Letter 1
To Mrs. Saville, England.
St. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17-.
You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of
an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings. I arrived
here yesterday, and my first task is to assure my dear sister of my welfare
and increasing confidence in the success of my undertaking.
I am already far north of London, and as I walk in the streets of Petersburgh,
I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, which braces my nerves and
fills me with delight. Do you understand this feeling? This breeze, which has
travelled from the regions towards which I am advancing, gives me a foretaste
of those icy climes. Inspirited by this wind of promise, my daydreams become
more fervent and vivid. I try in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the
seat of frost and desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as the
region of beauty and delight. There, Margaret, the sun is for ever visible,
its broad disk just skirting the horizon and diffusing a perpetual splendour.
There--for with your leave, my sister, I will put some trust in preceding
navigators--there snow and frost are banished; and, sailing over a calm sea,
we may be wafted to a land surpassing in wonders and in beauty every region
hitherto discovered on the habitable globe. Its productions and features may
be without example, as the phenomena of the heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in
those undiscovered solitudes. What may not be expected in a country of eternal
light? I may there discover the wondrous power which attracts the needle and
may regulate a thousand celestial observations that require only this voyage
to render their seeming eccentricities consistent for ever. I shall satiate my
ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the world never before visited,
and may tread a land never before imprinted by the foot of man. These are my
enticements, and they are sufficient to conquer all fear of danger or death
and to induce me to commence this laborious voyage with the joy a child feels
when he embarks in a little boat, with his holiday mates, on an expedition of
discovery up his native river. But supposing all these conjectures to be
false, you cannot contest the inestimable benefit which I shall confer on all
mankind, to the last generation, by discovering a passage near the pole to
those countries, to reach which at present so many months are requisite; or by
ascertaining the secret of the magnet, which, if at all possible, can only be
effected by an undertaking such as mine.
These reflections have dispelled the agitation with which I began my letter,
and I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates me to heaven, for
nothing contributes so much to tranquillise the mind as a steady purpose--a
point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye. This expedition has been
the favourite dream of my early years. I have read with ardour the accounts of
the various voyages which have been made in the prospect of arriving at the
North Pacific Ocean through the seas which surround the pole. You may remember
that a history of all the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed the
whole of our good Uncle Thomas' library. My education was neglected, yet I was
passionately fond of reading. These volumes were my study day and night, and
my familiarity with them increased that regret which I had felt, as a child,
on learning that my father's dying injunction had forbidden my uncle to allow
me to embark in a seafaring life.
These visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those poets whose
effusions entranced my soul and lifted it to heaven. I also became a poet and
for one year lived in a paradise of my own creation; I imagined that I also
might obtain a niche in the temple where the names of Homer and Shakespeare
are consecrated. You are well acquainted with my failure and how heavily I
bore the disappointment. But just at that time I inherited the fortune of my
cousin, and my thoughts were turned into the channel of their earlier bent.
Six years have passed since I resolved on my present undertaking. I can, even
now, remember the hour from which I dedicated myself to this great enterprise.
I commenced by inuring my body to hardship. I accompanied the whale-fishers on
several expeditions to the North Sea; I voluntarily endured cold, famine,
thirst, and want of sleep; I often worked harder than the common sailors
during the day and devoted my nights to the study of mathematics, the theory
of medicine, and those branches of physical science from which a naval
adventurer might derive the greatest practical advantage. Twice I actually
hired myself as an under-mate in a Greenland whaler, and acquitted myself to
admiration. I must own I felt a little proud when my captain offered me the
second dignity in the vessel and entreated me to remain with the greatest
earnestness, so valuable did he consider my services.
And now, dear Margaret, do I not deserve to accomplish some great purpose? My
life might have been passed in ease and luxury, but I preferred glory to every
enticement that wealth placed in my path. Oh, that some encouraging voice
would answer in the affirmative! My courage and my resolution is firm; but my
hopes fluctuate, and my spirits are often depressed. I am about to proceed on
a long and difficult voyage, the emergencies of which will demand all my
fortitude: I am required not only to raise the spirits of others, but
sometimes to sustain my own, when theirs are failing.
This is the most favourable period for travelling in Russia. They fly quickly
over the snow in their sledges; the motion is pleasant, and, in my opinion,
far more agreeable than that of an English stagecoach. The cold is not
excessive, if you are wrapped in furs--a dress which I have already adopted,
for there is a great difference between walking the deck and remaining seated
motionless for hours, when no exercise prevents the blood from actually
freezing in your veins. I have no ambition to lose my life on the post-road
between St. Petersburgh and Archangel.
I shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight or three weeks; and my
intention is to hire a ship there, which can easily be done by paying the
insurance for the owner, and to engage as many sailors as I think necessary
among those who are accustomed to the whale-fishing. I do not intend to sail
until the month of June; and when shall I return? Ah, dear sister, how can I
answer this question? If I succeed, many, many months, perhaps years, will
pass before you and I may meet. If I fail, you will see me again soon, or
never.
Farewell, my dear, excellent Margaret. Heaven shower down blessings on you,
and save me, that I may again and again testify my gratitude for all your love
and kindness.
Your affectionate brother,
R. Walton