[Illustration: MADAME IDA PFEIFFER.]
THE
LAST TRAVELS
OF
IDA PFEIFFER:
INCLUSIVE OF A VISIT TO MADAGASCAR.
WITH
An Autobiographical Memoir of the Author.
TRANSLATED BY H. W. DULCKEN.
NEW YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS,
FRANKLIN SQUARE.
1861.
PREFACE.
It was at Buenos Ayres that I received the intelligence of the death of
my beloved mother. Shortly before her decease she had expressed the wish
that I should arrange and prepare for publication the papers she left
concerning her last voyage to Madagascar. The dangerous illness which
befell her in the Mauritius immediately after she had left Madagascar,
and which, in spite of the most careful medical attention, and the
kindest nursing on the part of her friends, proved fatal, prevented her
from doing this herself.
When, after a few months, I returned from Buenos Ayres to Rio de
Janeiro, I found my mother’s papers waiting for me there; but the loss
was too recent, and my grief too violent, to allow me to read them then,
much less to peruse them with the care and attention which must
necessarily precede their publication.
At length I made up my mind to the task. I was obliged to go through it,
for it was my mother’s last wish. Filial duty induced me to leave my
dear mother’s journal as little altered as possible. In thus giving this
last work of my mother to the world, I trust that our kind readers will
receive it with the indulgence they have so frequently extended to the
other works of the late enterprising traveler.
OSCAR PFEIFFER.
Rio de Janeiro, July 8th, 1860.
CONTENTS.
Biography of Ida Pfeiffer Page ix
CHAPTER I.
Departure from Vienna.--Linz.--Salzburg.--Munich.--The Artists’
Festival.--The King of Bavaria.--Berlin.--Alexander von
Humboldt.--Hamburg 41
CHAPTER II.
Arrival in Holland.--Amsterdam.--Dutch Architecture.--Picture
Galleries.--Mr. Costa’s Diamond-cutting Works.--The Haarlem Lake.--A
Dutch Cattle-stable.--Utrecht.--The Students’ Festival 51
CHAPTER III.
Zaandam.--The little Village of Broeck, celebrated for its
Cleanliness.--Strange Head-dresses.--The Hague.--Celebrated
Pictures.--Leyden.--Rotterdam.--Departure from Holland 63
CHAPTER IV.
London.--Paris.--Sitting of the Geographical Society.--News
from Madagascar.--Popular Life in Paris.--Sights.--A Tale of
Murder.--Versailles.--St. Cloud.--Celebration of Sunday 72
CHAPTER V.
Return to London and Holland.--Separation Festival in
Amsterdam.--Departure from Rotterdam.--My traveling
Companions.--Emigrant Children.--Story of a poor Girl.--Cape
Town.--Fortunate Meeting.--Alteration of my traveling Plans 87
CHAPTER VI.
Voyage to the Island of Bourbon.--The Mauritius.--Wealth of
the Island.--The City of Port Louis.--Manner of Life among the
Inhabitants.--Indian Servants.--Grand Dinners.--Country Houses.--Creole
Hospitality 103
CHAPTER VII.
The Sugar-cane Plantations.--Indian Laborers.--A Lawsuit.--The Botanic
Garden.--Plants and Animals.--Singular Monument.--The Waterfall.--Mont
Orgeuil.--Trou du Cerf.--The Creoles and the French.--Farewell to the
Mauritius. Page 116
CHAPTER VIII.
A Geographical and Historical Account of the Island of
Madagascar. 131
CHAPTER IX.
Departure from the Mauritius.--The old Man-of-War.--Arrival in
Madagascar.--Mademoiselle Julie.--Account of Tamatavé.--The
Natives.--Comical Head-dresses.--First Visit in
Antandroroko.--Malagasey Hospitality.--The Europeans at Tamatavé.--The
Parisio-Malagasey.--Domestic Institutions. 139
CHAPTER X.
The “Queen’s Bath.”--Soldiers and Officers.--Banquet
and Ball.--Departure from Tamatavé.--Second Visit to
Antandroroko.--Vovong.--The Fever.--Andororanto.--Land and
Cultivation.--Condition of the People.--Manambotre.--The bad Roads and
the Bearers.--Ambatoarana. 157
CHAPTER XI.
Celebration of the National Feast.--Song and Dance.--Beforona.--The
elevated Plateau of Ankay.--The Territory of Emir.--Solemn
Reception.--Ambatomango.--The Sikidy.--The Triumphal
Procession.--Arrival in Tananariva. 173
CHAPTER XII.
Mr. Laborde.--Prince Rakoto.--Anecdote of his Life.--The
Sambas-Sambas.--Mary.--Review on the Field of Mars.--The Nobility in
Madagascar.--The Secret Treaty.--The English Missionary Society and Mr.
Lambert. 187
CHAPTER XIII.
Introduction at Court.--The Monosina.--The Royal Palace.--The
Hovas.--Scenes of Horror under the Queen’s Rule.--Executions.--The
Tanguin.--Persecution of the Christians.--One of the Queen’s
Journeys.--Her Hatred of Europeans.--Bull-fights.--Taurine
Mausoleum. 206
CHAPTER XIV.
Dinner at Mr. Laborde’s.--Foot-boxing.--Ladies of Madagascar and
Parisian Fashions.--The Conspiracy.--A Dream.--A Fancy-dress Ball.--An
unquiet Night.--Concert at Court.--The Silver Palace.--An Excursion of
the Queen. Page 222
CHAPTER XV.
Failure of the _Coup d’État_.--Prince Ramboasalama.--The _Pas de
Deux_.--Discovery of the Plot.--Death of Prince Razakaratrino.--Freedom
of Manners.--Irreligion.--Beginning of our Captivity.--A
Kabar.--Persecution of the Christians.--The Delivery of the
Presents. 239
CHAPTER XVI.
Banquets in Madagascar.--A Kabar at Court.--The Sentence.--Our
Banishment.--Departure from Tananariva.--Military Escort.--Observations
on the People.--Arrival in Tamatavé.--Departure from Madagascar.--A
false Alarm.--Arrival in the Mauritius.--Conclusion. 260
A BIOGRAPHY OF IDA PFEIFFER
(COMPILED FROM NOTES LEFT BY HERSELF).
Several biographies of Ida Pfeiffer are already scattered through
various encyclopædias and periodicals. These are based partly on oral
communications made by the deceased lady, partly on particulars
collected from her friends. No authentic sketch of her life has,
however, yet been published, though many whose sympathy has accompanied
the dauntless voyager on her dangerous way will doubtless be glad to
hear something of the earlier life of Ida Pfeiffer. In remarkable
people, the germs of extraordinary faculties are generally recognizable
in early youth; and those readers who have followed the course of a
remarkable life from its meridian to its close will doubtless be
gratified by the opportunity of casting a glance backward to its early
years, when the seeds of future distinction were sown.
This consideration will probably be thought a sufficient justification
for publishing the following pages; the more so as the facts given in
this biographical sketch rest exclusively on the authority of the
heroine herself. Madame Ida Pfeiffer left behind her a short outline of
her life written by her own hand, and her family very courteously
permitted this manuscript to be used. It is to be followed by a summary
of her travels, and by her diary in Madagascar, to which her son, Mr.
Oscar Pfeiffer, has added the narrative of her sufferings and death.
Thus the whole career of the late adventurous pilgrim, with particular
reference to the latest circumstances of her checkered life, namely, her
interesting and eventful voyage to Madagascar, will be placed before
the reader.
Our traveler was born in Vienna on the 14th of October, 1797. She was
the third child of the wealthy merchant Reyer, and at her baptism
received the name Ida Laura. Till she was nine years old, all the family
in her parents’ house, except herself, were boys, so that she was the
only girl among a party of six children. Through continual intercourse
with her brothers, a great predilection for the games and pursuits of
boys was developed in her. “I was not shy,” she says of herself, “but
wild as a boy, and bolder and more forward than my elder brothers;” and
she adds that it was her greatest pleasure to romp with the boys, to
dress in their clothes, and to take part in all their mad pranks. The
parents not only abstained from putting any check on this tendency, but
even allowed the girl to wear boy’s clothes, so that little Ida looked
with sovereign contempt upon dolls and toy saucepans, and would only
play with drums, swords, guns, and similar playthings. Her father seems
to have looked with complacency upon this anomaly in her character. He
jestingly promised the girl that he would have her educated for an
officer in a military school, thus indirectly encouraging the child to a
display of courage, resolution, and contempt of danger. Ida did not fail
to cultivate these qualities, and her most ardent wish was to carve her
own way through the world, sword in hand. Even in her early childhood
she gave many proofs of fearlessness and self-command.
Mr. Reyer had peculiar ideas on the subject of education, and carried
out these notions strictly in his family circle. He was a very honest,
and, moreover, strict man, holding the opinion that youth should be
carefully guarded against excess, and taught to moderate its desires and
wishes; consequently, his children were fed on simple, almost a
parsimonious diet, and were taught to sit quietly at table, and see
their elders enjoy the various dishes that were served up, without
receiving a share of those dainties. The little people were, moreover,
forbidden to express their wish for any much-coveted plaything by
repeated requests. The father’s strictness of discipline went so far as
to induce him to refuse many of the children’s reasonable requests, in
order, as he said, to accustom them to disappointments. Opposition of
any kind he would never allow, and even remonstrances against a
discipline that bordered on harshness were always unavailing.
There is no doubt that the old gentleman carried his system to excess,
but it is equally certain that, but for this Spartan education, little
Ida would never have ripened into the fearless traveler, able to bear
the heaviest fatigue for months together, living meanwhile on the most
miserable food. The chief characteristics of Ida Pfeiffer’s courage,
endurance, and indifference to pain and hardship became developed by an
eccentric course of education, which would hardly find a defender at a
time like the present, when every thing peculiar is hastily condemned.
The unusual, with its sharp outlines and deep shadows, disappears more
and more in the light of common-sense mediocrity, and the characteristic
heads that we remember in our youth gradually disappear, and are
succeeded by very rational, but somewhat tedious and commonplace
figures.
Ida’s father died in the year 1806, leaving a widow and seven children.
The boys were in an educational institution, and the mother undertook
the education of the girl, who was now nearly nine years old. Though the
father had appeared formidable to the children by his strictness, his
rule appeared to the girl far preferable to the melancholy _régime_ of
her mother, who watched the child’s every movement with suspicion and
alarm, and caused her daughter to spend many a bitter hour, merely from
an exaggerated notion of duty.
A few months after her father’s death the first attempt was made to
deprive the girl of the attire she had hitherto worn, and substituted
petticoats for their masculine equivalents. Little Ida, then ten years
old, was so indignant at this measure that she absolutely fell ill from
grief and indignation. By the doctor’s advice her former costume was
restored to her, and it was resolved that the girl’s obstinacy must
gradually be subdued by remonstrance.
The boy’s garments were received by Ida with a burst of enthusiasm, her
health returned, and she behaved more like a boy than ever. She learned
every thing that she thought a boy should know with industry and zeal,
and, on the other hand, looked with the greatest contempt on every
female occupation. Piano-forte playing, for instance, she despised as a
feminine accomplishment, and would actually cut her fingers, or burn
them with sealing-wax, to escape the hated task of practicing. For
playing the violin, on the contrary, she showed a great predilection.
But her mother would not allow her to have her way in this matter, and
the piano-forte was formally subsidized and maintained at its post by
maternal authority.
When the year 1809 came, a most eventful period for Austria, Ida was
twelve years old. From what has been said of her ideas and inclinations,
it will readily be believed that she took great interest in the fortunes
of the war. She read the newspaper eagerly, and often traced out on the
map the relative positions of the two armies. She danced and shouted
with glee, like a good patriot, when the Austrians conquered, and wept
bitter tears when the fortune of war brought victory to the enemy’s
standard. Her mother’s house was situated in one of the busiest streets
of the capital; and the frequent marching past of troops caused many
interruptions to study, and gave many opportunities for the expression
of ardent wishes that the Austrian banners might triumph. When Ida,
looking from the window, saw her fellow-countrymen march past to
battle, she would vehemently deplore her youth that prevented her from
taking part in the impending struggle. She considered her youth the only
obstacle that prevented her from going to war.
Unhappily, the French were victorious; the enemy entered the capital,
and the affairs of Austria were in a very bad way. The little patriot
had the mortification of seeing a number of the hated conquerors
quartered in her mother’s house, and evidently considering themselves
masters of the situation--dining at the table with the family, and
expecting to be treated with the most anxious civility. The members of
the household generally thought it best to keep up an appearance of
friendship toward the conquerors, but nothing could induce the girl to
look at the Frenchmen with favor; on the contrary, she showed her
feelings by obstinacy and silence; and when requested by the Frenchmen
to express her sentiments, she broke out in words of passionate anger
and dislike. She herself has said on this subject, “My hatred to
Napoleon was so great, that I looked upon the attempt of the notorious
Staps to assassinate him at Schönbrunn as a highly meritorious action,
and considered the perpetrator, who was tried by a court-martial and
shot, in the light of a martyr. I thought if I myself could murder
Napoleon, I should not hesitate one instant to do so.”
It is related that Ida was compelled to be present at a review of his
troops held by Napoleon in Schönbrunn. When the hated emperor rode past,
the girl turned her back, and received a box on the ear for her
demonstrativeness from her mother, who then held her by the shoulders
lest she should repeat the trick. But nothing was gained by this
manœuvre, for when the emperor came riding back with his glittering
staff of marshals around him, Miss Ida resolutely closed her eyes.
At the age of thirteen she again dressed in female attire, and this time
the change was persevered in. She had indeed become sensible enough to
acknowledge the necessity of the measure, but still it cost her many
tears, and made her very unhappy. With the garb of her sex, she was also
obliged to adopt different manners and occupations, and a new system of
life. “How awkward and clumsy I was at first!” she exclaims, in her
diary; “how ridiculous I must have looked in my long skirts, jumping and
racing about, and behaving generally like a wild, restless boy!”
“Fortunately, a young man came to us at that time as tutor, who took
particular pains with me. I afterward heard that my mother had given him
secret directions to treat me with especial indulgence, as a child whose
earliest impulses had received a wrong bias. He certainly behaved to me
with great kindness and delicacy, and showed great patience and
perseverance in combating my overstrained and misdirected notions. As I
had learned rather to fear my parents than to love them, and he was, so
to speak, the first human being who had displayed affection and sympathy
toward me, I clung to him, in return, with enthusiastic attachment,
seeking to fulfill his every wish, and never so happy as when he
appeared satisfied with my endeavors. He conducted my entire education;
and though it cost me some tears to give up my youthful visions, and
busy myself with pursuits I had looked upon with contempt, I did it out
of affection for him. I even learned many female occupations, such as
sewing, knitting, and cookery. I owe to him the insight I received in
three or four years into the duties of my sex; and he it was who changed
me from a wild hoydenish creature into a modest girl.”
At the period when Ida was compelled to give up her boyish character,
there arose in her the first wish to see the world. She turned her
thoughts from war and soldiering to fix them upon travel; descriptions
of voyages excited her warmest interest, and literature of this kind
occupied in her mind the place that, in the majority of young girls’
heads, is filled with thoughts of dress, balls, theatres, and amusements
generally. When she heard of any one who had attained celebrity by
travel, she would grieve to think that she was debarred by her sex from
the happiness of ever crossing the sea and exploring strange lands.
Often she felt an inclination to occupy herself with scientific studies;
but she always suppressed it, seeming to recognize therein a relapse
into the “extravagant ideas” of earlier days. It must be remembered that
at the beginning of the present century the daughters of middle-class
families did not enjoy the education they receive now.
An important passage in the life of Ida Pfeiffer shall be related in her
own words. She tells us:
“In my seventeenth year a wealthy Greek proposed for my hand. My mother
declined to entertain his offer because he was not a Catholic, and she
thought me too young for such a step. According to her ideas, it was
indecorous for a girl under twenty years of age to marry.
“A great change now took place in my character. I had hitherto had no
idea of the powerful passion which makes mortals the happiest or the
most miserable of beings. When my mother told me of the proposal made to
her, feelings of which till then I had been unconscious became clearly
defined within me, and I felt that I could love no one but T----, the
guide of my youth.
“I was not aware that T---- was attached to me with his whole soul. I
scarcely knew my own feelings, and far less was I capable of guessing
those of another person. When, however, T---- heard of the proposal that
had been made for me, and when the possibility of losing me arose before
him, he confessed his love to me, and determined to urge his suit to my
mother.
“T---- had devoted himself to the Civil Service, and had for some years
occupied a post, with a salary on which he could live very well. He had
long given up the profession of a tutor, though he continued to visit
our house as frequently as ever, passing all his leisure hours with us,
as if he belonged to the family. My five brothers were his friends, and
my mother was so fond of him that she often called him ‘her dear sixth
son.’ He was at every party in our house, and went with us wherever we
accepted an invitation; always accompanying us to theatres, in our
walks, and so on. What was more natural than that we should both
persuade ourselves that my mother had intended us for each other, and
would perhaps only stipulate for our waiting till I had attained my
twentieth year, and T---- had a better appointment?
“Accordingly he proposed for my hand.
“But who can paint our grievous surprise when my mother not only
entirely refused her consent, but from this moment detested T---- just
as much as she had before liked him. There could be no other objection
to T---- except that I could look forward to having a tolerable fortune,
while T---- had at present nothing but his modest salary. If my mother
could have imagined what was one day to become of my fortune, how very
different my fate would be from what she had sketched out for me in her
mind, what deep sorrow and endless grief might she not have spared me!
“After T----’s proposal, my mother wished to get me married as quickly
as possible. I declared resolutely that I would become T----’s wife, or
remain unmarried. T---- was, of course, forbidden to come to our house,
and as my mother knew how obstinately I adhered to my resolutions when I
was in earnest about a matter, she took me to a priest, who was enjoined
to explain to me the duty of children toward their parents, and
particularly the obedience the latter are authorized to exact. They
wanted to bind me by a solemn oath, sworn on the crucifix, that I would
not see T---- secretly, nor correspond with him. I refused to take the
oath, but gave the required promise, stipulating, however, that I should
be allowed to inform T---- of every thing. My mother at last made this
concession, and I wrote a long letter to T----, acquainting him with
every thing, and begging him not to believe any thing he heard
concerning me from other people. I added that it was out of my power
either to see him or to write to him again, but that if another suitor
presented himself and was accepted by my mother, I would at once inform
T---- of the circumstance.
“T----’s reply was short, and full of bitter sorrow. He seemed to
understand that, under the circumstances, there was no hope for us, and
that nothing remained but to obey my mother’s commands. He declared
positively, however, that he would never marry.
“And thus our correspondence closed. Three long, sorrowful years passed
away without my seeing him, and without any change in my feelings or
position.
“Walking one day with a friend of my mother’s, I met T---- by chance. We
both stopped involuntarily, but for a long time neither he nor I could
utter a word. At last he conquered his emotion, and asked after my
health. I was too deeply moved to be able to reply. My knees trembled,
and I felt ready to sink into the earth. I seized my companion by the
arm and drew her away with me, and rushed home, scarcely conscious of
what I was doing. Two days afterward I was stretched on my couch in a
burning fever.
“The physician who was called in seemed to have a suspicion of the cause
of my illness, and declared to my mother, as I afterward heard, that the
source of evil was mental, not bodily; that medicines would be of little
avail in my case, and that every effort must be directed.... But my
mother persisted in following her own course, and told the physician she
could not alter any thing about me.”
The patient’s life hung for a long time in the balance, and in her
fevered state of mind she wished ardently for death. When by chance she
heard from an indiscreetly-communicative nurse that her dissolution was
daily expected, this intelligence produced such a quieting effect that
she sank into a deep slumber, and the crisis of her disease was happily
passed.
Ida’s father had left a considerable fortune, and there was no lack of
suitors for her hand. She refused every offer, however, and thereby
increased the discomfort of her position at home, for her mother
insisted more and more strongly upon Ida’s making her choice. These
domestic broils at length broke the girl’s spirit, and any fate seemed
to her preferable to the continuance of such a state of things. She
accordingly declared herself ready to accept the next proposal that
should be made, provided the suitor was of advanced age. She wished to
convince T---- that moral coercion, and not her own inclination, had
impelled her to take this course.
In the year 1819, when Ida was twenty-two years old, Doctor Pfeiffer,
one of the most distinguished advocates in Lemberg, and a widower,
moreover, with a grown-up son, was introduced to the Reyers. He staid in
Vienna a few days for professional purposes, and at his departure
recommended his son, who was studying law at the University of Vienna,
to the notice of the family.
About four weeks afterward came a letter from Dr. Pfeiffer, containing a
formal proposal for Ida’s hand. As he had only exchanged a few words
with her on totally unimportant subjects, she had not the least
anticipation of an offer in that direction; but her mother did not fail
to remind her of the promise she had made to accept the next suitor who
came forward.
“I promised to consider the matter,” she says in her diary. “Dr.
Pfeiffer seemed to me a very intelligent, well-educated man; but a
circumstance that told far more in his favor in my estimation was that
he lived a hundred miles from Vienna, and was twenty-four years older
than I.”
A week afterward she consented to the marriage on the condition that she
should be allowed to acquaint Dr. Pfeiffer with the real state of her
affections. This she did in a long letter, in which she concealed
nothing from her suitor, evidently indulging the hope that he would
abandon his pursuit of her; but Dr. Pfeiffer at once replied, expressing
himself not in the least surprised to hear that a maiden of twenty-two
years had already loved. The honest, candid avowal of this passage in
her life made Ida appear in his eyes all the more worthy of respect; and
he avowed his intention of persisting in his suit, feeling assured that
he should never have cause to regret it.
The difficult duty of acquainting T---- with this change in her destiny
now devolved upon Ida. This duty she fulfilled by means of a few lines,
and it will readily be imagined that they were painful ones. The answer
was conceived in the manliest spirit, full of self-abnegation and
nobility of mind. T---- repeatedly declared that he would never forget
her, and would never marry. He kept his word.
The marriage with Dr. Pfeiffer was celebrated on the 1st of May, 1820,
and a week afterward the newly-wedded couple departed for Lemberg. The
journey brought relief by reviving in the young wife the old
predilection for traveling, and allowing the pair an opportunity of
becoming better acquainted. Ida found that her husband possessed high
principle, candor, and intelligence; and if it was beyond her power to
love him, she could not withhold from him respect and hearty
appreciation, especially as he showed as much affection as delicacy in
his conduct toward her. She was resolved to fulfill her duties
honorably, and looked forward with a certain amount of tranquillity to
the future.
Dr. Pfeiffer was one of those straightforward, independent-spirited men
who attack and expose wrong wherever they find it, and make no secret of
their sentiments.
In the official routine in Galicia in those days there were many weak
points, and the number of dishonest and venal employés was not small. In
an important lawsuit which he brought to a triumphant conclusion, Dr.
Pfeiffer discovered peculation of the gravest kind. This he fearlessly
and unflinchingly denounced to the highest authorities in Vienna. An
investigation was ordered; Dr. Pfeiffer’s accusations were found to be
well-grounded, and several officials were dismissed, and others moved.
Very disagreeable results, however, accrued to Dr. Pfeiffer himself. By
his report of these delinquencies he had drawn down upon himself the
enmity of the majority of official personages; and this enmity was so
frequently and so openly manifested, that Dr. Pfeiffer found himself
compelled to resign his appointment as councilor, for he found that his
advocacy, so far from benefiting his clients, became absolutely
prejudicial to their interests.
“My husband,” writes Ida Pfeiffer, “had foreseen all this; but it went
against his nature to shut his eyes to flagrant injustice. In the same
year he resigned his office, and, after he had arranged his private
affairs, we removed, in 1821, to Vienna, where, trusting to his skill
and knowledge, he hoped to have no difficulty in obtaining employment.
But his reputation had preceded him: his sentiments and his mode of
action were as well known in Vienna as at Lemberg, and he was looked
upon with suspicion as a restless character and an enemy of existing
institutions. All his applications for employment in agencies, etc.,
were consequently unavailing. Posts which he had solicited in vain were
continually given away to the most insignificant and least talented of
the profession.”
All this had naturally a very disastrous effect on Pfeiffer’s mind. He
saw himself every where crossed and hampered in his work and in his
efforts; and labors which he had formerly performed with zeal and
pleasure now fretted and annoyed him. At length he lost a portion of his
energy, and what he did brought him little or no advantage.
Thus the social position of the Pfeiffers became more and more critical
from day to day. As a skillful lawyer, Dr. Pfeiffer had earned a
considerable income at Lemberg; but he had liked to live in good style,
kept carriages and horses, and a good table, and had not thought of
providing for the future. Many people who knew his generosity made use
of him, and borrowed his money. Thus Ida’s paternal inheritance vanished
also, being lent to a friend of Pfeiffer’s, whom it was to help out of
his embarrassments. The man failed in spite of the loan, and thus the
whole fortune was lost.
After vainly seeking employment in Vienna, Dr. Pfeiffer returned, with
his wife, to Lemberg, but afterward came back again to Vienna, and at
length even tried his fortune in Switzerland, his native country, where
he had, however, only passed the earliest years of his life. But fortune
would nowhere smile upon him, and bitter poverty knocked at the door of
the family.
“Heaven only knows what I suffered during eighteen years of my married
life!” exclaims Ida Pfeiffer; “not, indeed, from any ill treatment on my
husband’s part, but from poverty and want. I came of a wealthy family,
and had been accustomed from my earliest youth to order and comfort; and
now I frequently knew not where I should lay my head, or find a little
money to buy the commonest necessaries. I performed household drudgery,
and bore cold and hunger; I worked secretly for money, and gave lessons
in drawing and music; and yet, in spite of all my exertions, there were
many days when I could hardly put any thing but dry bread before my
poor children for their dinner.
“I might certainly have applied to my mother or my brothers for relief,
but my pride revolted against such a course. For years I fought with
poverty and concealed my real position, often brought so near to despair
that the thought of my children alone prevented me from giving way. At
last the urgency of my necessities broke my spirit, and several times I
had recourse to my brothers for assistance.”
Ida Pfeiffer had two sons. A daughter was born to her, but only lived a
few days. The education of the children devolved entirely upon the
mother; and as the younger showed a great appreciation for music, she
took great pains to cultivate his talents.
In the year 1831 old Madame Reyer died. During the long illness which
preceded her death she was tended by her daughter with the most
affectionate care. After her mother’s death Ida betook herself again to
Lemberg, from whence Dr. Pfeiffer had again written, announcing that he
had a sure prospect of employment. He was now sixty years old, and lived
in a state of constant illusion; a mere promise was sufficient to
inspire him with the greatest confidence in the future. After
experiencing a series of hopes and disappointments during a period of
two years, she returned to Vienna, where she could at least obtain for
her sons a better education.
At her mother’s death she had not, indeed, come into a great property,
but she inherited enough to keep her in a respectable style, and to
provide good teachers for her children. In 1835 she settled definitely
in Vienna. Dr. Pfeiffer remained in Lemberg, where he was kept by force
of habit, and by his affection for his son by his first marriage. From
time to time, however, he visited Vienna to see his wife and children.
During a journey to Trieste which Ida Pfeiffer undertook with her
youngest son, in order that he might have sea-baths, she enjoyed her
first sight of the ocean. The impression made upon her by the sea was
overpowering. The dreams of her youth came back, with visions of distant
unexplored climes, teeming with strange, luxuriant vegetation; an almost
irresistible impulse for travel arose in her, and she would gladly have
embarked in the first ship to sail away into the great, mysterious,
boundless ocean. Her duty toward her children alone restrained her; and
she felt happy when she had quitted Trieste, and miles of mountain and
plain intervened between the sea and herself, for the longing to see the
world had weighed like a mountain on her spirit in the maritime city.
Returning to the routine of every-day life in Vienna, she still secretly
nourished the wish that her health and strength might be spared until
her sons should have been established in life, and she should be enabled
to go out into the world depending on her own resources alone. This wish
of hers was to be fulfilled. Her sons grew and throve, and became
prosperous, successful men in their profession.
The completion of their education and the establishment of each in his
vocation gave Ida Pfeiffer leisure to mature her plans of travel. The
old project of seeing the world arose anew, and now no obstacle existed
in the calls of duty and common sense. She began to mature a plan for a
long journey, to be undertaken alone; for she must journey by herself,
as her husband’s advanced age prevented him from participating in the
toil and fatigue of such an undertaking, and her sons could not be
spared from their professional duties. The financial aspect of the
question required much consideration. In the countries she wished to
visit railways and hotels were unknown institutions, and travelers in
those regions would be necessarily subjected to the expense of carrying
with them all they required during the journey; and after she had
devoted part of her maternal inheritance to the education of her sons,
the funds at Ida Pfeiffer’s disposal were limited indeed.
“But I soon settled these weighty points to my satisfaction,” she writes
in her diary. “Respecting the first, namely, the design that I, a woman,
should venture into the world alone, I trusted to my years (I was
already forty-five), to my courage, and to the habit of self-reliance I
had acquired in the hard school of life, during the time when I was
obliged to provide, not only for my children, but sometimes for my
husband also. As regarded money, I was determined to practice the most
rigid economy. Privation and discomfort had no terrors for me. I had
endured them long enough by compulsion, and considered that they would
be much easier to bear if I encountered them voluntarily with a fixed
object in view.”
Another question, namely, whither she should bend her steps, was quickly
answered. Two projects had occupied her mind for many years--a voyage to
the North, and a journey to the Holy Land. When, however, she imparted
to her friends her intention of visiting Jerusalem, she was looked upon
simply as a crazy, enthusiastic person, and nobody thought her in
earnest in the matter.
Nevertheless, she kept to her resolution, but concealed the real goal of
her journey, declaring that her intention was to visit a friend at
Constantinople, with whom she had for a long time kept up an active
correspondence. She kept her passport concealed, and no one of those
from whom she parted had any idea of her destination. Very painful was
the parting from her sons, to whom she was tenderly attached; but she
fought bravely against her softer emotions, consoled her friends with
the prospect of soon meeting them again, and on the 22d of March, 1842,
embarked on the steamer that was to convey her down the Danube to the
Black Sea and the City of the Crescent. She visited Brussa, Beyrout,
Jaffa, Jerusalem, the Dead Sea, Nazareth, Damascus, Baalbek, the
Lebanon, Alexandria, and Cairo, and traveled across the Desert to the
Isthmus of Suez and the Red Sea. From Egypt she returned by way of
Sicily and the whole of Italy to her home, arriving in Vienna in
December, 1842.
As she had carefully kept a diary of her journey, from which she
frequently read extracts to friends and acquaintances, she was often
requested to print her experiences. The thought of becoming an authoress
was repugnant to her modesty, and it was only when a publisher made her
a direct offer that she consented to trust her first book to the press.
It bore the title, “Journey of a Viennese Lady to the Holy Land.” The
first edition appeared in two volumes in 1843, the fourth in 1856; and
though the authoress neither had much that was new to tell, nor rode her
Pegasus in the approved style of the traveled ladies of the period, her
little book was still successful, as the four editions sufficiently
prove. The very simplicity of the narration, and its appearance of
unvarnished truth, at once gained numerous readers for the book.
The good result of this first journey, which gave the pilgrim fresh
funds in the form of copyright money, awakened within her fresh plans;
and this time she felt impelled toward the far north, where she expected
to see majestic sights, and to behold nature exhibited in new and
startling forms.
After various preparations, among which may be mentioned the study of
the English and Danish languages, and of the art of taking
Daguerreotypes, and after obtaining accurate information concerning the
countries she purposed visiting, she began her journey to the north on
the 10th of April, 1845. On the 16th of May she landed on the coast of
Iceland, and proceeded to traverse that interesting island in every
direction, visiting the Geysers and other hot springs, and ascending
Hecla, which shortly after her departure began to vomit flame, after
remaining for seventy years in a quiescent state. At the end of June she
sailed back to Copenhagen, and from thence journeyed to Christiania,
Thelemark, across the Swedish lakes to Stockholm, and over Upsala to the
iron mines of Danemora. She returned to her native city by way of
Travemûnde, Hamburg, and Berlin, arriving in Vienna on the 4th of
October, 1845, after an absence of six months.
The journal of this second voyage appeared under the title, “Voyage to
the Scandinavian North and the Island of Iceland,” in two volumes, at
Pesth, and was much read. The money realized by a sale of the geological
and botanical specimens collected during this tour, together with the
sum paid for the copyright of her book, were put aside by Ida Pfeiffer
as the nucleus of a fund for a new undertaking, and one of a more
ambitious character. A voyage round the world now occupied the thoughts
of this brave woman; and when once she had conceived the idea, she could
not rest until it was put in execution.
“Greater privations and fatigue than I had endured in Syria and
Iceland,” she writes, “I could scarcely have to encounter. The expense
did not frighten me, for I knew by experience how little is required if
the traveler will but practice the strictest economy, and be content to
forego all comforts and superfluities. My savings accumulated to a sum
barely sufficient perhaps to serve such travelers as Prince
Pückler-Muskau, Chateaubriand, or Lamartine for a fortnight’s excursion,
but which seemed enough for me during a journey of two or three years,
and the event proved that I had calculated rightly.”
Again concealing the whole extent of her undertaking from her relations,
and especially from her sons, and naming Brazil as her destination, our
traveler bade adieu to Vienna on the 1st of May, 1846, and betook
herself to Hamburg, where she was compelled to wait till the 28th of
June before a suitable opportunity for proceeding to the Brazils offered
itself in the shape of a little Danish brig.
Retarded by contrary winds and calms, the ship was a full month in
making its way from Hamburg through the English Channel--as long a time
as it required to get from thence to the equator. On the 16th of
September the harbor of Rio Janeiro was reached. From that port Ida
Pfeiffer made several excursions into the interior of the country. On
one of these expeditions she was attacked by a runaway negro slave,
whose purpose appeared to be robbery and murder. The miscreant was armed
with a knife; she received more than one wound, and only owed her life
to casual help which arrived at the critical moment.
At the beginning of December she left Rio Janeiro, sailed round Cape
Horn on the 3d of February, 1847, and landed at Valparaiso on the 2d of
March. The aspect of tropical scenery, particularly in Brazil, made a
vivid impression upon her; but she was greatly disgusted at the state of
things in what had been Spanish America. Quickly re-embarking, she
traversed the Pacific Ocean, and landed at the island of Otaheite at the
end of April. She was presented to Queen Pomare, of whose court she
afterward published a sufficiently spirited account, which was read with
much interest. The state of Europe at that period was one of such
tranquillity that, for mere want of matter, the papers were often full
of Queen Pomare for weeks together. Her Otaheitan majesty has now gone
considerably out of fashion, inasmuch as Europe has enough to do with
its own concerns, and has neither time nor inclination to patronize
happy islands in the far Pacific.
From Otaheite the enterprising voyager proceeded to China, arriving at
Macao in the beginning of July. She afterward visited Hong Kong and the
city of Canton, in which she would gladly have spent more time, had not
the appearance of a European woman been too much for the weak nerves of
the natives of the Celestial Empire. The visitor found herself in danger
of being insulted by the mob, and accordingly turned her back on the
fortunate country, paid a short visit to Singapore, and proceeded to
Ceylon, landing there in the middle of October. She traversed this
beautiful island in various directions, and saw Colombo, Candy, and the
famous temple of Dagona. At the end of October she landed on the
continent of India, at Madras, remained for some time at Calcutta,
proceeded up the Ganges to Benares, admired the ruins of Saranath, and
visited Cawnpoor, Delhi, Indore, and Bombay. She also had an opportunity
of seeing the celebrated rock temples of Adjunta and Ellora, and the
islands of Elephanta and Salsette. The houses of many Indians of rank
were thrown open to her, and she showed herself every where a close
observer of foreign manners, customs, and peculiarities. At more than
one tiger-hunt she was also present, and at a suttee. The position and
proceedings of the English missionaries also excited her especial
attention.
At the end of April, 1848, we find Ida Pfeiffer again at sea, bearing
her pilgrim’s staff toward Persia. From Bushire she intended to proceed
to Shiraz, Ispahan, and Teheran, but was deterred from this project by
disturbances in the interior of the country, and turned her footsteps
toward Mesopotamia. Through the bay Shat-el-Arab she betook herself to
Bassora, and afterward to Bagdad. After an excursion to the ruins of
Ctesiphon and Babylon, she traveled with a caravan through the Desert to
Mosul and the neighboring ruins of Nineveh, and afterward to Urumia and
Tebris. This expedition through Mesopotamia and Persia may be reckoned
among the most daring exploits of this courageous woman. A large amount
of mental energy, as well as of physical stamina, was required, to
enable her to endure without fainting the many hardships of the
undertaking--the burning heat by day, discomfort of every kind at
night, miserable fare, an unclean couch, and constant apprehension of
attack by robber bands. When she introduced herself at Tebris to the
English consul, he would not believe that a woman could have achieved
such a feat.
At Tebris our traveler was introduced to the vice-king Vali-Ahd, and
received permission to visit his harem. On the 11th of August, 1848, she
resumed her journey through Armenia, Georgia, Mingrelia, by Eriwan,
Tiflis, and Kutais to Redutkale; she touched at Anapa, Kertch, and
Sebastopol, landed at Odessa, and returned home by Constantinople,
Greece, the Ionian Islands, and Trieste to Vienna, where she arrived on
the 4th of November, 1848, just after the taking of the city by the
troops of Prince Windischgrätz. It seemed that even in her fatherland,
distracted as it was by faction, she was to find no rest.
Ida Pfeiffer’s fame spread more and more after this journey round the
world; for a woman who, trusting to herself alone for protection, could
travel 2800 miles by land and 35,000 by sea, was looked upon, not
unnaturally, as a remarkable character. Her third work, which appeared
in Vienna in 1850, under the title “A Woman’s Journey round the World,”
was well received. It was translated twice into English, and afterward
appeared in a French garb.
It was now for some time Ida Pfeiffer’s purpose to consider her
traveling days as over, and to settle down in repose. But this resigned
frame of mind did not last long. When, after selling her collections,
and preparing and publishing her journal, she found herself in the
enjoyment of undiminished health and strength, she gradually began to
entertain the idea of a second voyage round the world. Her slender
traveling fund was this time increased by a grant of 1500 florins from
the Austrian government; and on the 18th of March, 1851, she left
Vienna, betaking herself first to London, as she had no fixed goal in
view, and intended to wait till an occasion offered for traveling
farther. Even when she had left London, and arrived in Cape Town on the
11th of August, she had come to no definite determination. For a long
time her mind wavered between the intention of visiting the interior of
Africa and that of proceeding to Australia, till at last she sailed to
Singapore, and decided to visit the Sunda Islands. Landing on the west
coast of Borneo, at Sarawak, she received a hospitable welcome and
energetic assistance from Sir James Brooke, who has established an
independent principality in these regions. During an excursion she made
among the savage, independent Dyaks, she was not only spared by the
“head hunters,” but was even received with great cordiality. Proceeding
to Sinting, she continued her journey westward to Pontianak and the
diamond mines of Landak. Every where the Dutch officials, civil and
military, offered her the readiest assistance, without which she would
have found it impossible to extend her travels so far as she did in the
Indian Archipelago. Ida Pfeiffer’s design was to push on from Pontianak
directly through the interior of the island, a region never yet
traversed by Europeans; but she could endure no one to be her guide or
companion on so dangerous an expedition. She therefore cast her eyes on
Java, and landed at Batavia at the end of May, 1852. Here, likewise, she
received every assistance and support from the Dutch authorities, and,
in consequence of their example, from the native grandees also. This she
often afterward publicly acknowledged, with the warmest thanks.
On the 8th of July, 1852, her journey to Sumatra began; and this she has
declared to be the most interesting of all her undertakings. From Padang
she proceeded to trust herself among the Battas, who are cannibals, and
have never suffered any European to come among them. Though the savages
opposed her farther advance, she passed forward through the primeval
forest, among a population of man-eaters, almost as far as the Lake
Eier-Tau. But here she was compelled by threatening spears to retreat,
after having been repeatedly assured that she should be killed and
eaten. On the 7th of October she got back to Padang. In Sumatra she was
twice attacked by the malignant intermittent fever of the country.
Returning to Java, she made excursions to the principalities of
Djokdjokarta and Surakarta, to the temple Boro Budoo, and to Surabaga.
From thence she sailed to several of the smaller Sunda Islands, and to
the Moluccas, Banda, Amboyna, Saparna, Ceram, and Ternate; remained for
a few months among the wild Alfores, and closed her rambles among the
Sunda Islands by a visit to Celebes.
Again she traversed the Pacific to a distance of 10,150 miles to visit
California. For two months she saw nothing but sea and sky. On the 27th
of September, 1853, she landed at San Francisco, visited the
gold-washing districts on the Sacramento and the Yuba, and slept in the
wigwams of the red-skins of Rogue River.
At the end of 1853 Ida Pfeiffer sailed to Panama, and from thence to the
Peruvian coast. From Callao she betook herself to Lima, with the
intention of crossing the Cordilleras, and proceeding to Loretto, on the
Amazon, and thus gaining the eastern coast of South America. The
revolution, however, which had just broken out in Peru, made the land
unsafe, and compelled our traveler to try and cross the Cordilleras at
another point. She returned, accordingly, to Ecuador, and in March,
1854, began her toilsome passage across the mountains. She crossed the
chain in the immediate neighborhood of Chimborazo, came to the elevated
plateau of Ambato and Tacunga, and witnessed the rare spectacle of an
eruption of the volcano Cotopaxi--a sight for which she was afterward
envied by Alexander von Humboldt. On reaching Quito on the 4th of April,
she did not, unfortunately, find the assistance she had expected in the
shape of several trustworthy guides to the Amazon. She therefore gave up
her plan of embarking on that river, and had to repeat her wearisome
march across the Cordilleras. In the neighborhood of Guayaquil she twice
stood in imminent danger of being killed--first by a fall from her mule,
and then from an immersion in the River Guaya, which abounds in caymans.
Her companions wished her to perish, and did not render the slightest
assistance. Deeply disgusted at their inhumanity, she turned her back
upon Spanish South America, betook herself by sea to Panama, and at the
end of May crossed the Isthmus.
From Aspinwall she sailed to New Orleans, remaining there till the 30th
of June; then she ascended the Mississippi to Napoleon, and the Arkansas
as far as Fort Smith. Her projected visit to the Cherokee Indians had to
be abandoned, on account of a renewed and violent attack of the Sumatra
fever. Returning to the Mississippi, she reached St. Louis on the 14th
of July, and paid a visit to the Baden democrat Hecker, who had
established himself in the neighborhood of Lebanon. Then she turned
northward toward St. Paul and the Falls of St. Anthony, proceeded to
Chicago, and thus came to the great lakes and to the Falls of Niagara.
After an excursion into Canada, she staid for some time in New York,
Boston, and other cities, then went on board a steamer, and, after a
passage of ten days, landed in England, at Liverpool, on the 21st of
November, 1854.
To this great voyage round the world she added a little supplement, by
paying a visit to her son, who was residing at San Miguel, in the
Azores. It was not until May, 1855, that she returned to Vienna, by way
of Lisbon, Southampton, and London.
The specimens and the ethnographical objects collected by Ida Pfeiffer
were for the most part deposited in the British Museum and in the
Imperial Cabinets in Vienna. Alexander von Humboldt and Carl Ritter, in
Berlin, took great interest in the efforts of Ida Pfeiffer, and
Humboldt especially rewarded her with the warmest praise for her energy
and perseverance. At the request of these two eminent men, the
Geographical Society of Berlin elected Ida Pfeiffer an honorary member,
and the King of Prussia awarded her the gold medal for arts and
sciences. In Vienna the expressions of approval were much more sparing,
probably according to the old rule that no prophet is regarded in his
own country.
The brave traveler’s journal again appeared in Vienna in 1856, under the
title, “My Second Journey round the World.”
After each of her former voyages, Ida Pfeiffer had for a time cherished
the idea of retiring from future enterprises, and living in the memory
of the past. But after the second journey round the world, which
resulted entirely to her satisfaction, no such ideas seem to have
troubled her. Before she had even finished arranging her cabinet of
specimens and superintending the publication of her book, she already
conceived the plan of exploring Madagascar, and was not to be dissuaded
from her purpose even by the representations of Alexander von Humboldt,
who proposed various other plans for her consideration.
The farther fortunes of Ida Pfeiffer will be found chronicled in the
accompanying journal of her voyage to Madagascar, and, with the
communication of her son, Mr. Oscar Pfeiffer, tell the story of her
sufferings and death. But, before we enter upon the last act of her
toilsome and instructive career, it will be well to say a few words
concerning the character of our traveler.
Ida Pfeiffer did not give those who saw her the impression of an
emancipated, strong-minded, or masculine woman. On the contrary, she was
so simple and downright in word and thought, that those who did not know
her had some difficulty in getting at the depth of her knowledge and
experience. In her whole appearance and manners there was a quiet
staidness that seemed to indicate a practical housewife, with no
enthusiastic thought beyond her domestic concerns. Many people were
accordingly premature in their judgment concerning Ida Pfeiffer, and
felt inclined to ascribe her passion for traveling to mere inquisitive
restlessness. This supposition was, however, completely negatived by a
leading trait in Ida Pfeiffer’s character, namely, a total absence of
any thing like prying curiosity. In proportion as her whole existence
had been troubled, was her appearance quiet and sedate.
The sharpest observer would fail to detect in her any tendency to push
herself forward, or to interfere in matters not within her sphere.
Serious, silent, and reserved, she presented few of the agreeable
features of her mind to people with whom she was imperfectly acquainted.
But those who succeeded in gaining her intimacy could not fail to
recognize under this unpretending exterior the qualities which make a
remarkable woman. Strength of purpose, firmness of character, sometimes
amounting almost to obstinacy, were quickly discernible in certain
favorite expressions of hers. If we add to these gifts an amount of
personal courage rarely found in a woman, indifference to physical pain
and to the ordinary conveniences of life, and, moreover, the
never-ceasing desire to add something to the stock of human knowledge,
it will be allowed that she possessed the qualities with which success
is achieved in the world. The value of these gifts was heightened in Ida
Pfeiffer by a strict regard for truth and strong sense of conscientious
responsibility, and a love of right and justice. She never told any
thing that had not happened exactly as she chronicled it, and never made
a promise which she did not keep. She had what, in common life, we
emphatically term _character_.
That her communications derive an additional value from her well-known
truthfulness is self-evident; and as she was free from sectarian and
other prejudices, her judgments were always based upon a solid
foundation. Had she in her youthful days employed herself more than she
did in scientific study, and gained positive knowledge in that
direction, her travels would doubtless have been more useful; but at the
commencement of our century even men were seldom found who would employ
themselves in scientific pursuits that had no immediate bearing upon
their professions, and learned women were rarer still. Ida Pfeiffer was
conscious of this defect in her education, and in her mature years often
thought of remedying it, but she lacked both the necessary time and
patience.
To divest her efforts of all scientific value would, however, be unjust,
for the most competent men have given a different verdict. She pressed
forward into many regions never before trodden by European foot; and the
very fact of her being a woman was her protection in her most dangerous
undertakings. She was allowed to pursue her journey where a man would
assuredly not have been suffered to advance. Her communications,
consequently, have often the merit of containing entirely new facts in
geography and ethnology, or of correcting the exaggerations and errors
of previous accounts. Science was likewise benefited by the valuable
collections she made of plants, animals, and minerals. Frequently she
did not herself know the value of what she had brought together; but,
nevertheless, she brought many important specimens; and the sciences of
conchology and entomology are indebted to her for the discovery of
several new genera.
If we compare the results of Ida Pfeiffer’s undertakings with the
limited means at her disposal for carrying out her plans, her
achievements become marvelous. She traversed nearly 150,000 miles of sea
and 20,000 miles of land; and the funds for these travels were gained
entirely by wise economy, and by the energy with which she kept the
goal continually before her eyes. If her passion for traveling was
great, her talents as a traveler were far greater. Without sacrificing
her dignity or becoming importunate, she had the art of first arousing
and then benefiting by the interest and sympathy of people in all parts
of the world. At last she became quite accustomed to see her plan
furthered in every possible way, and though she never failed to express
her thanks, she seemed at last to receive the good offices of foreigners
in all quarters of the globe as almost a matter of course. She even had
to fight against little outbursts of wrath when she missed the sympathy
for her efforts and herself to which she had become so accustomed. In
later years especially, she was fully conscious of her own value, and
showed it when people attempted to behave in a condescending or
patronizing way to her. Persons of higher rank than herself were obliged
to be very careful in their intercourse with her; but with plain,
unpretending people she never uttered a word that could hurt or offend.
Hating all pretension, and all boastful self-assertion, she showed
herself obstinate and self-willed wherever she met with such qualities.
Antipathy or sympathy were quickly evoked in her, and it was not easy to
make her swerve from an opinion she had once formed. Even when she
appeared to give way, it generally happened that she returned by some
circuitous route or other to her old starting-point.
For every kind of knowledge she showed the most profound respect, but
particularly for the acquirements of people who had distinguished
themselves in the domain of science. For Alexander von Humboldt her
admiration amounted to perfect enthusiasm, and she never mentioned the
great philosopher’s name without testifying the respect she felt toward
him. Nothing, perhaps, gave her so much pleasure in her later years as
the appreciation for, and sympathy with her efforts manifested by
Humboldt.
Ida Pfeiffer was of short stature, thin, and slightly bent. Her
movements were deliberate and measured, but she could walk at a very
quick pace for her years. When she returned from one of her journeys,
her complexion used to give strong evidence of the power of the tropical
sun. Beyond this there was nothing in her features to tell of her
remarkable trials and adventures; a quieter countenance could not
readily be found. But when she became animated in conversation, and
spoke of things which strongly awakened her interest, her whole face
lighted up, and its expression became exceedingly engaging.
In all that related to the toilet, a matter of importance to most women,
Ida Pfeiffer confined her wants within the smallest limits. She was
never seen to wear trinkets or jewels; and none of the lady readers who
honor these pages with their perusal can show more simplicity in the
adornment of her beauty, or greater indifference to the requirements of
custom, than were displayed by this voyager round the world.
Straightforward, of high principle, with a promptitude and wisdom in
action rarely equaled among her sex, Ida Pfeiffer may justly be classed
among those women who richly compensate for the absence of outward
charms by the remarkable energy and rare qualities of their minds.
IDA PFEIFFER’S LAST TRAVELS.
CHAPTER I.
Departure from Vienna.--Linz.--Salzburg.--Munich.--The Artists’
Festival.--The King of Bavaria.--Berlin.--Alexander von
Humboldt.--Hamburg.
On the 21st of May, 1856, I left Vienna, and set forth on another of my
long journeys. At Nussdorf, near Vienna, I embarked on board the fine
steamer “Austria,” bound up the river for Linz. The steam-boat company
was not only so obliging as to give me a free pass, but even placed a
cabin at my disposal, and provided board and every comfort for me.
The short distance (about thirty German miles) from Vienna to Linz can
be accomplished in twenty-one hours, and a beautiful trip it is. Few
rivers can boast such an endless variety of scenery as greets the eye of
the traveler on the Danube. Hill and valley, city and hamlet,
magnificent convents and elegant villas glide past in endless
succession, nor lacketh there the knightly castle, or the half-decayed
ruin with its appropriate legend of romance. Favored by the Fates with
the finest possible weather, and surrounded by agreeable company, I
could only wish that my journey might continue to present the auspicious
appearance under which it had begun.
I made acquaintance with several passengers on board, and among the rest
with the wife of the respected physician, Dr. Pleninger, of Linz. This
amiable lady insisted upon my taking up my quarters in her house.
Unfortunately, I had but a short time to stay at Linz, as I purposed
proceeding to Lambach the same day. But kind Dr. Pleninger arranged a
little pleasure party for the morning to the neighboring “Freudenberg”
(Mountain of Joy), on which a great Jesuit convent is built. Besides its
clerical occupants, this establishment numbers more than a hundred and
fifty pupils, who, for the sum of only twelve florins[A] per month, are
boarded and lodged, and get their education into the bargain. The
institution appears to be conducted with care and with notable order. It
already possesses a little collection of ethnographical objects and a
botanic garden, the latter under the superintendence of Herr Hintereker,
a very eminent botanist. The view from the Freudenberg is very charming,
and I herewith recommend this walk to all future tourists, including
those who are unable to see the convent.
I remained at Dr. Pleninger’s till the afternoon, and then proceeded by
rail to Lambach, a distance of eight German miles, which it required
full three hours to accomplish.
At Lambach I took the Salzburg omnibus. Unfortunately, this vehicle was
not managed on English principles. It was a true, genuine, and
unadulterated German omnibus, drawn by German horses, who tramped
stolidly along at the rate, as I judged, of a German mile an hour. The
distance is twelve German miles, and in just twelve hours we got to our
destination, so that my calculation was quite correct.
At Salzburg it was pouring wet weather, of course: my countrymen do not
call this town the “rainy corner” without reason.
They tell a story of an Englishman who once came to Salzburg at
midsummer, and found town, valley, and hills alike shrouded in mist and
rain. He had read so much of the charming situation of Salzburg that he
lingered there a few days, but, as the sky showed no token of clearing
up, this son of Albion at length lost patience and decamped. Two years
afterward, on his journey home from Italy, he took the route by this
town, in the hope of being more fortunate this time; but, behold, it was
raining as it had rained two years ago. “By Jove!” exclaimed the Briton,
in astonishment, “hasn’t it _left off_ yet?”
I might have made the same observation; for, although in my journeys I
had several times passed through Salzburg, I had not once had the good
luck to see this beautiful region smiling in the sunshine. And beautiful
it is--wonderfully beautiful. It would be difficult to find a prettier
little town, or one situate in so fertile a valley, and surrounded by
such majestic masses of mountains. One of these, the Watzmann, is nearly
9000 feet high.
I had only half a day to spend in Salzburg, and had just time to look at
the statue of Mozart, set up here since my last visit. Mozart, as is
well known, was born in this town in the year 1756.
From Salzburg I took the stage-coach (stellwagen) to Munich. This kind
of conveyance could never be classed among the most agreeable methods of
traveling, but since the invention of railways it has become
intolerable. Crowded together like negroes in a slave-ship, we loitered
for two whole days in accomplishing this little distance of nineteen
German miles. The rain fortunately ceased a few miles from Salzburg,
and, moreover, the scenery is very fine to within four miles of Munich.
The Bavarian frontier is crossed within the first mile. To my great
surprise, the inspection of passports and of luggage was speedily
accomplished.
Toward evening we came to the Chiem Lake, also called the “Bavarian
Sea.” This beautiful sheet of water is two German miles in length, and
one and a half in breadth. On three sides it is shut in by high
mountains, while on the fourth it is bordered by a plain of seemingly
unlimited extent.
Not far from Traunstein we struck into a by-road toward Sekon, a pretty
seat belonging to the widowed Empress of Brazil, who was by birth a
princess of Leuchtenberg. Sekon is situate on a tiny lake, whose waters
are said to possess mineral properties. The empress has caused a large
building, originally a convent, on the banks of the lake, to be
converted into a bathing hotel, with fifty rooms, and it has been very
tastefully arranged. A neat garden surrounds the building, the kitchen
is well supplied, and conveyances can be had, and every thing is
marvelously cheap. A very good room, for instance, costs only three
florins per week; the _table d’hôte_, twenty-four kreutzers; a one-horse
carriage can be had for two florins a day, and other expenses are in
proportion. This pleasant bathing-place, when its existence becomes more
widely known, can not fail to attract a multitude of guests, and then,
of course, the prices will rise.
From Sekon we went on to Wasserburg. This little town is wonderfully
placed as regards situation. It lies in a perfect basin, shut in at
almost every point by steep walls of rock and sandstone. When I came to
the edge a giant crater seemed to open suddenly at my feet, but, instead
of fire and flames, this crater contained a charming rural scene. The
little houses lay there hidden and secluded as if they belonged to
another world. The Inn flowed between them, its yellow waters covered
with signs of a busy life; for hundreds of rafts, built of the trunks of
trees and planks, float down hence to distant harbors. Taking a wide
circuit, we drove down into this crater; and then I became aware that
the basin was much wider than it had appeared from above, and that it
afforded space for numerous hop-gardens. This region might not inaptly
be called the Vineyard of Bavaria.
On the 26th of May I arrived in Munich. The portion of Bavaria with
which I became acquainted on this little journey pleased me greatly. The
scenery is splendid, the towns and villages look pretty and prosperous,
and the fields are well cultivated. The scattered farms in particular
bear a certain impress of prosperity, cleanliness, and order. The
buildings are of stone, are sufficiently roomy, and generally have an
upper story; the roof is constructed in the Swiss manner, almost flat,
and weighted with heavy stones, as a protection against the violent
storms which prevail here. Exception might be taken to the fact that
dwelling-house, barn, and stable are all under the same roof; for, in
the event of a fire, the farmer would most probably lose all his
property at once.
No one who looks at these teeming fields and valleys (and when I saw
them the crops were waving in rich abundance), the smiling villages, the
well-built farms, would suppose that poverty could lurk here, and that
many of the inhabitants are forced to emigrate, to seek beyond the sea a
country that will better repay their toil.
And yet it is so. The chief reason is perhaps to be found in the fact
that in Bavaria, and particularly in Upper and Lower Bavaria and the
Upper Palatinate, farms are not divided, but given to one of the
children, who is chosen by the father from among his family. The
fortunate individual thus selected has certainly the responsibility of
“paying out” his brothers, as it is called; but they never receive much,
as the estate is always appraised considerably below its value, and the
chief heir, moreover, receives a considerable sum under the name of
“Mannslehen.” The rest have naturally no course left but to seek a
service, to learn a trade, or to emigrate. Even in the other provinces,
where the estates are divided, there is a great deal of poverty, and
emigration is always going on. Why this should be so I can not pretend
to determine.
The costume of the peasant women in these regions is very peculiar. They
wear short but very full skirts, with double bodices, the one with long
sleeves, the other sleeveless. This second jacket, generally of
dark-colored velvet, is put on over the other, and laced with silver
tags. The wealthier peasant women adorn their necks with eight or ten
strings of little real pearls, with great clasps in front. The poorer
ones are fain to content themselves with imitation pearls, of silver.
Munich seemed to me a very quiet city. There is little traffic, and none
but the principal streets show any signs of life.
I only remained in this city six days, but in that short time I made the
acquaintance of several families. So far as I could judge, domestic life
appears to be simple and social here, and the fair sex seemed to care
less for outward show than the ladies of other capitals. I must confess
that the mode of life in Munich pleased me much.
Through a fortunate chance I became acquainted with many distinguished
men here, principally artists. The Artists’ Festival was being
celebrated, and I received a polite invitation to take part in it. Were
I to chronicle the names of all the eminent people to whom I had the
honor of an introduction on this occasion, I should perhaps tire my
readers; but in my memory those names will always be impressed.
I must devote a few words, however, to the festival, which is celebrated
every year on a fine day in May.
It was held at Schwanegg and Pullach, in a beautiful meadow surrounded
by forests. At Schwanegg, a chateau built in the Gothic style by Herr
von Schwanthaler, a comic interlude was represented, a parody on
Schiller’s “Fight with the Dragon.” The fortress of Schwanegg is
supposed to have been besieged for a whole year by a dragon, in such
wise that no man could go out or in. A knight comes riding past by
chance; he is seen from the watch-tower, and the inmates of the castle
straightway assemble on the threshold, and in very comic verses implore
the knight to deliver them from their enemy. Then follows the combat,
with discomfiture of the dragon, etc.
After the dragon had been satisfactorily slain, we had another scenic
show in the little wood near Pullach--_Spring expelling Winter_. Then we
had a series of funny processions. Bacchus appeared seated on a
wine-cask, drawn by gigantic cockchafers (each represented by a man),
with similar insects sporting round him. Apollo came next, on a
triumphal car, with Pegasus as his horse, and surrounded by butterflies,
flowers, and beetles, from one to two feet in height, cut out of
card-board, tastefully colored, and mounted on lofty poles. In short,
one frolic succeeded another, and the appreciating public enjoyed the
sight most unequivocally; it was a thorough “people’s festival.” There
must have been nearly ten thousand people assembled, all passing the day
in hearty enjoyment, and seeming to belong to a single family. Some
found places at long tables under the trees, others simply threw
themselves on the grass; but all seemed equally devoted to the national
beverage of the country, the beer, without which a true Bavarian would
scarcely be able to enjoy himself thoroughly. In spite of this bibulous
propensity, every thing went off peaceably and well, and it was not
until the evening that one or two of the company showed signs of having
overdone the thing a little. Luckily, the Spirit of the Hop seems to be
a good-natured sort of spirit, only promoting hilarity, for I did not
hear of a single quarrel.
The first representation had been honored by the presence of King Max,
who came in the dress of a plain citizen. Afterward in the theatre I saw
the king and the whole court in private dress. It is a long time since I
have seen a monarch in the garb of a civilian; crowned heads wear
uniforms, and nothing but uniforms, as if they belonged exclusively to
the military class. There is some fitness in that; for what would the
majority of them be without soldiers?
King Max seems to take a different view of things. He honors the
citizens, and does not scruple to associate with them. He marched along
with the great crowd, with no followers to accompany or police to escort
him. He cleared a path for himself, and the people passed to and fro
around him quite unceremoniously.
The king was told that my insignificant self was among the audience at
the feast, and I was speedily presented to him among thousands of
spectators. His majesty conversed with me for some time in the most
gracious manner.
To describe the “lions” of Munich and its Art treasures is no fit task
for a journal like mine. Any of my readers who may wish for information
on the subject will find it amply detailed in one or other of the
capital hand-books which have been published concerning this city of
Art.
Two amiable ladies, the Baronesses Du Prel and Bissing, were obliging
enough to lead me from gallery to gallery, and from church to church.
But nothing is more tiring, or more exhausting to the mind and body,
than crowding a large amount of sight-seeing into a limited time. These
six days tried me more than a sojourn of double that time in the virgin
forests of the tropics, where I had to walk on the most tiring paths all
day long, with the damp earth for my resting-place at night, and rice
parboiled in water for my daily food.
Before I take leave of Munich I must relate a funny incident that
occurred one evening on my leaving the theatre. I did not know my way
well, and begged a good dame, who came walking past with a gentleman, to
set me right. As they were walking in the same direction, they invited
me to go with them. On the way she inquired if I had been to the
Artists’ Festival, and if I had seen the “great traveler,” Ida Pfeiffer,
there. My questioner added that she had been with her husband, but only
in the evening, and had not seen the person in question. I replied that
the “great traveler” was a quiet little woman, and that I knew her well
enough; if I wanted to see her I had only to look in a glass. The good
people seemed very glad to see me, and insisted on accompanying me to my
door.
On the 1st of June I proceeded, by way of Hof, to Berlin (ninety-five
miles), and, arriving on the following day, was received with their
wonted hearty kindness by my dear friends, Professor Weisz and his wife.
The journey from Munich to Berlin offers few points of interest: the
views are sometimes pretty, but nowhere striking; the country around
Plauen is the most agreeable. Before we got to Hof, the last Bavarian
station, something broke down in the engine; we thus lost a whole hour,
and missed the corresponding train. At the Prussian frontier my passport
was demanded, but the official scarcely glanced at it, and the
inspection of my luggage was also entirely formal; in a few moments the
whole ceremony was over.
In Berlin a great and joyful surprise awaited me. I received from
Alexander von Humboldt an open letter of recommendation to all his
friends in the wide world.
The celebrated geographer, Carl Ritter, also did me a great honor by
inviting me to a sitting of the Geographical Society. In March last I
had been received as an honorary member of that body, and was the first
woman to whom such a distinction had been accorded.
I only staid a week in Berlin, and proceeded thence to Hamburg (a
distance of thirty-eight German miles), taking up my quarters again with
the worthy Schulz family. But in Hamburg also there was no long tarrying
for me. I wanted to husband my time for Holland, a country with which I
was unacquainted, and accordingly, on the 14th of June, I embarked on
board the steamer “Stoomward,” Captain C. Bruns, for Amsterdam, distant
three hundred and twelve sea-miles from this port.
This was the first passage I made in Europe on a Dutch steamer, and here
I experienced the same kindness I had met with from the proprietors of
Dutch steamers in India during my second journey round the world; not
only did they give me a free passage, but refused to accept payment for
table expenses, etc. How much more easily would my journeys have been
accomplished had I met with similar consideration from English
steam-boat companies! but unfortunately, till now, such has not been my
good fortune. The English directors, agents, and managers have shown far
greater appreciation for my dollars than for my journeyings, and always
made me pay my passage, alike for long and short distances.