第31章 LETTER VII(13)

The next morning,the whole encampment was stirring at an early hour with preparations for departure;for unsatisfactory as it had been,the French considered themselves absolved by the partial performance they had witnessed from any longer "making antechamber,"as they said,to so capricious a functionary.Being very anxious to have one more trial at photographing Strokr,I ventured to suggest that the necessary bolus of sods should be administered to him.In a few minutes two or three cart-loads of turf were seething and wallowing within him.In the meantime,Fitz seized the opportunity of the Prince being at breakfast to do a picture of him seated on a chair,with his staff standing around him,and looking the image of Napoleon before the battle of Austerlitz.A good twenty minutes had now elapsed since the emetic had been given,--no symptoms of any result had as yet appeared,--and the French began to get impatient;inuendoes were hazarded to the disadvantage of Strokr's reputation for consistency,--inuendoes which I confess touched me nearly,and made me feel like a show-man whose dog has misbehaved.At last the whole party rode off;but the rear horseman had not disappeared round the neighbouring hill before--splash!bang!--fifty feet up into the air drove the dilatory fountain,with a fury which amply avenged the affront put upon it,and more than vindicated my good opinion.All our endeavours,however,to photograph the eruption proved abortive.We had already attempted both Strokr and the Great Geysir,but in the case of the latter the exhibition was always concluded before the plate could be got ready;and although,as far as Strokr is concerned,you can tell within a certain period when the performance will take place,yet the interval occurring between the dose and the explosion varies so capriciously,that unless you are content to spend many days upon the spot,it would be almost impossible to hit it off exactly.On this last occasion,--although we did not prepare the plate until a good twenty minutes after the turf was thrown in,--the spring remained inactive so much longer than is usual that the collodion became quite insensitive,and the eruption left no impression whatever upon it.

Of our return journey to Reykjavik I think I have no very interesting particulars to give you.During the early part of the morning there had been a slight threatening of rain;but by twelve o'clock it had settled down into one of those still dark days,which wrap even the most familiar landscape in a mantle of mystery.A heavy,low-hung,steel-coloured pall was stretched almost entirely across the heavens,except where along the flat horizon a broad stripe of opal atmosphere let the eye wander into space,in search of the pearly gateways of Paradise.On the other side rose the contorted lava mountains,their bleak heads knocking against the solid sky and stained of an inky blackness,which changed into a still more lurid tint where the local reds struggled up through the shadow that lay brooding over the desolate scene.If within the domain of nature such another region is to be found,it can only be in the heart of those awful solitudes which science has unveiled to us amid the untrodden fastnesses of the lunar mountains.An hour before reaching our old camping-ground at Thingvalla,as if summoned by enchantment,a dull grey mist closed around us,and suddenly confounded in undistinguishable ruin the glory and the terror of the panorama we had traversed;sky,mountains,horizon,all had disappeared;and as we strained our eyes from the edge of the Rabna Gja across the monotonous grey level at our feet,it was almost difficult to believe that there lay the same magical plain,the first sight of which had become almost an epoch in our lives.

I had sent on cook,baggage,and guides,some hours before we ourselves started,so that on our arrival we found a dry,cosy tent,and a warm dinner awaiting us.The rapid transformation of the aspect of the country,which I had just witnessed,made me quite understand how completely the success of an expedition in Iceland must depend on the weather,and fully accounted for the difference Ihad observed in the amount of enjoyment different travellers seemed to have derived from it.It is one thing to ride forty miles a day through the most singular scenery in the world,when a radiant sun brings out every feature of the country into startling distinctness,transmuting the dull tormented earth into towers,domes,and pinnacles of gleaming metal,--and weaves for every distant summit a robe of variegated light,such as the "Delectable Mountains"must have worn for the rapt gaze of weary "Christian;"--and another to plod over the same forty miles,drenched to the skin,seeing nothing but the dim,grey roots of hills,that rise you know not how,and you care not where,--with no better employment than to look at your watch,and wonder when you shall reach your journey's end.If,in addition to this,you have to wait,as very often must be the case,for many hours after your own arrival,wet,tired,hungry,until the baggage-train,with the tents and food,shall have come up,with no alternative in the meantime but to lie shivering inside a grass-roofed church,or to share the quarters of some farmer's family,whose domestic arrangements resemble in every particular those which Macaulay describes as prevailing among the Scottish Highlanders a hundred years ago;and,if finally--after vainly waiting for some days to see an eruption which never takes place--you journey back to Reykjavik under the same melancholy conditions,--it will not be unnatural that,on returning to your native land,you should proclaim Iceland,with her Geysirs,to be a sham,a delusion,and a snare!