Produced by Suzanne Shell, Josephine Paolucci and the
Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net.
(This file was produced from images generously made
available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)
CELEBRATED WOMEN TRAVELLERS.
[Illustration: YOKOHAMA.]
Celebrated Women Travellers
OF THE
_NINETEENTH CENTURY_
BY
W. H. DAVENPORT ADAMS
NEW YORK
E. P. DUTTON & CO.
1903
CONTENTS.
PAGE
COUNTESS DORA D'ISTRIA 17
THE PRINCESS OF BELGIOJOSO 48
MADAME HOMMAIRE DE HELL 66
MADAME LEONIE D'AUNET 126
MISS FREDERIKA BREMER 134
MADEMOISELLE ALEXINA TINNE 184
MADAME IDA PFEIFFER 215
MADAME DE BOURBOULON 270
LADY HESTER STANHOPE 302
LADY BRASSEY 340
LADY MORGAN 379
MRS. TROLLOPE 385
MISS HARRIET MARTINEAU 404
MISS ISABELLA BIRD 418
LADY FLORENCE DIXIE 437
MISS GORDON CUMMING 443
FLORENCE AND ROSAMOND HILL 452
LADY BARKER 456
"MAGYARLAND" 458
WOMAN AS A TRAVELLER
COUNTESS DORA D'ISTRIA.
The Princess Helena Koltzoff-Massalsky, better known by her pseudonym of
Dora d'Istria,[1] came of the family of the Ghikas, formerly princes of
Wallachia, and was born at Bucharest, on the 22nd of January, 1829.
Through the care and conscientiousness of her instructor, Mons.
Papadopoulos, and her own remarkable capacity, she acquired a very
complete and comprehensive education. When but eleven years old, she
composed a charming little story, and before she had reached womanhood,
undertook a translation of the Iliad. She showed no inclination for the
frivolous amusements of a frivolous society. Her view of life and its
responsibilities was a serious one, and she addressed all her energies
to the work of self-improvement and self-culture. She read and re-read
the literary masterpieces of England, France and Germany. As a linguist
she earned special distinction.
"Her intellectual faculties," says her master, M. Papadopoulos,
"expanded with so much rapidity, that the professors charged with her
instruction could not keep any other pupil abreast of her in the same
studies. Not only did she make a wholly unexpected and unhoped-for
progress, but it became necessary for her teachers to employ with her a
particular method: her genius could not submit to the restraint of
ordinary rules."
She was still in the springtime and flush of youth, when she went on a
tour to Germany, and visited several German courts, where she excited
the same sentiments of admiration as in her own country; it was
impossible to see her without being attracted by so much intellect,
grace and amiability. Travelling enlarged her horizon: she was able to
survey, as from a watch-tower, the course of great political events, and
she found herself mixing continually with the most celebrated savants
and statesmen of the age. Her friendly relations with persons of very
diverse opinions, while enabling her to compare and contrast a great
variety of theories, did but strengthen in her "the idea and sentiment
of liberty, which can alone conduct society to its true aim." Finally,
from the Italian revolution of 1848, which awoke her warmest
sympathies, she learned to understand the fatal consequences of despotic
government, as well as the inevitable mistakes of freedom, when first
unfettered and allowed to walk alone.
At the age of twenty she was married (February, 1849), and soon
afterwards she set out for St. Petersburg, where she was recognised as
the ornament of the higher society. In the midst of her numerous
engagements, in the midst of the homage rendered to her wit and grace,
she found time to collect a mass of valuable notes on the condition and
inner life of the great Russian Empire, several provinces of which she
knew from personal observation. From St. Petersburg to Moscow, from
Odessa to Revel, her untiring activity carried her. Most social
questions are at work under an apparent calm, and offer, therefore,
subjects well worthy of careful study, especially to so grave and clear
an intellect as that of Princess Dora d'Istria, who possessed, in the
highest degree, the faculty of steady meditation amidst the movement and
the world-stir that surrounded her. The world, charmed by her personal
attractions, had no suspicion of the restlessness and activity of her
inquiring mind.
Her departure to the South brought her inquiries and investigations to
an end. She had suffered so much from the terrible winters of the great
Northern capital, and her health was so seriously shaken, that her
doctors presented to her the grave alternative of departure or death
(1855).
The Princess Dora d'Istria, as we have hinted, was a fine linguist. She
made herself mistress of nine languages. Her historical erudition was
profound; her mind was continually in search of new knowledge. She
seemed to have inherited from one of her illustrious friends, M. von
Humboldt, that "fever of study," that insatiable ardour, which, if not
genius, is closely akin to it.
The great Berlin philosopher and the young Wallachian writer lived for
some time in an intellectual confraternity, which, no doubt, is to this
day one of the most valuable souvenirs of the brilliant author of "La
Vie Monastique dans l'Eglise Orientale." In reference to this subject,
we take leave to quote a passage from the graceful pen of M. Charles
Yriarte:--
* * * * *
"The scene lies at Sans-Souci, in one of the celebrated saloons where
the great Frederick supped with Voltaire, d'Alembert and Maupertuis.
'Old Fritz' has been dead a hundred years; but the court of Prussia,
under the rule of Frederick William, is still the asylum of _beaux
esprits_. The time is the first and brilliant period of his reign, when
the king gathers around him artists and men of science, and writes to
Humboldt invitations to dinner in verse, which he seals with the great
Seal of State, in order that the philosopher may have no excuse for
absenting himself. A few years later, and, alas, artists and poets give
place to soldiers!
"The whole of the royal family are collected at a summer fete, and with
them the most famous names in art and science, and some strangers of
distinction.
"The prince has recently received a consignment of ancient sculptures
and works of art, and while the royal family saunter among the groves of
Charlottenhof, M. von Humboldt and the aged Rauch, the Prussian
sculptor, examine them, and investigate their secrets. Rauch is a grand
type of a man. This senior or _doyen_ of the German artists, who died
overwhelmed with glory and honours, had been a _valet de chambre_ in the
Princess Louisa's household. He had followed the princess to Rome,
where, among the masterpieces of antiquity and of the Renaissance, she
had divined the budding genius of him who was to carve in everlasting
marble the monumental figure of the great Frederick.
"These two illustrious men are bending over a basso-relievo with a Greek
inscription, when the king enters; he is accompanied by a gentleman, who
has on either arm a fair young girl in the spring of her youth and
beauty. The king invites M. von Humboldt to explain the inscription, and
the gallant old man goes straight to one of the young girls, excusing
himself for not attempting to translate it in the presence of one of the
greatest Hellenists of the time.
"'Come, your Highness,' he says, 'make the oracle speak.'
"And the young princess reads off the inscription fluently, setting down
M. von Humboldt's ignorance to the account of his politeness.
"The king compliments the handsome stranger, and Rauch, struck by her
great beauty, inquires of his friend who may be this fair, sweet Muse,
who gives to the marbles the tongue of eloquence, who, young and lovely
as an antique Venus, seems already as wise and prudent as Minerva.
"You see that it is a pretty _tableau de genre_, worthy of the brush of
Mentzel, the German painter, or of the French Meissonier. For background
the canvas will have the picturesque Louis Quatorze interiors of
Sans-Souci; in the foreground, the king and the great Humboldt, who
inclines towards the young girl; farther off, her sister leaning on
their father's arm, and the aged Rauch, who closes up the scene and
holds in his hand the bas-relief.
"That young girl, who has just given a proof of her erudition is Helena
Ghika, now famous under the literary pseudonym of Dora d'Istria. The old
man is the Prince Michael, her father, whose family, originally of
Epirus, has for the last two centuries been established in the Danubian
Principalities, and has supplied Wallachia with Hospodars. The other
young lady is Helena's sister."
* * * * *
Dora d'Istria was one of those fine, quick intelligences which look upon
the world--that is, upon humanity--as, in the poet's words, "The proper
study of mankind."
"It has always seemed to me," she one day observed, "that women, in
travelling, might complete the task of the most scientific travellers;
for, as a fact, woman carries certain special aptitudes into literature.
She perceives more quickly than man everything connected with national
life and the manners of the people. A wide field, much too neglected,
lies open, therefore, to her observation. But, in order that she may
fitly explore it, she needs, what she too often fails to possess, a
knowledge of languages and of history, as well as the capability of
conforming herself to the different habitudes of nations, and the
faculty of enduring great fatigues.
"Happily for myself, I was not deficient in linguistic knowledge. In my
family the only language made use of was French. M. Papadopoulos at an
early age taught me Greek, which in the East is as important as French
in the West. The Germanic tongues terrified me at first, the peoples of
Pelasgic origin having no taste for those idioms. But I was industrious
enough and patient enough to triumph over all such difficulties, and
though the study of languages is far from being popular in the Latin
countries, I did not cease to pursue it until the epoch of my marriage.
"M. Papadopoulos has often referred to my passionate love of history
even in my early childhood. This passion has constantly developed. The
more I have travelled, the more clearly I have perceived that one cannot
know a people unless one knows thoroughly its antecedents; that is, if
one be not fully acquainted with its annals and its chief writers. In
studying a nation only in its contemporary manifestations, one is
exposed to the error into which one would assuredly fall if one
attempted to estimate the character of an individual after living only a
few hours in his company.
"Besides, to understand nations thoroughly, it is necessary to examine,
without any aristocratic prejudice, all the classes of which they are
composed. In Switzerland, I lived among the mountains, that I might gain
an exact idea of the Alpine life. In Greece, I traversed on horseback
the solitudes of the Peloponnesus. In Italy, I have established
relations with people of all faiths and conditions, and whenever the
opportunity has occurred, have questioned with equal curiosity the
merchant and the savant, the fisherman and the politician. When I appear
to be resting myself, I am really making those patient investigations,
indispensable to all who would conscientiously study a country."
* * * * *
After residing for some years in Russia, she felt the need of living
thenceforward in a freer atmosphere, and betook herself to Switzerland.
Her sojourn in that country--a kind of Promised Land for all those who
in their own country have never enjoyed the realisation of their
aspirations--was very advantageous to her. She learned in Switzerland to
love and appreciate liberty, as in Italy the fine arts, and in England
industry.
The work of Dora d'Istria upon German Switzerland is less descriptive
than philosophical. The plan she has adopted is open perhaps to
criticism: such mixture of poetry and erudition may offend severer
tastes; we grow indulgent, however, when we perceive that the writer
preserves her individuality while passing from enthusiastic dithyrambs
to the most abstract historical dissertations.
It is not, however, the woman of letters so much as the patient untiring
female traveller whom we seek to introduce to our readers in these
pages. We attempt therefore, no analysis of her works,[2] but proceed to
speak of her mountaineering experiences: the most important is the
ascent of the Moench, a summit of the Jungfrau system--one of the lofty
snow-clad peaks which enclose the ice-rivers of the Oberaar and the
Unteraar. We shall allow Madame Dora d'Istria to conduct us in person
through the difficulties of so arduous an enterprise.
* * * * *
"When I announced my project of scaling the highest summits of the Alps,
the astonishment was general. Some imagined that it was a mere whim
which would be fully satisfied by the noise it caused. Others exclaimed
against a hardihood willing to encounter so many perils. None were
inclined to regard my words as dictated by an intimate conviction. None
could accustom themselves to the idea of so extraordinary a scheme. The
excitement was redoubled at the departure of the different telegraphic
despatches summoning from their village homes the guides spoken of as
the most resolute in the district. One hope, however, remained: that
these guides themselves would dissuade me from my enterprise. Pierre was
encouraged to dilate upon the dangers which I should incur among the
glaciers. Through the telescope I was shown the precipices of the
Jungfrau. All the manuals of travellers of Switzerland lay upon my
tables. Everybody insisted on reading to me the most frightful
passages--those most likely, as they thought, to unnerve me. But, on the
contrary, these stirring stories did but sharpen my curiosity, did but
quicken my impatience to set out. I ceased to think of anything but the
snowy wildernesses which crown the lofty mountain summits.
"I summoned Pierre to my private apartment, and spoke to him with
firmness, so as to strengthen his resolutions. My words reassured him.
'Whatever happens,' he said, 'do you take the responsibility?'
'Assuredly,' I answered; and I gave him my hand, engaging him at the
same time to remain unmoved by any remonstrance, to encourage the guides
on their arrival, before they could be exposed to any foreign influence.
He promised, and his face brightened at the sight of my tranquil smile.
He went away to superintend the preparations for the expedition, and
arrange my masculine costume, which consisted of woollen pantaloons
striped with black and white, of a closely buttoned coat descending to
my knees, of a round felt hat like that of a mountaineer, and a pair of
large strong boots. Oh, how slow the hours seemed to me! I dreaded so
keenly any occurrence which might thwart my wishes, that I could
scarcely listen to the questions put to me respecting the necessary
arrangements. Everything wearied me, except the sight of the Jungfrau
and of Pierre, who seemed to me a friend into whose hands I had
entrusted my dearest hope.
"The first to arrive were the guides of Grindelwald. I uttered a cry of
joy when Pierre Bohren appeared, a man of low stature but thickset
limbs, and Jean Almer, who was tall and robust. Both were chamois
hunters, renowned for their intrepidity. They looked at me with curious
attentiveness. They confessed, with the frank cordiality peculiar to
these brave mountaineers, that their experience would be of no service
in the expedition I was undertaking, as they had never attempted any one
like it. They knew, however, the perils of the glaciers, for every day
they risked their lives among them. But Bohren, who had ventured the
farthest, had not passed beyond the grotto of the Eiger.
"Before coming to a definite decision, we waited the arrival of Hans
Jaun of Meyringen, who had accompanied M. Agassiz in his ascent of the
Jungfrau (in 1841). He arrived towards morning, and called upon me in
company with Ulrich Lauerer, of Lauterbrunnen. The latter was as tall as
Almer, but did not seem so ready. I learned afterwards that he was still
suffering from a fall which he had but recently met with while hunting.
Hans Jaun was the oldest of all and the least robust. His hair was
growing grey, his eyelids were rimmed with a blood-coloured border.
However, he presided over the gathering. I had closed the door, so that
no one should disturb our solemn conference. The guides appeared
meditative, and sought to read in my eyes if my firmness were real or
assumed.
"It was decided that we should take with us four porters loaded with
provisions, ladders, ropes, and pick-axes; that towards evening I should
start for Interlachen with Pierre and Jaun, and that the other guides
should await me at Grindelwald. Then we separated with the friendly
greeting, 'Au revoir.'
"Scarcely had the sun dropped below the horizon, streaked with long bars
of fire, when I took my solitary seat in an open carriage. Peter
occupied the box. We traversed the walnut-tree avenues of Interlachen
and its smiling gardens. We followed the banks of the pale Luetschina,
which bounds through the midst of abrupt rocks. Clouds accumulated on
the sky. Soon we heard the distant roar of thunder. We passed into the
presence of colossal mountains, whose rugged peaks rose like
inaccessible fortresses. On turning round, I could see nothing in the
direction of Interlachen but gloomy vaporous depths, impenetrable to the
eye. Nearer and nearer drew the thunder, filling space with its sonorous
voice. The wind whistled, the Luetschina rolled its groaning waters. The
spectacle was sublime. Night gathered in all around, and the vicinity
of Grindelwald I could make out only by the lights in the chalets
scattered upon the hill.
"I had scarcely entered beneath the hospitable roof of the hotel of the
Eagle, before the rain fell in torrents, like a waterspout. I elevated
my soul to God. At this moment the thunder burst, the avalanches
resounded among the mountains, and the echoes a thousand times repeated
the noise of their fall.
"The stars were paling in the firmament when I opened my window. Mists
clothed the horizon. The rushing wind soon tore them aside, and drove
them into the gorges, whence descend, in the shape of a fan, the
unformed masses of the lower glacier, soiled with a blackish dust.
"The storm of the preceding evening, those dense clouds which gave to
the Alps a more formidable aspect than ever, the well-meant
remonstrances of the herdsmen of the valley, all awakened in the heart
of my guides a hesitation not difficult to understand on the part of men
who feared the burden of a great responsibility. They made another
effort to shake my resolution. They showed me a black tablet attached to
the wall of the church which crowns the heights:--
AIME MUNON, MIN. DU S. EV.
TOMBA DANS UN GOUFFRE
DE LA MER DE GLACE.
ICI REPOSE SON CORPS,
RETIRE DE L'ABIME.
"I said to Pierre, after glancing at this pathetic inscription, 'The
soul of this young man rests in peace in the bosom of the Everlasting.
As for us, we shall soon return here to give thanks to God.'
"'Good!' replied Pierre; 'that is to say, nothing will make you draw
back.'
"He rejoined his companions, and I went to shut myself up in my chamber.
"The deep solitude around me had in it something of solemnity. Before my
eyes the Wetterhorn raised its scarped acclivities; to the right, the
masses of the Eiger, to the left, the huge Scheideck and the Faulhorn.
Those gloomy mountains which surrounded me, that tranquillity troubled
only by the rash of the torrent in the valley and by an occasional
avalanche, all this was truly majestic, and I felt as if transported
into a world where all things were unlike what I had seen before. My
mind had seldom enjoyed a calm so complete.
"I had not the patience to wait for morning. Before it appeared, I was
on foot. I breakfasted in haste, and assumed my masculine dress, to
which I found it difficult to grow accustomed. I was conscious of my
awkwardness, and it embarrassed all my movements. I summoned Pierre, and
asked him if I could by any means be conveyed as far as the valley. He
sent, to my great satisfaction, for a sedan-chair. Meanwhile, I
exercised myself by walking up and down my room, for I feared the guides
would despair of me if they saw me stumble at every step. I was
profoundly humiliated, and only weighty reasons prevented me from
resuming my woman's dress. At last I bethought myself of an expedient. I
made a parcel of my silk petticoat and my boots (_brodequins_), and gave
it to a porter, so that I might resort to them if I should be completely
paralyzed by those accursed garments which I found so inconvenient.
"We had to wait until eight o'clock before taking our departure. The sun
then made its appearance, and the mountains gradually threw off their
canopy of mist. Having wrapped myself in a great plaid, I took my seat
in the sedan-chair and started, accompanied by four guides, four
porters, and a crowd of peasants, among whom was a Tyrolean. All sang
merrily as they marched forth, but those who remained looked sadly after
us. It was the 10th of June, 1855.
"We marched without any attempt at order, and the people of Grindelwald
carried our baggage as a relief to our porters. The sun was burning. The
peasants took leave of us as soon as we struck the path which creeps up
the Mettenberg, skirting the 'sea of ice.' Only the Tyrolean,
accompanied by his young guide, remained with us. He said that curiosity
impelled him to follow us as long as he could, that he might form some
idea of the way in which we were going to get out of the affair. He sang
like the rest of the caravan, his strong voice rising above all.
"It was the first time I had seen the immense glacier popularly called
'La Mer de Glace.' Through the green curtains of the pinewoods, I gazed
upon the masses rising from the gulf, the depths of which are
azure-tinted, while the surface is covered with dirt and blocks of snow.
The spectacle, however, did not impress me greatly, whether because I
was absorbed in the thought of gaining the very summit of the Alps, or
because my imagination felt some disappointment in finding the reality
far beneath what it had figured.
"I descended from my sedan-chair when we arrived at an imprint in the
marble rock known as 'Martinsdruck.' The gigantic peaks of the
Schreckhorn, the Eiger, the Kischhorn, rose around us, almost
overwhelming us with their grandeur. To the right, the Mittelegi, a spur
of the Eiger, elevated its bare and polished sides. Suddenly the songs
ceased, and my travelling companions uttered those exclamations,
familiar to Alpine populations, which re-echoed from rock to rock. They
had caught sight of a hunter, gliding phantom-like along the steep
ascent of the Mittelegi, like a swallow lost in space. But in vain they
pursued him with cries and questions; he continued to move silently
along the black rock.
"At length we descended upon the glacier. They had abandoned me to my
own resources, probably to judge of my address. I was more at ease in my
clothes, and with a sure step I advanced upon the snow, striding across
the crevasses which separated the different strata of ice. By accident,
rather than by reflection, I looked out for the spots of snow and there
planted my feet. Later I learned that this is always the safest route,
and never leads one into danger. The Tyrolean took leave of us,
convinced at last that I should get out of the affair. As for the
guides, they gave vent to their feelings in shouts of joy. They said
that, in recognition of my self-reliance, they would entrust to me the
direction of the enterprise. After crossing the Mer de Glace, we began
to climb the steep slopes of the Ziegenberg.
[Illustration: GENEVA AND MONT BLANC.]
"For a long time the songs, a thousand times repeated, continued to
answer each other from side to side of the glacier. Then we could hear
no longer the voice of men, nor the bell of the church of Grindelwald,
whose melancholy notes the wind had hitherto wafted to us. We were in
the bosom of an immense wilderness, face to face with Heaven and the
wonders of Nature. We scaled precipitous blocks of stone, and left
behind us the snowy summits. The march became more and more painful. We
crawled on hands and feet, we glided like cats, leaped from one rock to
another like squirrels. Frequently, a handful of moss or a clump of
brushwood was our sole support, where we found no cracks or crevices.
Drops of blood often tinted, like purple flowers, the verdure we crushed
under foot. When this was wanting we contrived to balance ourselves on
the rock by the help of our alpenstocks, having recourse as seldom as
possible to one another's arms, for fear of dragging the whole company
into the abyss. Hundreds of feet below us glittered the deep crevasses
of the glacier, in which the rays of the sun disported. The cold winds,
blowing from the frozen heights, scarcely cooled our foreheads. We were
streaming with perspiration, but our gaiety increased, instead of
diminishing, with the dangers. When we came to a stretch of granite, our
speed was doubled, and whoever first set foot upon it would announce the
fact to the others. There we slipped but seldom, and by assisting one
another, we could walk erect and more quickly. Bohren the younger, who
was one of our porters and the youngest of the company, continued his
merry song. In moments of peril his voice acquired a decided quaver, but
he never paused in his march or in his cadences, and never fell back a
step.
"The prospect, which embraced the whole valley, was magnificent. We
could perceive the chalets of Grindelwald, like miniatures sprinkled
over the greensward. My guides exclaimed, 'Ah, it is from the height of
the heavens that we behold our wives!' And we continued our ascent,
leaving beneath us the clouds floating everywhere like grey scarves. At
eleven o'clock we halted on a promontory where we contrived to find room
by sitting one behind the other.
"The fatigue and heat had exhausted us, and no one stirred, except the
two Bohrens, who climbed a little higher in search of wood, so that we
might light a fire, and prepare some refreshment. A crystalline spring,
filtering through the marble and the brushwood, murmured close beside
us. But all vigorous vegetation had disappeared. Nothing was to be seen
but the grasses and mosses; the juniper, the wild thymes, which
perfumed the air, and fields of purple rhododendron, the metallic leaves
of which mingled with the black lichens. At intervals, a few stunted
larches were outlined against the everlasting snows. The Bohrens arrived
with some brushwood, and soon a fire crackled and sparkled cheerily, the
water boiled, and, to my great satisfaction, rhododendron flowers and
fragments of juniper were put into it--my companions assuring me that
this kind of tea was excellent and very wholesome.
"My thirst was keen, and I drank with avidity the odoriferous beverage,
which seemed to me excellent.
"The guides had brought me a large posy of beautiful Alpine roses, and I
made them into a wreath, which I twined around my hat.
"After an hour's halt, we resumed our march, and soon could see only the
cold white snow around us, without the least sign of vegetation or life.
The acclivity we were climbing was very steep, but having quitted the
bare rocks, we no longer ran any risk of sliding. We endeavoured to
quicken our steps, in order to reach, before nightfall, an immense
cavern known only to two of our chamois hunters, who made use of it as a
hiding-place when their unconquerable passion for heroic adventures
tempted them to disregard the cantonal regulations. Joyous shouts broke
forth when the yawning mouth of the grotto opened wide under thick
layers of snow. Our songs recommenced, and, as night was coming on, we
pressed forward rapidly. For some hours I had been unconscious of
fatigue, and I could have marched for a considerably longer period
without feeling any need of rest.
"But the guides were impatient to gain a shelter where we should not be
exposed to the avalanches which rumbled in every direction.
"A mysterious twilight partly illumined the extensive cavern, its
farthest recesses, however, remaining in deep shadow. We could hear
rivulets trickling and drops of water falling with monotonous slowness.
Never had I penetrated into a place of such savage beauty. In the middle
of the cavern, opposite the entrance, was a great pillar of ice,
resembling a cataract suddenly frozen. Beyond this marvellous block,
glittering like crystal, spread a stream of delicious freshness. When we
had kindled a large fire with branches of juniper, accumulated by the
hunter who most frequented the retreat, the ice shone with a myriad
diamond tints; everything seemed to assume an extraordinary form and
life. The fantastically carved walls of rock sparkled with capricious
gleams. From the sides of black granite hung pendent icicles, sometimes
slender and isolated, sometimes grouped in fanciful clusters. In the
hollows, where damp and darkness for ever reign, climbed a bluish-grey
moss, a melancholy and incomplete manifestation of life in the bosom of
this death-like solitude. Within, the whole scene impressed the
imagination strongly, while without, but close beside us, resounded,
like thunder, the avalanches which scattered their ruins over our heads,
or plunged headlong into fathomless gulfs.
"Some white heifer-skins were laid down under a block which formed a
kind of recess at the farther end of the grotto. I wrapped myself in my
coverings and shawls, for the cold increased in severity, but I was
protected from it by the assiduous care of my good guides, who heaped
upon me all their furs and cloaks. Then, seated around the fire, they
prepared the coffee which was to serve us the whole night. None of them
thought of sleeping, nor felt inclined to repress their natural but
modest gaiety. If one complained that his limbs were stiff, the others
immediately cried out that he was as delicate as a woman, and that we
had no cause of complaint while sojourning in a palace grander than
kings' palaces. They inscribed my name upon the roof near to the
entrance.
"Two of the guides had sallied forth to clear a pathway and cut steps in
the snow, for there would be some difficulty in getting out of the
grotto. On their return they informed us that we might rely on a fine
day--words which were welcomed with loud applause. After undergoing so
much fatigue, it was natural we should desire a complete success. I
rejoiced to see so near me the immense glaciers and lofty peaks of the
Alps, the image of which had often haunted my happiest dreams. Yet I
felt somewhat uneasy at the symptoms of indisposition which would not be
concealed. I experienced slight attacks of nausea, and a depression
which I sought to conquer by rising abruptly and giving the signal of
departure. I was forced to change my boots, for those I had worn the
day before were in shreds.
"About three o'clock in the morning we took leave of the hospitable
cavern, but it was not without difficulty we crossed the precipices
which frowned before us, and for the first time had to employ our long
ladder. We supported it against the side of a chasm, the opposite brink
of which lay several hundred feet below. We descended backwards the
close and narrow steps, strictly forbidden to cast a downward glance.
Day advanced rapidly. The masses of snow which rose around us resembled
so many mountains piled upon other mountains. We were in the heart of
the vast solitudes of the Eiger, which seemed astonished by the echoes
of our steps. We often made use of the ladder. By the third time I had
recovered my liberty of action, and no longer descended backward, but
contemplating with an undefinable charm the gaping gulfs which vanished
in the obscure recesses of the glacier, bluer than the skies of the
East.
"The troop soon divided into two sections. We wore blue glasses to
protect our eyes from the dazzling brilliancy of the snow, which every
moment became less compact. Almer had even covered his face with a green
veil, but mine I found inconvenient, and resolutely exposed my skin to
the burning rays of the sun, which were reflected from the glittering
frozen surfaces, though the sun itself was hidden by clouds. The
fissures in the glacier were few and very narrow, and we employed the
ladder but once or twice in the immense plain of powdery snow which,
towards eight o'clock, opened before us. It was then that our real
sufferings began. The heat was excessive; walking, slow and very
difficult, for at each step we sank almost to our knees. Sometimes the
foot could find no bottom, and when we withdrew it we found a yawning
azure-tinted crevasse. The guides called such places _mines_, and feared
them greatly. The air every instant grew more rarefied; my mouth was
dry; I suffered from thirst, and to quench it swallowed morsels of snow
and kirsch-wasser, the very odour of which became at last insupportable,
though I was sometimes compelled to drink it by the imperative orders of
the guides.
"It had taken us long to cross the region of springs and torrents; not
so long to traverse that in which the fissures of the glacier were
hidden under the snow; and now at last we trod the eternal and spotless
shroud of the frozen desert. I breathed with difficulty, my weakness
increased, so that it was with no small pleasure I arrived at the
halting-place marked out by our foremost party. I threw myself,
exhausted, but enchanted, on the bed of snow which had been prepared for
me. Avalanches were frequent. Sometimes they rolled in immense blocks
with a sullen roar; sometimes whirlwinds of snow fell upon us like
showers of heavy hail. To our great alarm the mist rose on all sides so
that we often lost sight of those of our party who were acting as
pioneers. After leaving the plain of snow we ascended a steep and
difficult incline. The guides had hardly strength enough to clear a
path, so rude was the acclivity and so dense the snow.
"At length, about ten o'clock, we halted on a platform which stretched
to the base of the Moench, whose ridge or backbone rose before our eyes.
Here a small grotto had been excavated in the ice in which I was bidden
to rest myself, thoroughly well wrapped up. We were literally on the
brink of a complete collapse, respiration failed us, and for some
minutes I expectorated blood. However, I regretted neither my fatigues,
nor the resolution which had carried me to this point. All that I feared
was that I should not be able to go farther. The very air which I
endured so badly was an object of interest and study on account of its
extraordinary purity. One of the guides, having brought from the grotto
a few juniper branches, kindled a fire and melted some snow, which we
drank with eagerness. I then remarked that they had collected in a group
at some distance apart, and were conversing in a low tone and with
anxious faces. The Jungfrau had been indicated as the goal of our
enterprise, and their apprehensive glances were turned towards that
mountain, which rose on our left, shrouded in dense fogs. I felt a vague
fear that they wished to interpose some obstacle to the complete
realization of my projects; and, in fact, they soon came to tell me that
it would not be possible to climb the Jungfrau that day; that there was
still a long march to be made before we could reach its base, which, by
an optical illusion, seemed so near to us; and that from thence to the
summit would be at least another three hours' climb.
"It seemed scarcely practicable to pass the night on the snow at so
great an elevation, where the effort of breathing was a pain, and the
icy cold threatened to freeze our aching limbs, and, besides, the guides
were unanimous in predicting a violent storm in the evening. 'And then,'
said they, 'what shall we do without shelter, without coverings, without
fire, without any hot drink (for our supply of coffee was exhausted), in
the midst of this ice?' I knew in my heart they were right, but I was
keenly disappointed at failing to reach the goal when it seemed so near.
As I could not make up my mind to adopt their opinion, Almer rose, and
laying the ladder at my feet, said, with much energy, 'Adieu, I leave
you, for my conscience as an honest man forbids me to lend a hand to a
peril which I know to be inevitable.'
"I called him back, and rising in my turn, exclaimed: 'Will the
difficulties be as great in the way of an ascent of the Moench? There it
is, only a few paces from us. It is free from mist, why should we not
reach its summit?' At these words the astonishment was general, and
everybody turned towards the peak I had named. The snow upon it seemed
quite solid, and I thought it would be impossible to find there anything
more dangerous than we had already experienced. Their hesitation
surprised me. 'Are you aware,' said they, 'that yonder mountain has
never been ascended?' 'So much the better,' said I, 'we will baptize
it!' And, forgetting in a moment my weariness, I started off with a firm
step. Pierre Jaun and Pierre Bohren, seeing me so resolved, seized our
flag, set out in advance, and never rested till they had planted it on
the loftiest summit of the Moench, before the rest of us could get up.
The flag was of three colours, white, yellow, and blue, and bore the
beloved name of 'Wallachia,' embroidered in large letters. As if Heaven
favoured our wishes, while clouds rolled upon all the surrounding
mountains, they left free and clear the peak of the Moench.
"Though the acclivity was much steeper than that of the Eiger, we did
not find the difficulties much greater. The snow was hard, and as we did
not sink far into it, our march was less fatiguing. We held to one
another so as to form a chain, and advanced zigzag, fired with
impatience to reach the summit. All around us I saw deep beds of snow,
but nowhere such blocks of ice as M. Deser found upon the crest of the
Jungfrau. It is probable that, owing to the season, the Moench was still
buried under the accumulated snows of winter, and this circumstance
greatly contributed to our success.
"The image of the Infinite presented itself to my mind in all its
formidable grandeur. My heart, oppressed, felt its influence, as my gaze
rested upon the Swiss plain half hidden in the mists of the surrounding
mountains, which were bathed in golden vapours. I was filled with such a
sense of God that my heart--so it seemed to me--was not large enough to
contain it. I belonged wholly to Him. From that moment my soul was lost
in the thought of His incomprehensible power.
"But the time had come for our departure, and I must take leave of the
mountain where I was so far from men! I embraced the flag, and at three
o'clock we began our homeward march. With much toil and trouble we
descended the declivities of the Moench. We were obliged to lend each
other more assistance than in ascending, and more than once we nearly
fell into the abysses. But as soon as we regained the Eiger, we swept
forward as rapidly as the avalanche which knows no obstacles, as the
torrent which carves out its own channel, as the bird which on mighty
pinions cleaves space. Seated on the snow, we allowed ourselves to slide
easily down those steeps which we had so painfully climbed, even to the
very brink of the precipices, which we had crossed on a ladder instead
of bridge. We observed that the gulfs yawned wide which in the morning
we had crossed upon the snow that covered them; for the aspect of these
mountains changes with a truly extraordinary rapidity. Song and laughter
soon broke forth again, provoked by our strange fashion of travelling.
Great was our joy when we found ourselves once more in an atmosphere
favourable to the life of vegetation, and all of us rushed headlong to
the first brook, whose murmur sounded as sweet to us as the voice of a
friend.
"But as soon as we reached the rocks free from snow, our troubles
recommenced; difficulties reappeared, and were even more serious than
those we had met with in our ascent. The peril was extreme; and but for
the courageous Pierre Bohren, who carried me rather than supported me, I
could never have descended the bare rocks that skirt the edge of the
glacier. When we struck the Mer de Glace, we fell in with so many gaping
fissures that we could cross them only by hazardous leaps and bounds. We
had not reached the other side before we were met by our porters with
the sedan-chair; and we arrived singing and cheering at Grindelwald,
where everybody eyed us with as much wonder as if we had risen from the
dead. I asked for some citrons, which I devoured while changing my
clothes. Though completely knocked up, I set out immediately for
Interlachen, to reassure those who were awaiting me there. At the foot
of the Grindelwald hill, I stopped at Pierre Bohren's chalet to pay a
visit to his wife, who held in her arms an infant only a few days old. I
embraced it and promised to be its godmother.
"About midway between Grindelwald and Interlachen, we were overtaken by
a storm as violent as that which had heralded our departure.
"The guides, therefore, had made no mistake. We should have experienced
this tempest among the loftiest summits of the Alps, if we had continued
our excursion.
"When I rose next morning, my face was one great wound, and for a long
time I endured the keenest sufferings. Not less fatigued than myself,
the guides at length arrived singing, and brought me a superb diploma
upon official paper."[3]
* * * * *
The princess afterwards travelled in Greece, where she received an
enthusiastic welcome, and ovations were offered to her as to a
sovereign. Everybody did homage to the bright and generous author of "La
Nationalite Hellenique,"--the liberal and zealous advocate of the
rights, the manners, the character, and the future of Greece. But of
nationalities she was always the defender, and her wide sympathies
embraced not only the Greeks, but the Albanians and the Slavs.
After having studied the antiquities of Athens, undertaken sundry
scientific and archaeological excursions into Attica, and enjoyed a
delightful intercourse at Athens with kindred spirits--such as Frederika
Bremer--she traversed the nomarchies, or provinces, of the kingdom of
Greece, with the view of obtaining an exact and comprehensive account of
the moral and material condition of the rural population.
As M. Pommier remarks, this long excursion in a country which offers no
facilities to travellers, and where one must always be on horseback,
could not be accomplished without displaying a courage unexampled, an
heroic perseverance, and a physical and moral strength equal to every
trial. She had to undergo the strain of daily fatigue and the heat of a
scorching sun; to fear neither barren rocks, nor precipices, nor
dangerous pathways, nor brigands. In spite of the counsels of prudence
and of a timorous affection, the intrepid traveller would not omit any
portion of her itinerary; she traversed successively into Boeotia,
Phocis, AEtolia, and the Peloponnesus. When the mountaineers of Laconia
saw her passing on horseback through the savage gorges, they cried out
in their enthusiasm, "Here is a Spartan woman!" And they invited her to
put herself at their head and lead them to Constantinople.
From Greece she went into Italy, in 1861, and took up her residence,
where she has ever since remained, at Florence. Garibaldi has saluted as
his sister this ardent champion of the rights of nationalities, who, to
this day, has continued her philanthropic exertions. In 1867, she
published "La Nazionalita Albanese secondo i Canti popolari;" in 1869,
"Discours sur Marco Polo;" in 1870, "Venise en 1867;" in 1871-1873, "Gli
Albanesi in Rumenia," a history of the princely family of the Ghikas
from the 17th century; in 1871, a couple of novels, "Eleanora de
Hallingen," and "Ghizlaine;" in 1877, "La Poesie des Ottomans;" and in
1878, "The Condition of Women among the Southern Slavs."
The princess, besides plunging into historical labours, sedulously
cultivates the Fine Arts, and is moreover a first-rate pistol-shot. A
true Albanian, she loves arms, and handles them skilfully.
It cannot be denied, that she deserves her splendid reputation. Any one
of her works, says a French critic, would make a man famous; and they
are unquestionably marked by all the characteristics of an independent
and observant mind. But it is her life that best justifies her
renown--her life with its purity, its enthusiasm, its zeal for the
oppressed, its intense love of knowledge, its vivid sympathies and broad
charities, and its constant striving after truth and freedom, and the
highest beauty.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] A pseudonym derived from the ancient name of the Danube--Ister.
[2] The chief of which are: "La Vie Monastique dans l'Eglise Orientale,"
1855; "La Suisse Allemande," 1856; "Les Heros de la Roumanie;" "Les
Roumains et la Papaute" (in Italian); "Excursions en Roumelie et en
Moree," 1863; "Les Femmes de l'Orient," 1858; "Les Femmes d'Occident;"
"Les Femmes, par une Femme," 1865.
[3] See the princess's "La Suisse Allemande et l'Ascension du Moench." 4
vols., 1856.
THE PRINCESS OF BELGIOJOSO.
A French writer observes, that in an age like ours, when firm
convictions and settled beliefs are rare, it is no small satisfaction to
have to record a career like that of the Princess of Belgiojoso--a
career specially illustrious, because, above all things, honourable. But
truly great minds, to paraphrase some words of Georges Sand, are always
good minds.
The princess's chief titles to distinction are as a vigorous writer and
a liberal thinker; she did not qualify herself for a place among great
female travellers until unhappy events exiled her from her country.
Christina Trivulzia, Princess of Belgiojoso, was born on the 28th of
June, 1808. At the early age of sixteen she was married to the Prince
Emile de Barbian de Belgiojoso. She died in 1871.
Passionately devoted to the cause of a "free Italy," she was unable to
live under the heavy yoke of the Austrian supremacy, and hastened to
establish herself at Paris, where her rank, her fortune, her love of
letters and the arts, and the boldness of her political opinions, made
her the attraction of the highest society. She formed an intimate
acquaintance with numerous great writers and celebrated statesmen,
particularly of Mignet and Augustin Thierry, whose daily diminishing
liberalism she rapidly and boldly outstripped. In 1848 she plunged with
all the ardour of an enthusiastic nature--a child of the warm
South--into that wild revolutionary movement which swept over almost
every country in Europe, rolling from the Alps to the Carpathians, from
Paris to Berlin. She hastened to Milan, which had expelled its Austrian
garrison, and at her own expense equipped two hundred horse, whom she
led against the enemy. But Italy was not then united; she was not strong
enough to encounter her oppressor; the bayonets of Radetzky re-imposed
the Austrian domination; the princess was compelled to fly, and her
estates were confiscated.
During the insurrectionary fever at Rome, in 1849, she fearlessly made
her way into the very midst of the fighting-men, and in her own person
directed the ambulances. Her love of freedom and her humanity were
rewarded by banishment from the territories of the Church. As she could
nowhere in Italy hope for a secure resting-place, she resolved to reside
for the future in the East, and, repairing to Constantinople, she
founded there a benevolent institution for the daughters of emigrants.
But in a short time she withdrew from European Turkey, and at
Osmandjik, near Sinope, laid the foundations of a model farm. In 1850
she published in a French journal, the _National_, her memorials of
Veile; and as a relief to the stir and unrest of politics, she wrote, in
the following year, her "Notions d'Histoire a l'usage des Enfants"
(1851). The narrative of her journey in Asia Minor appeared at a later
date in the well-known pages of the _Revue des deux Mondes_.