Scarcely were we fairly on shore when there appeared before us a man of excellent appearance,wearing the costume of a military officer.He was,however,but a civil servant,a magistrate,the governor of the island-Baron Trampe.The Professor knew whom he had to deal with.
He therefore handed him the letters from Copenhagen,and a brief conversation in Danish followed,to which I of course was a stranger,and for a very good reason,for I did not know the language in which they conversed.I afterwards heard,however,that Baron Trampe placed himself entirely at the beck and call of Professor Hardwigg.
My uncle was most graciously received by M.Finsen,the mayor,who as far as costume went,was quite as military as the governor,but also from character and occupation quite as pacific.As for his coadjutor,M.Pictursson,he was absent on an episcopal visit to the northern portion of the diocese.We were therefore compelled to defer the pleasure of being presented to him.His absence was,however,more than compensated by the presence of M.Fridriksson,professor of natural science in the college of Reykjavik,a man of invaluable ability.This modest scholar spoke no languages save Icelandic and Latin.When,therefore,he addressed himself to me in the language of Horace,we at once came to understand one another.
He was,in fact,the only person that I did thoroughly understand during the whole period of my residence in this benighted island.
Out of three rooms of which his house was composed,two were placed at our service,and in a few hours we were installed with all our baggage,the amount of which rather astonished the simple inhabitants of Reykjavik.
"Now,Harry,"said my uncle,rubbing his hands,"an goes well,the worse difficulty is now over.""How the worse difficulty over?"I cried in fresh amazement.
"Doubtless.Here we are in Iceland.Nothing more remains but to descend into the bowels of the earth.""Well,sir,to a certain extent you are right.We have only to go down-but,as far as I am concerned,that is not the question.Iwant to know how we are to get up again.""That is the least part of the business,and does not in any way trouble me.In the meantime,there is not an hour to lose.I am about to visit the public library.Very likely I may find there some manuscripts from the hand of Saknussemm.I shall be glad to consult them.""In the meanwhile,"I replied,"I will take a walk through the town.
Will you not likewise do so?"
"I feel no interest in the subject,"said my uncle."What for me is curious in this island,is not what is above the surface,but what is below."I bowed by way of reply,put on my hat and furred cloak,and went out.
It was not an easy matter to lose oneself in the two streets of Reykjavik;I had therefore no need to ask my way.The town lies on a flat and marshy plain,between two hills.A vast field of lava skirts it on one side,falling away in terraces towards the sea.On the other hand is the large bay of Faxa,bordered on the north by the enormous glacier of Sneffels,and in which bay the Valkyrie was then the only vessel at anchor.Generally there were one or two English or French gunboats,to watch and protect the fisheries in the offing.They were now,however,absent on duty.
The longest of the streets of Reykjavik runs parallel to the shore.In this street the merchants and traders live in wooden huts made with beams of wood,painted red-mere log huts,such as you find in the wilds of America.The other street,situated more to the west,runs toward a little lake between the residences of the bishop and the other personages not engaged in commerce.
I had soon seen all I wanted of these weary and dismal thoroughfares.Here and there was a strip of discolored turf,like an old worn-out bit of woolen carpet;and now and then a bit of kitchen garden,in which grew potatoes,cabbage,and lettuce,almost diminutive enough to suggest the idea of Lilliput.
In the center of the new commercial street,I found the public cemetery,enclosed by an earthen wall.Though not very large,it appeared not likely to be filled for centuries.From hence I went to the house of the Governor-a mere hut in comparison with the Mansion House of Hamburg-but a palace alongside the other Icelandic houses.
Between the little lake and the town was the church,built in simple Protestant style,and composed of calcined stones,thrown up by volcanic action.I have not the slightest doubt that in high winds its red tiles were blown out,to the great annoyance of the pastor and congregation.Upon an eminence close at hand was the national school,in which were taught Hebrew,English,French,and Danish.
In three hours my tour was complete.The general impression upon my mind was sadness.No trees,no vegetation,so to speak-on all sides volcanic peaks-the huts of turf and earth-more like roofs than houses.Thanks to the heat of these residences,grass grows on the roof,which grass is carefully cut for hay.I saw but few inhabitants during my excursion,but I met a crowd on the beach,drying,salting and loading codfish,the principal article of exportation.The men appeared robust but heavy;fair-haired like Germans,but of pensive mien-exiles of a higher scale in the ladder of humanity than the Eskimos,but,I thought,much more unhappy,since with superior perceptions they are compelled to live within the limits of the Polar Circle.
Sometimes they gave vent to a convulsive laugh,but by no chance did they smile.Their costume consists of a coarse capote of black wool,known in Scandinavian countries as the "vadmel,"a broad-brimmed hat,trousers of red serge,and a piece of leather tied with strings for a shoe-a coarse kind of moccasin.The women,though sad-looking and mournful,had rather agreeable features,without much expression.They wear a bodice and petticoat of somber vadmel.When unmarried they wear a little brown knitted cap over a crown of plaited hair;but when married,they cover their heads with a colored handkerchief,over which they tie a white scarf.