The common
people requested my advice as to the mode of treating divers
complaints; and once, in the course of one of my solitary wanderings
about Reikjavik, on my entering a cottage, they brought before me a
being whom I should scarcely have recognised as belonging to the
same species as myself, so fearfully was he disfigured by the
eruption called "lepra." Not only the face, but the whole body also
was covered with it; the patient was quite emaciated, and some parts
of his body were covered with sores. For a surgeon this might have
been an interesting sight, but I turned away in disgust.
But let us turn from this picture. I would rather tell of the
angel's face I saw in Kalmannstunga. It was a girl, ten or twelve
years of age, beautiful and lovely beyond description, so that I
wished I had been a painter. How gladly would I have taken home
with me to my own land, if only on canvass, the delicate face, with
its roguish dimples and speaking eyes! But perhaps it is better as
it is; the picture might by some unlucky chance have fallen into the
hands of some too-susceptible youth, who, like Don Sylvio de
Rosalva, in Wieland's Comical Romance, would immediately have
proceeded to travel through half the world to find the original of
this enchanting portrait. His spirit of inquiry would scarcely have
carried him to Iceland, as such an apparition would never be
suspected to exist in such a country, and thus the unhappy youth
would be doomed to endless wandering.
June 20th.
The distance from Kalmannstunga to Thingvalla is fifty-two miles,
and the journey is certainly one of the most dreary and fatiguing of
all that can be made in Iceland. The traveller passes from one
desert valley into another; he is always surrounded by high
mountains and still higher glaciers, and wherever he turns his eyes,
nature seems torpid and dead. A feeling of anxious discomfort
seizes upon the wanderer, he hastens with redoubled speed through
the far-stretched deserts, and eagerly ascends the mountains piled
up before him, in the hope that better things lie beyond. It is in
vain; he only sees the same solitudes, the same deserts, the same
mountains.
On the elevated plateaux several places were still covered with
snow; these we were obliged to cross, though we could frequently
hear the rushing of the water beneath its snowy covering. We were
compelled also to pass over coatings of ice spread lightly over
rivers, and presenting that blue colour which is a certain sign of
danger.
Our poor horses were sometimes very restive; but it was of no use;
they were beaten without mercy until they carried us over the
dangerous places. The pack-horse was always driven on in front with
many blows; it had to serve as pioneer, and try if the road was
practicable. Next came my guide, and I brought up the rear. Our
poor horses frequently sank up to their knees in the snow, and twice
up to the saddle-girths. This was one of the most dangerous rides I
have ever had. I could not help continually thinking what I should
do if my guide were to sink in so deeply that he could not extricate
himself; my strength would not have been sufficient to rescue him,
and whither should I turn to seek for help? All around us was
nothing but a desert and snow. Perhaps my lot might have been to
die of hunger. I should have wandered about seeking dwellings and
human beings, and have entangled myself so completely among these
wastes that I could never have found my way.
When at a distance I descried a new field of snow (and unfortunately
we came upon them but too frequently), I felt very uncomfortable;
those alone who have themselves been in a similar situation can
estimate the whole extent of my anxiety.
If I had been travelling in company with others, these fears would
not have disturbed me; for there reciprocal assistance can be
rendered, and the consciousness of this fact seems materially to
diminish the danger.
During the season in which the snow ceases to form a secure
covering, this road is but little travelled. We saw nowhere a trace
of footsteps, either of men or animals; we were the only living
beings in this dreadful region. I certainly scolded my guide
roundly for bringing me by such a road. But what did I gain by
this? It would have been as dangerous to turn back as to go on.
A change in the weather, which till now had been rather favourable,
increased the difficulties of this journey. Already when we left
Kalmannstunga, the sky began to be overcast, and the sun enlivened
us with its rays only for a few minutes at a time. On our reaching
the higher mountains the weather became worse; for here we
encountered clouds and fog, which wreaked their vengeance upon us,
and which only careered by to make room for others. An icy storm
from the neighbouring glaciers was their constant companion, and
made me shiver so much that I could scarcely keep my saddle. We had
now ridden above thirteen hours. The rain poured down incessantly,
and we were half dead with cold and wet; so I at length determined
to halt for the night at the first cottage: at last we found one
between two or three miles from Thingvalla. I had now a roof above
my head; but beyond this I had gained nothing.
