chapter 1

To Mrs. Saville, England._rnrnrnSt. Petersburgh, Dec. 11th, 17—.rnrnrnYou will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied therncommencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evilrnforebodings. I arrived here yesterday, and my first task is to assurernmy dear sister of my welfare and increasing confidence in the successrnof my undertaking.rnrnI am already far north of London, and as I walk in the streets ofrnPetersburgh, I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, whichrnbraces my nerves and fills me with delight. Do you understand thisrnfeeling? This breeze, which has travelled from the regions towardsrnwhich I am advancing, gives me a foretaste of those icy climes.rnInspirited by this wind of promise, my daydreams become more ferventrnand vivid. I try in vain to be persuaded that the pole is the seat ofrnfrost and desolation; it ever presents itself to my imagination as thernregion of beauty and delight. There, Margaret, the sun is for everrnvisible, its broad disk just skirting the horizon and diffusing arnperpetual splendour. There—for with your leave, my sister, I will putrnsome trust in preceding navigators—there snow and frost are banished;rnand, sailing over a calm sea, we may be wafted to a land surpassing inrnwonders and in beauty every region hitherto discovered on the habitablernglobe. Its productions and features may be without example, as thernphenomena of the heavenly bodies undoubtedly are in those undiscoveredrnsolitudes. What may not be expected in a country of eternal light? Irnmay there discover the wondrous power which attracts the needle and mayrnregulate a thousand celestial observations that require only thisrnvoyage to render their seeming eccentricities consistent for ever. Irnshall satiate my ardent curiosity with the sight of a part of the worldrnnever before visited, and may tread a land never before imprinted byrnthe foot of man. These are my enticements, and they are sufficient tornconquer all fear of danger or death and to induce me to commence thisrnlaborious voyage with the joy a child feels when he embarks in a littlernboat, with his holiday mates, on an expedition of discovery up hisrnnative river. But supposing all these conjectures to be false, yourncannot contest the inestimable benefit which I shall confer on allrnmankind, to the last generation, by discovering a passage near the polernto those countries, to reach which at present so many months arernrequisite; or by ascertaining the secret of the magnet, which, if atrnall possible, can only be effected by an undertaking such as mine.rnrnThese reflections have dispelled the agitation with which I began myrnletter, and I feel my heart glow with an enthusiasm which elevates mernto heaven, for nothing contributes so much to tranquillise the mind asrna steady purpose—a point on which the soul may fix its intellectualrneye. This expedition has been the favourite dream of my early years. Irnhave read with ardour the accounts of the various voyages which havernbeen made in the prospect of arriving at the North Pacific Oceanrnthrough the seas which surround the pole. You may remember that arnhistory of all the voyages made for purposes of discovery composed thernwhole of our good Uncle Thomas’ library. My education was neglected,rnyet I was passionately fond of reading. These volumes were my studyrnday and night, and my familiarity with them increased that regret whichrnI had felt, as a child, on learning that my father’s dying injunctionrnhad forbidden my uncle to allow me to embark in a seafaring life.rnrnThese visions faded when I perused, for the first time, those poetsrnwhose effusions entranced my soul and lifted it to heaven. I alsornbecame a poet and for one year lived in a paradise of my own creation;rnI imagined that I also might obtain a niche in the temple where thernnames of Homer and Shakespeare are consecrated. You are wellrnacquainted with my failure and how heavily I bore the disappointment.rnBut just at that time I inherited the fortune of my cousin, and myrnthoughts were turned into the channel of their earlier bent.rnrnSix years have passed since I resolved on my present undertaking. Irncan, even now, remember the hour from which I dedicated myself to thisrngreat enterprise. I commenced by inuring my body to hardship. Irnaccompanied the whale-fishers on several expeditions to the North Sea;rnI voluntarily endured cold, famine, thirst, and want of sleep; I oftenrnworked harder than the common sailors during the day and devoted myrnnights to the study of mathematics, the theory of medicine, and thosernbranches of physical science from which a naval adventurer might derivernthe greatest practical advantage. Twice I actually hired myself as anrnunder-mate in a Greenland whaler, and acquitted myself to admiration. Irnmust own I felt a little proud when my captain offered me the secondrndignity in the vessel and entreated me to remain with the greatestrnearnestness, so valuable did he consider my services.rnrnAnd now, dear Margaret, do I not deserve to accomplish some great purpose?rnMy life might have been passed in ease and luxury, but I preferred glory tornevery enticement that wealth placed in my path. Oh, that some encouragingrnvoice would answer in the affirmative! My courage and my resolution isrnfirm; but my hopes fluctuate, and my spirits are often depressed. I amrnabout to proceed on a long and difficult voyage, the emergencies of whichrnwill demand all my fortitude: I am required not only to raise the spiritsrnof others, but sometimes to sustain my own, when theirs are failing.rnrnThis is the most favourable period for travelling in Russia. They flyrnquickly over the snow in their sledges; the motion is pleasant, and, inrnmy opinion, far more agreeable than that of an English stagecoach. Therncold is not excessive, if you are wrapped in furs—a dress which I havernalready adopted, for there is a great difference between walking therndeck and remaining seated motionless for hours, when no exercisernprevents the blood from actually freezing in your veins. I have nornambition to lose my life on the post-road between St. Petersburgh andrnArchangel.rnrnI shall depart for the latter town in a fortnight or three weeks; and myrnintention is to hire a ship there, which can easily be done by paying therninsurance for the owner, and to engage as many sailors as I think necessaryrnamong those who are accustomed to the whale-fishing. I do not intend tornsail until the month of June; and when shall I return? Ah, dear sister, howrncan I answer this question? If I succeed, many, many months, perhaps years,rnwill pass before you and I may meet. If I fail, you will see me again soon,rnor never.rnrnFarewell, my dear, excellent Margaret. Heaven shower down blessings on you,rnand save me, that I may again and again testify my gratitude for all yourrnlove and kindness.rnrnYour affectionate brother,rnrnR. Waltonrn