Another of their passions is snuff. They chew and snuff tobacco
with the same infatuation as it is smoked in other countries. But
their mode of taking it is very peculiar. Most of the peasants, and
even many of the priests, have no proper snuff-box, but only a box
turned of bone, shaped like a powder-flask. When they take snuff,
they throw back their head, insert the point of the flask in their
nose, and shake a dose of tobacco into it. They then, with the
greatest amiability, offer it to their neighbour, he to his, and so
it goes round till it reaches the owner again.

I think, indeed, that the Icelanders are second to no nation in
uncleanliness; not even to the Greenlanders, Esquimaux, or
Laplanders. If I were to describe a portion only of what I
experienced, my readers would think me guilty of gross exaggeration;
I prefer, therefore, to leave it to their imagination; merely saying
that they cannot conceive any thing too dirty for Iceland delicacy.

Beside this very estimable quality, they are also insuperably lazy.
Not far from the coast are immense meadows, so marshy that it is
dangerous to cross them. The fault lies less in the soil than the
people. If they would only make ditches, and thus dry the ground,
they would have the most splendid grass. That this would grow
abundantly is proved by the little elevations which rise from above
the marshes, and which are thickly covered with grass, herbage, and
wild clover. I also passed large districts covered with good soil,
and some where the soil was mixed with sand.

I frequently debated with Herr Boge, who has lived in Iceland for
forty years, and is well versed in farming matters, whether it would
not be possible to produce important pasture-grounds and hay-fields
with industry and perseverance. He agreed with me, and thought that
even potato-fields might be reclaimed, if only the people were not
so lazy, preferring to suffer hunger and resign all the comforts of
cleanliness rather than to work. What nature voluntarily gives,
they are satisfied with, and it never occurs to them to force more
from her. If a few German peasants were transported hither, what a
different appearance the country would soon have!

The best soil in Iceland is on the Norderland. There are a few
potato-grounds there, and some little trees, which, without any
cultivation, have reached a height of seven to eight feet. Herr
Boge, established here for thirty years, had planted some mountain-
ash and birch-trees, which had grown to a height of sixteen feet.

In the Norderland, and every where except on the coast, the people
live by breeding cattle. Many a peasant there possesses from two to
four hundred sheep, ten to fifteen cows, and ten to twelve horses.
There are not many who are so rich, but at all events they are
better off than the inhabitants of the sea-coast. The soil there is
for the most part bad, and they are therefore nearly all compelled
to have recourse to fishing.

Before quitting Iceland, I must relate a tradition told me by many
Icelanders, not only by peasants, but also by people of the so-
called higher classes, and who all implicitly believe it.

It is asserted that the inhospitable interior is likewise populated,
but by a peculiar race of men, to whom alone the paths through these
deserts are known. These savages have no intercourse with their
fellow-countrymen during the whole year, and only come to one of the
ports in the beginning of July, for one day at the utmost, to buy
several necessaries, for which they pay in money. They then vanish
suddenly, and no one knows in which direction they are gone. No one
knows them; they never bring their wives or children with them, and
never reply to the question whence they come. Their language, also,
is said to be more difficult than that of the other inhabitants of
Iceland.

One gentleman, whom I do not wish to name, expressed a wish to have
the command of twenty to twenty-five well-armed soldiers, to search
for these wild men.

The people who maintain that they have seen these children of
nature, assert that they are taller and stronger than other
Icelanders; that their horses' hoofs, instead of being shod earth
iron, have shoes of horn; and that they have much money, which they
can only have acquired by pillage. When I inquired what respectable
inhabitants of Iceland had been robbed by these savages, and when
and where, no one could give me an answer. For my part, I scarcely
think that one man, certainly not a whole race, could live by
pillage in Iceland.


DEPARTURE FROM ICELAND.--JOURNEY TO COPENHAGEN.


I had seen all there was to be seen in Iceland, had finished all my
excursions, and awaited with inexpressible impatience the sailing of
the vessel which was destined to bring me nearer my beloved home.
But I had to stay four very long weeks in Reikjavik, my patience
being more exhausted from day to day, and had after this long delay
to be satisfied with the most wretched accommodation.

The delay was the more tantalising, as several ships left the port
in the mean time, and Herr Knudson, with whom I had crossed over
from Copenhagen, invited me to accompany him on his return; but all
the vessels went to England or to Spain, and I did not wish to visit
either of these countries. I was waiting for an opportunity to go
to Scandinavia, to have at least a glance at these picturesque
districts.

At last there were two sloops which intended to sail towards the end
of July. The better of the two went to Altona; the destination of
the other was Copenhagen. I had intended to travel in the former;
but a merchant of Reikjavik had already engaged the only berth,--for
there rarely is more than one in such a small vessel,--and I deemed
myself lucky to obtain the one in the other ship. Herr Bernhoft
thought, indeed, that the vessel might be too bad for such a long
journey, and proposed to examine it, and report on its condition.
But as I had quite determined to go to Denmark, I requested him to
waive the examination, and agree with the captain about my passage.
If, as I anticipated, he found the vessel too wretched, his warnings
might have shaken my resolution, and I wished to avoid that
contingency.

We heard, soon, that a young Danish girl, who had been in service in
Iceland, wished to return by the same vessel. She had been
suffering so much from home-sickness, that she was determined, under
any circumstances, to see her beloved fatherland again. If, thought
I to myself, the home-sickness is powerful enough to make this girl
indifferent to the danger, longing must take its place in my breast
and effect the same result.

Our sloop bore the consolatory name of Haabet (hope), and belonged
to the merchant Fromm, in Copenhagen.

Our departure had been fixed for the 26th of July, and after that
day I scarcely dared to leave my house, being in constant
expectation of a summons on board. Violent storms unfortunately
prevented our departure, and I was not called till the 29th of July,
when I had to bid farewell to Iceland.

This was comparatively easy. Although I had seen many wonderful
views, many new and interesting natural phenomena, I yet longed for
my accustomed fields, in which we do not find magnificent and
overpowering scenes, but lovelier and more cheerful ones. The
separation from Herr Knudson and the family of Bernhoft was more
difficult. I owed all the kindness I had experienced in the island,
every good advice and useful assistance in my travels, only to them.
My gratitude to these kind and good people will not easily fade from
my heart.

At noon I was already on board, and had leisure to admire all the
gay flags and streamers with which the French frigate anchoring here
had been decked, to celebrate the anniversary of the July
revolution.

I endeavoured to turn my attention as much as possible to exterior
objects, and not to look at our ship, for all that I had
involuntarily seen had not impressed me very favourably. I
determined also not to enter the cabin till we were in the open sea
and the pilots had left our sloop, so that all possibility of return
would be gone.

Our crew consisted of captain, steersman, two sailors, and a cabin-
boy, who bore the title of cook; we added that of valet, as he was
appointed to wait on us.

When the pilots had left us, I sought the entrance of the cabin,--
the only, and therefore the common apartment. It consisted of a
hole two feet broad, which gaped at my feet, and in which a
perpendicular ladder of five steps was inserted. I stood before it
puzzled to know which would be the best mode of descent, but knew no
other way than to ask our host the captain. He shewed it me at
once, by sitting at the entrance and letting his feet down. Let the
reader imagine such a proceeding with our long dresses, and, above
all, in bad weather, when the ship was pitched about by storms. But
the thought that many other people are worse off, and can get on,
was always the anchor of consolation to which I held; I argued with
myself that I was made of the same stuff as other human beings, only
spoiled and pampered, but that I could bear what they bore. In
consequence of this self-arguing, I sat down at once, tried the new
sliding-ladder, and arrived below in safety.

I had first to accustom my eyes to the darkness which reigned here,
the hatches being constructed to admit the light very sparingly. I
soon, however, saw too much; for all was raggedness, dirt, and
disorder. But I will describe matters in the order in which they
occurred to me; for, as I flatter myself that many of my
countrywomen will in spirit make this journey with me, and as many
of them probably never had the opportunity of being in such a
vessel, I wish to describe it to them very accurately. All who are
accustomed to the sea will testify that I have adhered strictly to
the truth. But to return to the sloop. Its age emulated mine, she
being a relic of the last century. At that time little regard was
paid to the convenience of passengers, and the space was all made
available for freight; a fact which cannot surprise us, as the
seaman's life is passed on deck, and the ship was not built for
travellers. The entire length of the cabin from one berth to the
other was ten feet; the breadth was six feet. The latter space was
made still narrower by a box on one side, and by a little table and
two little seats on the other, so that only sufficient space
remained to pass through.

At dinner or supper, the ladies--the Danish girl and myself--sat on
the little benches, where we were so squeezed, that we could
scarcely move; the two cavaliers--the captain and the steersman--
were obliged to stand before the table, and eat their meals in that
position. The table was so small that they were obliged to hold
their plates in their hands. In short, every thing shewed the cabin
was made only for the crew, not for the passengers.

The air in this enclosure was also not of the purest; for, besides
that it formed our bed-room, dining-room, and drawing-room, it was
also used as store-room, for in the side cupboards provisions of
various kinds were stored, also oil-colours, and a variety of other
matter. I preferred to sit on the deck, exposed to the cold and the
storm, or to be bathed by a wave, than to be half stifled below.
Sometimes, however, I was obliged to descend, either when rain and
storms were too violent, or when the ship was so tossed by contrary
winds that the deck was not safe. The rolling and pitching of our
little vessel was often so terrible, that we ladies could neither
sit nor stand, and were therefore obliged to lie down in the
miserable berths for many a weary day. How I envied my companion!
she could sleep day and night, which I could not. I was nearly
always awake, much to my discomfort; for the hatches and the
entrance were closed during the storm, and an Egyptian darkness, as
well as a stifling atmosphere, filled the cabin.

In regard to food, all passengers, captain and crew, ate of the same
dish. The morning meal consisted of miserable tea, or rather of
nauseous water having the colour of tea. The sailors imbibed theirs
without sugar, but the captain and the steersman took a small piece
of candied sugar, which does not melt so quickly as the refined
sugar, in their mouth, and poured down cup after cup of tea, and ate
ship's biscuit and butter to it.

The dinner fare varied. The first day we had salt meat, which is
soaked the evening before, and boiled the next day in sea-water. It
was so salt, so hard, and so tough, that only a sailor's palate can
possibly enjoy it. Instead of soup, vegetables, and pudding, we had
pearl-barley boiled in water, without salt or butter; to which
treacle and vinegar was added at the dinner-table. All the others
considered this a delicacy, and marvelled at my depraved taste when
I declared it to be unpalatable.

The second day brought a piece of bacon, boiled in sea-water, with
the barley repeated. On the third we had cod-fish with peas.
Although the latter were boiled hard and without butter, they were
the most eatable of all the dishes. On the fourth day the bill of
fare of the first was repeated, and the same course followed again.
At the end of every dinner we had black coffee. The supper was like
the breakfast,--tea-water, ship's biscuit and butter.

I wished to have provided myself with some chickens, eggs, and
potatoes in Reikjavik, but I could not obtain any of these luxuries.
Very few chickens are kept--only the higher officials or merchants
have them; eggs of eider-ducks and other birds may often be had, but
more are never collected than are wanted for the daily supply, and
then only in spring; for potatoes the season was not advanced
enough. My readers have now a picture of the luxurious life I led
on board the ship. Had I been fortunate enough to voyage in a
better vessel, where the passengers are more commodiously lodged and
better fed, the seasickness would certainly not have attacked me;
but in consequence of the stifling atmosphere of the cabin and the
bad food, I suffered from it the first day. But on the second I was
well again, regained my appetite, and ate salt meat, bacon, and peas
as well as a sailor; the stockfish, the barley, and the coffee and
tea, I left untouched.

A real sailor never drinks water; and this observation of mine was
confirmed by our captain and steersman: instead of beer or wine,
they took tea, and, except at meals, cold tea.

On Sunday evenings we had a grand supper, for the captain had eight
eggs, which he had brought from Denmark, boiled for us four people.
The crew had a few glasses of punch-essence mixed in their tea.

As my readers are now acquainted with the varied bill of fare in
such a ship, I will say a few words of the table-linen. This
consisted only of an old sailcloth, which was spread over the table,
and looked so dirty and greasy that I thought it would be much
better and more agreeable to leave the table uncovered. But I soon
repented the unwise thought, and discovered how important this cloth
was. One morning I saw our valet treating a piece of sailcloth
quite outrageously: he had spread it upon the deck, stood upon it,
and brushed it clean with the ship's broom. I recognised our
tablecloth by the many spots of dirt and grease, and in the evening
found the table bare. But what was the consequence? Scarcely had
the tea-pot been placed on the table than it began to slip off; had
not the watchful captain quickly caught it, it would have fallen to
the ground and bathed our feet with its contents. Nothing could
stand on the polished table, and I sincerely pitied the captain that
he had not another tablecloth.

My readers will imagine that what I have described would have been
quite sufficient to make my stay in the vessel any thing but
agreeable; but I discovered another circumstance, which even made it
alarming. This was nothing less than that our little vessel was
constantly letting in a considerable quantity of water, which had to
be pumped out every few hours. The captain tried to allay my
uneasiness by asserting that every ship admitted water, and ours
only leaked a little more because it was so old. I was obliged to
be content with his explanation, as it was now too late to think of
a change. Fortunately we did not meet with any storms, and
therefore incurred less danger.

Our journey lasted twenty days, during twelve of which we saw no
land; the wind drove us too far east to see the Feroe or the
Shetland Isles. I should have cared less for this, had I seen some
of the monsters of the deep instead, but we met with scarcely any of
these amiable animals. I saw the ray of water which a whale emitted
from his nostrils, and which exactly resembled a fountain; the
animal itself was unfortunately too far from our ship for us to see
its body. A shark came a little nearer; it swam round our vessel
for a few moments, so that I could easily look at him: it must have
been from sixteen to eighteen feet long.

The so-called flying-fish afforded a pretty sight. The sea was as
calm as a mirror, the evening mild and moonlight; and so we remained
on deck till late, watching the gambols of these animals. As far as
we could see, the water was covered with them. We could recognise
the younger fishes by their higher springs; they seemed to be three
to four feet long, and rose five to six feet above the surface of
the sea. Their leaping looked like an attempt at flying, but their
gills did not do them good service in the trial, and they fell back
immediately. The old fish did not seem to have the same elasticity;
they only described a small arch like the dolphins, and only rose so
far above the water that we could see the middle part of their body.

These fish are not caught; they have little oil, and an unpleasant
taste.

On the thirteenth day we again saw land. We had entered the
Skagerrak, and saw the peninsula of Jutland, with the town of
Skaggen. The peninsula looks very dreary from this side; it is flat
and covered with sand.

On the sixteenth day we entered the Cattegat. For some time past we
had always either been becalmed or had had contrary winds, and had
been tossed about in the Skagerrak, the Cattegat, and the Sound for
nearly a week. On some days we scarcely made fifteen to twenty
leagues a day. On such calm days I passed the time with fishing;
but the fish were wise enough not to bite my hook. I was daily
anticipating a dinner of mackerel, but caught only one.

The multitude of vessels sailing into the Cattegat afforded me more
amusement; I counted above seventy. The nearer we approached the
entrance of the Sound, the more imposing was the sight, and the more
closely were the vessels crowded together. Fortunately we were
favoured by a bright moonlight; in a dark or stormy night we should
not with the greatest precaution and skill have been able to avoid a
collision.

The inhabitants of more southern regions have no idea of the
extraordinary clearness and brilliancy of a northern moonlight
night; it seems almost as if the moon had borrowed a portion of the
sun's lustre. I have seen splendid nights on the coast of Asia, on
the Mediterranean; but here, on the shores of Scandinavia, they were
lighter and brighter.

I remained on deck all night; for it pleased me to watch the forests
of masts crowded together here, and endeavouring simultaneously to
gain the entrance to the Sound. I should now be able to form a
tolerable idea of a fleet, for this number of ships must surely
resemble a merchant-fleet.

On the twentieth day of our journey we entered the port of
Helsingor. The Sound dues have to be paid here, or, as the sailor
calls it, the ship must be cleared. This is a very tedious
interruption, and the stopping and restarting of the ship very
incommodious. The sails have to be furled, the anchor cast, the
boat lowered, and the captain proceeds on shore; hours sometimes
elapse before he has finished. When he returns to the ship, the
boat has to be hoisted again, the anchor raised, and the sails
unfurled. Sometimes the wind has changed in the mean time; and in
consequence of these formalities, the port of Copenhagen cannot be
reached at the expected time.

If a ship is unfortunate enough to reach Helsingor on a dark night,
she may not enter at all for fear of a collision. She has to anchor
in the Cattegat, and thus suffer two interruptions. If she arrives
at Helsingor in the night before four o'clock, she has to wait, as
the custom-house is not opened till that time.

The skipper is, however, at liberty to proceed direct to Copenhagen,
but this liberty costs five thalers (fifteen shillings). If,
however, the toll may thus be paid in Copenhagen just as easily, the
obligation to stop at Helsingor is only a trick to gain the higher
toll; for if a captain is in haste, or the wind is too favourable to
be lost, he forfeits the five thalers, and sails on to Copenhagen.

Our captain cared neither for time nor trouble; he cleared the ship
here, and so we did not reach Copenhagen until two o'clock in the
afternoon. After my long absence, it seemed so familiar, so
beautiful and grand, as if I had seen nothing so beautiful in my
whole life. My readers must bear in mind, however, where I came
from, and how long I had been imprisoned in a vessel in which I
scarcely had space to move. When I put foot on shore again, I could
have imitated Columbus, and prostrated myself to kiss the earth.


DEPARTURE FROM COPENHAGEN.--CHRISTIANIA.


On the 19th August, the day after my arrival from Iceland, at two
o'clock in the afternoon, I had already embarked again; this time in
the fine royal Norwegian steamer Christiania, of 170 horsepower,
bound for the town of Christiania, distant 304 sea-miles from
Copenhagen. We had soon passed through the Sound and arrived safely
in the Cattegat, in which we steered more to the right than on the
journey to Iceland; for we not only intended to see Norway and
Sweden, but to cast anchor on the coast.

We could plainly see the fine chain of mountains which bound the
Cattegat on the right, and whose extreme point, the Kulm, runs into
the sea like a long promontory. Lighthouses are erected here, and
on the other numerous dangerous spots of the coast, and their lights
shine all around in the dark night. Some of the lights are movable,
and some stationary, and point out to the sailor which places to
avoid.


August 20th.

Bad weather is one of the greatest torments of a traveller, and is
more disagreeable when one passes through districts remarkable for
beauty and originality. Both grievances were united to-day; it
rained, almost incessantly; and yet the passage of the Swedish coast
and of the little fiord to the port of Gottenburg was of peculiar
interest. The sea here was more like a broad stream which is
bounded by noble rocks, and interspersed by small and large rocks
and shoals, over which the waters dashed finely. Near the harbour,
some buildings lie partly on and partly between the rocks; these
contain the celebrated royal Swedish iron-foundry, called the new
foundry. Even numerous American ships were lying here to load this
metal. {46}

The steamer remains more than four hours in the port of Gottenburg,
and we had therefore time to go into the town, distant about two
miles, and whose suburbs extend as far as the port. On the landing-
quay a captain lives who has always a carriage and two horses ready
to drive travellers into the town. There are also one-horse
vehicles, and even an omnibus. The former were already engaged; the
latter, we were told, drives so slowly, that nearly the whole time
is lost on the road; so I and two travelling companions hired the
captain's carriage. The rain poured in torrents on our heads; but
this did not disturb us much. My two companions had business to
transact, and curiosity attracted me. I had not at that time know
that I should have occasion to visit this pretty little town again,
and would not leave without seeing it.

The suburbs are built entirely of wood, and contain many pretty one-
story houses, surrounded, for the most part, by little gardens. The
situation of the suburbs is very peculiar. Rocks, or little fields
and meadows, often lie between the houses; the rocks even now and
then cross the streets, and had to be blasted to form a road. The
view from one of the hills over which the road to the town lies is
truly beautiful.

The town has two large squares: on the smaller one stands the large
church; on the larger one the town-hall, the post-office, and many
pretty houses. In the town every thing is built of bricks. The
river Ham flows through the large square, and increases the traffic
by the many ships and barks running into it from the sea, and
bringing provisions, but principally fuel, to market. Several
bridges cross it. A visit to the well-stocked fish-market is also
an interesting feature in a short visit to this town.

I entered a Swedish house for the first time here. I remarked that
the floor was strewed over with the fine points of the fir-trees,
which had an agreeable odour, a more healthy one probably than any
artificial perfume. I found this custom prevalent all over Sweden
and Norway, but only in hotels and in the dwellings of the poorer
classes.

About eleven o'clock in the forenoon we continued our journey. We
steered safely through the many rocks and shoals, and soon reached
the open sea again. We did not stand out far from the shore, and
saw several telegraphs erected on the rocks. We soon lost sight of
Denmark on the left, and arrived at the fortress Friedrichsver
towards evening, but could not see much of it. Here the so-called
Scheren begin, which extend sixty leagues, and form the Christian's
Sound. By what I could see in the dim twilight, the scene was
beautiful. Numerous islands, some merely consisting of bare rocks,
others overgrown with slender pines, surrounded us on all sides.
But our pilot understood his business perfectly, and steered us
safely through to Sandesund, spite of the dark night. Here we
anchored, for it would have been too dangerous to proceed. We had
to wait here for the steamer from Bergen, which exchanged passengers
with us. The sea was very rough, and this exchange was therefore
extremely difficult to effect. Neither of the steamers would lower
a boat; at last our steamer gave way, after midnight, and the
terrified and wailing passengers were lowered into it. I pitied
them from my heart, but fortunately no accident happened.


August 21st

I could see the situation of Sandesund better by day; and found it
to consist only of a few houses. The water is so hemmed in here
that it scarcely attains the breadth of a stream; but it soon widens
again, and increases in beauty and variety with every yard. We
seemed to ride on a beautiful lake; for the islands lie so close to
the mountains in the background, that they look like a continent,
and the bays they form like the mouths of rivers. The next moment
the scene changes to a succession of lakes, one coming close on the
other; and when the ship appears to be hemmed in, a new opening is
suddenly presented to the eye behind another island. The islands
themselves are of a most varied character: some only consist of
bare rocks, with now and then a pine; some are richly covered with
fields and groves; and the shore presents so many fine scenes, that
one hardly knows where to look in order not to miss any of the
beauties of the scenery. Here are high mountains overgrown from the
bottom to the summit with dark pine-groves; there again lovely
hills, with verdant meadows, fertile fields, pretty farmsteads and
yards; and on another side the mountains separate and form a
beautiful perspective of precipices and valleys. Sometimes I could
follow the bend of a bay till it mingled with the distant clouds; at
others we passed the most beautiful valleys, dotted with little
villages and towns. I cannot describe the beauties of the scenery
in adequate terms: my words are too weak, and my knowledge too
insignificant; and I can only give an idea of my emotions, but not
describe them.

Near Walloe the country grows less beautiful; the mountains decrease
into hills, and the water is not studded with islands. The little
town itself is almost concealed behind the hills. A remarkable
feature is the long row of wooden huts and houses adjoining, which
all belong to a salt-work established there.

We entered one of the many little arms of the sea to reach the town
of Moss. Its situation is beautiful, being built amphi-theatrically
on a hillock which leans against a high mountain. A fine building
on the sea-shore, whose portico rests upon pillars, is used for a
bathing institution.

A dock-yard, in which men-of-war are built at the expense of the
state, is situated near the town of Horten, which is also
picturesquely placed. There does not seem to be much work doing
here, for I only saw one ship lying at anchor, and none on the
stocks. About eight leagues beyond Horten a mountain rises in the
middle of the sea, and divides it into two streams, uniting again
beyond it, and forming a pretty view.

We did not see Christiania till we were only ten leagues from it.
The town, the suburbs, the fortress, the newly-erected royal palace,
the freemasons' lodge, &c., lie in a semicircle round the port, and
are bounded by fields, meadows, woods, and hills, forming a
delightful coup-d'oeil. It seems as if the sea could not part from
such a lovely view, and runs in narrow streams, through hills and
plains, to a great distance beyond the town.

Towards eleven o'clock in the forenoon we reached the port of
Christiania. We had come from Sandesund in seven hours, and had
stopped four times on the way; but the boats with new-comers, with
merchandise and letters, had always been ready, had been received,
and we had proceeded without any considerable delay.



CHAPTER VIII



My first care on arriving in this town was to find a countrywoman of
mine who had been married to a lawyer here. It is said of the
Viennese that they cannot live away from their Stephen's steeple;
but here was a proof of the contrary, for there are few couples
living so happily as these friends, and yet they were nearly one
thousand miles from St. Stephen's steeple. {47}

I passed through the whole town on the way from the quay to the
hotel, and thence to my friend. The town is not large, and not very
pretty. The newly-built portion is the best, for it at least has
broad, tolerably long streets, in which the houses are of brick, and
sometimes large. In the by-streets I frequently found wooden
barracks ready to fall. The square is large, but irregular; and as
it is used as a general market-place, it is also very dirty.

In the suburbs the houses are mostly built of wood. There are some
rather pretty public buildings; the finest among them are the royal
castle and the fortress. They are built on little elevations, and
afford a beautiful view. The old royal palace is in the town, but
not at all distinguishable from a common private house. The house
in which the Storthing {48} assembles is large, and its portico
rests on pillars; but the steps are of wood, as in all stone houses
in Scandinavia. The theatre seemed large enough for the population;
but I did not enter it. The freemasons' lodge is one of the most
beautiful buildings in the town; it contains two large saloons,
which are used for assemblies or festivities of various kinds,
besides serving as the meeting-place of the freemasons. The
university seemed almost too richly built; it is not finished yet,
but is so beautiful that it would be an ornament to the largest
capital. The butchers' market is also very pretty. It is of a
semi-circular shape, and is surrounded by arched passages, in which
the buyers stand, sheltered from the weather. The whole edifice is
built of bricks, left in their natural state, neither stuccoed with
mortar nor whitewashed. There are not many other palaces or fine
public buildings, and most of the houses are one-storied.

One of the features of the place--a custom which is of great use to
the traveller, and prevails in all Scandinavian towns--is, that the
names of the streets are affixed at every corner, so that the
passer-by always knows where he is, without the necessity of asking
his way.

Open canals run through the town; and on such nights as the almanac
announces a full or bright moon the streets are not lighted.

Wooden quays surround the harbour, on which several large
warehouses, likewise built of wood, are situated; but, like most of
the houses, they are roofed with tiles.

The arrangement and display of the stores are simple, and the wares
very beautiful, though not of home manufacture. Very few factories
exist here, and every thing has to be imported.

I was much shocked at the raggedly-clad people I met every where in
the streets; the young men especially looked very ragged. They
rarely begged; but I should not have been pleased to meet them alone
in a retired street.

I was fortunate enough to be in Christiania at the time when the
Storthing was sitting. This takes place every three years; the
sessions commence in January or February, and usually last three
months; but so much business had this time accumulated, that the
king proposed to extend the length of the session. To this
fortunate accident I owed the pleasure of witnessing some of the
meetings. The king was expected to close the proceedings in
September. {49}

The hall of meeting is long and large. Four rows of tapestried
seats, one rising above the other, run lengthways along the hall,
and afford room for eighty legislators. Opposite the benches a
table stands on a raised platform, and at this table the president
and secretary sit. A gallery, which is open to the public, runs
round the upper portion of the hall.

Although I understood but little of the Norwegian language, I
attended the meetings daily for an hour. I could at least
distinguish whether long or short speeches were made, or whether the
orator spoke fluently. Unfortunately, the speakers I heard spoke
the few words they mustered courage to deliver so slowly and
hesitatingly, that I could not form a very favourable idea of
Norwegian eloquence. I was told that the Storthing only contained
three or four good speakers, and they did not display their talents
during my stay.

I have never seen such a variety of carriages as I met with here.
The commonest and most incommodious are called Carriols. A carriol
consists of a narrow, long, open box, resting between two immensely
high wheels, and provided with a very small seat. You are squeezed
into this contrivance, and have to stretch your feet forward. You
are then buckled in with a leather apron as high as the hips, and
must remain in this position, without moving a limb, from the
beginning to the end of your ride. A board is hung on behind the
box for the coachman; and from this perch he, in a kneeling or
standing position, directs the horses, unless the temporary resident
of the box should prefer to take the reins himself. As it is very
unpleasant to hear the quivering of the reins on one side and the
smacking of the whip on the other, every one, men and women, can
drive. Besides these carriols, there are phaetons, droschkas, but
no closed vehicles.

The carts which are used for the transport of beer are of a very
peculiar construction. The consumption of beer in Christiania is
very great, and it is at once bottled when made, and not sold in
casks. The carts for the transport of these bottles consist of
roomy covered boxes a foot and a half high, which are divided into
partitions like a cellaret, in which many bottles can be easily and
safely transported from one part to another.

Another species of basket, which the servants use to carry such
articles as are damp or dirty, and which my readers will excuse my
describing, is made of fine white tin, and provided with a handle.
Straw baskets are only used for bread, and for dry and clean
provisions.

There are no public gardens or assemblies in Christiania, but
numerous promenades; indeed, every road from the town leads to the
most beautiful scenery, and every hill in the neighbourhood affords
the most delightful prospects.

Ladegardoen is the only spot which is often resorted to by the
citizens by carriage or on foot. It affords many and splendid views
of the sea and its islands, of the surrounding mountains, valleys,
and pine and fir groves. The majority of the country-houses are
built here. They are generally small, but pretty, and surrounded by
flower-gardens and orchards. While there, I seemed to be far in the
south, so green and verdant was the scenery. The corn-fields alone
betrayed the north. Not that the corn was poor; on the contrary, I
found many ears bending to the ground under their weight; but now,
towards the end of August, most of it was standing uncut in the
fields.

Near the town stands a pine-grove, from which one has splendid
views; two monuments are raised in it, but neither of them are of
importance: one is raised to the memory of a crown-prince of
Sweden, Christian Augustus; the other to Count Hermann Wenel
Jarlsberg.


JOURNEY TO DELEMARKEN.


All I had hitherto seen in Norway had gratified me so much, that I
could not resist the temptation of a journey to the wildly romantic
regions of Delemarken. I was indeed told that it would be a
difficult undertaking for a female, alone and almost entirely
ignorant of the language, to make her way through the peasantry.
But I found no one to accompany me, and was determined to go; so I
trusted to fate, and went alone.

According to the inquires I had instituted in respect to this
journey, I anticipated that my greatest difficulties would arise
from the absence of all institutions for the speedy and comfortable
progress of travellers. One is forced to possess a carriage, and to
hire horses at every station. It is sometimes possible to hire a
vehicle, but this generally consists only of a miserable peasant's
cart. I hired, therefore, a carriol for the whole journey, and a
horse to the next station, the townlet of Drammen, distant about
twenty-four miles.

On the 25th August, at three o'clock in the afternoon, I left
Christiania, squeezed myself into my carriage, and, following the
example of Norwegian dames, I seized the reins. I drove as if I had
been used to it from infancy. I turned right and left, and my horse
galloped and trotted gaily on.

The road to Drammen is exquisite, and would afford rich subjects for
an artist. All the beauties of nature are here combined in most
perfect harmony. The richness and variety of the scenery are almost
oppressive, and would be an inexhaustible subject for the painter.
The vegetation is much richer than I had hoped to find it so far
north; every hill, every rock, is shaded by verdant foliage; the
green of the meadows was of incomparable freshness; the grass was
intermingled with flowers and herbs, and the corn-fields bent under
their golden weight.

I have been in many countries, and have seen beautiful districts; I
have been in Switzerland, in Tyrol, in Italy, and in Salzburg; but I
never saw such peculiarly beautiful scenery as I found here: the
sea every where intruding and following us to Drammen; here forming
a lovely lake on which boats were rocking, there a stream rushing
through hills and meadows; and then again, the splendid expanse
dotted with proud three-masters and with countless islets. After a
five hours' ride through rich valleys and splendid groves, I reached
the town of Drammen, which lies on the shores of the sea and the
river Storri Elf, and whose vicinity was announced by the beautiful
country-houses ornamenting the approach to it.

A long, well-built wooden bridge, furnished with beautiful iron
palisadings, leads over the river. The town of Drammen has pretty
streets and houses, and above 6000 inhabitants. The hotel where I
lodged was pretty and clean. My bedroom was a large room, with
which the most fastidious might have been contented. The supper
which they provided for me was, however, most frugal, consisting
only of soft-boiled eggs. They gave me neither salt nor bread with
them, nor a spoon; nothing but a knife and fork. And it is a
mystery to me how soft eggs can be eaten without bread, and with a
knife and fork.


August 25th.

I hired a fresh horse here, with which I proceeded to Kongsberg,
eighteen miles farther. The first seven miles afforded a repetition
of the romantic scenery of the previous day, with the exception of
the sea. But instead I had the beautiful river, until I had
ascended a hill, from whose summit I overlooked a large and
apparently populous valley, filled with groups of houses and single
farms. It is strange that there are very few large towns in Norway;
every peasant builds his house in the midst of his fields.

Beyond this hill the scenery grows more monotonous. The mountains
are lower, the valley narrower, and the road is enclosed by wood or
rocks. One peculiarity of Norwegian rocks is their humidity. The
water penetrates through countless fissures, but only in such small
quantities as to cover the stones with a kind of veil. When the sun
shines on these wet surfaces of rock, of which there are many and
large ones, they shine like mirrors.

Delemarken seems to be tolerably populous. I often met with
solitary peasant-huts in the large gloomy forests, and they gave
some life to the monotonous landscape. The industry of the
Norwegian peasant is very great; for every spot of earth, even on
the steepest precipices, bore potatoes, barley, or oats; their
houses also look cheerful, and were painted for the most part of a
brick-red colour.

I found the roads very good, especially the one from Christiania to
Drammen; and the one from Drammen to Kongsberg was not very
objectionable. There is such an abundance of wood in Norway, that
the streets on each side are fenced by wooden enclosures; and every
field and meadow is similarly protected against the intrusion of
cattle, and the miserable roads through the woods are even covered
with round trunks of trees.

The peasantry in this district have no peculiar costume; only the
head-covering of the females is curious. They wear a lady's hat,
such as was fashionable in the last century, ornamented with a bunch
behind, and with an immense shade in front. They are made of any
material, generally of the remains of old garments; and only on
Sundays better ones, and sometimes even silk ones, make their
appearance.

In the neighbourhood of Kongsberg this head-dress is no longer worn.
There they wear little caps like the Suabian peasantry, petticoats
commencing under the shoulders, and very short spencers: a very
ugly costume, the whole figure being spoilt by the short waist.

The town of Kongsberg is rather extended, and is beautifully
situated on a hill in the centre of a splendid wooded valley. It
is, like all the towns in Norway except Christiania, built of wood;
but it has many pretty, neat houses and some broad streets.

The stream Storri Elf flows past the town, and forms a small but
very picturesque waterfall a little below the bridge. What pleased
me most was the colour of the water as it surged over the rock. It
was about noon as I drove across the bridge; the sun illuminated the
whole country around, and the waves breaking against the rocks
seemed by this light of a beautiful pale-yellow colour, so that they
resembled thick masses of pure transparent amber.

Two remarkable sights claimed my attention at Kongsberg,--a rich
silver-mine, and a splendid waterfall called the Labrafoss. But as
my time was limited and I could only remain a few hours in
Kongsberg, I preferred to see the waterfall and believe the accounts
of the silver-mine; which were, that the deepest shaft was eight
hundred feet below the surface, and that it was most difficult to
remain there, as the cold, the smoke, and the powder-smell had a
very noxious effect on the traveller accustomed to light and air.

I therefore hired a horse and drove to the fall, which is situated
in a narrow pass about four miles from Kongsberg. The river
collects in a quiet calm basin a little distance above the fall, and
then rushes over the steep precipice with a sudden bound. The
considerable depth of the fall and the quality of water make it a
very imposing sight. This is increased by a gigantic rock planted
like a wall in the lower basin, and opposing its body to the
progress of the hurrying waters. The waves rebound from the rock,
and, collecting in mighty masses, rush over it, forming several
smaller waterfalls in their course.

I watched it from a high rock, and was nevertheless covered by the
spray to such a degree, that I sometimes could scarcely open my
eyes. My guide then took me to the lower part of the fall, so that
I might have a view of it from all sides; and each view seemed
different and more splendid. I perceived the same yellow
transparent colour which I had remarked in the fall at Kongsberg in
the waters which dashed over the rock and were illuminated by the
sun. I imagine it arises from the rock, which is every where of a
brownish-red colour, for the water itself was clear and pure.

At four o'clock in the afternoon I left Kongsberg, and drove to
Bolkesoe, a distance of eighteen miles. It was by no means a
beautiful or an agreeable drive; for the road was very bad, and took
me through passes and valleys, across woods and over steep
mountains, while the night was dark and unilluminated by the moon.
The thought involuntarily entered my mind, how easily my guide, who
sat close behind me on the vehicle, could put me out of the world by
a gentle blow, and take possession of my effects. But I had
confidence in the upright character of the Norwegians, and drove on
quietly, devoting my attention entirely to the reins of my little
steed, which I had to lead with a sure hand over hill and valley,
over ruts and stones, and along precipices. I heard no sound but
the rushing of the mountain-river, which leaped, close beside us,
over the rocks, and was heard rushing in the far distance.

We did not arrive at Bolkesoe until ten o'clock at night. When we
stopped before an insignificant-looking peasant's cot, and I
remembered my Icelandic night-accommodations, whose exterior this
resembled, my courage failed me; but I was agreeably disappointed
when the peasant's wife led me up a broad staircase into a large
clean chamber furnished with several good beds, some benches, a
table, a box, and an iron stove. I found equal comforts on all the
stations of my journey.

There are no proper hotels or posthouses on the little-frequented
Norwegian roads; but the wealthy peasants undertake the duties of
both. I would, however, advise every traveller to provide himself
with bread and other provisions for the trip; for his peasant-host
rarely can furnish him with these. His cows are on the hills during
the summer; fowls are far too great a luxury for him; and his bread
is scarcely eatable: it consists of large round cakes, scarcely
half an inch thick, and very hard; or of equally large cakes
scarcely as thick as a knife, and quite dry. The only eatables I
found were fish and potatoes; and whenever I could stay for several
hours, they fetched milk for me from the hills.

The travelling conveniences are still more unattainable; but these I
will mention in a future chapter, when my experience will be a
little more extensive.


August 26th.

I could not see the situation of the town of Bolkesoe till daylight
to-day, for when I arrived the darkness of night concealed it. It
is situated in a pretty wooded vale, on a little hill at whose foot
lies a beautiful lake of the same name.

The road from here to Tindosoe, about sixteen miles, is not
practicable for vehicles, and I therefore left my carriol here and
proceeded on horseback. The country grows more quiet and
uninhabited, and the valleys become real chasms. Two lakes of
considerable size form an agreeable variety to the wildness of the
scenery. The larger one, called the Foelsoe, is of a regular form,
and above two miles in diameter; it is encircled by picturesque
mountains. The effect of the shadows which the pine-covered
mountain-tops throw on the lakes is particularly attractive. I rode
along its shores for more than an hour, and had leisure to see and
examine every thing very accurately, for the horses here travel at a
very slow pace. The reason of this is partly that the guide has no
horse, and walks beside you in a very sleepy manner; the horse knows
its master's peculiarities by long experience, and is only too
willing to encourage him in his slow, dull pace. I spent more than
five hours in reaching Tindosoe. My next object of interest was the
celebrated waterfall of Rykanfoss, to reach which we had to cross a
large lake. Although it had rained incessantly for an hour, and the
sky looked threatening, I at once hired a boat with two rowers to
continue my journey without interruption; for I anticipated a storm,
and then I should not have found a boatman who would have ventured a
voyage of four or five hours on this dangerous lake. In two hours
my boat was ready, and I started in the pouring rain, but rejoiced
at least at the absence of fog, which would have concealed the
beauties of nature which surrounded me. The lake is eighteen miles
long, but in many parts only from two to three miles wide. It is
surrounded by mountains, which rise in terraces without the least
gap to admit a distant view. As the mountains are nearly all
covered with dark fir-groves, and overshadow the whole breadth of
the narrow lake, the water seems quite dark, and almost black. This
lake is dangerous to navigate on account of the many rocks rising
perpendicularly out of the water, which, in a storm, shatter a boat
dashed against them to pieces, and the passengers would find an
inevitable grave in the deep waters. We had a flesh and a
favourable breeze, which blew us quickly to our destination. One of
the rocks on the coast has a very loud echo.

An island about a mile long divides the lake into equal parts; and
when we had passed it, the landscape became quite peculiar. The
mountains seemed to push before each other, and try whose foot
should extend farthest into the sea. This forms numerous lovely
bays; but few of them are adapted for landing, as the dangerous
rocks seem to project every where.

The little dots of field and meadow which seem to hang against the
rock, and the modest cottages of the peasants, which are built on
the points of the most dangerous precipices, and over which rocks
and stones tower as mountains, present a very curious appearance.
The most fearful rocks hang over the huts, and threaten to crush
them by falling, which would inevitably carry cottage and field with
them into the sea. It is difficult to say whether the boldness or
the stupidity of the peasants induces them to choose such localities
for their dwellings.

From the mountains many rivers flow into the lake, and form
beautiful falls. This might only have been the case at that time,
because it was raining incessantly, and the water poured down from
all sides, so that the mountains seemed embroidered with silver
threads. It was a beautiful sight; but I would willingly have
relinquished it for a day of sunshine. It is no trifle to be
exposed to such a shower-bath from morning till night; I was wet
through, and had no hope for better weather, as the sky was clouded
all round. My perseverance was nearly exhausted; and I was on the
point of relinquishing the purpose of my journey,--the sight of the
highest Norwegian waterfall,--when it occurred to me that the bad
weather was most favourable for my plan, as each drop of water would
increase the splendour of the waterfall.

After three hours and a half's rowing we reached Haukaness-am-See,
where it is usual to stop a night as there is a pretty farm here,
and the distance from the fall is still considerable.


August 27th.

My first care in the morning was the weather; it was unchanged, and
the experienced peasants prophesied that it would remain wet. As I
would not return nor wait for better weather, I could only take to
my boat again, put on my half-dried cloak, and row on boldly.

The termination of the lake, which we soon reached, was already
sufficient to compensate for my perseverance. A high mountain
advances into the lake, and divides it into two beautiful bays. We
entered the left bay, and landed at Mael, which lies at the mouth of
the river Rykaness. The distance from Haukaness is a little more
than two miles. I had to mount a horse to reach the waterfall,
which was yet eleven miles distant. The road runs through a narrow
valley, which gradually narrows still more until it can only contain
the river; and the traveller is obliged to ascend the heights and
grope on along the sides of the mountains. Below in the vale he
sees the foam of the waves surging against the rocks; they flow like
a narrow band of silver in the deep chasm. Sometimes the path is so
high that one neither sees nor hears the river. The last half mile
has to be journeyed on foot, and goes past spots which are really
dangerous; numerous waterfalls rush from the mountain-sides, and
have to be crossed on paths of tree-trunks laid alongside each
other; and roads scarcely a foot wide lead along giddy precipices.
But the traveller may trust unhesitatingly to his guide's arm, who
has hitherto led every one in safety to his destination.

The road from Haukaness to the waterfall must be the finest that can
be imagined on a bright sunny day; for I was enchanted with the
wildly-romantic scenery in spite of the incessant rain and my wet
clothes, and would on no consideration have missed this sight.
Unfortunately the bad weather increased, and thick fogs rolled down
into the valleys. The water flowed down from the mountains, and
transformed our narrow path into a brook, through which we had to
wade ankle-deep in water. At last we reached the spot which
afforded the best view of the fall. It was yet free from mist, and
I could still admire the extraordinary beauty of the fall and its
quantity of water. I saw the immense mountain-rock which closes the
valley, the tremendous pillar of water which dashes over it, and
rebounds from the rock projecting in the centre of the fall, filling
the whole valley with clouds of spray, and concealing the depth to
which it descends. I saw this, one of the rarest and of the most
magnificent of natural beauties; but alas, I saw it only for a
moment, and had scarcely time to recover from the surprise of the
first view when I lost it for ever! I was not destined to see the
single grandeurs of the fall and of the surrounding scenery, and was
fain to be content with one look, one glance. Impenetrable mists
rolled from all sides into the wild glen, and shrouded every thing
in complete darkness; I sat on a piece of rock, and gazed for two
hours stedfastly at the spot where a faint outline of the fall was
scarcely distinguishable through the mist sometimes this faint trace
even was lost, and I could perceive its vicinity only by the
dreadful sounds of the fall, and by the trembling of the rock
beneath my feet.

After I had gazed, and hoped, and raised my eyes entreatingly to
heaven for a single ray of sunshine, all in vain, I had at last to
determine on my return. I left my post almost with tears in my
eyes, and turned my head more backwards than forwards as we left the
spot. At the least indication of a clearing away of the fog I
should have returned.

But I retired farther and farther from it till I reached Mael again,
where I sadly entered my boat, and proceeded uninterruptedly to
Tindosoe. I arrived there towards ten o'clock at night. The wet,
the cold, the want of food, and, above all, the depressed and
disappointed state of my mind, had so affected me, that I went to
bed with a slight attack of fever, and feared that I should not be
able to continue my journey on the following day. But my strong
constitution triumphed over every thing, and at five o'clock in the
morning I was ready to continue my journey to Bolkesoe on horseback.

I was obliged to hurry for fear of missing the departure of the
steamer from Christiania. The journey to Delemarken had been
represented to me as much shorter than I found it in reality; for
the constant waiting for horses, boats, guides, &c. takes up very
much time.


August 28th.

I had ordered my horse to be ready at five o'clock, but was obliged
to wait for it until seven o'clock.

Although I made only a short trip into the interior, I had
sufficient opportunities for experiencing the extortions and
inconveniences to which a traveller is liable in Norway. No country
in Europe is so much in its infancy as regards all conveniences for
locomotion. It is true that horses, carriages, boats, &c. can be
had at every station, and the law has fixed the price of these
commodities; but every thing is in the hands of the peasants and the
publicans, and they are so skilled in tormenting the traveller by
their intentional slowness, that he is compelled to pay the two-fold
tax, in order to proceed a little more quickly. The stations are
short, being rarely above five or six miles, and one is therefore
constantly changing horses. Arrived at a station, it either happens
that there is really no horse to be had, or that this is an
ostensible excuse. The traveller is told that the horse has to be
fetched from the mountain, and that he can be served in one and a
half or two hours. Thus he rides one hour, and waits two. It is
also necessary to keep the tariff, as every trifle, the saddle, the
carriage, the harness, fetching the horse, the boat, &c., has to be
paid for extra; and when the traveller does not know the fixed
prices, he is certain to be dreadfully imposed upon. At every
station a book lies, containing the legal prices; but it is written
in the language of the district, and utterly unintelligible to the
stranger. Into this book, which is examined by the judge of the
district every month, one may enter complaints against the peasant
or publican; but they do not seem to fear it, for the guide who
accompanied me to the fall of Rykanfoss endeavoured to cheat me
twice in the most barefaced manner, by charging me six-fold for the
use of the saddles and the fetching of the horse. When I threatened
to inscribe my complaint in the book, he seemed not to care, and
insisted on his demand, till I was obliged to pay him. On my return
to Mael, I kept my word, asked for the book, and entered my
complaint, although I was alone with all the peasants. It was not
so much the money which annoyed me, as the shameless imposition. I
am of opinion that every one should complain when he is wronged; if
it does not benefit him, it will make the matter more easy for his
successor.

I must confess, in justice to the peasants, that they were very
indignant when I told them of the dishonesty of their countryman,
and did not attempt to prevent my complaint.

To conclude my journey, I need only remark that, although the rain
had ceased, the sky was still covered with clouds, and the country
shrouded in mist. I therefore took the shorter road to Christiania,
by which I had come, although I thereby missed a beautiful district,
where I should, as I was told, have seen the most splendid
perspective views in Norway. This would have been on the road from
Kongsberg over Kroxleben to Christiania. The finest part is near
Kroxleben.

But the time was too short to take this round, and I returned by way
of Drammen. In the village of Muni, about five miles from
Kongsberg, where I arrived at seven o'clock in the evening, the
amiable host wished to keep me waiting again two hours for a horse;
and as this would probably have happened at every station, I was
obliged to hire a horse for the whole distance to Christiania, at a
threefold price. I slept here for a few hours, left in the night at
one o'clock, and arrived at Christiania the following afternoon at
two.

On this journey I found all those people very kind and obliging with
whom I came into no sort of pecuniary relation; but the hosts, the
boatmen, the drivers, the guides, were as selfish and grasping as in
any other country. I believe that kindness and disinterestedness
would only be found in any district by him who has the good fortune
to be the first traveller.

This little excursion was very dear; and yet I think I could now
travel cheaply even in this country, universally acknowledged to be
dear. I would go with the steamer along the coast to Hammerfest,
buy a little vehicle and a good horse there, and then travel
pleasantly, and without annoyance, through the whole country. But
for a family who wished to travel in a comfortable covered carriage,
it would be incalculably dear, and in many parts impossible, on
account of the bad roads.

The Norwegian peasantry are strong and robust, but their features
are not the most comely, and they seemed neither wealthy nor
cleanly. They were generally very poorly clad, and always
barefooted. Their cottages, built of wood and covered with tiles,
are more roomy than those of the Icelanders; but they are
nevertheless dirty and wretched. A weakness of the Norwegians is
their fondness for coffee, which they drink without milk or sugar.
The old women, as well as the men, smoke their pipes morning and
night.

Miles.
From Christiania to Kongsberg is about 41
From Kongsberg to the waterfall Labrafoss 5
From Kongsberg to Bolkosoe 14
From Bolkosoe to Tindosoe 16
From Tindosoe across the lake to Mael 16
From Mael to the waterfall Rykanfoss 11
103



CHAPTER IX



August 30th.

At seven o'clock this morning I left Christiania, accompanied by the
good wishes of my countrywoman and her husband, and went back to
Gottenburg by the same steamer which had brought me thence ten days
before. I need only mention the splendid view of a portion of
Christian's Sound--also called Fiord--which I lost on the former
journey from the darkness of the night. We passed it in the
afternoon. The situation of the little town of Lauervig is superb.
It is built on a natural terrace, bordered in the background by
beautiful mountains. In front, the fortress of Friedrichsver lies
on a mountain surrounded by rocks, on which little watch-towers are
erected; to the left lies the vast expanse of sea.

We were delayed an hour at Friedrichsver to transfer the travellers
for Bergen {50} to a vessel waiting for them, as we had stopped on
our previous journey at Sandesund for the same purpose.

This is the last view in the fiord; for now we steered into the open
sea, and in a few hours we had lost sight of land. We saw nothing
but land and water till we arrived the next morning at the Scheren,
and steered for Gottenburg.


August 31st.

The sea had been rough all night, and we therefore reached
Gottenburg three hours later than usual. In this agitated sea, the
surging of the breakers against the many rocks and islets near
Gottenburg has a very curious effect.

The few travellers who could keep on their feet, who did not suffer
from sea-sickness, and remained on deck, spoke much of the dangerous
storm. I had frequently marvelled to hear people who had made a
journey, if it were even only a short one of forty to sixty leagues,
relate of some fearful storm they had witnessed. Now I comprehended
the reason, when I heard the travellers beside me call the brisk
breeze, which only occasioned what seamen call a little swell, a
dreadful storm; and they will probably tell at home of the dangers
they have passed. Storms are, fortunately, not so frequent. I have
travelled many thousand leagues, and have often met with stormy
weather, especially on the passage from Copenhagen to Iceland; but I
only experienced one real storm, but a violent and dangerous one, as
I was crossing the Black Sea to Constantinople in April 1842.

We arrived at Gottenburg at nine instead of at six o'clock in the
morning. I landed at once, to make the celebrated trip through the
locks, over the waterfalls of Trollhatta, with the next Stockholm
steamer. By the junction of the river Gotha with some of the
interior lakes, this great construction crosses the whole country,
and connects the North Sea with the Baltic.

I found the town of Gottenburg very animated, on account of the
presence of the king of Sweden, who was spending a few days here on
his way to Christiania to prorogue the Storthing. I arrived on a
Sunday, and the king, with his son, were in the church. The streets
swarmed with human beings, all crowding towards the cathedral to
catch a glimpse of his majesty on his departure. I, of course,
mingled with the crowd, and was fortunate enough to see the king and
prince come out of the church, enter their carriage, and drive away
very near to me. Both were handsome, amiable-looking men. The
people rushed after the carriage, and eagerly caught the friendly
bows of the intelligent father and his hopeful son; they followed
him to his palace, and stationed themselves in front of it,
impatiently longing for the moment when the royal pair would appear
at a window.

I could not have arrived at a more favourable time; for every one
was in holiday attire, and the military, the clergy, the officials,
citizens and people, were all exerting themselves to the utmost to
do honour to their king.

I noticed two peasant-girls among the crowd who were peculiarly
dressed. They wore black petticoats reaching half way down the calf
of the leg, red stockings, red spensers, and white chemises, with
long white sleeves; a kerchief was tied round the head. Some of the
citizens' wives wore caps like the Suabian caps, covered by a little
black, embroidered veil, which, however, left the face free.

Here, as in Copenhagen, I noticed boys of ten to twelve years of age
among the drummers, and in the bands of the military.

The king remained this day and the next in Gottenburg, and continued
his journey on the Tuesday. On the two evenings of his stay the
windows in the town were ornamented with wreaths of fresh flowers,
interspersed with lighted tapers. Some houses displayed
transparencies, which, however, did not place the inventive powers
of the amiable Gottenburgers in a very favourable light. They were
all alike, consisting of a tremendous O (Oscar), surmounted by a
royal crown.

I was detained four days in Gottenburg; and small consideration
seems to be paid to the speedy transport of travellers in Sweden.
The steamer for Stockholm started on the day I arrived from
Christiania, but unfortunately at five o'clock in the morning; and
as in the month of September only two steamers go in the week to
Stockholm, I was compelled to wait till Thursday. The time hung
heavily on my hands; for I had seen the town itself, and the
splendid views on the hills between the suburbs, during my former
visit to the town, and the other portions only consisted of bare
rocks and cliffs, which were of no interest.


September 4th.

The press of travellers was so great this time, that two days before
the departure the cabins were all engaged; several ladies and
gentlemen who would not wait for the next steamer were compelled to
be satisfied with the deck, and I was among them; for the
probability of such a crowd of passengers had not occurred to me,
and I applied for a place only two days before our departure.
During the journey fresh passengers were taken in at every station,
and the reader may conceive the misery of the poor citizens unused
to such hardships. Every one sought a shelter for the night, and
the little cabins of the engineer and steersman were given up to
some, while others crept into the passages, or squatted down on the
steps of the stairs leading to the cabins. A place was offered to
me in the engineer's cabin; but as three or four other persons were
to share the apartment calculated only for one person, I preferred
to bivouac night and day upon deck. One of the gentlemen was kind
enough to lend me a thick cloak, in which I could wrap myself; and
so I slept much more comfortably under the high canopy of heaven
than my companions did in their sweating-room.

The arrangements in the vessels navigating the Gotha canal are by no
means the best. The first class is very comfortable, and the cabin-
place is divided into pretty light divisions for two persons; but
the second class is all the more uncomfortable: it cabin is used
for a common dining-room by day, and by night hammocks are slung up
in it for sleeping accommodation. The arrangements for the luggage
are worse still. The canal-boats, having only a very small hold,
trunks, boxes, portmanteaus, &c. are heaped up on the deck, not
fastened at all, and very insufficiently protected against rain.
The consequence of this carelessness on a journey of five or six
days was, that the rain and the high waves of the lakes frequently
put the after-deck several inches under water, and then the luggage
was wetted through. It was worse still in a squall on the Wenner
lake; for while the ship was rather roughly tossed about, many a
trunk lost its equilibrium and fell from its high position,
frequently endangering the safety of the passengers' heads. The
fares are, however, very cheap, which seemed doubly strange, as the
many locks must cause considerable expense.

And now for the journey itself. We started at five o'clock in the
morning, and soon arrived in the river Gotha, whose shores for the
first few miles are flat and bare. The valley itself is bounded by
bare, rocky hills. After about nine miles we came to the town of
Kongelf, which is said to have 1000 inhabitants. It is so situated
among rocks, that it is almost hidden from view. On a rock opposite
the town are the ruins of the fortress Bogus. Now the scenery
begins to be a little more diversified, and forests are mingled with
the bleak rocks; little valleys appear on both the shores; and the
river itself, here divided by an islet, frequently expands to a
considerable breadth. The peasants' cottages were larger and better
than those in Norway; they are generally painted brick-red, and are
often built in groups.

The first lock is at Lilla Edet: there are five here; and while the
ship passes through them, the passengers have leisure to admire the
contiguous low, but broad and voluminous fall of the Gotha.

This first batch of locks in the canal extends over some distance
past the fall, and they are partly blasted out of the rock, or built
of stone. The river past Akestron flows as through a beautiful
park; the valley is hemmed in by fertile hills, and leaves space
only for the stream and some picturesque paths winding along its
shores, and through the pine-groves descending to its banks.

In the afternoon we arrived at the celebrated locks near Trollhatta.
They are of gigantic construction, which the largest states would be
honoured in completing, and which occasion surprise when found in a
country ranking high neither in extent nor in influence. There are
eleven locks here, which rise 112 feet in a space of 3500 feet.
They are broad, deep, blasted out of the rock, and walled round with
fine freestone. They resemble the single steps of a giant's
staircase; and by this name they might fitly rank as one of the
wonders of the world. Lock succeeds lock, mighty gates close them,
and the large vessel rises miraculously to the giddy heights in a
wildly romantic country.

Scarcely arrived at the locks, the traveller is surrounded by a
crowd of boys, who offer their services as guides to the waterfalls
near Trollhatta. There is abundance of time for this excursion; for
the passage of the ship through the many locks occupies three to
four hours, and the excursion can be made in half the time. Before
starting, it is, however, advisable to climb the rock to which the
locks ascend. A pavilion is erected on its summit, and the view
from it down over all the locks is exceedingly fine.

Pretty paths hewn out of the wood lead to Trollhatta, which is
charmingly situated in a lovely valley, surrounded by woods and
hills, on the shore of a river, whose white foaming waves contrast
strongly with the dark foliage of the overshadowing groves. The
canal, which describes a large semicircle round the chief stream,
glitters in the distance; but the highest locks are quite concealed
behind rocks; we could neither observe the opening of the gates nor
the rising of the water in them, and were therefore surprised when
suddenly the masts and then the ship itself rose from the depth. An
invisible hand seemed to raise it up between the rocks.

The falls of the river are less distinguished for their height than
for their diversity and their volumes of water. The principal arm
of the river is divided at the point of decline into two equal falls
by a little island of rock. A long narrow suspension-bridge leads
to this island, and hangs over the fall; but it is such a weak,
frail construction, that one person only can cross it at a time.
The owner of this dangerous path keeps it private, and imposes a
toll of about 3.5d. on all passengers.

A peculiar sensation oppresses the traveller crossing the slender
path. He sees the stream tearing onwards, breaking itself on the
projecting rock, and fall surging into the abyss; he sees the
boiling waves beneath, and feels the bridge vibrate at every
footstep, and timidly hastens to reach the island, not taking breath
to look around until he has found footing; on the firm island. A
solid rock projects a little over the fall, and affords him a safe
position, whence he sees not only the two falls on either side, but
also several others formed above and below his point of view. The
scene is so enchanting, that it is difficult to tear oneself away.

Beyond Trollhatta the river expands almost to a lake, and is
separated into many arms by the numerous islands. The shores lose
their beauty, being flat and uninteresting.

We unfortunately did not reach the splendid Wennersee, which is from
forty-five to sixty-five miles long, and proportionally broad, until
evening, when it was already too dark to admire the scenery. Our
ship remained some hours before the insignificant village
Wennersborg.

We had met six or seven steamers on our journey, which all belonged
to Swedish or Norwegian merchants; and it afforded us a peculiarly
interesting sight to see these ships ascend and descend in the high
locks.


September 5th.

As we were leaving Wennersborg late on the previous night, and were
cruising about the sea, a contrary wind, or rather a squall, arose,
which would have signified little to a good vessel, but to which our
small ship was not equal. The poor captain tried in vain to
navigate the steamer across the lake; he was at last compelled to
give up the attempt, to return and to cast anchor. We lost our boat
during this storm; a high wave dashed over the deck and swept it
away: it had probably been as well fastened as our boxes and
trunks.

Though it was but nine o'clock in the morning, our captain declared
that he could not proceed during the day, but that if the weather
became more favourable, he would start again about midnight.
Fortunately a fishing-boat ventured to come alongside, and some of
the passengers landed. I was among them, and made use of this
opportunity to visit some cottages lying at the edge of a wood near
the lake. They were very small, but consisted of two chambers,
which contained several beds and other furniture; the people were
also somewhat better clad than the Norwegians. Their food too was
not so unpalatable; they boiled a thick mess of coarse black flour,
which was eaten with sweet milk.


September 6th.

We raised anchor at one o'clock in the morning, and in about five
hours arrived at the island Eken, which consists entirely of rock,
and is surrounded by a multitude of smaller islets and cliffs. This
is one of the most important stations in the lake. A large wooden
warehouse stands on the shore, and in it is stored the merchandise
of the vicinity intended for export; and in return it receives the
cargo from the ships. There are always several vessels lying at
anchor here.

We had now to wind through a cluster of islands, till we again
reached the open lake, which, however, was only remarkable for its
size. Its shores are bare and monotonous, and only dotted here and
there with woods or low hills; the distant view even is not at all
noteworthy. One of the finest views is the tolerably large castle
of Leko, which lies on a rock, and is surrounded by fertile groves.

Further off rises the Kinne Kulle, {51} to which the traveller's
attention is directed, because it is said to afford an extended
view, not only over the lake, but far into the country. A curious
grotto is said to exist in this hill; but unfortunately one loses
these sights since the establishment of steamers, for we fly past
every object of interest, and the longest journey will soon be
described in a few words.

A large glass-factory is established at Bromoe, which fabricates
window-glass exclusively. We stopped a short time, and took a
considerable cargo of the brittle material on board.

The factory and the little dwellings attached to it are prettily
situated on the undulating ground.

Near Sjotorp we entered the river again through several locks. The
passage of the Wennersee is calculated at about ten or eleven hours.

The river at first winds through woods; and while the ship slowly
passes through the locks, it is pleasanter to walk a portion of the
distance in their shade. Farther on it flows through broad valleys,
which, however, present no very attractive features.


September 7th.

Early in the morning we crossed the pretty Vikensee, which
distinguishes itself, like all Swedish lakes, by the multitude of
its islands, cliffs, and rocks. These islands are frequently
covered with trees, which make the view more interesting.

The lake is 306 feet above the level of the North Sea, and is the
highest point of the journey; from thence the locks begin to
descend. The number of ascending and descending locks amounts to
seventy-two.

A short canal leads into the Boltensee, which is comparatively free
from islands. The passage across this little lake is very charming;
the shores are diversified by hills, woods, meadows, and fields.
After it comes the Weltersee, which can be easily defended by the
beautiful fortress of Karlsborg. This lake has two peculiarities:
one being the extraordinary purity and transparency of its waters;
the other, the number of storms which prevail in it. I was told
that it frequently raged and stormed on the lake while the
surrounding country remained calm and free. The storm sometimes
overtakes the ship so suddenly and violently, that escape is
impossible; and the sagas and fables told of the deceitful tricks of
these waves are innumerable.

We fortunately escaped, and crossed its surface cheerfully and
merrily. On its shores are situated the beautiful ladies'
pensionary, Wadstena, and the celebrated mountain Omberg, at whose
foot a battle was fought.

The next canal is short, and leads through a lovely wood into the
little lake of Norbysee. It is customary to walk this distance, and
inspect the simple monument of Count Platen, who made the plans for
the locks and canals,--a lasting, colossal undertaking. The
monument is surrounded by an iron railing, and consists of a slab
bearing an inscription, simply stating in Swedish his name, the date
of his death, &c. Nearly opposite the monument, on the other side
of the canal, is the town of Motala, distinguished principally for
its large iron factories, in which the spacious work-rooms are
especially remarkable.

Fifteen locks lead from the Norbysee into the Roxersee, which is a
descent of 116 feet. The canal winds gracefully through woods and
meadows, crossed by pretty roads, and studded with elegant little
houses and larger edifices. Distant church-steeples point out the
village of Norby, which sometimes peeps forth behind little forests,
and then vanishes again from the view of the traveller. When the
sun shines on the waters of this canal, it has a beautiful,
transparent, pea-green colour, like the purest chrysolite.

The view from the hill which rises immediately before the lake of
Roxen is exceedingly fine. It looks down upon an immense valley,
covered with the most beautiful woods and rocks, and upon the broad
lake, whose arm flows far in land. The evening sun shed its last
rays over a little town on the lake-shore, and its newly-painted
tiles shone brightly in its light beams.

While the ship descended through the many locks, we visited the
neighbouring church of the village of Vretakloster, which contains
the skeletons of several kings in beautifully-made metal coffins.

We then crossed the lake, which is from four to five miles broad,
and remained all night before the entrance of the canal leading into
a bay of the Baltic.


September 8th.

This canal is one of the longest; its environs are very pretty, and
the valley through which it runs is one of the largest we had
passed. The town of Soderkoping is situated at the foot of high,
picturesque groups of rocks, which extend to a considerable
distance.

Every valley and every spot of soil in Sweden are carefully
cultivated.

The people in general are well dressed, and inhabit small but very
pretty houses, whose windows are frequently decorated with clean
white draperies. I visited several of these houses, as we had
abundance of time for such excursions while the ship was going
through the locks. I think one might walk the whole distance from
Gottenburg to Stockholm in the same time that the ship takes for the
journey. We lose some hours daily with the locks, and are obliged
to lie still at night on their account. The distance is calculated
at from 180 to 250 miles, and the journey takes five days.

In the evening we approached the Baltic, which has the same
character as the Scheren of the North Sea. The ship threads its way
through a shoal of islands and islets, of rocks and cliffs; and it
is as difficult to imagine here as there how it is possible to avoid
all the projecting cliffs, and guide the ship so safely through
them. The sea divides itself into innumerable arms and bays, into
small and large lakes, which are formed between the islands and
rocks, and are hemmed in by beautiful hills. But nothing can exceed
the beauty of the view of the castle Storry Husby, which lies on a
high mountain, in a bay. In front of the mountain a beautiful
meadow-lawn reaches to the shores of the sea, while the back is
surrounded in the distance by a splendid pine-forest. Near this
picturesque castle a steeple rises on a neighbouring island, which
is all that remains of the ancient castle of Stegeborg. Nothing can
be more romantic than the scenery here, and on the whole journey
over the fiord; for it presents itself in ever-varying pictures to
the traveller's notice.

But gradually the hills become lower, the islands more rare; the sea
supersedes every thing, and seems jealously anxious to exclude other
objects from the traveller's attention, as if it wished to
monopolise it. Now we were in the open sea, and saw only water and
sky; and then again we were so hemmed in by the rocks and cliffs,
that it would be impossible to extricate the ship without the
assistance of an experienced pilot.


September 9th.

We left the sea, and entered another lake, the Malarsee, celebrated
for its numerous islands, by a short canal. The town of Sotulje
lies at its entrance, charmingly situated in a narrow valley at the
foot of a rather steep hill. This lake at first resembles a broad
river, but widens at every step, and soon shews itself in its whole
expanse. The passage of the Malarsee takes four hours, and is one
of the most charming excursions that can be made. It is said to
contain about a thousand islets of various sizes; and it may be
imagined how varied in form and feature the scenery must be, and,
like the fiord of the Baltic, what a constant succession of new
scenes it must present.

The shores also are very beautiful: in some spots hills descend
sharply to the water's edge, the steep rocks forming dangerous
points; on others dark, sombre pine-forests grow; and again there
are gay valleys and meadows, with villages or single cottages. Many
travellers assert that this lake is, after all, very monotonous; but
I cannot agree with their opinion. I found it so attractive, that I
could repeat the journey many times without wearying of this lovely
sameness. It certainly has not the majestic backgrounds of the
Swiss lakes; but this profusion of small islands is a pleasing
peculiarity which can be found on no other lake.

On the summit of a steep precipice of the shore the hat of the
unfortunate Eric is hoisted, fastened to a long pole. History tells
that this king fled from the enemy in a battle; that one of his
soldiers pursued him, and reproached him for his cowardice,
whereupon Eric, filled with shame and despair, gave spurs to his
horse and leaped into the fearful abyss. At his fall his hat was
blown from his head, and was left on this spot.

Not far from this point the suburbs of Stockholm make their
appearance, being spread round one of the broad arms of the lake.
With increasing curiosity we gazed towards the town as we gradually
approached it. Many of the pretty villas, which are situated in the
valleys or on the sides of the hills as forerunners of the town,
come into view, and the suburbs rise amphi-theatrically on the steep
shores. The town itself closes the prospect by occupying the whole
upper shore of the lake, and is flanked by the suburbs at either
side. The Ritterholm church, with its cast-iron perforated towers,
and the truly grand royal palace, which is built entirely in the
Italian style, can be seen and admired from this distance.

We had scarcely cast anchor in the port of Stockholm, when a number
of Herculean women came and offered us their services as porters.
They were Delekarliers, {52} who frequently come to Stockholm to
earn a livelihood as porters, water-carriers, boatwomen, &c. They
easily find employment, because they possess two excellent
qualities: they are said to be exceedingly honest and hard-working,
and, at the same time, have the strength and perseverance of men.

Their dress consists of black petticoats, which come half way over
the calf of the leg, red bodices, white chemises with long sleeves,
short narrow aprons of two colours, red stockings, and shoes with
wooden soles an inch thick. They twist a handkerchief round their
head, or put on a little close black cap, which fits close on the
back part of the head.

In Stockholm there are entire houses, as well as single rooms,
which, as in a hotel, are let by the day. They are much cheaper
than hotels, and are therefore more in demand. I at once hired one
of these rooms, which was very clean and bright, and for which, with
breakfast, I only paid one riksdaler, which is about one shilling.



CHAPTER X



As my journey was ostensibly only to Iceland, and as I only paid a
flying visit to this portion of Scandinavia, my readers will pardon
me if I treat it briefly. This portion of Europe has been so
frequently and so excellently described by other travellers, that my
observations would be of little importance.

I remained in Stockholm six days, and made as good use of my time as
I could. The town is situated on the shores of the Baltic Sea and
the Malar lake. These two waters are connected by a short canal, on
whose shores the most delightful houses are erected.

My first visit was to the beautiful church of Ritterholm, which is
used more for a cemetery and an armory than for a place of worship.
The vaults serve as burial-places for the kings, and their monuments
are erected in the side-chapels. On each side of the nave of the
church are placed effigies of armed knights on horseback, whose
armour belonged to the former kings of Sweden. The walls and angles
of the church are profusely decorated with flags and standards, said
to number five thousand. In addition to this, the keys of conquered
towns and fortresses hang along the side-walls, and drums are piled
upon the floor; trophies taken from different nations with which
Sweden has been at war.

Besides these curiosities, several coats of armour and garments of
Swedish regents are displayed behind glass-cases in the side-
chapels. Among them, the dress which Charles XII. wore on the day
of his death, and his hat perforated by a ball, interested me most.
His riding-boots stand on the ground beside it. The modern dress
and hat, embroidered with gold and ornamented with feathers, of the
last king, the founder of the new dynasty, is not less interesting,
partly perhaps from the great contrast.

The church of St. Nicholas stands on the same side of the canal, and
is one of the finest Protestant churches I had seen; it is very
evident that it was built in Catholic times, and that its former
decorations have been allowed to remain. It contains several large
and small oil-paintings, some ancient and some modern monuments, and
a profusion of gilding. The organ is fine and large; flanking the
entrance of the church are beautiful reliefs, hewn in stone; and
above it, carved in wood, a statue of the archangel Michael, larger
than life, sitting on horseback on a bridge, in the act of killing
the dragon.

Near the church is situated the royal palace, which needs a more
fluent pen than mine to describe it. It would fill a volume were I
to enumerate and describe the treasures, curiosities, and beauties
of its construction, or its interior arrangement; I can only say
that I never saw any thing to equal it, except the royal palace of
Naples. Such an edifice is the more surprising in the north, and in
a country which has never been overstocked with wealth.

The church of Shifferholm is remarkable only for its position and
its temple-like form; it stands on the ledge of a rock facing the,
royal palace, on the opposite shore of the same indentation of the
Baltic. A long bridge of boats leads from the one to the other.

The church of St. Catharine is large and beautiful. In an outer
angle of the church is shewn the stone on which one of the brothers
Sturre was beheaded. {53}

On the Ritterplatz stands the Ritterhouse, a very fine palace; also
the old royal palace, and several other royal and private mansions;
but they are not nearly so numerous nor so fine as in Copenhagen,
and the streets and squares also cannot be compared with those of
the capital of Denmark.

The finest prospect is from a hill in one of the suburbs called the
Great Mosbecken; it affords a magnificent view of the sea and the
lake, of the town and its suburbs, as far as the points of the
mountains, and of the lovely country-houses which border the shores
of lake and sea. The town and its environs are so interspersed with
islets and rocks, that these seem to be part of the town; and this
gives Stockholm such a curious appearance, that I can compare it to
no other city I have seen. Wooded hills and naked rocks prolong the
view, and their ridges extend into the far distance; while level
fields and lawns take up but a very small proportion of the
magnificent scenery.

On descending from this hill the traveller should not fail to go to
Sodermalm, and to inspect the immense iron-stores, where iron is
heaped up in countless bars. The corn-market of Stockholm is
insignificant. The principal buildings besides those already
enumerated are, the bank, the mint, the guard-house, the palace of
the crown-prince, the theatre, &c. The latter is interesting,
partly because Gustavus III. was shot in it. He fell on the stage,
while a grand masquerade was taking place, for which the theatre had
been changed into a ball-room. The king was shot by a mask, and
died in a few hours.

There is not a representation in the theatre every night; and on the
one evening of performance during my visit a festival was to be
celebrated in the hall of antiquities. The esteemed artist
Vogelberg, a native of Sweden, had beautifully sculptured the three
heathen gods, Thor, Balder, and Odin, in colossal size, and brought
them over from Rome. The statues had only been lately placed, and a
large company had been invited to meet in the illuminated saloon,
and do honour to the artist. Solemn hymns were to be sung at the
uncovering of the statues, beside other festivities. I was
fortunate enough to receive an invitation to this festival, which
was to commence a little past seven. Before that I went to the
theatre, which, I was told, would open at half-past six. I intended
to remain there half an hour, and then drive to the palace, where my
friends would meet me to accompany me to the festival. I went to
the theatre at six, and anxiously waited half an hour for the
commencement of the overture; it was after half-past six, and no
signs of the commencement. I looked again at the bill, and saw, to
my annoyance, that the opera did not begin till seven. But as I
would not leave until I had seen the stage, I spent the time in
looking at the theatre itself. It is tolerably large, and has five
tiers of boxes, but is neither tastefully nor richly decorated. I
was most surprised at the exorbitant price and the variety of seats.
I counted twenty-six different kinds; it seems that every row has a
different price, else I don't understand how they could make such a
variety.

At last the overture began; I listened to it, saw the curtain rise,
looked at the fatal spot, and left after the first air. The door-
keeper followed me, took my arm, and wished to give me a return-
ticket; and when I told him that I did not require one, as I did not
intend to return, he said that it had only just commenced, and that
I ought to stop, and not have spent all the money for nothing. I
was unfortunately too little acquainted with the Swedish language to
explain the reason of my departure, so I could give him no answer,
but went away. I, however, heard him say to some one, "I never met
with such a woman before; she sat an hour looking at the curtain,
and goes away as soon as it rises." I looked round and saw how he
shook his head thoughtfully, and pointed with his forefinger to his
forehead. I could not refrain from smiling, and enjoyed the scene
as much as I should have done the second act of Mozart's Don
Giovanni.

I called for my friends at the royal palace, and spent the evening
very agreeably in the brilliantly-illuminated galleries of
antiquities and of pictures. I had the pleasure also of being
introduced to Herr Vogelberg. His modest, unpretending manners must
inspire every one with respect, even if one does not know what
distinguished talent he possesses.

The royal park is one of the finest sights in the neighbourhood of
Stockholm, and is one of the best of its kind. It is a fine large
natural park, with an infinity of groves, meadows, hills, and rocks;
here and there lies a country-house with its fragrant flower-garden,
or tasteful coffee and refreshment houses, which on fine Sundays are
filled with visitors from the town. Good roads are made through the
park, and commodious paths lead to the finest points of view over
sea and land.

The bust of the popular poet Bellmann stands on an open sunny spot,
and an annual festival is given here in his honour.

Deeper in the park lies the so-called Rosenthal (Rose valley), a
real Eden. The late king was so partial to this spot, that he spent
many hours in the little royal country-house here, which is built on
a retired spot in the midst of groves and flower-beds. In front of
the palace stands a splendid vase made of a single piece of
porphyry. I was told that it was the largest in Europe, but I
consider the one in the Museum of Naples much larger.

I spent the last hours of my visit to Stockholm in this spot, with
the amiable family of Herr Boje from Finnland, whose acquaintance I
had made on the journey from Gottenburg to Stockholm. I shall
therefore never forget this beautiful park and the agreeable
associations connected with it.

I made a very agreeable excursion also to the royal palace of Haga,
to the large cemetery, and to the military school Karlberg.

The royal castle of Haga is surrounded by a magnificent park, which
owes little to art; it contains some of the finest trees, with here
and there a hill, and is crossed by majestic alleys and well-kept
roads for driving and walking. The palace itself is so small, that
I could not but admire the moderation of the royal family; but I was
informed that this is the smallest of their summer palaces.

Nearly opposite to this park is the great cemetery; but as it has
only existed for about seventeen years, the trees in it are yet
rather young. This would be of little consequence in other
countries, but in Sweden the cemeteries serve as promenades, and are
crossed by alleys, ornamented with groves, and provided with seats
for the accommodation of visitors. This cemetery is surrounded by a
dark pine-forest, and really seems quite shut off from the outer
world. It is the only burial-place out of the town; the others all
lie between the churches and the neighbouring houses, whose fronts
often form the immediate boundary. Burials take place there
constantly, so that the inhabitants are quite familiar with the
aspect of death.

From the great cemetery a road leads to the neighbouring Karlberg,
which is the academy for military and naval cadets. The extensive
buildings attached to this seminary are built on the slope of a
mountain, which is washed on one side by the waters of the lake, and
surrounded on the other by the beautiful park-plantations.

Before leaving Stockholm I had the honour of being introduced to her
majesty the Queen of Sweden. She had heard of my travels, and took
a particular interest in my account of Palestine. In consequence of
this favour, I received the special permission to inspect the whole
interior of the palace. Although it was inhabited, I was conducted,
not only through the state-rooms, but through all the private rooms
of the court. It would be impossible to describe the splendour
which reigns here, the treasures of art, the magnificent
appointments, and the evident taste every where displayed. I was
delighted with all the treasures and splendour, but still more with
the warm interest with which her majesty conversed with me about
Palestine. This interview will ever dwell on my memory as the
bright salient point of my northern expedition.


EXCURSION TO THE OLD ROYAL CASTLE OF GRIPTHOLM ON THE MALARSEE


Every Sunday morning, at eight o'clock, a little steamer leaves
Stockholm for this castle; the distance is about forty-five miles,
and is passed in four hours; four hours more are allowed for the
stay, and in the evening the steamer returns to Stockholm. This
excursion is very interesting, although we pass the greater part of
the time on that portion of the lake which we had seen on our
arrival, but for the last few miles the ship turned into a pretty
bay, at whose apex the castle is situated. It is distinguished for
its size, its architecture, and its colossal turrets. It is
unfortunately, however, painted with the favourite brick-red colour
of the Swedes.

Two immense cannons, which the Swedes once gained in battle from the
Russians, stand in the courtyard. The apartments in the castle,
which are kept in good condition, display neither splendour nor
profusion of appointments, indeed almost the contrary. The pretty
theatre is, however, an exception: for its walls are inlaid from
top to bottom with mirrors, its pillars are gilt, and the royal box
tapestried with rich red velvet. There has been no performance here
since the death of Gustavus III.

The immensely massive walls are a remarkable feature of this palace,
and must measure about three yards in thickness in the lower
stories.

The upper apartments are all large and high, and afford a splendid
view of the lake from their windows. But it is impossible to enjoy
these beautiful scenes when one thinks of the sad events which have
taken place here.

Two kings, John III. and Eric XIV., the latter with four of his
ministers, who were subsequently beheaded, were imprisoned here for
many years. The captivity of John III. would not have been so bad,
if captivity were not bad enough in itself. He was confined in a
large splendid saloon, but which he was not permitted to quit, and
which he would therefore probably have gladly exchanged for the
poorest hut and liberty. His wife inhabited two smaller apartments
adjoining; she was not treated as a prisoner, and could leave the
castle at will. His son Sigismund was born here in the year 1566,
and the room and bed in which he was born are still shewn as
curiosities.

Eric's fate was much more unfortunate, for he was kept in narrow and
dark confinement. A small rudely-furnished apartment, with narrow,
iron-barred windows, in one of the little turrets was his prison.
The entrance was closed by a solid oaken door, in which a small
opening had been made, through which his food was given him. For
greater security this oaken door was covered by an iron one. Round
the outside of the apartment a narrow gallery had been made, on
which the guards were posted, and could at all times see their
prisoner through the barred windows. The spot is still shewn at one
of the windows where the king sat for hours looking into the
distance, his head leaning on his hand. What must have been his
feelings as he gazed on the bright sky, the verdant turf, and the
smiling lake! How many sighs must have been echoed from these
walls, how many sleepless nights must he have passed during those
two long years in anxious expectation of the future!

The guide who took us round the castle maintained that the floor was
more worn on this spot than any where else, and that the window-sash
had been hollowed by the elbow of the miserable king; but I could
not perceive any difference. Eric was kept imprisoned here for two
years, and was then taken to another prison.

There is a large picture-gallery in this castle; but it contains
principally portraits of kings, not only of Sweden, but of other
countries, from the Middle Ages down to the present time; also
portraits of ministers, generals, painters, poets, and learned men;
of celebrated Swedish females, who have sacrificed themselves for
their country, and of the most celebrated female beauties. The name
and date of birth of each person are affixed to his or her portrait,
so that each visitor may find his favourite without guide or
catalogue. In many of them the colouring and drawing are wretched
enough, but we will hope that the resemblance is all the more
striking.

On our return several gentlemen were kind enough to direct my
attention to the most interesting points of the lake. Among these I
must mention Kakeholm, its broadest point; the island of Esmoi, on
which a Swedish female gained a battle; Norsberg, also celebrated
for a battle which took place there; and Sturrehof, the property of
a great Swedish family. Near Bjarkesoe a simple cross is erected,
ostensibly on the spot where Christianity was first introduced.
Indeed the Malarsee has so many historical associations, in addition
to the attractions of its scenery, that it is one of the most
interesting seas not only of Sweden but of Europe.


JOURNEY FROM STOCKHOLM TO UPSALA AND TO THE IRON-MINES OF DANEMORA


September 12th.

The intercourse between Stockholm and Upsala is very considerable.
A steamer leaves both places every day except Sunday, and traverses
the distance in six hours.

Tempted by this convenient opportunity of easily and quickly
reaching the celebrated town of Upsala, and by the unusually fine
weather, I took my passage one evening, and was greatly disappointed
when, on the following morning, the rain poured down in torrents.
But if travellers paid much attention to the weather, they would not
go far; so I nevertheless embarked at half-past seven, and arrived
safely in Upsala. I remained in the cabin during the passage, and
could not even enjoy the prospect from the cabin-windows, for the
rain beat on them from the outside, while inside they were obscured
by the heat. But I did not venture on deck, hoping to be favoured
by better weather on my return.

At last, about three o'clock, when I had been in Upsala more than an
hour, the weather cleared up, and I sallied out to see the sights.

First I visited the cathedral. I entered, and stood still with
astonishment at the chief portal, on looking up at the high roof
resting on two rows of pillars, and covering the whole church. It
is formed in one beautiful straight line, unbroken by a single arch.
The church itself is simple: behind the grand altar a handsome
chapel is erected, the ceiling of which is painted azure blue,
embossed with golden stars. In this chapel Gustavus I. is interred
between his two wives. The monument which covers the grave is
large, and made of marble, but clumsy and void of taste. It
represents a sarcophagus, on which three bodies, the size of life,
are laid; a marble canopy is raised over them. The walls of the
chapel are covered with pretty frescoes, representing the most
remarkable scenes in the life of this monarch. The most interesting
among them are, one in which he enters a peasant's hut in peasant's
attire, at the same moment that his pursuers are eagerly inquiring
after him in front of the hut; the other, when he stands on a
barrel, also dressed as a peasant, and harangues his people. Two
large tablets in a broad gold frame contain in Swedish, and not in
the Latin language, the explanation of the different pictures, so
that every Swede may easily learn the monarch's history.

Several other monuments are erected in the side-chapels; those of
Catharine Magelone, John III., Gustavus Erichson, who was beheaded,
and of the two brothers Sturre, who were murdered. The monument of
Archbishop Menander, in white marble, is a tasteful and artistic
modern production. The great Linnaeus is buried under a simple
marble slab in this church; but his monument is in one of the side-
chapels, and not over his grave, and consists of a beautiful dark-
brown porphyry slab, on which his portrait is sculptured in relief.

The splendid organ, which reaches nearly to the roof of the church,
also deserves special attention. The treasure-chamber does not
contain great treasures; the blood-stained and dagger-torn garments
of the unfortunate brothers Sturre are kept in a glass case here;
and here also stands a wooden statue of the heathen god Thor. This
wooden affair seems to have originally been an Ecce Homo, which was
perhaps the ornament of some village church, then carried off by
some unbeliever, and made more shapeless than its creator, not
proficient in art, had made it. It has a greater resemblance now to
a frightful scarecrow than to any thing else.

The churchyard near the church is distinguished for its size and
beauty. It is surrounded by a wall of stone two feet high,
surmounted by an iron palisading of equal height, broken by stone
pillars. On several sides, steps are made into the burying-ground
over this partition. In this cemetery, as in the one of Stockholm,
one seems to be in a lovely garden, laid out with alleys, arbours,
lawns, &c.; but it is more beautiful than the other, because it is
older. The graves are half concealed by arbours; many were
ornamented with flowers and wreaths, or hedged by rose-bushes. The
whole aspect of this cemetery, or rather of this garden, seems
equally adapted for the amusement of the living or the repose of the
dead.

The monuments are in no way distinguished; only two are rather
remarkable, for they consist of tremendous pieces of rock in their
natural condition, standing upright on the graves. One of these
monuments resembles a mountain; it covers the ashes of a general,
and is large enough to have covered his whole army; his relatives
probably took the graves of Troy as a specimen for their monument.
It is moreover inscribed by very peculiar signs, which seemed to me
to be runic characters. The good people have united in this
monument two characteristics of the ancients of two entirely
distinct empires.

The university or library building in Upsala is large and beautiful;
it is situated on a little hill, with a fine front facing the town.
The park, which is, however, still somewhat young, forms the
background. {54}

Near this building, on the same hill, stands a royal palace,
conspicuous for its brick-red colour. It is very large, and the two
wings are finished by massive round towers.

In the centre of the courtyard, behind the castle, is placed a
colossal bust of Gustavus I., and a few paces from it two artificial
hills serve as bastions, on which cannons are planted. This being
the highest point of the town, affords the best view over it, and
over the surrounding country.

The town itself is built half of wood and half of stone, and is very
pretty, being crossed by broad streets, and ornamented with
tastefully laid-out gardens. It has one disadvantage, which is the
dark brownish-red colour of the houses, which has a peculiarly
sombre appearance in the setting sun.

An immense and fertile plain, diversified by dark forests
contrasting with the bright green meadows and the yellow stubble-
fields, surrounds the town, and in the distance the silvery river
Fyris flows towards the sea. Forests close the distant view with
their dark shadows. I saw but few villages; they may, however, have
been hidden by the trees, for that they exist seems to be indicated
by the well-kept high roads crossing the plain in all directions.

Before quitting my position on the bastions of the royal palace I
cast a glance on the castle-gardens, which were lying lower down the
hill, and are separated from the castle by a road; they do not seem
to be large, but are very pretty.

I should have wished to be able to visit the botanic garden near the
town, which was the favourite resort of Linnaeus, whose splendidly-
sculptured bust is said to be its chief ornament; but the sun was
setting behind the mountains, and I repaired to my chamber, to
prepare for my journey to Danemora.


September 13th.

I left Upsala at four o'clock in the morning, to proceed to the far-
famed iron-mines of Danemora, upwards of thirty miles distant, and
where I wished to arrive before twelve, as the blasting takes place
at that hour, after which the pits are closed. As I had been
informed how slowly travelling is done in this country, and how
tedious the delays are when the horses are changed, I determined to
allow time enough for all interruptions, and yet arrive at the
appointed hour.

A few miles behind Upsala lies Old Upsala (Gamla Upsala). I saw the
old church and the grave-hills in passing; three of the latter are
remarkably large, the others smaller. It is presumed that the
higher ones cover the graves of kings. I saw similar tumuli during
my journey to Greece, on the spot where Troy is said to have stood.
The church is not honoured as a ruin; it has yet to do service; and
it grieved me to see the venerable building propped up and covered
with fresh mortar on many a time-worn spot.

Half way between Upsala and Danemora we passed a large castle, not
distinguished for its architecture, its situation, or any thing
else. Then we neared the river Fyris, and the long lake of
Danemora; both are quite overgrown with reeds and grass, and have
flat uninteresting shores; indeed the whole journey offers little
variety, as the road lies through a plain, only diversified by
woods, fields, and pieces of rock. These are interesting features,
because one cannot imagine how they came there, the mountains being
at a great distance, and the soil by no means rocky.

The little town of Danemora lies in the midst of a wood, and only
consists of a church and a few large and small detached houses. The
vicinity of the mines is indicated before arriving at the place by
immense heaps of stones, which are brought by horse-gins from the
pits, and which cover a considerable space.

I had fortunately arrived in time to see the blastings. Those in
the great pit are the most interesting; for its mouth is so very
large, that it is not necessary to descend in order to see the pit-
men work; all is visible from above. This is a very peculiar and
interesting sight. The pit, 480 feet deep, with its colossal doors
and entrances leadings into the galleries, looks like a picture of
the lower world, from which bridges of rocks, projections, arches
and caverns formed in the walls, ascend to the upper world. The men
look like pigmies, and one cannot follow their movements until the
eye has accustomed itself to the depth and to the darkness
prevailing below. But the darkness is not very dense; I could
distinguish most of the ladders, which seemed to me like children's
toys.

It was nearly twelve, and the workmen left the pits, with the
exception of those in charge of the mines. They ascended by means
of little tubs hanging by ropes, and were raised by a windlass. It
is a terrible sight to see the men soaring up on the little machine,
especially when two or three ascend at once; for then one man stands
in the centre, while the other two ride on the edge of the tub.

I should have liked to descend into the great pit, but it was too
late on this day, and I would not wait another. I should not have
feared the descent, as I was familiar with such adventures, having
explored the salt-mines of Wieliczka and Bochnia, in Gallicia, some
years before, in which I had had to let myself down by a rope, which
is a much more dangerous method than the tub.

With the stroke of twelve, four blasting trains in the large pit
were fired. The man whose business it was to apply the match ran
away in great haste, and sheltered himself behind a wall of rock.
In a few moments the powder flashed, some stones fell, and then a
fearful crash was heard all around, followed by the rolling and
falling of the blasted masses. Repeated echoes announced the
fearful explosion in the interior of the pits: the whole left a
terrible impression on me. Scarcely had one mine ceased to rage,
when the second began, then the third, and so on. These blastings
take place daily in different mines.

The other pits are deeper, the deepest being 600 feet; but the
mouths are smaller, and the shafts not perpendicular, so that the
eye is lost in darkness, which is a still more unpleasant sensation.
I gazed with oppressed chest into the dark space, vainly
endeavouring to distinguish something. I should not like to be a
miner; I could not endure life without the light of day; and when I
turned from the dark pits, I cast my eyes thankfully on the cheerful
landscape basking in the sun.

I returned to Upsala on the same day, having made this little
journey by post. I can merely narrate the facts, without giving an
opinion on the good or bad conveniences for locomotion, as this was
more a pleasure-trip than a journey.

As I had hired no carriage, I had a different vehicle at every
station, and these vehicles consisted of ordinary two-wheeled wooden
carts. My seat was a truss of hay covered with the horse-cloth. If
the roads had not been so extremely good, these carts would have
shaken terribly; but as it was, I must say that I rode more
comfortably than in the carriols of the Norwegians, although they
were painted and vanished; for in them I had to be squeezed in with
my feet stretched out, and could not change my position.

The stations are unequal,--sometimes long, sometimes short. The
post-horses are provided here, as in Norway, by wealthy peasants,
called Dschns-peasants. These have to collect a certain number of
horses every evening for forwarding the travellers the next morning.
At every post-house a book is kept, in which the traveller can see
how many horses the peasant has, how many have already been hired,
and how many are left in the stable. He must then inscribe his
name, the hour of his departure, and the number of horses he
requires. By this arrangement deception and extortion are
prevented, as every thing is open, and the prices fixed. {55}

Patience is also required here, though not so much as in Norway. I
had always to wait from fifteen to twenty minutes before the
carriage was brought and the horses and harness prepared, but never
longer; and I must admit that the Swedish post-masters hurried as
much as possible, and never demanded double fare, although they must
have known that I was in haste. The pace of the horse depends on
the will of the coachman and the powers of his steed; but in no
other country did I see such consideration paid to the strength of
the horses. It is quite ridiculous to see what small loads of corn,
bricks, or wood, are allotted to two horses, and how slowly and
sleepily they draw their burdens.

The number of wooden gates, which divide the roads into as many
parts as there are common grounds on it, are a terrible nuisance to
travellers. The coachman has often to dismount six or eight times
in an hour to open and close these gates. I was told that these
delectable gates even exist on the great high road, only not quite
in such profusion as on the by-roads.

Wood must be as abundant here as in Norway, for every thing is
enclosed; even fields which seem so barren as not to be worth the
labour or the wood.

The villages through which I passed were generally pretty and
cheerful, and I found the cottages, which I entered while the horses
were changed, neatly and comfortably furnished.

The peasants of this district wear a peculiar costume. The men, and
frequently also the boys, wear long dark-blue cloth surtouts, and
cloth caps on their heads; so that, at a distance, they look like
gentlemen in travelling dress. It seems curious to a foreigner to
see these apparent gentlemen following the plough or cutting grass.
At a nearer view, of course the aspect changes, and the rents and
dirt appear, or the leathern apron worn beneath the coat, like
carpenters in Austria, becomes visible. The female costume was
peculiar only in so far that it was poor and ragged. In dress and
shoes the Norwegian and Swedes are behind the Icelanders, but they
surpass them in the comfort of their dwellings.


September 14th.

To-day I returned to Stockholm on the Malarsee, and the weather
being more favourable than on my former passage, I could remain on
deck the whole time. I saw now that we sailed for several miles on
the river Fyris, which flows through woods and fields into the lake.

The large plain on which old and new Upsala lie was soon out of
sight, and after passing two bridges, we turned into the Malar. At
first there are no islands on its flat expanse, and its shores are
studded with low tree-covered hills; but we soon, however, arrived
at the region of islands, where the passage becomes more
interesting, and the beauty of the shores increases. The first fine
view we saw was the pretty estate Krusenberg, whose castle is
romantically situated on a fertile hill. But much more beautiful
and surprising is the splendid castle of Skukloster, a large,
beautiful, and regular pile, ornamented with four immense round
turrets at the four corners, and with gardens stretching down to the
water's edge.

From this place the scenery is full of beauty and variety; every
moment presents another and a more lovely view. Sometimes the
waters expand, sometimes they are hemmed in by islands, and become
as narrow as canals. I was most charmed with those spots where the
islands lie so close together that no outlet seems possible, till
another turn shews an opening between them, with a glimpse of the
lake beyond. The hills on the shores are higher, and the
promontories larger, the farther the ship advances; and the islands
appear to be merely projections of the continent, till a nearer
approach dispels the illusion.

The village of Sixtuna lies in a picturesque and charming little
valley, filled with ruins, principally of round towers, which are
said to be the remains of the Roman town of Sixtum; the name being
retained by the new town with a slight modification.

After this follow cliffs and rocks rising perpendicularly from the
sea, and whose vicinity would be by no means desirable in a storm.
Of the castle of Rouse only three beautiful domes rise above the
trees; a frowning bleak hill conceals the rest from the eye. Then
comes a palace, the property of a private individual, only
remarkable for its size. The last of the notabilities is the Rokeby
bridge, said to be one of the longest in Sweden. It unites the firm
land with the island on which the royal castle of Drottingholm
stands. The town of Stockholm now becomes visible; we turn into the
portion of the lake on which it lies, and arrive there again at two
o'clock in the afternoon.


FROM STOCKHOLM TO TRAVEMUNDE AND HAMBURGH


I bade farewell to Stockholm on the 18th September, and embarked in
the steamer Svithiold, of 100-horse power, at twelve o'clock at
noon, to go to Travemunde.

Few passages can be more expensive than this one is. The distance
is five hundred leagues, and the journey generally occupies two and
a half to three days; for this the fare, without food, is four
pounds. The food is also exorbitantly dear; in addition to which
the captain is the purveyor; so that there is no appeal for the
grossest extortion or insufficiency.

It pained me much when one of the poorer travellers, who suffered
greatly from sea-sickness, having applied for some soup to the
steward, who referred him to the amiable captain, to hear him
declare he would make no exception, and that a basin of soup would
be charged the whole price of a complete dinner. The poor man was
to do without the soup, of which he stood so much in need, or scrape
every farthing together to pay a few shillings daily for his dinner.
Fortunately for him some benevolent persons on deck paid for his
meals. Some of the gentlemen brought their own wine with them, for
which they had to pay as much duty to the captain as the wine was
worth.

To these pleasures of travelling must be added the fact, that a
Swedish vessel does not advance at all if the weather is
unfavourable. Most of the passengers considered that the engines
were inefficient. However this may be, we were delayed twenty-four
hours at the first half of our journey, from Stockholm to Calmar,
although we had only a slight breeze against us and a rather high
sea, but no storm. In Calmar we cast anchor, and waited for more
favourable wind. Several gentlemen, whose business in Lubeck was
pressing, left the steamer, and continued their journey by land.

At first the Baltic very much resembles the Malarsee; for islands,
rocks, and a variety of scenery make it interesting. To the right
we saw the immensely long wooden bridge of Lindenborg, which unites
one of the larger islands with the continent.

At the end of one of the turns of the sea lies the town of
Wachsholm; and opposite to it, upon a little rocky island, a
splendid fortress with a colossal round tower. Judging by the
number of cannons planted along the walls, this fortress must be of
great importance. A few hours later we passed a similar fortress,
Friedrichsborg; it is not in such an open situation as the other,
but is more surrounded by forests. We passed at a considerable
distance, and could not see much of it, nor of the castle lying on
the opposite side, which seems to be very magnificent, and is also
surrounded by woods.

The boundaries of the right shore now disappear, but then again
appear as a terrible heap of naked rocks, at whose extreme edge is
situated the fine fortress Dolero. Near it groups of houses are
built on the bare rocks projecting into the sea, and form an
extensive town.

September 19th.

To-day we were on the open, somewhat stormy sea. Towards noon we
arrived at the Calmar Sound, formed by the flat, uniform shores of
the long island Oland on the left, and on the right by Schmoland.
In front rose the mountain-island the Jungfrau, to which every Swede
points with self-satisfied pride. Its height is only remarkable
compared with the flatness around; beside the proud giant-mountain
of the same name in Switzerland it would seem like a little hill.


September 20th.

On account of the contrary wind, we had cast anchor here last night,
and this morning continued the journey to Calmar, where we arrived
about two in the forenoon. The town is situated on an immense
plain, and is not very interesting. A few hours may be agreeably
spent here in visiting the beautiful church and the antiquated
castle, and we had more than enough leisure for it. Wind and
weather seemed to have conspired against us, and the captain
announced an indefinite stay at this place. At first we could not
land, as the waves were too high; but at last one of the larger
boats came alongside, and the more curious among us ventured to row
to the land in the unsteady vessel.

The exterior of the church resembles a fine antiquated castle from
its four corner towers and the lowness of its dome, which rises very
little above the building, and also because the other turrets here
and there erected for ornament are scarcely perceptible. The
interior of the church is remarkable for its size, its height, and a
particularly fine echo. The tones of the organ are said to produce
a most striking effect. We sent for the organist, but he was
nowhere to be found; so we had to content ourselves with the echo of
our own voices. We went from this place to the old royal castle
built by Queen Margaret in the sixteenth century. The castle is so
dilapidated inside that a tarrying in the upper chambers is scarcely
advisable. The lower rooms of the castle have been repaired, and
are used as prisons; and as we passed, arms were stretched forth
from some of the barred windows, and plaintive voices entreated the
passers-by to bestow some trifle upon the poor inmates. Upwards of
140 prisoners are said to be confined here. {56}

About three o'clock in the afternoon the wind abated, and we
continued our journey. The passage is very uniform, and we saw only
flat, bare shores; a group of trees even was a rarity.


September 21st.

When I came on deck this morning the Sound was far behind us. To
the left we had the open sea; on the right, instead of the bleak
Schmoland, we had the bleaker Schonen, which was so barren, that we
hardly saw a paltry fishing-village between the low sterile hills.

At nine o'clock in the morning we anchored in the port of Ystadt.
The town is pretty, and has a large square, in which stand the house
of the governor, the theatre, and the town-hall. The streets are
broad, and the houses partly of wood and partly of stone. The most
interesting feature is the ancient church, and in it a much-damaged
wooden altar-piece, which is kept in the vestry. Though the figures
are coarse and disproportionate, one must admire the composition and
the carving. The reliefs on the pulpit, and a beautiful monument to
the right of the altar, also deserve admiration. These are all
carved in wood.

In the afternoon we passed the Danish island Malmo.

At last, after having been nearly four days on the sea instead of
two days and a half, we arrived safely in the harbour of Travemunde
on the 22d September at two o'clock in the morning. And now my sea-
journeys were over; I parted sorrowfully from the salt waters, for
it is so delightful to see the water's expanse all around, and
traverse its mirror-like surface. The sea presents a beautiful
picture, even when it storms and rages, when waves tower upon waves,
and threaten to dash the vessel to pieces or to engulf it--when the
ship alternately dances on their points, or shoots into the abyss;
and I frequently crept for hours in a corner, or held fast to the
sides of the ship, and let the waves dash over me. I had overcome
the terrible sea-sickness during my numerous journeys, and could
therefore freely admire these fearfully beautiful scenes of excited
nature, and adore God in His grandest works.

We had scarcely cast anchor in the port when a whole array of
coachmen surrounded us, volunteering to drive us overland to
Hamburgh, a journey of thirty-six miles, which it takes eight hours
to accomplish.

Travemunde is a pretty spot, which really consists of only one
street, in which the majority of the houses are hotels. The country
from here to Lubeck, a distance of ten miles, is very pretty. A
splendid road, on which the carriages roll smoothly along, runs
through a charming wood past a cemetery, whose beauty exceeds that
of Upsala; but for the monuments, one might take it for one of the
most splendid parks or gardens.

I regretted nothing so much as being unable to spend a day in
Lubeck, for I felt very much attracted by this old Hanse town, with
its pyramidically-built houses, its venerable dome, and other
beautiful churches, its spacious squares, &c.; but I was obliged to
proceed, and could only gaze at and admire it as I hurried through.
The pavement of the streets is better than I had seen it in any
northern town; and on the streets, in front of the houses, I saw
many wooden benches, on which the inhabitants probably spend their
summer evenings. I saw here for the first time again the gay-
looking street-mirrors used in Hamburgh. The Trave, which flows
between Travemunde and Lubeck, has to be crossed by boat. Near
Oldesloe are the salt-factories, with large buildings and immensely
high chimneys; an old romantic castle, entirely surrounded by water,
lies near Arensburg.

Past Arensburg the country begins to be uninteresting, and remains
so as far as Hamburgh; but it seems to be very fertile, as there is
an abundance of green fields and fine meadows.

The little journey from Lubeck to Hamburgh is rather dear, on
account of the almost incredible number of tolls and dues the poor
coachmen have to pay. They have first to procure a license to drive
from Lubeck into Hamburgh territory, which costs about 1s. 3d.; then
mine had to pay twice a double toll of 8d., because we passed
through before five o'clock in the morning, and the gates, which are
not opened till five o'clock, were unfastened especially for us;
besides these, there was a penny toll on nearly every mile.

This dreadful annoyance of the constant stopping and the toll-bars
is unknown in Norway and in Sweden. There, an annual tax is paid
for every horse, and the owner can then drive freely through the
whole country, as no toll-bars are erected.

The farm-houses here are very large and far-spread, but the reason
is, that stable, barn, and shippen are under the same roof: the
walls of the houses are of wood filled in with bricks.

After passing Arensburg, we saw the steeples of Wandsbeck and
Hamburgh in the distance; the two towns seem to be one, and are, in
fact, only separated by pretty country-houses. But Wandsbeck
compared to Hamburgh is a village, not a town.

I arrived in Hamburgh about two o'clock in the afternoon; and my
relatives were so astonished at my arrival, that they almost took me
for a ghost. I was at first startled by their reception, but soon
understood the reason of it.

At the time I left Iceland another vessel went to Altona, by which I
sent a box of minerals and curiosities to my cousin in Hamburgh.
The sailor who brought the box gave such a description of the
wretched vessel in which I had gone to Copenhagen, that, after
having heard nothing of me for two months, he thought I must have
gone to the bottom of the sea with the ship. I had indeed written
from Copenhagen, but the letter had been lost; and hence their
surprise and delight at my arrival.



CHAPTER XI



I had not much time to spare, so that I could only stay a few days
with my relatives in Hamburgh; on the 26th September, I went in a
little steamer from Hamburgh to Harburg, where we arrived in three
quarters of an hour. From thence I proceeded in a stage-carriage to
Celle, about sixty-five miles.

The country is not very interesting; it consists for the most part
of plains, which degenerate into heaths and marshes; but there are a
few fertile spots peeping out here and there.


September 27th.

We arrived at Celle in the night. From here to Lehrte, a distance
of about seven miles, I had to hire a private conveyance, but from
Lehrte the railway goes direct to Berlin. {57} Many larger and
smaller towns are passed on this road; but we saw little of them, as
the stations all lie at some distance, and the railway-train only
stops a few minutes.

The first town we passed was Brunswick. Immediately beyond the town
lies the pretty ducal palace, built in the Gothic style, in the
centre of a fine park. Wolfenbuttel seems to be a considerable
town, judging by the quantity of houses and church-steeples. A
pretty wooden bridge, with an elegantly-made iron balustrade, is
built here across the Ocker. From the town, a beautiful lane leads
to a gentle hill, on whose top stands a lovely building, used as a
coffee-house.

As soon as one has passed the Hanoverian domains the country, though
it is not richer in natural curiosities, is less abundant in marshes
and heaths, and is very well-cultivated land. Many villages are
spread around, and many a charming town excites the wish to travel
through at a slower pace.

We passed Schepenstadt, Jersheim, and Wegersleben, which latter town
already belongs to Prussia. In Ashersleben and in Magdeburg we
changed carriages. Near Salze we saw some fine buildings which
belong to the extensive saltworks existing here. Jernaudau is a
colony of Moravians. I should have wished to visit the town of
Kotten,-- for nothing can be more charming than the situation of the
town in the midst of fragrant gardens,--but we unfortunately only
stopped there a few minutes. The town of Dessau is also surrounded
by pretty scenery: several bridges cross the various arms of the
Elbe; that over the river itself rests on solid stone columns. Of
Wittenberg we only saw house tops and church-steeples; the same of
Juterbog, which looks as if it were newly built. Near Lukewalde the
regions of sand begin, and the uniformity is only broken by a little
ridge of wooded hills near Trebbin; but when these are past, the
railway passes on to Berlin through a melancholy, unmitigated desert
of sand.

I had travelled from six o'clock this morning until seven in the
evening, over a distance of about two hundred and twenty miles,
during which time we had frequently changed carriages.

The number of passengers we had taken up on the road was very great,
on account of the Leipzic fairs; sometimes the train had thirty-five
to forty carriages, three locomotives, and seven to eight hundred
passengers; and yet the greatest order had prevailed. It is a great
convenience that one can take a ticket from Lehrte to Berlin,
although the railway passes through so many different states,
because then one needs not look after the luggage or any thing else.
The officials on the railway are all very civil. As soon as the
train stopped, the guards announced with a loud voice the time
allowed, however long or short it might be; so that the passengers
could act accordingly, and take refreshments in the neighbouring
hotels. The arrangements for alighting are very convenient: the
carriages run into deep rails at the stations, so that the ground is
level with the carriages, and the entrance and exit easy. The
carriages are like broad coaches; two seats ran breadthwise across
them, with a large door at each side. The first and second class
contain eight persons in each division, the third class ten. The
carriages are all numbered, so that every passenger can easily find
his seat.

By these simple arrangements the traveller may descend and walk
about a little, even though the train should only stop two minutes,
or even purchase some refreshments, without any confusion or
crowding.

These conveniences are, of course, impossible when the carriages
have the length of a house, and contain sixty or seventy persons
within locked doors, and where the doors are opened by the guards,
who only call out the name of the station without announcing how
long the stay is. In such railways it is not advisable for
travellers to leave their seats; for before they can pass from one
end of the carriage to the other, through the narrow door and down
the steep steps, the horn is sounded, and at the same time the train
moves on; the sound being the signal for the engine-driver, the
passengers having none.

In these states there was also not the least trouble with the
passport and the intolerable pass-tickets. No officious police-
soldier comes to the carriage, and prevents the passengers alighting
before they have answered all his questions. If passports had to be
inspected on this journey, it would take a few days, for they must
always be taken to the passport-office, as they are never examined
on the spot.

Such annoying interruptions often occur several times in the same
state. And one need not even come from abroad to experience them,
as a journey from a provincial to a capital town affords enough
scope for annoyance.

I had no reason to complain of such annoyances in any of the
countries through which I had hitherto passed. My passport was only
demanded in my hotel in the capitals of the countries, if I intended
to remain several days. In Stockholm, however, I found a curious
arrangement; every foreigner there is obliged to procure a Swedish
passport, and pay half-a-crown for it, if he only remains a few
hours in the town. This is, in reality, only a polite way of taking
half-a-crown from the strangers, as they probably do not like to
charge so much for a simple vise!


STAY IN BERLIN--RETURN TO VIENNA


I have never seen a town more beautifully or regularly built than
Berlin,--I mean, the town of Berlin itself,--only the finest
streets, palaces, and squares of Copenhagen would bear a comparison
with it.

I spent but a few days here, and had therefore scarcely time to see
the most remarkable and interesting sights.

The splendid royal palace, the extensive buildings for the picture-
gallery and museums, the great dome--all these are situated very
near each other.

The Dome church is large and regularly built; a chapel, surrounded
by an iron enclosure, stands at each side of the entrance. Several
kings are buried here, and antiquated sarcophagi cover their
remains, known as the kings' graves. Near them stands a fine cast-
iron monument, beneath which Count Brandenburg lies.

The Catholic church is built in the style of the Rotunda in Rome;
but, unlike it, the light falls from windows made around the walls,
and not from above. Beautiful statues and a simple but tasteful
altar are the only ornaments of this church. The portico is
ornamented by beautiful reliefs.

The Werder church is a modern erection, built in the Gothic style,
and its turrets are ornamented by beautiful bronze reliefs. The
walls inside are inlaid with coloured wood up to the galleries,
where they terminate in Gothic scroll-work. The organ has a full,
clear tone; in front of it stands a painting which, at first sight,
resembles a scene from heathen mythology more than a sacred subject.
A number of cupids soar among wreaths of flowers, and surround three
beautiful female figures.

The mint and the architectural college stand near this church. The
former is covered with fine sculptures; the latter is square, of a
brick-red colour, without any architectural embellishment, and
perfectly resembling an unusually large private house. The ground-
floor is turned into fine shops.

Near the palace lies the Opera Square, in which stand the celebrated
opera-house, the arsenal, the university, the library, the academy,
the guardhouse, and several royal palaces. Three statues ornament
the square: those of General Count Bulov, General Count
Scharnhorst, and General Prince Blucher. They are all three
beautifully sculptured, but the drapery did not please me; it
consisted of the long military cloth cloak, which, opening in front,
afforded a glimpse of the splendid uniforms.

The arsenal is one of the finest buildings in Berlin, and forms a
square; at the time of my stay some repairs were being made, so that
it was closed. I had to be content with glimpses through the
windows of the first floor, which showed me immense saloons filled
by tremendous cannons, ranged in rows.

The guardhouse is contiguous, and resembles a pretty temple, with
its portico of columns.

The opera-house forms a long detached square. It would have a much
better effect if the entrances were not so wretched. The one at the
grand portal looks like a narrow, miserable church-door, low and
gloomy. The other entrances are worse still, and one would not
suppose that they could lead to such a splendid interior, whose
appointments are indescribably luxurious and commodious. The pit is
filled by rows of comfortably-cushioned chairs with cushioned backs,
numbered, but not barred. The boxes are divided by very low
partitions, so that the aristocratic world seems to sit on a
tribune. The seats in the pit and the first and second tiers are
covered with dark-red silk damask; the royal box is a splendid
saloon, the floor of which is covered with the finest carpets.
Beautiful oil-paintings, in tasteful gold frames, ornament the
plafond; but the magnificent chandelier is the greatest curiosity.
It looks so massively worked in bronze, that it is painful to see
the heavy mass hang so loosely over the heads of the spectators.
But it is only a delusion; for it is made of paste-board, and
bronzed over. Innumerable lamps light the place; but one thing
which I miss in such elegant modern theatres is a clock, which has a
place in nearly every Italian theatre.

The other buildings on this square are also distinguished for their
size and the beauty of their architecture.

An unusually broad stone bridge, with a finely-made iron balustrade,
is built over a little arm of the Spree, and unites the square of
the opera with that on which the palace stands.

The royal museum is one of the finest architectural piles, and its
high portal is covered with beautiful frescoes. The picture-gallery
contains many chefs-d'oeuvre; and I regretted that I had not more
time to examine it and the hall of antiquities, having only three
hours for the two.

From the academy runs a long street lined with lime-trees, and which
is therefore called Under-the-limes (unter den Linden). This alley
forms a cheerful walk to the Brandenburg-gate, beyond which the
pleasure-gardens are situated. The longest and finest streets which
run into the lime-alley are the Friedrichs Street and the Wilhelms
Street. The Leipziger Street also belongs to the finest, but does
not run into this promenade.

The Gens-d'arme Square is distinguished by the French and German
churches, at least by their exterior,--by their high domes, columns,
and porticoes. The interiors are small and insignificant. On this
square stands also the royal theatre, a tasteful pile of great
beauty, with many pillars, and statues of muses and deities.

I ascended the tower on which the telegraph works, on account of the
view over the town and the flat neighbourhood. A very civil
official was polite enough to explain the signs of the telegraph to
me, and to permit me to look at the other telegraphs through his
telescope.

The Konigstadt, situated on the opposite shore of the Spree, not far
from the royal palace, contains nothing remarkable. Its chief
street, the Konigsstrasse, is long, but narrow and dirty. Indeed it
forms a great contrast to the town of Berlin in every thing; the
streets are narrow, short, and winding. The post-office and the
theatres are the most remarkable buildings.

The luxury displayed in the shop-windows is very great. Many a
mirror and many a plate-glass window reminded me of Hamburgh's
splendour, which surpasses that of Berlin considerably.

There are not many excursions round Berlin, as the country is flat
and sandy. The most interesting are to the pleasure-gardens,
Charlottenburg, and, since the opening of the railway, to Potsdam.

The park or pleasure-garden is outside the Brandenburg-gate; it is
divided into several parts, one of which reminded me of our fine
Prater in Vienna. The beautiful alleys were filled with carriages,
riders, and pedestrians; pretty coffee-houses enlivened the woody
portions, and merry children gambolled on the green lawns. I felt
so much reminded of my beloved Prater, that I expected every moment
to see a well-known face, or receive a friendly greeting. Kroll's
Casino, sometimes called the Winter-garden, is built on this side of
the park. I do not know how to describe this building; it is quite
a fairy palace. All the splendour which fancy can invent in
furniture, gilding, painting, or tapestry, is here united in the
splendid halls, saloons, temples, galleries, and boxes. The dining-
room, which will dine 1800 persons, is not lighted by windows, but
by a glass roof vaulted over it. Rows of pillars support the
galleries, or separate the larger and smaller saloons. In the
niches, and in the corners, round the pillars, abound fragrant
flowers, and plants in chaste vases or pots, which transform this
place into a magical garden in winter. Concerts and reunions take
place here every Sunday, and the press of visitors is extraordinary,
although smoking is prohibited. This place will accommodate 5000
persons.

That side of the park which lies in the direction of the Potsdam-
gate resembles an ornamental garden, with its well-kept alleys,
flower-beds, terraces, islets, and gold-fish ponds. A handsome
monument to the memory of Queen Louise is erected on the Louise
island here.

On this side, the coffee-house Odeon is the best, but cannot be
compared to Kroll's casino. Here also are rows of very elegant
country-houses, most of which are built in the Italian style.


CHARLOTTENBURG *** DP PROOFED AND CORRECTED TO HERE ***


This place is about half an hour's distance from the Brandenburg-
gate, where the omnibuses that depart every minute are stationed.
The road leads through the park, beyond which lies a pretty village,
and adjoining it is the royal country-palace of Charlottenburg. The
palace is built in two stories, of which the upper one is very low,
and is probably only used for the domestics. The palace is more
broad than deep; the roof is terrace-shaped, and in its centre rises
a pretty dome. The garden is simple, and not very large, but
contains a considerable orangery. In a dark grove stands a little
building, the mausoleum in which the image of Queen Louise has been
excellently executed by the famed artist Rauch. Here also rest the
ashes of the late king. There is also an island with statues in the
midst of a large pond, on which some swans float proudly. It is a
pity that dirt does not stick to these white-feathered animals, else
they would soon be black swans; for the pond or river surrounding
the island is one of the dirtiest ditches I have ever seen.

Fatigue would be very intolerable in this park, for there are very
few benches, but an immense quantity of gnats.


POTSDAM.


The distance from Berlin to Potsdam is eighteen miles, which is
passed by the railroad in three-quarters of an hour. The railway is
very conveniently arranged; the carriages are marked with the names
of the station, and the traveller enters the carriage on which the
place of his destination is marked. Thus, the passengers are never
annoyed by the entrance or exit of passengers, as all occupying the
same carriage descend at the same time.

The road is very uninteresting; but this is compensated for by
Potsdam itself, for which a day is scarcely sufficient.

Immediately in front of the town flows the river Havel, crossed by a
long, beautiful bridge, whose pillars are of stone, and the rest of
the bridge of iron. The large royal palace lies on the opposite
shore, and is surrounded by a garden. The garden is not very
extensive, but large enough for the town, and is open to the public.
The palace is built in a splendid style, but is unfortunately quite
useless, as the court has beautiful summer-palaces in the
neighbourhood of Potsdam, and spends the winter in Berlin.

The castle square is not very good; it is neither large nor regular,
and not even level. On it stands the large church, which is not yet
completed, but promises to be a fine structure. The town is
tolerably large, and has many fine houses. The streets, especially
the Nauner Street, are wide and long, but badly paved; the stones
are laid with the pointed side upwards, and for foot-passengers
there is a stone pavement two feet broad on one side of the street
only. The promenade of the townspeople is called Am Kanal (beside
the canal), and is a fine square, through which the canal flows, and
is ornamented with trees.

Of the royal pleasure-palaces I visited that of Sans Souci first.
It is surrounded by a pretty park, and lies on a hill, which is
divided into six terraces. Large conservatories stand on each side
of these; and in front of them are long alleys of orange and lemon-
trees.

The palace has only a ground floor, and is surrounded by arbours,
trees, and vines, so that it is almost concealed from view. I could
not inspect the interior, as the royal family was living there.

A side-path leads from here to the Ruinenberg, on which the ruins of
a larger and a smaller temple, raised by the hand of art, are
tastefully disposed. The top of the hill is taken up by a reservoir
of water. From this point one can see the back of the palace of
Sans Souci, and the so-called new palace, separated from the former
by a small park, and distant only about a quarter of an hour.

The new palace, built by Frederick the Great, is as splendid as one
can imagine. It forms a lengthened square, with arabesques and flat
columns, and has a flat roof, which is surrounded by a stone
balustrade, and ornamented by statues.

The apartments are high and large, and splendidly painted,
tapestried, and furnished. Oil-paintings, many of them very good,
cover the walls. One might fill a volume with the description of
all the wonders of this place, which is, however, not inhabited.

Behind the palace, and separated from it by a large court, are two
beautiful little palaces, connected by a crescent-shaped hall of
pillars; broad stone steps lead to the balconies surrounding the
first story of the edifices. They are used as barracks, and are, as
such, the most beautiful I have ever seen.

From here a pleasant walk leads to the lovely palace of
Charlottenburg. Coming from the large new palace it seemed too
small for the dwelling even of the crown-prince. I should have
taken it for a splendid pavilion attached to the new palace, to
which the royal family sometimes walked, and perhaps remained there
to take refreshment. But when I had inspected it more closely, and
seen all the comfortable little rooms, furnished with such tasteful
luxury, I felt that the crown-prince could not have made a better
choice.

Beautiful fountains play on the terraces; the walls of the corridors
and anterooms are covered with splendid frescoes, in imitation of
those found in Pompeii. The rooms abound in excellent engravings,
paintings, and other works of art; and the greatest taste and
splendour is displayed even in the minor arrangements.

A pretty Chinese chiosque, filled with good statues, which have been
unfortunately much damaged and broken, stands near the palace.

These three beautiful royal residences are situated in parks, which
are so united that they seem only as one. The parks are filled with
fine trees, and verdant fields crossed by well-kept paths and
drives; but I saw very few flower-beds in them.

When I had contemplated every thing at leisure, I returned to the
palace of Sans Souci, to see the beautiful fountains, which play
twice a week, on Tuesday and Friday, from noon till evening. The
columns projected from the basin in front of the castle are so
voluminous, and rise with such force, that I gazed in amazement at
the artifice. It is real pleasure to be near the basin when the sun
shines in its full splendour, forming the most beautiful rainbows in
the falling shower of drops. Equally beautiful is a fountain rising
from a high vase, enwreathed by living flowers, and falling over it,
so that it forms a quick, brisk fountain, transparent, and pure as
the finest crystal. The lid of the vase, also enwreathed with
growing flowers, rises above the fountain. The Neptune's grotto is
of no great beauty; the water falls from an urn placed over it, and
forms little waterfalls as it flows over nautilus-shells.

The marble palace lies on the other side of Potsdam, and is half an
hour's distance from these palaces; but I had time enough to visit
it.

Entering the park belonging to this palace, a row of neat peasants'
cottages is seen on the left; they are all alike, but separated by
fruit, flower, or kitchen-gardens. The palace lies at the extreme
end of the park, on a pretty lake formed by the river Havel. It
certainly has some right to the name of marble palace; but it seems
presumption to call it so when compared to the marble palaces of
Venice, or the marble mosques of Constantinople.

The walls of the building are of brick left in its natural colour.
The lower and upper frame-work, the window-sashes, and the portals,
are all of marble. The palace is partly surrounded by a gallery
supported on marble columns. The stairs are of fine white marble,
and many of the apartments are laid with this mineral. The interior
is not nearly so luxurious as the other palaces.

This was the last of the sights I saw in Potsdam or the environs of
Berlin; for I continued my journey to Vienna on the following day.

Before quitting Berlin, I must mention an arrangement which is
particularly convenient for strangers--namely, the fares for
hackney-carriages. One need ask no questions, but merely enter the
carriage, tell the coachman where to drive, and pay him six-pence.
This moderate fare is for the whole town, which is somewhat
extensive. At all the railway stations there are numbers of these
vehicles, which will drive to any hotel, however far it may be from
the station, for the same moderate fare. If only all cab-drivers
were so accommodating!


October 1st.

The railway goes through Leipzic to Dresden, where I took the mail-
coach for Prague at eight o'clock the same evening, and arrived
there in eighteen hours.

As it was night when we passed, we did not enjoy the beautiful views
of the Nollendorf mountain. In the morning we passed two handsome
monuments, one of them, a pyramid fifty-four feet high, to the
memory of Count Colloredo, the other to the memory of the Russian
troops who had fallen here; both have been erected since the wars of
Napoleon.

On we went through charming districts to the famed bathing-place
Teplitz, which is surrounded by the most beautiful scenery; and can
bear comparison with the finest bathing-places of the world.

Further on we passed a solitary basaltic rock, Boren, which deserves
attention for its beauty and as a natural curiosity. We
unfortunately hurried past it, as we wished to reach Prague before
six o'clock, so that we might not miss the train to Vienna.

My readers may imagine our disappointment on arriving at the gates
of Prague, when our passports were taken from us and not returned.
In vain we referred to the vise of the boundary-town Peterswalde; in
vain we spoke of our haste. The answer always was, "That is nothing
to us; you can have your papers back to-morrow at the police-
office." Thus we were put off, and lost twenty-four hours.

I must mention a little joke I had on the ride from Dresden to
Prague. Two gentlemen and a lady beside myself occupied the mail-
coach; the lady happened to have read my diary of Palestine, and
asked me, when she heard my name, if I were that traveller. When I
had acknowledged I was that same person, our conversation turned on
that and on my present journey. One of the gentlemen, Herr Katze,
was very intelligent, and conversed in a most interesting manner on
countries, nationalities, and scientific subjects. The other
gentleman was probably equally well informed, but he made less use
of his acquirements. Herr Katze remained in Teplitz, and the other
gentleman proceeded with us to Vienna. Before arriving at our
destination, he asked me if Herr Katze had not requested me to
mention his name in my next book, and added, that if I would promise
to do the same, he would tell me his name. I could not refrain from
smiling, but assured him that Herr Katze had not thought of such a
thing, and begged him not to communicate his name to me, so that he
might see that we females were not so curious as we are said to be.
But the poor man could not refrain from giving me his name--Nicholas
B.--before we parted. I do not insert it for two reasons: first,
because I did not promise to name him; and secondly, because I do
not think it would do him any service.

The railway from Prague to Vienna goes over Olmutz, and makes such a
considerable round, that the distance is now nearly 320 miles, and
the arrangements on the railway are very imperfect.

There were no hotels erected on the road, and we had to be content
with fruit, beer, bread, and butter, &c. the whole time. And these
provisions were not easily obtained, as we could not venture to
leave the carriages. The conductor called out at every station that
we should go on directly, although the train frequently stood
upwards of half an hour; but as we did not know that before, we were
obliged to remain on our seats. The conductors were not of the most
amiable character, which may perhaps be ascribed to the climate; for
when we approached the boundary of the Austrian states at
Peterswalde, the inspector received us very gruffly. We wished him
good evening twice, but he took no notice of it, and demanded our
papers in a loud and peremptory tone; he probably thought us as deaf
as we thought him. At Ganserndorf, twenty-five miles from Vienna,
they took our papers from us in a very uncivil, uncourteous manner.

On the 4th of October, 1845, after an absence of six months, I
arrived again in sight of the dear Stephen's steeple, as most of my
countrywomen would say.

I had suffered many hardships; but my love of travelling would not
have been abated, nor would my courage have failed me, had they been
ten times greater. I had been amply compensated for all. I had
seen things which never occur in our common life, and had met with
people as they are rarely met with--in their natural state. And I
brought back with me the recollections of my travels, which will
always remain, and which will afford me renewed pleasure for years.

And now I take leave of my dear readers, requesting them to accept
with indulgence my descriptions, which are always true, though they
may not be amusing. If I have, as I can scarcely hope, afforded
them some amusement, I trust they will in return grant me a small
corner in their memories.

In conclusion, I beg to add an Appendix, which may not be
uninteresting to many of my readers, namely:

1. A document which I procured in Reikjavik, giving the salaries of
the royal Danish officials, and the sources from whence they are
paid.

2. A list of Icelandic insects, butterflies, flowers, and plants,
which I collected and brought home with me.



APPENDIX A



Salaries of the Royal Danish Officials in Iceland, which they
receive from the Icelandic land-revenues.

Florins {58}

The Governor of Iceland 2000
Office expenses 600
The deputy for the western district 1586
Office expenses 400
Rent 200
The deputy for the northern and eastern districts 1286
Office expenses 400
The bishop of Iceland, who draws his salary from
the school-revenues, has paid him from this
treasury 800
The members of the Supreme Court:
One judge 1184
First assessor 890
Second assessor 740
The land-bailiff of Iceland 600
Office expenses 200
Rent 150
The town-bailiff of Reikjavik 300
The first police-officer of Reikjavik, who is
at the same time gaoler, and therefore
has 50 fl. more than the second officer 200
The second police-officer 150
The mayor of Reikjavik only draws from this
treasury his house-rent, which is 15O
The sysselman of the Westmanns Islands 296
The other sysselmen, each 230
Medical department and midwifery:
The physician 900
House-rent 150
Apothecary of Reikjavik 185
House-rent 150
The second apothecary at Sikkisholm 90
Six surgeons in the country, each 300
House-rent for some 30
For others 25
A medical practitioner on the Northland 110
Reikjavik has two midwives, each receives 50
The other midwives in Iceland, amounting
to thirty, each receives 100
These midwives are instructed and
examined by the land physician, who
has the charge of paying them annually.

Organist of Reikjavik 100
From the school-revenues
The bishop receives 1200
The teachers at the high school:
The teacher of theology 800
The head assistant, besides free lodging 500
The second assistant 500
House-rent 50
The third assistant 500
House-rent 50
The resident at the school 170



LIST OF INVERTEBRATED ANIMALS collected in Iceland



1. CRUSTACEA.

Pagarus Bernhardus, Linnaeus.

2. INSECTA.

a. Coleoptera. Nebria rubripes, Dejean. Patrobus hyperboreus.
Calathus melanocephalus, Fabr. Notiophilus aquaticus. Amara
vulgaris, Duftsihm. Ptinus fur, Linn. Aphodius Lapponum, Schh.
Otiorhynchus laevigatus, Dhl. Otiorhynchus Pinastri, Fabr.
Otiorhynchus ovatus. Staphylinus maxillosus. Byrrhus pillula.

b. Neuroptera. Limnophilus lineola, Schrank.

c. Hymenoptera. Pimpla instigator, Gravh. Bombus subterraneus,
Linn.

d. Lepidoptera. Geometra russata, Hub. Geom. alche millata.
Geom. spec. nov.

e. Diptera. Tipula lunata, Meig. Scatophaga stercoraria. Musca
vomitaria. Musca mortuorum. Helomyza serrata. Lecogaster
islandicus, Scheff. {59} Anthomyia decolor, Fallin.



LIST OF ICELANDIC PLANTS collected by Ida Pfeiffer in the Summer of
the year 1845



Felices. Cystopteris fragilis.

Equisetaceae. Equisetum Teltamegra.

Graminae. Festuca uniglumis.

Cyperaceae. Carea filiformis. Carea caespitosa. Eriophorum
caespitosum.

Juncaceae. Luzula spicata. Luzula campestris.

Salicineae. Salix polaris.

Polygoneae. Remux arifolus. Oxyria reniformes.

Plumbagineae. Armeria alpina (in the interior mountainous
districts).

Compositae. Chrysanthemum maritimum (on the sea-shore, and on
marshy fields). Hieracium alpinum (on grassy plains). Taraxacum
alpinum. Erigeron uniflorum (west of Havenfiord, on rocky soil).

Rubiaceae. Gallium pusillum. Gallium verum.

Labiatae. Thynus serpyllum.

Asperifoliae. Myosotis alpestris. Myosotis scorpioicles.

Scrophularineae. Bartsia alpina (in the interior north-western
valleys). Rhinanthus alpestris.

Utricularieae. Pinguicula alpina. Pinguicula vulgaris.

Umbelliferae. Archangelica officinalis (Havenfiord).

Saxifrageae. Saxifraga caespitosa (the real Linnaean plant: on
rocks round Hecla).

Ranunculaceae. Ranunculus auricomus. Ranunculus nivalis.
Thalictrum alpinum (growing between lava, near Reikjavik). Caltha
palustris.

Cruciferae. Draba verna. Cardamine pratensis.

Violariceae. Viola hirta.

Caryophylleae. Sagina stricta. Cerastium semidecandrum. Lepigonum
rubrum. Silene maritima. Lychnis alpina (on the mountain-fields
round Reikjavik).

Empetreae. Empetrum nigrum.

Geraniaceae. Geranium sylvaticum (in pits near Thingvalla).

Troseaceae. Parnassia palustris.

OEnothereae. Epilobium latifolium (in clefts of the mountain at the
foot of Hecla). Epilobium alpinum (in Reiker valley, west of
Havenfiord).

Rosaceae. Rubus arcticus. Potentilla anserina. Potentilla
gronlandica (on rocks near Kallmanstunga and Kollismola).
Alchemilla montana. Sanguisorba officinalis. Geum rivale. Dryas
octopela (near Havenfiord).

Papilionaceae. Trifolium repens.



Footnotes:

{1} In this Gutenberg eText only Madame Pfeiffer's work appears--
DP.

{2} Madame Pfeiffer's first journey was to the Holy Land in 1842;
and on her return from Iceland she started in 1846 on a "Journey
round the World," from which she returned in the end of 1848. This
adventurous lady is now (1853) travelling among the islands of the
Eastern Archipelago.--ED.

{3} A florin is worth about 2s. 1d.; sixty kreutzers go to a
florin.

{4} At Kuttenberg the first silver groschens were coined, in the
year 1300. The silver mines are now exhausted, though other mines,
of copper, zinc, &c. are wrought in the neighbourhood. The
population is only half of what it once was.--ED.

{5} The expression of Madame Pfeiffer's about Frederick "paying his
score to the Austrians," is somewhat vague. The facts are these.
In 1757 Frederick the Great of Prussia invaded Bohemia, and laid
siege to Prague. Before this city an Austrian army lay, who were
attacked with great impetuosity by Frederick, and completely
defeated. But the town was defended with great valour; and during
the time thus gained the Austrian general Daun raised fresh troops,
with which he took the field at Collin. Here he was attacked by
Frederick, who was routed, and all his baggage and cannon captured.
This loss was "paying his score;" and the defeat was so complete,
that the great monarch sat down by the side of a fountain, and
tracing figures in the sand, was lost for a long time in meditation
on the means to be adopted to retrieve his fortune.--ED.

{6} I mention this little incident to warn the traveller against
parting with his effects.

{7} The true version of this affair is as follows. John of Nepomuk
was a priest serving under the Archbishop of Prague. The king,
Wenceslaus, was a hasty, cruel tyrant, who was detested by all his
subjects, and hated by the rest of Germany. Two priests were guilty
of some crime, and one of the court chamberlains, acting under royal
orders, caused the priests to be put to death. The archbishop,
indignant at this, placed the chamberlain under an interdict. This
so roused the king that he attempted to seize the archbishop, who
took refuge in flight. John of Nepomuk, however, and another
priest, were seized and put to the torture to confess what were the
designs of the archbishop. The king seems to have suspected that
the queen was in some way connected with the line of conduct pursued
by the archbishop. John of Nepomuk, however, refused, even though
the King with his own hand burned him with a torch. Irritated by
his obstinate silence, the king caused the poor monk to be cast over
the bridge into the Moldau. This monk was afterwards canonised, and
made the patron saint of bridges.--ED.

{8} Albert von Wallenstein (or Waldstein), the famous Duke of
Friedland, is celebrated as one of the ablest commanders of the
imperial forces during the protracted religious contest known in
German history as the "Thirty Years' War." During its earlier
period Wallenstein greatly distinguished himself, and was created by
the Emperor Ferdinand Duke of Friedland and generalissimo of the
imperial forces. In the course of a few months Wallenstein raised
an army of forty thousand men in the Emperor's service. The
strictest discipline was preserved WITHIN his camp, but his troops
supported themselves by a system of rapine and plunder unprecedented
even in those days of military license. Merit was rewarded with
princely munificence, and the highest offices were within the reach
of every common soldier who distinguished himself;--trivial breaches
of discipline were punished with death. The dark and ambitious
spirit of Wallenstein would not allow him to rest satisfied with the
rewards and dignities heaped upon him by his imperial master. He
temporised and entered into negotiations with the enemy; and during
an interview with a Swedish general (Arnheim), is even said to have
proposed an alliance to "hunt the Emperor to the devil." It is
supposed that he aspired to the sovereignty of Bohemia. Ferdinand
was informed of the ambitious designs of his general, and at length
determined that Wallenstein should die. He despatched one of his
generals, Gallas, to the commander-in-chief, with a mandate
depriving him of his dignity of generalissimo, and nominating Gallas
as his successor. Surprised before his plans were ripe, and
deserted by many on whose support he had relied, Wallenstein retired
hastily upon Egra. During a banquet in the castle, three of his
generals who remained faithful to their leader were murdered in the
dead of night. Roused by the noise, Wallenstein leapt from his bed,
and encountered three soldiers who had been hired to despatch him.
Speechless with astonishment and indignation, he stretched forth his
arms, and receiving in his breast the stroke of a halbert, fell dead
without a groan, in the fifty-first year of his age.

The following anecdote, curiously illustrative of the state of
affairs in Wallenstein's camp, is related by Schiller in his History
of the Thirty Years' War, a work containing a full account of the
life and actions of this extraordinary man. "The extortions of
Wallenstein's soldiers from the peasants had at one period reached
such a pitch, that severe penalties were denounced against all
marauders; and every soldier who should be convicted of theft was
threatened with a halter. Shortly afterwards, it chanced that
Wallenstein himself met a soldier straying in the field, whom he
caused to be seized, as having violated the law, and condemned to
the gallows without a trial, by his usual word of doom: "Let the
rascal be hung!" The soldier protested, and proved his innocence.
"Then let them hang the innocent," cried the inhuman Wallenstein;
"and the guilty will tremble the more." The preparations for
carrying this sentence into effect had already commenced, when the
soldier, who saw himself lost without remedy, formed the desperate
resolution that he would not die unrevenged. Rushing furiously upon
his leader, he was seized and disarmed by the bystanders before he
could carry his intention into effect. "Now let him go," said
Wallenstein; "it will excite terror enough.""--ED.

{9} Poniatowski was the commander of the Polish legion in the
armies of Napoleon, by whom he was highly respected. At the battle
of Leipzig, fought in October 1813, Poniatowski and Marshal
MacDonald were appointed to command the rear of Napoleon's army,
which, after two days hard fighting, was compelled to retreat before
the Allies. These generals defended the retreat of the army so
gallantly, that all the French troops, except those under their
immediate command, had evacuated the town. The rear-guard was
preparing to follow, when the only bridge over the Elster that
remained open to them was destroyed, through some mistake. This
effectually barred the escape of the rear of Napoleon's army. A
few, among whom was Marshal MacDonald, succeeded in swimming across;
but Poniatowski, after making a brave resistance, and refusing to
surrender, was drowned in making the same attempt.--ED.

{10} Leipzig has long been famous as the chief book-mart of
Germany. At the great Easter meetings, publishers from all the
different states assemble at the "Buchhandler Borse," and a large
amount of business is done. The fairs of Leipzig have done much
towards establishing the position of this city as one of the first
trading towns in Germany. They take place three times annually: at
New-year, at Easter, and at Michaelmas; but the Easter fair is by
far the most important. These commercial meetings last about three
weeks, and during this time the town presents a most animated
appearance, as the streets are thronged with the costumes of almost
every nation, the smart dress of the Tyrolese contrasting gaily with
the sombre garb of the Polish Jews. The amount of business
transacted at these fairs is very considerable; on several
occasions, above twenty thousand dealers have assembled. The trade
is principally in woollen cloths; but lighter wares, and even
ornaments of every description, are sold to a large extent. The
manner in which every available place is taken advantage of is very
curious: archways, cellars, passages, and courtyards are alike
filled with merchandise, and the streets are at times so crowded as
to be almost impassable. When the three weeks have passed, the
wooden booths which have been erected in the market-place and the
principal streets are taken down, the buyers and sellers vanish
together, and the visitor would scarcely recognise in the quiet
streets around him the bustling busy city of a few days ago.--ED.

{11} The fire broke out on 4th May 1842, and raged with the utmost
fury for three days. Whole streets were destroyed, and at least
2000 houses burned to the ground. Nearly half a million of money
was raised in foreign countries to assist in rebuilding the city, of
which about a tenth was contributed by Britain. Such awful fires,
fearful though they are at the time, seem absolutely necessary to
great towns, as they cause needful improvements to be made, which
the indolence or selfishness of the inhabitants would otherwise
prevent. There is not a great city that has not at one time or
another suffered severely from fire, and has risen out of the ruins
greater than before.--ED.

{12} There are no docks at Hamburgh, consequently all the vessels
lie in the river Elbe, and both receive and discharge their cargoes
there. Madame Pfeiffer, however, is mistaken in supposing that only
London could show a picture of so many ships and so much commercial
activity surpassing that of Hamburgh. Such a picture, more
impressive even than that seen in the Elbe, is exhibited every day
in the Mersey or the Hudson.--ED.

{13} Kiel, however, is a place of considerable trade; and doubtless
the reason why Madame Pfeiffer saw so few vessels at it was
precisely the same reason why she saw so many at Hamburgh. Kiel
contains an excellent university.--ED.

{14} At sea I calculate by sea-miles, of which sixty go to a
degree.

{15} This great Danish sculptor was born of poor parents at
Copenhagen, on the 19th November, 1770; his father was an Icelander,
and earned his living by carving figure-heads for ships. Albert, or
"Bertel," as he is more generally called, was accustomed during his
youth to assist his father in his labours on the wharf. At an early
age he visited the Academy at Copenhagen, where his genius soon
began to make itself conspicuous. At the age of sixteen he had won
a silver, and at twenty a gold medal. Two years later he carried
off the "great" gold medal, and was sent to study abroad at the
expense of the Academy. In 1797 we find him practising his art at
Rome under the eye of Zoega the Dane, who does not, however, seem to
have discovered indications of extraordinary genius in the labours
of his young countryman. But a work was soon to appear which should
set all questions as to Thorwaldsen's talent for ever at rest. In
1801 he produced his celebrated statue of "Jason," which was at once
pronounced by the great Canova to be "a work in a new and a grand
style." After this period the path of fame lay open before the
young sculptor; his bas-reliefs of "Summer" and "Autumn," the "Dance
of the Muses," "Cupid and Psyche," and numerous other works,
followed each other in rapid succession; and at length, in 1812,
Thorwaldsen produced his extraordinary work, "The Triumph of
Alexander." In 1819 Thorwaldsen returned rich and famous to the
city he had quitted as a youth twenty-three years before; he was
received with great honour, and many feasts and rejoicings were held
to celebrate his arrival. After a sojourn of a year Thorwaldsen
again visited Rome, where he continued his labours until 1838, when,
wealthy and independent, he resolved to rest in his native country.
This time his welcome to Copenhagen was even more enthusiastic than
in 1819. The whole shore was lined with spectators, and amid
thundering acclamations the horses were unharnessed from his
carriage, and the sculptor was drawn in triumph by the people to his
atelier. During the remainder of his life Thorwaldsen passed much
of his time on the island of Nyso, where most of his latest works
were executed. On Sunday, March 9th, 1842, he had been conversing
with a circle of friends in perfect health. Halm's tragedy of
Griselda was announced for the evening, and Thorwaldsen proceeded to
the theatre to witness the performance. During the overture he rose
to allow a stranger to pass, then resumed his seat, and a moment
afterwards his head sunk on his breast--he was dead!

His funeral was most sumptuous. Rich and poor united to do honour
to the memory of the great man, who had endeared himself to them by
his virtues as by his genius. The crown-prince followed the coffin,
and the people of Copenhagen stood in two long rows, and uncovered
their heads as the coffin of the sculptor was carried past. The
king himself took part in the solemnity. At the time of his decease
Thorwaldsen had completed his seventy-second year.--ED.

{16} Tycho de Brahe was a distinguished astronomer, who lived
between 1546 and 1601. He was a native of Denmark. His whole life
may be said to have been devoted to astronomy. A small work that he
published when a young man brought him under the notice of the King
of Denmark, with whose assistance he constructed, on the small
island of Hulln, a few miles north of Copenhagen, the celebrated
Observatory of Uranienburg. Here, seated in "the ancient chair"
referred to in the text, and surrounded by numerous assistants, he
directed for seventeen years a series of observations, that have
been found extremely accurate and useful. On the death of his
patron he retired to Prague in Bohemia, where he was employed by
Rodolph II. then Emperor of Germany. Here he was assisted by the
great Kepler, who, on Tycho's death in 1601, succeeded him.--ED.

{17} The fisheries of Iceland have been very valuable, and indeed
the chief source of the commerce of the country ever since it was
discovered. The fish chiefly caught are cod and the tusk or cat-
fish. They are exported in large quantities, cured in various ways.
Since the discovery of Newfoundland, however, the fisheries of
Iceland have lost much of their importance. So early as 1415, the
English sent fishing vessels to the Icelandic coast, and the sailors
who were on board, it would appear, behaved so badly to the natives
that Henry V. had to make some compensation to the King of Denmark
for their conduct. The greatest number of fishing vessels from
England that ever visited Iceland was during the reign of James I.,
whose marriage with the sister of the Danish king might probably
make England at the time the most favoured nation. It was in his
time that an English pirate, "Gentleman John," as he was called,
committed great ravages in Iceland, for which James had afterwards
to make compensation. The chief markets for the fish are in the
Catholic countries of Europe. In the seventeenth century, a great
traffic in fish was carried on between Iceland and Spain.--ED.

{18} The dues charged by the Danish Government on all vessels
passing through the Sound have been levied since 1348, and therefore
enjoy a prescriptive right of more than five hundred years. They
bring to the Danish Government a yearly revenue of about a quarter
of a million; and, in consideration of the dues, the Government has
to support certain lighthouses, and otherwise to render safe and
easy the navigation of this great entrance to the Baltic. Sound-
dues were first paid in the palmy commercial days of the Hanseatic
League. That powerful combination of merchants had suffered
severely from the ravages of Danish pirates, royal and otherwise;
but ultimately they became so powerful that the rich merchant could
beat the royal buccaneer, and tame his ferocity so effectually as to
induce him to build and maintain those beacon-lights on the shores
of the Sound, for whose use they and all nations and merchants after
them have agreed to pay certain duties.--ED.

{19} The Feroe Islands consist of a great many islets, some of them
mere rocks, lying about halfway between the north coast of Scotland
and Iceland. At one time they belonged to Norway, but came into the
possession of Denmark at the same time as Iceland. They are
exceedingly mountainous, some of the mountains attaining an
elevation of about 2800 feet. The largest town or village does not
contain more than 1500 or 1600 inhabitants. The population live
chiefly on the produce of their large flocks of sheep, and on the
down procured, often at great risk to human life, from the eider-
duck and other birds by which the island is frequented.--ED.

{20} I should be truly sorry if, in this description of our "life
aboard ship," I had said any thing which could give offence to my
kind friend Herr Knudson. I have, however, presumed that every one
is aware that the mode of life at sea is different to life in
families. I have only to add, that Herr Knudson lived most
agreeably not only in Copenhagen, but what is far more remarkable,
in Iceland also, and was provided with every comfort procurable in
the largest European towns.

{21} It is not only at sea that ingenious excuses for drinking are
invented. The lovers of good or bad liquor on land find these
reasons as "plenty as blackberries," and apply them with a
marvellous want of stint or scruple. In warm climates the liquor is
drank to keep the drinker cool, in cold to keep him warm; in health
to prevent him from being sick, in sickness to bring him back to
health. Very seldom is the real reason, "because I like it," given;
and all these excuses and reasons must be regarded as implying some
lingering sense of shame at the act, and as forming part of "the
homage that vice always pays to virtue."--ED.

{22} The sailors call those waves "Spanish" which, coming from the
west, distinguish themselves by their size.

{23} These islands form a rocky group, only one of which is
inhabited, lying about fifteen miles from the coast. They are said
to derive their name from some natives of Ireland, called West-men,
who visited Iceland shortly after its discovery by the Norwegians.
In this there is nothing improbable, for we know that during the
ninth and tenth centuries the Danes and Normans, called Easterlings,
made many descents on the Irish coast; and one Norwegian chief is
reported to have assumed sovereign power in Ireland about the year
866, though he was afterwards deposed, and flung into a lough, where
he was drowned: rather an ignominious death for a "sea-king."--ED.

{24} This work, which Madame Pfeiffer does not praise too highly,
was first published in 1810. After passing through two editions, it
was reprinted in 1841, at a cheap price, in the valuable people's
editions of standard works, published by Messrs. Chambers of
Edinburgh.--ED.

{25} It is related of Ingold that he carried with him on his voyage
the door of his former house in Ireland, and that when he approached
the coast he cast it into the sea, watching the point of land which
it touched; and on that land he fixed his future home. This land is
the same on which the town of Reikjavik now stands. These old sea-
kings, like the men of Athens, were "in all things too
superstitious."--ED.

{26} These sea-rovers, that were to the nations of Europe during
the middle ages what the Danes, Norwegians, and other northmen were
at an earlier period, enjoyed at this time the full flow of their
lawless prosperity. Their insolence and power were so great that
many nations, our own included, were glad to purchase, by a yearly
payment, exemption from the attacks of these sea-rovers. The
Americans paid this tribute so late as 1815. The unfortunate
Icelanders who were carried off in the seventeenth century nearly
all died as captives in Algiers. At the end of ten years they were
liberated; but of the four hundred only thirty-seven were alive when
the joyful intelligence reached the place of their captivity; and of
these twenty-four died before rejoining their native land.--ED.

{27} This town, the capital of Iceland, and the seat of government,
is built on an arm of the sea called the Faxefiord, in the south-
west part of the island. The resident population does not exceed
500, but this is greatly increased during the annual fairs. It
consists mainly of two streets at right angles to each other. It
contains a large church built of stone, roofed with tiles; an
observatory; the residences of the governor and the bishop, and the
prison, which is perhaps the most conspicuous building in the town.-
-ED.

{28} As Madame Pfeiffer had thus no opportunity of attending a ball
in Iceland, the following description of one given by Sir George
Mackenzie may be interesting to the reader.

"We gave a ball to the ladies of Reikjavik and the neighbourhood.
The company began to assemble about nine o'clock. We were shewn
into a small low-roofed room, in which were a number of men, but to
my surprise I saw no females. We soon found them, however, in one
adjoining, where it is the custom for them to wait till their
partners go to hand them out. On entering this apartment, I felt
considerable disappointment at not observing a single woman dressed
in the Icelandic costume. The dresses had some resemblance to those
of English chambermaids, but were not so smart. An old lady, the
wife of the man who kept the tavern, was habited like the pictures
of our great-grandmothers. Some time after the dancing commenced,
the bishop's lady, and two others, appeared in the proper dress of
the country.

"We found ourselves extremely awkward in dancing what the ladies
were pleased to call English country dances. The music, which came
from a solitary ill-scraped fiddle, accompanied by the rumbling of
the same half-rotten drum that had summoned the high court of
justice, and by the jingling of a rusty triangle, was to me utterly
unintelligible. The extreme rapidity with which it was necessary to
go through many complicated evolutions in proper time, completely
bewildered us; and our mistakes, and frequent collisions with our
neighbours, afforded much amusement to our fair partners, who found
it for a long time impracticable to keep us in the right track.
When allowed to breathe a little, we had an opportunity of remarking
some singularities in the state of society and manners among the
Danes of Reikjavik. While unengaged in the dance, the men drink
punch, and walk about with tobacco-pipes in their mouths, spitting
plentifully on the floor. The unrestrained evacuation of saliva
seems to be a fashion all over Iceland; but whether the natives
learned it from the Danes, or the Danes from the natives, we did not
ascertain. Several ladies whose virtue could not bear a very strict
scrutiny were pointed out to us.

"During the dances, tea and coffee were handed about; and negus and
punch were ready for those who chose to partake of them. A cold
supper was provided, consisting of hams, beef, cheese, &c., and
wine. While at table, several of the ladies sang, and acquitted
themselves tolerably well. But I could not enjoy the performance,
on account of the incessant talking, which was as fashionable a
rudeness in Iceland as it is now in Britain. This, however, was not
considered as in the least unpolite. One of the songs was in praise
of the donors of the entertainment; and, during the chorus, the
ceremony of touching each other's glasses was performed. After
supper, waltzes were danced, in a style that reminded me of soldiers
marching in cadence to the dead march in Saul. Though there was no
need of artificial light, a number of candles were placed in the
rooms. When the company broke up, about three o'clock, the sun was
high above the horizon."

{29} A man of eighty years of age is seldom seen on the island.--
Kerguelen.

{30} Kerguelen (writing in 1768) says: "They live during the
summer principally on cod's heads. A common family make a meal of
three or four cods' heads boiled in sea-water."--ED.

{31} This bakehouse is the only one in Iceland, and produces as
good bread and biscuit as any that can be procured in Denmark. [In
Kerguelen's time (1768) bread was very uncommon in Iceland. It was
brought from Copenhagen, and consisted of broad thin cakes, or sea-
biscuits, made of rye-flour, and extremely black.--ED.]

{32} In all high latitudes fat oily substances are consumed to a
vast extent by the natives. The desire seems to be instinctive, not
acquired. A different mode of living would undoubtedly render them
more susceptible to the cold of these inclement regions. Many
interesting anecdotes are related of the fondness of these
hyperborean races for a kind of food from which we would turn in
disgust. Before gas was introduced into Edinburgh, and the city was
lighted by oil-lamps, several Russian noblemen visited that
metropolis; and it is said that their longing for the luxury of
train-oil became one evening so intense, that, unable to procure the
delicacy in any other way, they emptied the oil-lamps. Parry
relates that when he was wintering in the Arctic regions, one of the
seamen, who had been smitten with the charms of an Esquimaux lady,
wished to make her a present, and knowing the taste peculiar to
those regions, he gave her with all due honours a pound of candles,
six to the pound! The present was so acceptable to the lady, that
she eagerly devoured the lot in the presence of her wondering
admirer.--ED.

{33} An American travelling in Iceland in 1852 thus describes, in a
letter to the Boston Post, the mode of travelling:- "All travel is
on horseback. Immense numbers of horses are raised in the country,
and they are exceedingly cheap. As for travelling on foot, even
short journeys, no one ever thinks of it. The roads are so bad for
walking, and generally so good for riding that shoe-leather, to say
nothing of fatigue, would cost nearly as much as horse-flesh. Their
horses are small, compact, hardy little animals, a size larger than
Shetland ponies, but rarely exceeding from 12 or 13.5 hands high. A
stranger in travelling must always have a 'guide,' and if he does go
equipped for a good journey and intends to make good speed, he wants
as many as six horses; one for himself, one for the guide, one for
the luggage, and three relay horses. Then when one set of horses
are tired the saddles are exchanged to the others. The relay horses
are tied together and are either led or driven before the others. A
tent is often carried, unless a traveller chooses to chance it for
his lodgings. Such an article as an hotel is not kept in Iceland
out of the capital. You must also carry your provisions with you,
as you will be able to get but little on your route. Plenty of milk
can be had, and some fresh-water fish. The luggage is carried in
trunks that are hung on each side of the horse, on a rude frame that
serves as a pack-saddle. Under this, broad pieces of turf are
placed to prevent galling the horse's back."

{34} The down of the eider-duck forms a most important and valuable
article of Icelandic commerce. It is said that the weight of down
procurable from each nest is about half a pound, which is reduced
one-half by cleansing. The down is sold at about twelve shillings
per pound, so that the produce of each nest is about three
shillings. The eider-duck is nearly as large as the common goose;
and some have been found on the Fern Islands, off the coast of
Northumberland.--ED.

{35} The same remark applies with equal force to many people who
are not Icelanders. It was once the habit among a portion of the
population of Lancashire, on returning from market, to carry their
goods in a bag attached to one end of a string slung over their
shoulders, which was balanced by a bag containing a stone at the
other. Some time ago, it was pointed out to a worthy man thus
returning from market, that it would be easier for him to throw away
the stone, and make half of his load balance the other half, but the
advice was rejected with disdain; the plan he had adopted was that
of his forefathers, and he would on no account depart from it.--ED.

{36} The description of the Wolf's Hollow occurs in the second act
of Der Freyschutz, when Rodolph sings:

"How horrid, dark, and wild, and drear,
Doth this gaping gulf appear!
It seems the hue of hell to wear.
The bellowing thunder bursts yon clouds,
The moon with blood has stained her light!
What forms are those in misty shrouds,
That stalk before my sight?
And now, hush! hush!
The owl is hooting in yon bush;
How yonder oak-tree's blasted arms
Upon me seem to frown!
My heart recoils, but all alarms
Are vain: fate calls, I must down, down."

{37} The reader must bear in mind that, during the season of which
I speak, there is no twilight, much less night, in Iceland.

{38} The springs of Carlsbad are said to have been unknown until
about five hundred years ago, when a hunting-dog belonging to one of
the emperors of Germany fell in, and by his howling attracted the
hunters to the spot. The temperature of the chief spring is 165
degrees.--ED.

{39} History tells of this great Icelandic poet, that owing to his
treachery the free island of Iceland came beneath the Norwegian
sceptre. For this reason he could never appear in Iceland without a
strong guard, and therefore visited the Allthing under the
protection of a small army of 600 men. Being at length surprised by
his enemies in his house at Reikiadal, he fell beneath their blows,
after a short and ineffectual resistance. [Snorri Sturluson, the
most distinguished name of which Iceland can boast, was born, in
1178, at Hoam. In his early years he was remarkably fortunate in
his worldly affairs. The fortune he derived from his father was
small, but by means of a rich marriage, and by inheritance, he soon
became proprietor of large estates in Iceland. Some writers say
that his guard of 600 men, during his visit to the Allthing, was
intended not as a defence, as indicated in Madame Pfeiffer's note,
but for the purposes of display, and to impress the inhabitants with
forcible ideas of his influence and power. He was invited to the
court of the Norwegian king, and there he either promised or was
bribed to bring Iceland under the Norwegian power. For this he has
been greatly blamed, and stigmatised as a traitor; though it would
appear from some historians that he only undertook to do by
peaceable means what otherwise the Norwegian kings would have
effected by force, and thus saved his country from a foreign
invasion. But be this as it may, it is quite clear that he sunk in
the estimation of his countrymen, and the feeling against him became
so strong, that he was obliged to fly to Norway. He returned,
however, in 1239, and in two years afterwards he was assassinated by
his own son-in-law. The work by which he is chiefly known is the
Heimskringla, or Chronicle of the Sea-Kings of Norway, one of the
most valuable pieces of northern history, which has been admirably
translated into English by Mr. Samuel Laing. This curious name of
Heimskringla was given to the work because it contains the words
with which begins, and means literally the circle of the world.--
ED.]

{40} A translation of this poem will be found in the Appendix.
[Not included in this Gutenberg eText--DP]

{41} In Iceland, as in Denmark, it is the custom to keep the dead a
week above ground. It may be readily imagined that to a non-
Icelandic sense of smell, it is an irksome task to be present at a
burial from beginning to end, and especially in summer. But I will
not deny that the continued sensation may have partly proceeded from
imagination.

{42} Every one in Iceland rides.

{43} I cannot forbear mentioning a curious circumstance here. When
I was at the foot of Mount Etna in 1842, the fiery element was
calmed; some months after my departure it flamed with renewed force.
When, on my return from Hecla, I came to Reikjavik, I said jocularly
that it would be most strange if this Etna of the north should also
have an eruption now. Scarcely had I left Iceland more than five
weeks when an eruption, more violent than the former one, really
took place. This circumstance is the more remarkable, as it had
been in repose for eighty years, and was already looked upon as a
burnt-out volcano. If I were to return to Iceland now, I should be
looked upon as a prophetess of evil, and my life would scarcely be
safe.

{44} Every peasant in tolerably good circumstances carries a little
tent with him when he leaves home for a few days. These tents are,
at the utmost, three feet high, five or six feet long, and three
broad.

{45} "Though their poverty disables them from imitating the
hospitality of their ancestors in all respects, yet the desire of
doing it still exists: they cheerfully give away the little they
have to spare, and express the utmost joy and satisfaction if you
are pleased with the gift." Uno von Troil, 1772.--ED.

{46} The presence of American ships in the port of Gottenburg is
not to be wondered at, seeing that nearly three-fourths of all the
iron exported from Gottenburg is to America.--ED.

{47} "St. Stephen's steeple" is 450 feet high, being about 40 feet
higher than St. Paul's, and forms part of St. Stephen's Cathedral in
Vienna, a magnificent Gothic building, that dates as far back as the
twelfth century. It has a great bell, that weighs about eighteen
tons, being more than double the weight of the bell in St. Peter's
at Rome, and four times the weight of the "Great Tom of Lincoln."
The metal used consisted of cannons taken from the Turks during
their memorable sieges of Vienna. The cathedral is 350 feet long
and 200 wide, being less than St. Paul's in London, which is 510
feet long and 282 wide.--ED.

{48} The Storthing is the name given to the Norwegian parliament,
which assembles once every three years at Christiania. The time and
place of meeting are fixed by law, and the king has no power to
prevent or postpone its assembly. It consists of about a hundred
members, who divide themselves into two houses. The members must
not be under thirty years of age, and must have lived for ten years
in Norway. The electors are required to be twenty-five years of
age, and to be either burgesses of a town, or to possess property of
the annual value of 30l. The members must possess the same
qualification. The members of the Storthing are usually plain-
spoken, sensible men, who have no desire to shine as orators, but
who despatch with great native sagacity the business brought before
them. This Storthing is the most independent legislative assembly
in Europe; for not only has the king no power to prevent its meeting
at the appointed time, but should he refuse to assent to any laws
that are passed, these laws come into force without his assent,
provided they are passed by three successive parliaments.--ED.

{49} The present king of Sweden and Norway is Oscar, one of the few
fortunate scions of those lowly families that were raised to royal
power and dignity by Napoleon. His father, Bernadotte, was the son
of an advocate, and entered the French army as a common soldier; in
that service he rose to the rank of marshal, and then became crown-
prince, and ultimately king of Sweden. He died in 1844. The mother
of Oscar was Desiree Clary, a sister of Julie Clary, wife of Joseph
Bonaparte, the elder brother of Napoleon. This lady was asked in
marriage by Napoleon himself, but her father refused his assent; and
instead of becoming an unfortunate empress of France, she became a
fortunate queen of Sweden and Norway. Oscar was born at Paris in
1799, and received his education chiefly in Hanover. He accompanied
his father to Sweden in 1810, and ascended the throne on his
father's death in 1844. In 1824 he married Josephine Beauharnois,
daughter of Prince Eugene, and granddaughter of the brilliant and
fascinating Josephine, the first and best wife of Napoleon. Oscar
is much beloved by his subjects; his administration is mild, just,
and equable; and his personal abilities and acquirements are far
beyond the average of crowned heads.--ED.

{50} Bergen is a town of about twenty-five thousand inhabitants,
situated near the Kons Fiord, on the west coast of Norway, and
distant about 350 miles from Christiania. It is the seat of a
bishopric, and a place of very considerable trade, its exports being
chiefly fish. It has given its name to a county and a township in
the state of New Jersey. There are three other Bergens,--one in the
island of Rugen, one in the Netherlands, and another in the
electorate of Hesse.--ED.

{51} Kulle is the Swedish for hill.

{52} Delekarlien is a Swedish province, situated ninety or one
hundred miles north of Stockholm.

{53} The family of Sturre was one of the most distinguished in
Sweden. Sten Sturre introduced printing into Sweden, founded the
University of Upsala, and induced many learned men to come over. He
was mortally wounded in a battle against the Danes, and died in
1520.

His successors as governors, Suante, Nilson Sturre, and his son,
Sten Sturre the younger, still live in the memory of the Swedish
nation, and are honoured for their patriotism and valour.

{54} The University of Upsala is the most celebrated in the north.
It owes its origin to Sten Sturre, the regent of the kingdom, by
whom it was founded in 1476, on the same plan as the University of
Paris. Through the influence of the Jesuits, who wished to
establish a new academy in Stockholm, it was dissolved in 1583, but
re-established in 1598. Gustavus Vasa, who was educated at Upsala,
gave it many privileges, and much encouragement; and Gustavus
Adolphus reconstituted it, and give it very liberal endowments.
There are twenty-four professors, and the number of students is
between four and five hundred.--ED.

{55} See novel of Ivar, the Skjuts Boy, by Miss Emilie Carlen.

{56} At Calmar was concluded, in 1397, the famous treaty which
bears its name, by which Denmark, Sweden, and Norway were united
under one crown, that crown placed nominally on the head of Eric
Duke of Pomerania, but virtually on that of his aunt Margaret, who
has received the name of "the Semiramis of the North."--ED.

{57} There is now a railway direct from Hamburgh to Berlin.--ED.

{58} A florin is about two shillings sterling.--ED.

{59} Herr T. Scheffer of Modling, near Vienna, gives the following
characteristic of this new dipteral animal, which belongs to the
family muscidae, and resembles the species borborus:

Antennae deflexae, breves, triarticulatae, articulo ultimo phoereco;
seda nuda.

Hypoctoma subprominulum, fronte lata, setosa. Oculi rotundi,
remoti. Abdomen quinque annulatum, dorso nudo. Tarsi simplices.
Alae incumbentes, abdomine longiores, nervo primo simplici.

Niger, abdomine nitido, antennis pedibusque rufopiceis.