STEPPES OF RUSSIA.
55
after the meretricious adornments of our comedies and romances. It is not picturesque, but rural and pastoral, and yet, not the rural or the pastoral that is seen elsewhere in Europe.
The ten hours' twilight renders a walk at night delicious : at this moment a solemn silence pervades the atmosphere; it is like the suspension of life; nothing speaks to the senses; and my thoughts, lost in the contemplation of the pale stars of the north, soar far above the earth.
But to feel the charm of these illusions, we must come from a distance. Nature is fully appreciated only by civilised strangers; the native rustics do not enjoy, as we do, the world which surrounds them. One of the greatest benefits of society is, that it renders the inhabitants of cities alive to the beauties of the country. It is civilisation which teaches me to be pleased with those lands destined by nature to preserve to us the image of primitive life. I fly from saloons, from conversations, from good hotels and easy roads, in short from all that piques curiosity, or excites admiration in men born in semi-barbarous societies ; and, notwithstanding my aversion for the sea, I embark to-morrow in a vessel, all the inconveniences of which I shall brave with joy, provided it bears me toward the deserts and the steppes. The steppes! This eastern word alone inspires the idea of the unknown and the wonderful; it awakens in me a desire, which supplies the place of youth and courage, and which reminds me that I am come into this world only on the condition that I should travel: such is the fatality of my nature. Shall I confess it ? I D 4
56BURNING OF STEAMER NICHOLAS I.
should perhaps never have undertaken this journey, had it not been for the steppes of Russia!
My carriage is already in the packet-boat : the Russians say it is one of the finest steamers in the world : they call it Nicholas the First. This same vessel was burnt last year crossing from Petersburg to Travemunde : it was refitted, and has since made two voyages.
Some superstitious minds fear that misfortune will yet attach itself to the boat. I, who am no sailor, do not sympathise with this poetic fear; but I respect all kinds of inoffensive superstition, as resulting from the noble pleasure of believing and of fearing, which are the foundation of all piety, and of which, even the abuse, classes man above all other beings in creation.
After a detailed account of the circumstances of the burning of the Nicholas I. had been made to the emperor, he cashiered the captain, who was a Russian, and who was quietly playing at cards in the cabin when the flames burst from the vessel. His friends however state in his excuse, or rather in his praise, that he was acquainted with the danger, and had given private orders to steer the vessel towards a sand-bank on the Mecklenburg coast, his object being to avoid alarming the passengers until the moment of absolute necessity arrrived. The flames burst out just as the vessel grounded ; most of the passengers were saved, owing chiefly to the heroic efforts of a young and unknown Frenchman. The Russian captain has been replaced by a Dutchman ; but he, it is said, does not possess authority over his crew. Foreign countries lend to Russia the men only whom they do not care
ROAD FROM SCHWERIN TO LUBECK.57
to keep themselves. I shall know to-morrow what to think of the individual in question. No one can judge so well of a commander as a sailor or a passenger. The love of life, that love so passionately rational, is a guide by which we can unerringly appreciate the men upon whom our existence depends.
Our noble vessel draws too much water to get up to Petersburg; we therefore change ship at Kronstadt, from whence the carriages will follow us, two days later, in a third vessel. This is tiresome, but curiosity triumphs over all: it is the chief requisite in a traveller.
jSIeeklenburg is improving. A magnificent road leads from Ludwigslust to Schwcrin, where the present Grand Duke has had the good taste to re-establish his residence. Schwerin is ancient and picturesque; a lake, lulls, woods, and an antique palace adorn the landscape, and with the city are connected historic associations. All these things are wanting at Ludwigslust.
If you would form some idea of the barbarism of the middle ages, get into a carriage in this old city, the capital of the grand duchy of jSIeeklenburg, and drive post to Lubeck. If it has rained for twenty-four hours, you must remain half-way on the road : perhaps plunged in deep ruts, which you cannot get out of without breaking or overturning the carriage : there is also danger of being lost in quagmires. This is called the grand route from Schwcrin to Lubeck : it is sixteen leagues of impracticable road.
To travel safely in Germany it is necessary to know French, and not to forget the difference that
ü 5
58GERMAN STATESMAN.
there is between a grande route* and a chaussee, Once leave the chaussée, and you go back three centuries.
This road had, however, been recommended to me
by the minister Dcat Berlin, and in a manner
that was rather amusing : — " What road would yon advise me to take in coing to Lubcek?" I asked him.
" They are all bad," replied the diplomatist; " but I advise you to take that of Sehwerin."
" My carriage," I replied, " is light, and if it should break down I shall miss the packet. If you know a bette*i· route I will take it, even if it be longer."
" All I can say," replied he in an official tone, ík is, that I have recommended the same to Monseig-neur — (the nephew of his sovereign); you cannot do better than follow him."
" The carriages of princes," I replied, " are perhaps as privileged as their persons. Princes have iron frames, and I would not wish to live for one day as they live the whole year."
No reply was deigned to these words, which I should have thought very innocent if they had not appeared seditious to the German man of office.
This grave and prudent person, distressed at the excess of my audacity, left me the moment he could without too palpable abruptness. There are certain Germans who arc born subjects; they are courtiers before they become men. I cannot help laughing at their obsequious politeness, though preferring it
* The " grandes routes " may be considered as meaning the old, wide, and unimproved roads of the country ; the chaussées are the more recently cut roads, which are generally raised, drained, and kept in good repair. — Trans.
BATH-WOMAN OF TRAVEMUNDE. 59
to the contrary disposition, which I blame in the French. But a sense of the ridiculous will always haye a strong sway oyer me, and I still laugh in spite of age and reflection. I should here add, that a road, я real r/rande route, will be before long opened between Lubeck and Schwerin.
The lovely bathing woman of Travemunde, whom we call La Monna Lise, is married: she has three children. I have been to see her in her family, and it was not without a mixture of sadness and timidity that I passed the modest threshold of her new building. She expected me, and with that natural coquetry proper to the people of the north, who, though unimpassioned, are affectionate and sentimental, she had put on her neck a little present which I had given her just ten years before. This charming creature, only thirty-four years of age, has already the gout! One can see that she has been beautiful; and that is all. Beauty not appreciated passes quickly away; it is useless. Lise has a husband, horribly ugly, and three children, one of whom, a boy, almost lives in the sea. In contemplating this family, and calling to mind the memory of Lise ten years before, it appeared to me as though the enigma of human life was for the first time suggested to my mind. I could not breathe in her little cabin, clean and neat as it was. I went out to respire the fresh air, and repeated to myself, " "Where there are only the necessaries of life there is nothing. Happy the soul which seeks for a rest in religion." But the religion of Protestants yields only the necessary, and nothing beyond.
Since this lovely creature has been tied down to a common lot she lives without trouble, but without D 6
ßU
REFLECTIONS'.
pleasure, which appears to me the greatest trouble of all. I shall never see more, at least I hope not,
La Monna Lise of Travemimcle.*
How is it that real life resembles so little the life of the imagination ? For what end then is this useless, nay mischievous, imagination given ? Impenetrable mystery, which unveils itself only by fugitive glimpses to the eye of hope. Man is a galley slave, punished but not amended: in chains for a crime of which he is unconscious, doomed to the punishment of life — that is, to death — he lives and dies without being able to obtain a trial, or even to know of what he is accused. Ah ! when one sees nature so arbitrary, how can one wonder at the injustice of society ! To discern the existence of equity here below, there needs that eye of faith that pierces beyond the present scene of life.
Justice resides not visibly in this empire of time. Dig into nature, and you soon arrive at fate. A power which would revenge itself on its creation must be limited; but the limits, who has fixed them ? The greater the incomprehensibility of the mystery, the greater the necessity, and the greater the triumph of faith.
* The reader is here reminded that this work was addressed }rigmally, in the shape of letters, to a private friend. — Treats.
POLAR NIGHTS.
Gl
CHAP. V.
POLAR NIGHTS.MONTESQUIEU AND HIS SYSTEM. — SCENERY OÎ'
THE NORTH. FLATNESS OF THE EARTH'S SURFACE NEAR THE
POLE. SHORES OF FINLAND.MELANCHOLY OF NORTHERN
PEOPLE. PRINCE К. DEFINITIONS OF NOBILITY. — THE
ENGLISH NOBILITY. — FREEDOM OF SPEECH.CANNING. NA
POLEON. CONFIDENTIAL CONVERSATION.GLANCE AT RUSSIAN
HISTORY. — INSTITUTIONS AND SPIRIT OF CHIVALRY UNKNOWN
IN RUSSIA. THE NATURE OF AN AUTOCRACY. POLITICS AND
RELIGION ARE IDENTICAL IN RUSSIA. — FUTURE INFLUENCE Op
RUSSIA.FATE OF PARIS.PRINCE AND PRINCESS D. — THE
COLD-WATER CURE. GOOD MANNERS OF THE HIGHER ORDERS
IN RUSSIA. SOCIETY IN FRANCE BEFORE THE REVOLUTION.
A MODERN FRENCHMAN OF THE MIDDLE CLASSES.HIS MAU-
VAIS TON.— AGREEABLE SOCIETY ON THE STEAM-BOAT.—RUSSIAN
NATIONAL DANCES. — TWO AMERICANS.STEAM-BOAT ACCIDENT.
— ISLE OF DAGO.
I AM writing at midnight, without any lights, on board the steam-boat Nicholas the First, in the gulf of Finland. It is now the close of a day which has nearly the length of a month in these latitudes, beginning about the 8th of June, and ending towards the 4th of July. By degrees the nights will reappear; they are very short at first, but insensibly lengthen as they approach the autumnal ec{uinox. They then increase with the same rapidity as do the days in spring, and soon involve in darkness the north of Russia and Sweden, and all within the vicinity of the arctic circle. To the countries actually within this circle, the year is divided into a day and a night, each of six months'
62MONTESQUIEU AND IIIS SYSTEM.
duration. The tempered darkness of winter continues as long as the dubious and melancholy summer light.
I cannot yet cease from admiring the phenomenon of a polar night, whose clear beam almost equals that of the day. Nothing more interests me than the different degrees in wliich light is distributed to the various portions of the globe. At the end of the year, all the opposite parts of the earth have beheld the same sun diu`ing an equal number of hours; but what a difference between the days ! what a· diversity also of temperature and of hues ! The sun, whose rays strike vertically upon the earth, and the sun whose beams fall obliquely, does not appear the same luminary, at least if we judge by effects.
As for myself, whose existence bears a sympathetic analogy to that of plants, I acknowledge a kind of fatality in climates, and, impelled by the influence the heavens have over my mind, willingly pay respect to the theory of Montesquieu. To such a degree are my temper and faculties subject to the action of the atmosphere, that I cannot doubt of its effects upon politics. But the genius of Montesquieu has exaggerated and carried too far the consequences of this belief. Obstinacy of opinion is the rock on which genius has too often made shipwreck. Powerful minds will only see what they wish to see : the world is within themselves ; they understand every thing but that which is told to them.
About an hour ago I beheld the sun sinking in the ocean between the N.N.AY. and N. He has left behind a long bright track which continues to light me at this midnight hour, and enables me to write upon
SCENERY OF THE NORTH.63
deck while my fellow-passengers are sleeping. As I lay down my pen to look around, I perceive already, towards the N".N.E. the first streaks of morning light. Yesterday is not ended, yet to-morrow is begun. The sublimity of this polar scene I feel as a compensation for all the toils of the journey. In these regions of the globe the day is one continued morning, which never performs the promises of its birth. This singular twilight precedes neither day nor night; for the things which bear those names in southern countries have in reality no existence here. The magic effects of colour, the religious dimness of night, are forgotten ; nature appears no longer a painting, but a sketch; and it is difficult to preserve belief in the wonders of those blest climates where the sun reigns in his full power.
The sun of the north is an alabaster lamp, hung breast-high, and revolving between heaven and earth. This lamp, burning (for weeks and months) without interruption, sheds its melancholy rays over a vault which it scarcely lightens; nothing is bright, but all things are visible. The face of nature, everywhere equally illuminated by this pale light, resembles that of a poet rapt in vision and hoary with years. It is Ossian who remembers his loves no more, and who listens only to the voices of the tombs.
The aspect of these unvaried surfaces — of distances without objects, horizons undefined, and lines half effaced — all this confusion of form and colouring, throws me into a gentle reverie, the peaceful awakening from which is as like death as life. The soid resembles the scene, and rests suspended between day and night — between waking and sleep-
64 FLATNESS OF THE EAl¿TIl's SURFACE.
ing. It is no lively pleasure that it feels; the raptures of passion cease, but the inquietude of violent desires ceases also. If there is not exemption from ennui, there is from sorrow ; a perpetual repose possesses both the mind and the body, the image of which is reflected by this indolent light, that spreads its mortal coldness equally over day and night, over the ocean and the land, blended into one by the icy hand of winter, and the overspreading mantle of the polar snows.
The light of these flat regions near the pole accords well with the bright blue eyes, the inexpressive features, the pale locks, and the timidly romantic imagination of the women of the north. These women are for ever dreaming Avhat others are enacting; of them more especially can it be said, that life is but the vision of a shadow.
In approaching these northerly regions you seem to be climbing the platform of a chain of glaciers: the nearer you advance, the more perfectly is the illusion realised. The globe itself seems to be the mountain you are ascending. The moment yon attain the summit of this large Alp, you experience what is felt less vividly in ascending other Alps : the rocks sink, the precipices crumble away, population recedes, the earth is beneath your feet, you touch the pole. Viewed from such elevation, the earth appears diminished, but the sea rises and forms around you a vaguely defined circle; you continue as though mounting to the summit of a dome — a dome which is the world, and whose architect is God.
From thence the eye extends over frozen seas and crystal fields, in which imagination might picture the
SHORES OF FINLAND.6Õ
abodes of the blest, unchangeable, inhabitants of an immutable heaven.
Such were the feelings I experienced in approach-ins; the Gulf of Bothnia, whose northern limits ex-tend to Toraeo.
The coast of Finland, generally considered mountainous, appears to me but a succession of gentle, imperceptible hills; all is lost in the distance and indistinctness of the misty horizon. This untransparent atmosphere deprives objects of their lively colours ; every thing is dulled and d
immed beneath its heavens of mother-of-pearl. The vessels, just visible in the horizon, quickly disappear again; for the glimmering of the perpetual twilight, to which they here give the name of day, scarcely lights up the waters; it has not powTer to gild the sails of a distant vessel. The canvas of a ship under full sail- in northern seas, in place of shining as it does in other latitudes, is darkly figured against the grey curtain of heaven, which resembles a sheet spread out for the representation of Chinese figures. I am ashamed to confess it, but the view of nature in the north reminds me, in spite of myself, of an enormous magic lantern, whose lamp gives a bad light, and the figures on whose glasses are worn with use. I dislike comparisons which degrade the subject; but we must, at any rate, endeavour to describe our conceptions. It is easier to admire than to disparage ; nevertheless, to describe with truth, the feeling that prompts both sentiments must be suffered to operate.
On entering these whitened deserts, a poetic terror takes possession of the soul: you pause, affrighted, on the threshold of the palace of winter. As you ad-
66 MELANCHOLY OF NORTHERN PEORLE.
vance in these abodes of cold illusions, of visions, brilliant, though with a silvered rather than a golden light, an indefinable kind of sadness takes possession of the heart; the failing imagination ceases to create, or its feeble conceptions resemble only the undefined forms of the wanly glittering clouds that meet the eye.
When the mind reverts from the scenery to itself, it is to partake of the hitherto incomprehensible melancholy of the people of the north, and to feel, as they feel, the fascination of their monotonous poetry. This initiation into the pleasures of sadness is painful while it is pleasing; you follow with slow steps the chariot of death, chaunting hymns of lamentation, yet of hope; your sorrowing soul lends itself to the illusions around, and sympathises with the objects that meet the sight: the air, the mist, the water, all produce a novel impression. There is, whether the impression be made through the organ of smell or of touch, something strange and unusual in the sensation : it announces to you that you are approaching the confines of the habitable world; the iey zone is before jou, and the polar air pierces even to the heart. This is not agreeable, but it is novel and very strange.
Russia in 1839 -Empire of the Czar: A Journey Through Eternal Russia Page 8
